rodrikstark's headcanons (part 1)

j. storm + biting

a dreamy smile drifts onto your face as you watch johnny use his thumb to roast your marshmallow.

honestly, your goal tonight was to satisfy a s'mores craving, but this early summer night turned out unexpectedly romantic: stars overhead, low-voiced conversations under the soft glow of the porch, his fire flickering prettily in the darkness, and just enough wind that you have a perfect excuse to cuddle up to your campfire of a boyfriend.

this night could last forever, and you'd never complain.

he presses his soft lips to your cheek. "okay?"

"little more, johnny?" you ask, your voice small.

you sigh wistfully as your sweet treat reaches toasted perfection: the exact moment johnny decides to pluck it off your metal fork and pop it into his mouth, obviously smug. you whine and grab his wrist immediately. "johnny!"

he laughs at your high-pitched voice. "what?"

"that was mine!" you yank until you can nip at the pad of his thumb, which still has some marshmallow goop on it.

"ow!"

you pout, tightly tucking your arms across your chest, not budging even when his big hands coax you to open up. "you're so mean. you're the meanest person i've ever met in my whole life."

"babe." he tries to kiss you, but you shove him away. "i'll make you another one."

"no, i'm not talking to you for the rest of the night."

he grins at that, pulling you out of your cushioned chair and into his lap. "fine with me."

he radiates heat, enough for you give in and melt into him after another minute or two of harrumphing.

he kisses you, his tongue searching and sweet and warm, his smile against your skin.

you taste only a subtle hint of betrayal.