#my man has gone full snow white | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ellastone-olsen · 4 months

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can you write a smut story where reader had to wait the entire ceremony (Golden globes) before she could take the gorgeous dress off of Lizzie. And Lizzie’s been just teasing her so when they get home reader rips the dress and takes Lizzie please 🙏🏻 I love your writing <3

Wicked game | Elizabeth Olsen

★Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x fem!reader

Summary: your girlfriend has gone too far with her teasing. that's what it says in the request

★Warnings: SMUT 18+, teasing, dirty talk, overstimulation, sex toys, strap on usage, praise, aftercare, fluff

★Word count: 1.8k

★AN: I have some kind of creative block, but I'm alive. I spent 5 days on this little thing instead of the usual 1.

The car slowly cut through the road, drifting between streams of the same iron boxes on wheels. The interior of the black SUV was spacious, but you and Elizabeth still sat shoulder to shoulder as the pad of your thumb stroked her knee through the fabric of snow-white dress. "Am I look good?" such a simple question with an obvious answer, but she still needed your confirmation. You cupped her cheek with your hand and turned her head towards you. “You are always beautiful my love” You give her a quick kiss on the lips and then look into her big green eyes. An idea just came into her sweet head, otherwise you can’t explain the sudden change in mood. She takes your hand and places it on her chest. “Then can you show me how much?”

A shiver runs down your spine and you nervously look at the driver's seat, noticing how the man is looking at you through the rearview mirror. As soon as your gazes intersect, he immediately turns his eyes back to the road. “Oh don’t worry dear, he will have to pay dearly if he spills the beans about what he saw.” Elizabeth whispers in your ear, you hope that by pay she means money. She moves your hand further, under her dress so that you touch her bare breasts and moans softly in your ear, making your core begin to pulsate. "Babe." You're warning her not to start something she can't finish. Her teeth bite your earlobe and you want to pull her away by hair, but you remember about styling. "Elizabeth." Your stern tone and the full form of her name still have an effect and she moves away. You don’t respond to her sweet smile, the car is just stopping.

The Golden Globes look spectacular, but boring. You are absolutely not interested in the speeches all these people make when they receive an award. People you don't know say words of gratitude to people you don't know again. The waiters obligingly drift back and forth, serving glasses of champagne and appetizers that are inedible to your taste. You just stand on the side and look around while your girlfriend talks to other celebrities or gives interviews. When you finally sit down in your seats, you cross your legs and lean back, unable to sit up straight. Elizabeth sits in such a way that the Queen of England would envy her if she were alive.

Time passes and you drink your second glass of champagne when it seems to you that something is touching your leg under the table. You don't pay attention to it until the action is repeated. The head turns to your girlfriend, but it looks like Robert Downey Jr.'s award ceremony is the most interesting thing she's ever seen. However, where her hands are says otherwise. Elizabeth's right hand triples on your thigh, red nails lightly scratching through the thin fabric of your pants, sending shivers down your spine. You stare at her, but the older woman doesn’t even think of turning her head. "Stop it." Your irritated, harsh whisper flies past her. As a sign from above, the bell rings, signaling a break, and without wasting any time, you grab Elizabeth’s hand and drag her away towards the toilets.

She sighs when she suddenly finds herself pressed against the wall, of course you can be rude, but first cover the back of her head with your hand so that she doesn’t get hurt from the blow. “What games are you playing today?” A hot whisper near her ear makes the woman hold her breath for a couple of seconds. Her answer doesn't keep you waiting. “But you like it, don’t you?” Elizabeth puts her hands on your waist, touching you through your thin shirt and tilting her head to leave small, light bites on your neck. “If you continue, I’ll push you into the toilet, lock the common door, bend you over the counter and...” You lose your breath from the stronger bite. “And what, dear?” The bell rings again, signaling everyone to return to their seats. You stand pressed against her for a few seconds, then push yourself off the wall with your hands and rub your neck where Elizabeth’s lips were, erasing non-existent traces of lipstick. The two of you go to your seats and no one seems to notice your disheveled state.

The ride home is quick and quiet, for two reasons. The older woman realized that you would ruin her for all her antics as soon as she set foot on the threshold of the house. She was in anticipation and silently looked out the window, imagining all the options for the development of events. The second reason is what you said to the poor driver when you got into the car. “You have 10 minutes to take us back, Elizabeth is terribly tired.” The black car brought you home in exactly 10 minutes. You gave the driver a tip for being in a hurry, even though it was not customary. When the front door closed behind you, what the older woman expected and desired happened. You grabbed her hand and quickly led her to your bedroom. When the door to the room closed, in one motion you threw Elizabeth onto her stomach on the plush blanket of your large bed.

Your hands pushed her hair back, exposing her slender neck so you could kiss and bite it. The woman's hips shot up, but you blocked the movement by straddling her. “If you think that you will get what you want quickly, don’t hope.” The zipper of the white dress was pulled down, almost breaking the zipper. Her dress and panties disappeared from her in record time, and you somehow managed not to tear them.

When you took a few steps back admiring the picture in front of you, your gaze caught on her wet shiny folds. She had definitely been looking forward to this all day. Elizabeth turned her head to the lack of action on your part to check the situation and saw you taking out from the nightstand the black compact vibrator that she loved so much. There were two scenarios in her head: either now she would get the best orgasm of her life, or she would die from overstimulation, but she really hoped for the first.

You returned to your girlfriend and moved her hips closer to the edge of the bed so that she rested her knees on the plush pile of the carpet and exposed her ass to your view. Your hands stroked her soft thighs, you couldn’t resist and leaned towards her dripping center to run your tongue along the entire length, tasting her. A shaky sigh escaped the woman's mouth above you and you repeated the action, gripping her hips even harder (there might be bruises there later). A mixture of pleasure and slight pain made her unconsciously lean back for closer contact. In what seemed like such a simple and innocent action, your palm landed on her ass with a loud slap. "No, no, don't you dare move." There was the first warning, which caused a groan of pain to escape from the older woman.

After you were satisfied with her taste, two fingers slipped inside her so easily, stretching the velvet walls. The second hand pressed the toy’s power button and you set the speed to medium, bringing it to her pulsating clit. "Hold it." Elizabeth reached underneath her and grabbed the silicone object, holding it in place. “If you disobey me, an even worse punishment will follow. You understood?" The older woman's mind was clouded with pleasure, but she hummed in agreement anyway. Her thoughts were confused by the way you moved inside her, pressing on a sensitive spot. Another slap to her ass. "Use your words." Her back arched and she was ready to swear that she would cum from such rough treatment. “Yes, I understand...please Y/N.” With every thrust, you felt her walls squeezing tighter around you. Elizabeth could no longer find words and shouted curses into the emptiness of your house. “Fuck...I'm going to cum...please can I?...” You cut her off. "No. Take it away."

She obediently removed the toy from her throbbing clit, stopping any stimulation. You were still moving inside her, but it wasn't enough to make her fall over the edge. “Oh fuck...fuck...so good...please can I continue?” You were silent for a minute before you gave her permission, making sure she didn't cum instantly. The woman's hips jumped as the stimulation began again. You pounded into her at a fast pace and after a couple of minutes you felt your orgasm approaching again. "Elizabeth stop." Oh how she didn’t like it when you called her by her full name, it never meant anything good. She put the toy away again and you pulled out.

The woman heard the chest of drawers open again behind her, the sounds of the harness, and then the cold tip of the faux cock pressed into her dripping entrance. You spread her natural lub along entire length and pushed the thick toy into her in one motion. Your girlfriend’s mouth opened in a silent scream, her hands grabbed the sheets as if they would tear them. "OH FUCK ." You returned her hand with the vibrator to the right place and pounding at her at a fast pace. “Do you like my cock baby? Mmm? Is this what you wanted all this time? So that I could fuck you like the whore?” Your dirty words turned her on even more. "Yes! Yes! Y/N can...can I cum?” She was ready to cry from overstimulation and you took pity on her. You leaned down to leave a kiss behind her ear and whispered. “Cum for me baby.”

Almost immediately, the woman fell over the edge, screaming your name mixed with curses into the softness of the mattress. You continued to fuck her through her orgasm until a small whine was heard from her. You pulled out and took off the strap, throwing it somewhere deep in the room, thinking that you would take care of it later.

Your arms grabbed Elizabeth and you helped her climb onto the bed, lying on her back. Her knees were red from standing on them for a long time and you gently rubbed the skin in the hope of relieving the pain. "My good girl, Lizzie." The lips began to pass everywhere you could reach, starting from the neck and ending with her cute tummy that you loved so much. When you looked up at her again, you noticed that the woman had begun to fall asleep.

“Baby, don’t sleep, you need to take off your makeup.” A hand covered her cheek and the pad of her thumb gently rubbed her cheekbone. “Mmmmm but I’m so tired, it can wait a couple of hours.” She mumbled sleepily. You gave in and covered her naked body with a plush blanket, setting the alarm for 3 hours. When the light in the room went out, Elizabeth had already fallen asleep and hugged you, breathing steadily into your neck.

Your fingers played with her blonde hair until you fell into the realm of Morpheus after her.

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda fanfic #wanda maximoff imagine #wandanat #wandanat x reader #elizabeth olsen #wanda x you #natasha x reader #wanda x reader #wanda marvel #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader

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sprout-fics · 4 months

Text

The Hunt

König x 'Maus' F!Reader

(Part 13 of 'Little Mouse')

Word Count: 5.3k Rating: Mature Tags: Stealth missions, Banter, Cat and Mouse, Hypothermia, Sharing body heat, Cuddling, Snuggling, Angst Warnings: None A/N: Thank you for staying with the series despite the break!

You're starting to think you might die out here.

It's been hours since you three dropped into the Kazakhstan mountains, just narrowly avoiding an incoming snowstorm that has since painted the steep mountains white. The air is thick with the blank, icy taste of snow, and you struggle to catch Soap and Ghost in their snowgear as they ascend up the cliff to the remote radio tower station that is the source of your intel. They're strong, clambering up the slope one at a time while the other watches their six. You supervise them from afar, perched on a cliff opposite of the valley, trying to catch sight of them despite the curtain of white that falls between you.

Laswell was the one to point you here, as she usually does. The station chief has been combing through intelligence for months, searching for breadcrumbs on Makarov. The man is a ghost in the wind, vanished from prison and now hiding secretly as he plots his next move. He could be anywhere in the world. Your hunt for him had been delayed by your tangle with KorTac, but now even they seem to have vanished into the breeze with nary a trace.

You adjust your scope, zooming in on the sight of Soap and Ghost perching on a cliff edge, shoulders heaving with exertion. You smirk under your snow mask and sweep your sights further up the slope towards the target they are ascending towards.

The tower itself is unassuming, a lone and decrepit thing in the middle of nowhere. Yet all it had taken was a single errant ping from a satellite to realize the traffic out of this seemingly normal outpost was far larger than originally thought. It could be nothing, it could be everything, but one thing remains clear, and it's the message Laswell managed to pull and decipher from a single static transmission, letters spelled out in Russian.

KorTac.

It's the first lead you've had in over a month. The mercenary group had seemingly gone underground following your raid on their satellite base. By the time Laswell had managed to pull an order to survey the site via drone footage, there was nothing left. The entire place had been burnt to the ground, devastated, nothing but ashes to comb through in search of answers. Since then the group had vanished, gone in the wind. Not defeated, but biding their time, waiting in the dark and drawing plans that would eventually come to full fruition.

"Bravo 09, this is Bravo 07, how copy?"

You barely catch a glimpse of Ghost as he raises a hand to his headset. The transmission is tinted with static due to the snowstorm, but you can still make out the low, hushed accent of the older man's voice as he checks in.

"Got you in my scope, 07." You report back, mouth moving behind your snowmask, wet with condensation. You shiver, feeling half an inch of snow on your back, not moving from your sniper position, ready to wait here hours more if need be. You hope for the sake of your fingers and toes it doesn't come to that.

"It's cold as balls out here, LT." You grouse in addition, and you see Soap's head tilt towards Ghost as he regards his partner.

"My balls are cold." Johnny agrees irritably, but there's a touch of playfulness there that hasn't been dampened by the snow.

“Feeling a little shriveled, Johnny?” You snark crudely, and hear the Scot make an indignant little scoff in return.

"Focus, both of you." Ghost snaps, to which you both silence yourselves with a snicker. "We're almost at the perimeter. We'll be going radio dark after that."

"Copy." You reply, adjusting your scope with numbing fingers to focus on the steel fence that surrounds the radio tower and the adjoining building. "Good hunting, you two."

Neither Soap or Ghost reply, focusing instead on climbing the last few ledges on the opposite side of the mountain. You watch as they take a break at the top, crouched near the edge. Eventually you hear Ghost’s voice filter over the comms.

“Break’s over, Johnny.” Ghost declares, and stands, offering him a hand and hauling Soap up so they advance forward along the slippery, snow laden cliffside. An incoming wall of white obscures your view of them as they round the edge towards the fence, and you hear one last garbled transmission from Ghost before they vanish.

It’s silent after that, with nothing but the wind howling in your ears and prickling under your skin. Even with your thick, downy parka there’s little respite from the bone biting chill that seeps into your veins. Perched in place as you are on overwatch, you know there’s no moving until your two comrades find their way out to you once more.

So you huddle in, ignoring the chatter of your teeth and trying to steady your hands on the rifle, hoping and praying that the chamber doesn’t freeze, and that you won’t need to use it. The cold grips tight to your veins, and you try to imagine the lulling warmth of a campfire that you can’t afford.

Hurry back. You think towards your two comrades. Before I fucking freeze to death.

There’s a tinny sort of whine in your radio, and you shift to adjust so the transmission comes through.

"Bravo team, this is Watcher-01, do you read me?" Laswell's voice comes in, tinny and crackling but still recognizable.

You blink, brow knotting. Laswell had signed off shortly before your parachute jump into the mountains. Whatever has caused her to reach out like this must be urgent. Maybe the tower is a bust, and she's decided to pull you from the mission.

Ghost and Soap don't respond, and you think they might have already switched off their radios. So instead, after a pause, you respond in their stead.

"This is Bravo 09, send traffic Watcher."

There's a pause before Laswell responds. "Bravo 09, advise all stations we may have KorTac operatives in the field."

You suck in a breath, feel cold air seize your lungs and descend into your veins with icy realization. If KorTac is here, then that means this tower is much more important than originally thought. You haven't run into any members of KorTac since Price's rescue, which means...

He could be here.

You store the thought as quickly as it came, trying to find Soap and Ghost against the rocky outcrop, only to come up empty handed.

"Copy, Watcher. Ghost and Soap have gone radio silent." You report with a little grunt of frustration, knowing the two of them have already made their way inside. It could be too late, they might have found out the hard way just what waits for them. “They’ve likely breached the perimeter.”

"Then keep an eye out, Rookie, we need to-"

You blink as static garbles Laswell's next words, swallowing them with a crackle that fades to a high pitched whine.

"Watcher, repeat." You try, leaning a hand up to your headset to try and regain the signal.

Static.

"Laswell?"

Silence.

The storm must have knocked out the signal, which does not bode well for your mission. You try once more to raise Soap and Ghost, to no avail. You breathe in and quell the uncertain flutter of your heartbeat, feeling a familiar sense of knowing dread thrum low through your chest. The extrasensory insight you rely on to discern the state of the world around you hums with warning, does little to ease the low roll of your stomach.

It's fine, you tell yourself. Soap and Ghost have handled far worse than this. You weren't there for Las Almas, having joined the team only after, but you heard the story from Johnny. Barely armed, pursued, injured, out of supplies and ammo, and yet somehow they had survived. This, with them well armed and in pursuit, should be no challenge.

It takes a few minutes to repeat this to yourself, but it does nothing to relax the anxious, knowing pulse of sixth sense that hovers in the back of your mind.

When the radio crackles again you nearly jump, muttering a transmission before anything can come through.

"Laswell, do you copy?"

Static.

Then, a different voice.

"Hello, Maus."

If you were cold before, the voice that filters through your radio sends you hurtling into hypothermia, jolting at the familiar, purring intonation of the man who has long since pursued you.

“König.” You breathe, unable to contain the shocked breathlessness from your voice.

“Long time no see, as they say.” He murmurs, and you can hear the low, sultry delight of his voice at your response. You should have stayed quiet, shouldn’t have spoken, switched to another channel to get a hold of Laswell, tried to reach Soap and Ghost to tell them to retreat.

“What are you doing here?” You hiss instead, gritting your chattering teeth.

“I could ask you the same thing. You’re a long way from home, aren’t you, fraulein?”

You don’t respond to that, too busy trying to ignore the way the KorTac operative’s voice itches pleasantly under your skin. It’s a vain betrayal, and you internally chastise yourself for remembering the darkness of the supply closet that accompanied your last rendezvous, the soft, yearning words between you. You’ve tried to lock away the memory of it, the way his voice rumbled softly down at you with a traitorous promise that you know will mean the end of you both.

"I might try and kill you again." You breathe, voice wavering as you desperately try to reign in the wickedness of your heart. "I can't promise you I won't succeed."

"You won't." He tells you, and his voice is resolute. There is no uncertainty, no hidden conviction in the utter confidence of which he speaks. "You can try, Maus. You won't be able to."

"And if I don't?”

König blinks at you, eyes fluttering shut for all of a moment before he speaks.

"Then we'll be here again." He murmurs, and you want to shudder at the sudden softness of his voice, allowing that forbidden thing inside you to stretch forward into him. "Again and again, Maus. Over and over until one of us surrenders."

You’ve tried to forget in his absence, shutting out the way you’d closed your eyes when he had tried to kiss you, vainly attempting to replace it with the knowledge that he’s tried to kill your friends, that he was responsible for Price’s capture, for your capture so long ago. In the weeks he’s been gone you’ve curled silently into your bunk, trying to convince yourself how wrong, how selfish you are for allowing yourself to harbor feelings for him.

Now, when he’s here, now that his voice purrs into your radio with that beloved endearment, Maus, you find your steadfast resistance crumbling down around you like snow shifting on the mountains- preceding an avalanche.

“I missed you, Maus.”

It sounds almost like a whine, a needy thing that would be pouting if there wasn’t an undertone of secret, gleeful intent beneath.

Don’t. You remind yourself, body scrunching tight as you try to control your breathing so he doesn’t hear your shuddering exhale.

“Where are your friends?” You ask instead, voice even, flat.

He’s silent then, and you swear the absence of his words speaks of disappointment.

“That’s not how this works, Maus.” He replies, voice betraying his discontent.

You snort. “Tell me then, how does this work?”

There’s a strange crackling sound over the radio, and if you listen closely you can hear him chuckle.

“It works. Just with you and me.”

You let out a freezing breath at that, and you know it crackles over the comms towards him. You’re silent, but it’s different now as you begin to ease from your original surprise. Against your better judgment, you allow yourself to be soothed by the gentle tenor of his voice, allow yourself to remember what it felt like to nearly be kissed by him. The phantom touch of his knuckles under your chin, tipping you up towards him ghosts across your skin with a wicked, traitorous temptation.

“What are you doing out here, Maus?” König asks, and it's more like a sigh, a reminiscent thing that seems to recall your previous wayward parting.

“Recon.” You tell him flatly, refusing to divulge any more details lest it compromise your mission.

“Alone?”

You think of Soap and Ghost struggling up the cliff side, vanishing in a cloud of white towards the perimeter of the radio tower. He can’t be allowed to know they’re here. God only knows what may happen to them, to him if they find each other.

“Yes.” You breathe, but your hesitation betrays your lie for what it is.

König hums in consideration, and you know him well enough by now to know the narrowing of his eyes, the slight tilt of his head as he weighs your words.

“I think you’re lying, Maus.” He intones, and you stiffen at that, at the small whisper of threat that lingers in his voice- the sound of a man born and bred to kill, to hunt and maim.

You, in your naive fantasies, forgot he too was a hunter.

“I think your friends are here.” He goes on, voice low with danger, and you feel your muscles go taut, eyes wide and shoulders stiff. “Should I go say hello?”

“I’m alone.” You tell him again, but your voice is a thin, desperate thing, caught tight in your chest.

König chuckles, as if he finds your rising panic amusing.

“A joke, Maus.” He explains, and it does little to relieve you, not with the way it failed to sound like anything other than a threat.

“But...” He continues, his voice hanging between you like suspended frost. “I guess if you are alone, you wouldn’t mind company, mm?”

You close your eyes, scrunching them shut at the way your heart clenches with an excitement you shouldn’t feel. The idea of his touch on you again is both exhilarating and terrifying- like drinking poison just because you love the taste. He’s a venom that slips into your veins, purrs under your skin and warms you through even as you burn from the inside out.

The logical part of you knows to refuse him. Yet there’s also a chance that if he remains where he is, he has a very good chance of bumping into Ghost and Soap, which is the absolute last thing you need right now- for the mission, and for yourself. You need to draw him from the tower, away from the others.

“You’re welcome to.” You purr back, refusing to show your wavering voice. “That is...if you can find me.”

He pauses at that, and you wonder if he expected you to refuse him and instead pleasantly surprised.

“A game?” He asks, and you hear the rising excitement in his voice, like a predator who has caught the scent of something delicious. “And my prize?”

You huff at that, oddly endeared by his sadistic sort of playfulness. “I suppose you’ll have to find out, König.” You reply, voice low with promise.

“You’re a vexing woman, Maus.”

Thank God Laswell can’t hear this.

“Try and find me if you can.” You goad, narrowing your scope on the fence perimeter where Ghost and Soap have yet to emerge. “Good luck.”

“Oh I won’t need luck.” He purrs, and you shiver.

“Then I’ll see you soon.” You reply, and switch the channel on your radio off.

Silence follows, and you release a deep, slow exhale to steady yourself. The snow muffles all sound, even the thump of your heartbeat as it beats unevenly against your tender ribs. You try to tame the excitement that hums inside you, forcing yourself into stillness until the cold embraces you again.

It’s unlikely he’ll be able to find you, buried as you are. You’ve allowed snow to accumulate on your back and legs, slowly engulfing your pale snow gear in a further camouflage. You’ve been here for well over an hour, and can stay much longer than that if you need. Not moving, barely breathing. Still and silent in the way snipers are, waiting for your chance to pull the trigger.

There’s a part of you that hopes he finds you, somehow. It’s a selfish, dangerous thing, fed by the excitement of hearing from him for the first time in weeks, scratching the itch you’ve desperately been trying to bury inside yourself. It’s the thing you’ve felt for a while now, a secret desire that betrays all the values and loyalty you hold dear to.

The desire to be caught.

You scrub a snow laden hand across your face, hoping somehow the frost will clear your mind of traitorous thoughts. You need to focus on the mission- ensuring that Soap and Ghost make it to the extraction point without anyone tailing or firing after them. You drew König out not because you wanted to see him, but because you were trying to protect your teammates from an enemy operative. That’s all this is. No wayward, illicit romance, no purring over the comms and suggestive flirtations, and certainly no memories of staring up at your enemy in a dark room and hoping he would find the courage to kiss you.

For fuck’s sake, get a hold of yourself.

You push the image away as far as you can, and train your scope once more on the ice laden cliff across the narrow valley.

It’s quiet in the minutes that follow, and you feel the heavily falling snow continue to pack along your spine. You try to contain your chattering teeth and shivering hands, noting with irritation the undue wobble of your scope as you sweep your sights across the landscape-

What?

A shape, there and gone in a mere moment, vanishing along the narrow path off to your right in a cloud of white. You’re certain you saw something, but when you train your sights, there’s nothing there.

Maybe...

You should move to a better position.

It might be a good idea. The motion would heat up your trembling, frigid limbs, and the snow would hopefully cover any tracks you leave behind. Yet there’s risks of doing so. The second you move, even with your snow camouflage, there’s a risk of being spotted by the operative hunting you through the snow.

You purse your chapped, cold lips under your snow mask, and weigh your options.

-and that’s when you hear the sound behind you.

You flip over quickly, reaching for your side arm, but the weapon is buried against your side in the snow, and as you fumble for it a huge, towering figure lurches into view.

“Found you, Maus.” König rumbles as he steps from behind a tree, and before you can bite a reply, try to raise your silenced pistol, you freeze.

“What-” You manage, a little forced, blinking. “What are you wearing?”

König pauses mid-step as he stalks towards you, eyes wide under his hood. Your question catches him off guard, and he glances down at himself in confusion. His hood, normally a dark, ominous black, is now a strangely, ghostly gray that matches his long, snow-white layers and tan tac vest. Black boots and thick gloves are tugged over his pants and sleeves, but his helmet remains the same.

“...You don’t like it?” He asks, and you laugh out of pure disbelief.

“I-” You try, side arm now forgotten. “Yes?”

You shake yourself, and reach once more for your weapon.

“Ah-” König tuts, quickly moving forward too fast and gently placing a boot over your arm. “Please don’t, Maus.”

You frown at him, try and wiggle your arm, only for him to increase the weight on it. “Asshole.” You seethe, and König huffs an indignant little sound. “What if I said that was your prize?”

“A bullet?” He tilts his head at you. “You shouldn’t have.”

“No, I really should.” You insist past chattering teeth, and tug more severely at his ankle despite your heavy, shivering limbs.

He watches you struggle in vain, and you hate the amused little glint in his eyes.

Finally, you flop back into the snow, winded.

“I won.” He provides smugly, and you punch at his calf in one more outraged attempt to dislodge him, with no success.

“So what then?” You seethe. “Are you going to capture me again?”

“No.”

You blink, look up at him, startled by the sudden severity of his tone. He bites out the word like you’ve insulted him, sneering and dangerous. You’d only sort of been joking, but the reflexive refusal that you’ve managed to elicit has you pause, considering.

“We’re...past that, Maus.” He goes on, voice softer. The boot eases from your arm a bit. “I thought we agreed on that much.”

"Some things are more beautiful when they are free, Maus."

It’s difficult to decide how you feel about that.

Part of you is relieved that König has decided to forego the obsession of capturing you. For reasons still unknown to you, O’Connor had kept Price alive during his captivity. You have a feeling that for you, your fate at the hands of KorTac would be far less kind. Held by ransom at best, an unmarked grave at worst, it’s fortunate for you that the Austrian towering above you has decided much the same.

Yet you also wish somehow things could go back to what they were- simpler. König trying to take you alive, and you- trying to kill him for it. Instead, the haunting memory of the darkness inside the storage closet of the KorTac base, of how you’d almost let him kiss you, of how you saw his face, remains a treacherous addiction you desperately try to rid yourself of. Now, this, whatever it is, seems to have spiraled beyond your reach, unable now to discern the lines between villain and dangerous ally, a balance you fail to reconcile with every frost-bitten breath inside your chest.

You try to force a glare up at him, but instead feel your expression cast between dismay and doubt, a visage that he absorbs and blinks slowly down at you.

“You’re shaking, Maus.” He notes quietly, voice barely audible above the ice-laden wind. “Are you afraid?”

“No.” You bite back, and that at least is the truth. “Just freezing my ass off.”

König tilts his head at you, and is silent for a moment, considering. Yet then you see his eyes behind the mask, crinkling at the edges as he smiles.

“Poor little liebling.” He coos, and you frown harder at that, the almost condescending dip of his voice. Yet before you can protest König uses his boots to gently roll you onto your stomach back to the position you were at before, and then abruptly dropping his weight onto your back.

“W-what-” You croak in surprise, face warming as you try and squirm under the massive bulk of him pressed flat against your spine. “What are you doing?!”

“You said you were cold.” The giant above you reasons, settling in so he blankets you on all sides with his larger frame. “I’m just trying to keep you warm, Maus.”

Your brain short circuits, fizzling into nothingness as you battle the absolutely absurdity of the situation with the welcome body heat bleeding into your bones from above.

This is so beyond the field manual I might as well burn the thing.

König happily nuzzles into your back, trapping you underneath him. He arranges his arms in a cradle to rest your head in, his own cheek pressed to the nape of your neck with a pleased sigh.

You can’t even find the words to object to this bizarre development, eyes blinking dumbly into the wall of white that obscures the other side of the valley where Soap and Ghost have vanished to. You can only silently thank whatever higher power there is that they can’t see this- can’t see you as you find yourself cuddling with the enemy.

“I’ll take this as my prize.” König murmurs cheerfully, and you make a sound of utter disbelief, confused yet not entirely displeased at this development.

The more you fail to squirm free, the more heat radiates from the form of the soldier behind you, encasing you in a small cocoon of heat that blessedly chases above the shiver in your muscles. Slowly, you find yourself relaxing against him, taking in the warmth for all its worth and silently convincing yourself it’s just for survival.

Can’t RV if I’m hypothermic, after all. You try to reason, blatantly ignoring the tiny voice inside you that speaks otherwise.

“You’re keeping me alive.” You muse aloud, mouth partially covered by your snow mask and the cradle of his arms.

“I am.” König replies simply with a small shrug.

“Why?”

König pauses for a moment. You swear you feel him stiffen, feel the thump of his heartbeat pound between your shoulder blades as he attempts to summon an answer.

“Because I like you, Maus.” He tells you at last, soft and breathy in your ear. “I like you better alive.”

The cold air in your lungs seems to punch at the staccato rhythm inside your chest, forcing a cold intake of air that you pray he doesn’t notice.

“Since that first time we met.” König goes on, voice rumbling low from his chest into the warming dip of your spine. “I saw you, saw the way you fought, the way you...weren’t afraid. You were so soft and small in my arms...”

He trails off then, but when he resumes his musings he chuckles low against your nape. “You were like a little bird, but when you woke up it turned out you had fangs, Maus.”

You feel a small flush of pride at that, at the reminder of the way you had challenged him, had refused to back down despite the towering, intimidating stranger before you. In truth you’d been terrified, knowing your capture could have meant torture, even death, knowing that Gaz had been left behind bleeding and unconscious.

Gaz...

Your face falls in dismay.

What would he think of you like this? With the man who once had almost killed him? Who had dared to steal you away right in front of his eyes? What would he make of this? With you in the arms of an enemy, refusing to squirm free, to kill the man who had once helped kidnap Price.

...With a man who had saved your life more times than you could count?

“We can’t...do this.” You breathe quietly into the snow, eyes half lidded and scarcely gazing at the wall of white before you. “König...”

The man behind you is silent, and you know without seeing his eyes he’s taking in your words, thinking very much the same. Like you, König knows the danger of his fascination with you, the way he’s already betrayed his own company to aid you, to keep you safe. You both know that the lines you have both crossed betray the allies you’ve sworn yourselves to, caught in a dangerous abraxas that neither of you can control.

“Would you?” He asks in a whisper shielded by the wind. “If things were different, Maus?”

You close your eyes, feeling your chest clench with an emotion you dare not name. You should lie to him. You should tell him that this, this is something you never expected, something you can indulge in no longer. You should tell him next time that you won’t hesitate, that you’ll squeeze the trigger and watch this horrid affair finally come to its fateful, bloody conclusion.

Instead, you offer in a scarce whisper:

“Yes.”

There’s a long pause before König sighs behind you, his chest deflating into your spine and the warm breath of him spilling across your nape. You shiver under him, purely out of sensation rather than the cold, reminded of the intimacy of the position you two find yourselves in.

“What am I going to do with you, Maus?” He asks, and despite the melodrama involved you know it’s a genuine question- one you yourself have asked many, many times.

“We could go back to trying to kill each other.” You offer with feign cheerfulness.

“I never wanted to kill you, Maus.”

Right.

In some ways you wish he had. If König never had qualms about killing you, perhaps this could be avoided.

“You could desert.” You say suddenly, surprising yourself. “Defect and surrender to the 141.”

“Do you really think it’s that simple, Maus?” He asks, almost dismayed.

You know it’s not. With everything König has done, with the legacy he’s left on you and your teammates, you know they’d never trust him. Even if you explained to them that König wasn’t the monster they think he is, that he had never done the things they suspect him of, you know all you’d receive in return is your friends’ disbelief and distrust for lying to them, for asking them to trust the man who had once captured you.

The image of their faces, of the hurt and despair and disappointment etched across their eyes, is something you can hardly bear.

This is your fault, you think quietly, with dawning despair. You should have killed him long ago. You should have told your team. Perhaps they’d have forgiven you if you’d confessed, consoled you and told you that this was all just a horrible maladjustment to your capture back then. If you’d told them, if you’d killed him...

“Maus.” König observes at the small shuddering breath you draw in, emotions bubbling inside your chest.

If things were different, then somehow....maybe...

“Bravo-09, this is Bravo-07.”

You jolt, muscles seizing at the sudden staticky tenor of Ghost’s voice over your comms. König braces on his forearms to allow you to scramble for your radio, voice breathless as you respond.

“Go ahead Bravo-07.”

“Sweep cleared. Proceeding to rally point Alpha. Fifteen minutes.”

“Good copy, LT. Are you being followed?”

A pause, then. “Negative, Bravo-09. Place was empty. Looks like they’d just burned it.”

You blink, then twist towards König.

“You bastard.” You manage, eyes wide as you realize what he’s done. “This was a distraction.”

König’s eyes soften with a remorse that fails to quell the anger warming in your veins.

“A necessary one, Maus.” He offers simply, removing the weight of his body from yours. You twist onto your back to face him, a mixture of rage and hurt written clear across your face. König towers above you, a massive shadow that easily dwarfs your prone form.

“You’re lucky you and your friends came when you did. A day earlier and you’d all be dead.”

“Why?” You manage, voice strangled. “Why distract us?”

“You know I can’t tell you that, Maus.” He offers, almost sadly. “We’re still enemies, after all.”

He steps away from you then, and even when you know he sees your hand reach for your sidearm, he doesn’t flinch. Instead he pauses, offers you a clear line of sight that would allow you to take the perfect shot at his turned back.

“...But maybe not forever.” He finally offers, and steps easily into the trees, vanishing.

You watch after him, expression pained, asking the snowy sky for answers it cannot yield.

In the place where he once was, your finger trembles on the trigger.

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#König #könig x oc #könig x reader #könig x you #konig x reader #reader insert #x reader #fic: little mouse #cod #cod mw22 #cod konig

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sourcherryandsprinkles · 5 months

Note

Maybe Corio goes to District 12 to find Lucy Gray, but ends up falling for someone else at the Hob the night he sees her again for the first time. He gets into a fight when someone is being touchy and pushy with her and Corio gets him off her and the guy punches him and they fight and yeah

Should I do a part 2 where she sees Coryo again later and he has a cut on his face or his hands from the fight?

Warnings: violence, men being inappropriate

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

It was his first night coming to the Hob. Coriolanus didn’t have high expectations for the night, having accepted to come only because Sejanus had begged him to. Apparently, it was the place to go after work for a drink, and some dancing. According to the guys in the barracks, it was the place to find ladies too.

Maybe he’ll see Lucy Gray?

Dressed in his blue uniform, Coryo followed Sejanus inside the bar. The music was loud and the place was filled with people. His blue eyes scanned the room, searching for a petite brunette with a funky dress, but he couldn’t see her.

‘’I’ll get us drinks,’’ Sejanus said, tapping his friend on the shoulder as he pointed to the bar.

Despite the party ambiance, Coriolanus was bored out of his mind. The beer wasn’t that great — not that he had anything to compare it to — and the music was too jazzy. He leaned back against the wall, nodding at whatever Sejanus was saying, then a familiar voice filled the room. Coryo raised his eyes on the stage, and there she was — Lucy Gray Baird. A glimpse of a smile curled on his lips.

She saw him too, her eyes full of surprise as she smiled and continued her performance with the Covey.

They moved to another song, more people joining the middle of the room to dance. Coriolanus wasn’t interested in dancing, so he stayed back as he sipped his drink and tried to think of a way to approach Lucy Gray without making a fool of himself. After all, she was the reason he bought his way to District 12.

Just as he was deep in thought, someone bumped into his shoulder, interrupting his contemplation.

‘’Oh, sorry,’’ you apologized, your voice barely audible over the lively chatter and music as you tightened your grip on the tray holding the beers so they wouldn’t fall and shatter on the cement floor.

Coryo, still caught in the magic of the performance, dismissed the incident with a reassuring smile. ‘’It’s fine,’’ he replied, his eyes briefly meeting yours.

You moved past him and handed his comrades their beers, but his eyes followed you, a newfound interest sparking his attention. He stared you down, taking in every little detail from the heart shaped curve of your top lip to the way your apron was cinching your waist and showing off your figure. Coriolanus had never seen someone as beautiful — and there were a lot of beautiful women at the Capitol.

Through the night, Coriolanus caught himself sneaking glances at you. He wanted to go up to you and introduce himself, but no one cared that his surname was ‘Snow’ in District 12.

Sejanus nudged his friend with his elbow and grabbed his empty glass. ‘’I’m gonna get another beer. I’ll be right back.’’

While Sejanus was gone, Coryo tried looking for you in the crowd, ignoring the smiles Lucy Gray was making at him. He had his eye set on someone else now. Finally, he spotted you on the side of the stage, cleaning tables. You were stacking empty glasses on your tray and diligently wiping away beer rings when a man in a white button-up and a grey vest approached you. Coriolanus’s attention heightened, watching the man. He was standing very close, a bit too close for a customer. Was he your boyfriend? He hoped not.

The answer was clear when the man began speaking close to your face and put a hand on the small of your back, which you were quick to gently push away, not taking his advances toward you. A frown formed between Coryo’s eyebrows. He couldn't hear the words exchanged, but the look on your face spoke volumes. The man's inappropriate touches left you visibly uncomfortable. You grabbed the tray and tried to evade him, but he grabbed your arm and caged you between the table and the wall as his other hand ghosted up your thigh.

Sejanus returned with his beer, but Coriolanus didn't notice him; his gaze remained fixed on you and the sickening situation happening before his eyes. The thought of someone treating Tigris in a similar manner fueled a simmering anger within him. Determined to intervene, he pushed through the crowd.

WIthout second thinking, Coryo grabbed the guy by his shoulder, pulling him away from you, and threw his best punch — once, twice, thrice. Each strike landed with precision, and the man crumpled to the floor, blood seeping from his mouth and nose. The scuffle had attracted a few onlookers, their expressions ranging from horror to confusion and shock at the violence unfollowing in the bar.

Coriolanus would have kept going had Sejanus not dragged him away.

—

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#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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1800jjbarnes · 6 months

Text

◇ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖 : 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬/𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱 - 𝐒𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐬 ◇

The Perfect Gift

【Synopsis】 : Steve couldn't decide what gift to buy you while he was on a mission in paris. So he bought them all and now wants you to try them out. Every. Single. One.

『W.C』 : 1.11k

-> Genre: Pure Smut. No plot.

Pairing: Avenger!Steve x F.Reader

[Warnings] : Edging. Fingering. Dirty talk. Use of a dildo. Making out. Pet names. Swearing. Neck kisses.

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober Masterlist

You don’t know how you ended up in such a predicament. But here you were, sitting on several blankets on the floor with your back against the end of your bed frame with pillows supporting you. Steve had gone on a shopping spree while he was in Paris, and at first, you thought he simply bought you a nice outfit or even some French snacks. But no, this was Steve you were thinking about. The man who secretly has a dark spot. A dirty side and of course he had bought you an array of toys. Especially.. butt plugs.

“I didn’t know which one would suit you, so I bought them all.” That was his excuse for the ten or so plugs lying hiding in a giant bag… among other things. He told you that about an hour ago now. Having set up a little spot for you to lay while he worked on you. He first took some attentiveness in stretching you. Lube was all over the blankets by the time he was done, and you were shaking like a leaf at this point. His fingers switching between your pussy to your ass was making your head spin in the best way and the more he worked on you the more nervous you got with the idea of the new toys. He wouldn’t tell you what else was in the bag other than ‘it’s a surprise’ making your nerves even more on edge.

He sat behind you, letting you lay on your lower back, holding yourself with your elbows. He sat you in front of your large full-length mirror, letting you see exactly what the gems looked like when they were pushed into your puckered hole. First, it was a red gem, ruby, it was cute and simple and he always said red was your colour. But he kept going, pulling the toy out, he pushed another one in. One after the other, and at this point, you didn’t care what the gem colour was. All that mattered was the feeling of it going in and out over and over again. He was edging you without even realizing and it made you all hot and bothered.

"S-Stevie.” at this point he needed him to fuck you before you explode but he just chuckled putting the new on, a purple gem deep inside your ass. He twisted it slowly, pretending to make remarks such as ‘Such a pretty colour’, ‘You should wear purple more often’, ‘It’s got a bright shine than the other gems’ as if he was talking about clothing or some accessory, rather then a butt plug. He pulled it out still satisfied with it. No, there was a perfect one in here, he just needed to find it. Your hazy eyes looked around the room while he dug in the bag, you saw all the plugs lying randomly on the floor, lube dripping off all of them, some most likely smeared with your own juices, given you were practically leaking for Steve to touch you.

“Ahh!” You suddenly look back at yourself in the mirror, seeing he placed a much thicker plug inside this time, but instead of a gem, it was a tail…. a bright red fox tail with a snow-white tip. It sat so beautifully on the floor, making you shiver. His fingers rubbed against the fur, patting it while he groaned. This was the perfect piece. A tail that made you look like what he thought of you as…. Just a sweet little fox in a big bad wolfs trap.

“My pretty little fox…” He whispered in your ear, making you whimper at his words. He picked up another object from the bag, letting you see he got a tentacle dildo. A deep purple one. The one you saw online the other night. You thought you were alone while browsing for sex toys, but Steve must have noticed the cheeky shit. He held the toy in front of you, giving you a good view of it. You bucked your hips, wiggling in anticipation while he spilled some lube on the object. “You want to be fucked by a tentacle baby? Dirty girl.”

“P-please Stevie.” You cried, feeling him rub the dildo up and down lightly pushing the tip of the tentacle against your clit and it started vibrating. “ffffuuucckk!!” You screamed out, trying to back away from the vibration, but Steve's body caged you, his thighs either side of you. He played with the tail with his free hand, stroking the fur while lightly tugging on it. Everything was so sensitive, and you felt like you were going to explode. He slipped the dildo inside your puffy cunt, fucking you harshly with it. Your eyes were glued to the mirror, watching the toy go in and out. In and out…

“Fuck, look at you. You’re enjoying this my little fox. Being fucked stupid on some toys.” His voice rang in your ears. Your head was spinning and your body was jerking in rhythm of his thrusts. You could feel you were close to your high but it felt different. Felt… faster, more intense.

“Steve I-” Before you could say another word, your body shook like crazy. Legs locking, hands gripping tight on Steve's thighs. You squirted all over the blankets, some of it managed to splatter across the mirror, making your lover chuckle in amusement. Once you slowly came down from your high, Steve switched off the toy before discarding it somewhere on the floor. His hand snaked along your wet body, squeezing your tit before gripping your chin, pulling your face upwards so his lips could capture yours.

“Hmm my baby.” he kissed you again “My pretty baby.” he kissed the corner of your mouth, "You enjoying yourself darling?” he licked your neck, sucking your skin. You just humped in response, feeling tired from the orgasm you had just felt. But Steve didn’t give you time to relax in your bliss as he softly pushed you forward, making you fall onto your tummy, keeping your legs bent and ass in the air. Your face was smooshed against the mirror making you keep eye contact with yourself. But Steve had the perfect view. Your ass wiggling in his face with a perfect tail swaying with it.

“You ready for around two…” He tugged harshly on your tail making your eyebrows knit tight together. “I have so many other toys to try on you.”

642 notes · View notes

ja3honey · 7 months

Text

♡ 𝐃𝐚𝐲 𝟏𝟖: 𝐓𝐨𝐲𝐬/𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱 - 𝐊.𝐇𝐉 ♡

【sʏɴᴏᴘsɪs】 : Hongjoong couldn't decide what gift to buy you while he was travelling. So he bought them all and now wants you to try them out. Every. Single. One.

『ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ』 : 1.11k

-> ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: Pure Smut

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Idol!Hongjoong x F.Reader

[ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs] : Edging. Fingering. Dirty talk. Use of a dildo. Making out. Pet names. Swearing. Neck kisses.

Thank you, my darling, @nateezfics, for requesting Hongjoong for this day. I hope you enjoy, baby. ♡♡♡

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober List

You don’t know how you ended up in such a predicament. But here you were, sitting on several blankets on the floor with your back against the end of your bed frame with pillows supporting you. Hongjoong had gone on a shopping spree while he was in Paris, and at first, you thought he simply bought you a nice outfit or even some French snacks. But no, this was Hongjoong you were thinking about. The man who secretly has a dark spot. A dirty side and of course he had bought you an array of toys. Especially.. but plugs.

“I didn’t know which one would suit you, so I bought them all.” that was his excuse for the ten or so plugs lying hiding in a giant bag… among other things. He told you that about an hour ago now. Having set up a little spot for you to lay while he worked on you. He first took some attentiveness in stretching you. Lube was all over the blankets by the time he was done and you were shaking like a leaf at this point. His fingers switching between your pussy to your ass was making your head spin in the best way and the more he worked on you the more nervous you got with the idea of the new toys. He wouldn’t tell you what else was in the bag other than ‘it’s a surprise’ making your nerves even more on edge.

He sat behind you, letting you lay on your lower back, holding yourself with your elbows. He sat you in front of your large full-length mirror, letting you see exactly what the gems looked like when they were pushed into your puckered hole. First, it was a red gem, ruby, it was cute, simple and he always said red was your colour. But he kept going, pulling the toy out he pushed another one in. One after the other and at this point you didn’t care what the gem colour was, all that mattered was the feeling of it going in and out over and over again. He was edging you without even realizing and it made you all hot and bothered.

“J-Joong.” at this point he needed him to fuck you before you explode but he just chuckled putting the new on, a purple gem deep inside your ass. He twisted it slowly, pretending to make remarks such as ‘Such a pretty colour’, ‘You should wear purple more often’, ‘It’s got a bright shine than the other gems’ as if he was talking about clothing or some accessory, rather then a butt plug. He pulled it out still satisfied with it. No, there was a perfect one in here, he just needed to find it. Your hazy eyes looked around the room while he dug in the bag, you saw all the plugs lying randomly on the floor, lube dripping off all of them, some most likely smeared with your own juices, given you were practically leaking for Hongjoong to touch you.

“Ahh!” You suddenly look back at yourself in the mirror, seeing he placed a much thicker plug inside this time, but instead of a gem, it was a tail…. a bright red fox tail with a snow-white tip. It sat so beautifully on the floor making you shiver. His fingers rubbed against the fur, patting it while he groaned. This was the perfect piece. A tail that made you look like what he thought of you as…. Just a sweet little fox in a big bad wolfs trap.

“My pretty little fox…” He whispered in your ear making you whimper at his words. He picked up another object from the bag letting you see he got a tentacle dildo. A deep purple one. The one you saw online the other night. You thought you were alone while browsing for sex toys but Hongjoong must have noticed the cheeky shit. He held the toy in front of you giving you a good view of it. You bucked your hips, wiggling in anticipation while he spilled some lube on the object. “You want to be fucked by a tentacle baby? Dirty girl.”

“P-please Joongie.” You cried, feeling him rub the dildo up and down lightly pushing the tip of the tentacle against your clit and it started vibrating. “ffffuuucckk!!” You screamed out, trying to back away from the vibration but Hongjoong’s body caged you, his thighs either side of you. He played with the tail with his free hand, stroking the fur while lightly tugging on it. Everything was so sensitive and you felt like you were going to explode. He slipt the dildo inside your puffy cunt, fucking you harshly with it. Your eyes were glued to the mirror, watching the toy go in and out. In and out…

“Hongjoong I-” Before you could say another word your body shook like crazy. Legs locking, hands gripping tight on Hongjoong’s thighs. You squirted all over the blankets, some of it managed to splatter across the mirror, making your lover chuckle in amusement. Once you slowly came down from your high, Joong switched off the toy before discarding it somewhere on the floor. His hand snaked along your wet body, squeezing your tit before gripping your chin, pulling your face upwards so his lips could capture yours.

“Hmm my baby.” he kissed you again “My pretty baby.” he kissed the corner of your mouth, "You enjoying yourself darling?” he licked your neck, sucking your skin. You just humped in response, feeling tired from the orgasm you had just felt. But Hongjoong didn’t give you time to relax in your bliss as he softly pushed you forward, making you fall onto your tummy, keeping your legs bent and ass in the air. Your face was smooshed against the mirror making you keep eye contact with yourself. But Hongjoong had the perfect view. Your ass wiggling in his face with a perfect tail swaying with it.

“You ready for around two…” He tugged harshly on your tail making your eyebrows knit tight together. “I have so many other toys to try on you.”

560 notes · View notes

lunajay33 · 3 months

Text

New World🍂Part.4

Summary: Things go wrong when you’re stuck on the highway and Daryl has been acting strange ever since you told him you loved him

Part.3

•Masterlist•

Along the way we had to ditch Daryl’s truck and now he was on his motorcycle leaving you to ride with Shane, but you all had to stop due to the road block and the RV breaking down……again

It’s been a hard few days the drive was tiring, a heard of walkers came threw and now Sophia was missing and people have been out looking for her for a day now, you were now out with Rick, Shane and Carl helping look when you came across a beautiful deer

You held carls hand as you both slowly approached the deer as we got closer he stood infront of you admiring the little magical moment as Shane and Rick watched

Then a bang was heard and you felt a boiling pain in your side, you looked down seeing blood quickly seeping from your shirt

You fell to the ground as Rick and Shane ran over putting pressure on your wound, you were so confused everything was a blur, the shouts your vision, everything

“What’s hap…happening?” Dazed you faintly heard another man approach then everything went dark

Feeling shaken you opened your eyes seeing Shane frantically running with you in his arms

“Ya hold on, we ain’t losing no one else ya hear me?”

You couldn’t answer nothing felt right

~~~~~~~~~

You woke up feeling hot, hair sticking to your face you tried to sit up but screamed out in pain

“You need to stay down dear” an older man said as he gently pushed me back down

“What happened, where am I?”

“You were shot, this is Hershel he’s gonna help you” you looked to your right to see Shane sitting by the bed, maybe Shane wasn’t that bad after all

“I need Daryl, please” you pleaded scared something might happen and you won’t have him in your finally moments

“I’ll find him” a girl in the corner said as she left the room

Then everything felt cold and you passed out again

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Daryl’s pov

We were walking out in the woods lookin for Sophia when we heard a gun shot, there was a feeling in my chest that something happened but she was with Shane and Rick she should be fine and it was only one shot

We kept walking when a girl came riding up on a horse knocking out a walker

“Who’s Daryl?” She asked in a hurry

“Who’s askin?” How the hell did she know my name

“Y/n’s been shot you need to come with me” usually I wouldn’t trust this but she knew her name and I couldn’t risk it, I threw my bow over my shoulder and hoped on the horse

We rode off for a while till we came to an old farm house, rode right up to the front door where Rick and carl came out

I jumped off and tried pushing past to go in but Rick held me back

“What the hell happened?” I asked feeling angry, scared

“We were looking at a deer and Otis was tracking it, bullet went straight threw, grazed my shoulder and went right into her side” Carl explained

“She’s been in and out” Rick said as he led me inside to a room where she was laying, pale as snow, a sheen of sweat covered her skin

I sat my crossbow down and sat on the bed next to her, Shane was in the corner and a man with white hair was coming in

“Will she be okay?” I asked pushing her hair back

“She’s getting weak, her blood pressure is dropping, I’ve gotten a few fragments out but I can’t get some she’s lost too much blood”

“Giver mine, we’re the same, take it” I said ripping my shirt up readying for it

“Are you sure?”

I nodded as he came over and put the needle in, making me think about what’s happened between us lately

She told me she loved me, I didn’t say it back, don’t know why she’d say that, why would she love me she could hold out and wait for anyone, someone good she can’t love me…..no one can, and now I can barely look at her without feeling a tightness in my stomach, my heart clenching when I see her eyes full of worry

When the walkers came through the highway I couldn’t find her, all I heard was a scream and I thought she was gone and she would’ve died thinking I was…..well I don’t know what I feel but I know I can’t lose her

Hershel went on with the surgery now that she had the blood transfusion and stitched her up now I was just waiting for her to wake up….if she’d wake up

~~~~~~~~~

Normal pov

You woke up with a thumping headache and a sharp pain in your side, all the memories of what happened came flooding back, you looked around frantic but still so weak

No one was around so you got up slowly trying to maneuver yourself without ripping open your side, you managed to to get up and walk out to the front door, the fresh air was nice

You sat on the top step of the porch and let the air blow across your face cooling you down as you felt a lump in your throat

It’s been so hard lately, one thing after another keeps happening and you didn’t know how much longer you could take it

Tears slide down your cheeks and dropped onto your thighs, someone must have changed you cause you were in baggy shorts and an oversized shirt

You just felt like a burden to everyone now, you were looking for Sophia and you got injured and maybe she was out there dead now because everyone was too focused on you

You wiped your tears as you saw Daryl come walking towards the house, seeing tents were set up near by everyone must be here now

“The hell are ya doin out of bed?” He asked with a bit of anger to his voice

You didn’t answer, too tired mentally and physically you respond

“Y/n? Are ya okay?” You just shrugged finally looking at him

“Come on ya need to stay in bed” he said picking you up slowly and bringing you back inside to the bed

“I missed ya” he said as he sat next to you

“Why?” After his treatment and avoidance of you lately felt like he didn’t care anymore, he’s never done that to you before

“Why? Cause yer my best friend, yer all I got” he said confused

“Didn’t seem like that the past few days” you groaned as a pain shot from your side

“ ‘m sorry”

It was silent between you both as the tears welled again

“I’m tired Daryl, I’m so tired”

“Told ya, ya need to sleep”

“No, I’m tired, I should have stayed at the CDC with Jacqui, I don’t wanna do this anymore” you whined

“Don’t speak like that, I ain’ lettin ya give up, ya can’t, yer my person peach, please don’t leave me” he whispered as he felt a pain in his chest, seeing you like this for the first time trying to give up made his heart hurt

“I’m sorry D, im just scared, when I got shot all I could think about was you, how if I died you wouldn’t be there, how you were ignoring me and that would be our last memory, I just don’t wanna hurt anymore Daryl, I love you too much for you to ignore me” he wiped you tears away and held your cheek

“I luv ya too, I should’ve said it ‘fore, just never had someone love me like you do” he said as he leaned forward and placed a quick gentle kiss to your lips

It was a small kiss but a big step for him, he pulled back and you were both smiling

“Ya promise to never give up” he asked pleading

“I’ll try Dixon, for you I’ll try”

—///—///—///—///—///—///—

Part.5<-

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sidekick-hero · 2 months

Text

caught in the careless arms of lust again

metaldeputy | explicit | 5.6k | tags: crossover Fargo/Stranger Things, No Upside Down, Modern AU, pwp | AO3

Dickinson, North Dakota was as much a shithole in Eddie's eyes as Hawkins, Indiana. The only real difference, as far as he can tell, is the cold, which is more biting than even the worst winter he ever experienced back home, and his balls are trying as hard as they can to crawl back into his body.

It's not like he wants to be here. There was no way in hell he was going to spend more time than it took to take a piss and pump some gas into his van in a state that was mostly God-fearing northern rednecks and a whole lot of nothing.

But of course, nothing ever goes according to plan in Eddie Munson's life, and his van broke down just as he was passing through Dickinson on Interstate 94. He'd seen the sign and giggled like a high school kid at the silly name, momentarily distracted and not looking at the road. That's why he didn't notice the damn deer until it was too late, and like the idiot he was, he swerved to avoid it, skidded on the slick icy road, and ended up in the ditch.

Luckily he wasn't going that fast, so after a few feet the car came to a stop in the snow, the engine dead and refusing to start no matter what he tried.

And now his van is in the hands of a guy named Ray at Ray's Auto Electric, while Eddie has to rent a room in a dubious looking hotel called the Badland Inn. It’s fifty bucks a night, which he certainly doesn’t have, but beggars can’t be choosers, and it’s too damn cold to even consider sleeping outside. Ray, who had taken one look at Eddie's long hair and tattoos before seeming to decide he wanted Eddie gone almost as much as Eddie wanted to be gone, said it would be at least three days, maybe more, depending on how fast he could get the part he needed to get his van running again.

And that's why Eddie is sitting in some dive bar, drinking a cheap watered-down beer, wallowing in self-pity, when Deputy Gator Tillman walks into his life.

At first he doesn't even turn his head to look at the man who just sat down next to him, just nods politely while staring into the smudged glass in his hands. It's only when the guy next to him orders a Bud Light, of all things, that Eddie can't help but snort. From what he's seen so far, the men here are manly men, drinking only the bitterest beer and the strongest whiskey while thumping their chests like apes.

"Something funny, shitbird?" The guy snarls at him.

And here we go again, Eddie thinks, already tired of what's sure to come.

"Listen, man," Eddie starts as he turns around to face whoever's ego he just bruised, only to be stopped by the sight in front of him.

The guy's hot, is the first thing that strikes him, square jaw, full lips, droopy eyes, and a slanted nose. His chestnut hair is slicked back and shaved with racetrack lines, as much a part of his machismo as the combat pants and bulletproof vest he's wearing. Too bad his face is just too pretty for any of it to work.

He must have been staring, because the hazel eyes looking back at him narrow even more, his whole face turning into a sneer that's still far more attractive than it has any right to be.

"What are you staring at, asshole?"

A ghost from my past, Eddie thinks. Because he once knew a boy who looked just like the guy before him, a boy who tried so hard to be the epitome of everything a wealthy white businessman's son in Bumfuck Indiana could want. He played all kinds of sports, was captain of the basketball and swim teams, had a new pretty girl on his arm every week, and sneered down at everyone below him as he looked on from his perch at the top of the high school food chain.

King Steve, a man who had been so goddamn pretty that Eddie could still remember all the times he had jerked off to fantasies of those lips and hands, and that juicy ass in Harrington's tiny gym shorts.

The man before him looked different, of course, but much of him was the same. Maybe that was the reason why Eddie didn't stop his mouth from running off on him.

"You. It's a nice view, that's for sure."

Even as he braces himself for a punch, Eddie can't tear his eyes away from the hauntingly familiar face in front of him as he sees the words land. They're mostly harmless. Not even a pretty boy or a sweetheart thrown in there. At least not yet.

The man's eyes widen, just a fraction, just enough for Eddie to notice. Just as Eddie notices the color rising up his neck and the way his tongue darts out to wet his lips. Gotcha, big boy.

"What did you just say to me?" The guy demands, taking a step forward, invading Eddie's personal space, bringing with him the smell of cologne and old sweat, tinged with something fruity Eddie can't quite put his finger on.

There’s enough of a height difference between them that Eddie can look up at him through his lashes from his seat. He curls his lips into a smile that has just enough edge to draw the guy’s eyes to it and keep them there.

"Paid you a compliment. Don't tell me a handsome guy like you doesn't get those all the time, huh?"

The brazenness makes the other man stumble, Eddie can tell by the way his mouth opens and closes without a sound coming out of it. He catches himself soon enough and leans back, pulling himself up to his full height and bringing his hands to his hips, drawing Eddie's eyes to where the tips of his fingers graze the gun strapped to his thigh.

Okay, this is how they're going to play this, apparently.

"Listen, you fucking pansy, I ain't got no idea why you think you can just come in here and talk to a man of the law like that, but I'm gonna show you where you and your kind can stick your disgusting tendencies."

This makes Eddie smile even wider. His mantra has always been 'fuck the law', so that's exactly what he's going to do. And he's pretty sure this particular lawman wouldn't mind. Just as Eddie is sure now that Harrington wouldn't have been opposed to Eddie's tendencies, but back then Eddie hadn't been the kind of guy to take such a risk. No experience, just a gut feeling, and that wasn't enough to risk getting his nose broken. Or worse.

Now, with more than a decade of hookups with supposedly straight guys under his belt, he knew the signs. And the guy right in front of him? A big fucking neon sign.

"I dunno, Sheriff. Maybe you’d rather I show you where I could stick my tendencies instead. I'm sure you can take it like a man, big boy."

Eddie makes sure to lean in again as he says this, letting his eyes roam over the guy's body in a blatant invitation that he really hopes will be taken. It's not like he has any trouble picking up guys, even in the backwoods he's been traveling through lately, though he does have to be a little more careful. But he wants this one, badly. He's sure he'll look like sin on his knees for Eddie, eyes as round and wet as his mouth wrapped around his dick, begging for anything Eddie is willing to give him.

The guy in front of him doesn't seem to be the sharpest tool in the shed, but he doesn't have to be, Eddie thinks. Not with that face. It takes him more than a few moments to work through Eddie's words, and the first thing he responds to is not what Eddie would think it would be.

"That's my dad." At Eddie's confused look, he adds, "Sheriff. My dad is Sheriff Roy Tillman. I'm his right-hand man, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman." He says, standing even straighter, voice dripping with pomposity.

"I figured you'd be a mouthful, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman."

Eddie gives him a wolfish grin and licks his lips, eyes focused on what he can make out of the bulge in the deputy's pants, which are frankly a little too loose. Guys like him should wear tight jeans or those gray sweatpants that show off the goods a lot better than fucking combat pants.

"The fuck you talkin' about, numbnuts?"

Yeah, not the sharpest tool in the shed. But maybe this is his chance to defuse the situation, turn it into a joke, and get the hell out before he finds himself behind bars or with his face bashed in. The Eddie of a few years ago would have run, just like he had run when Harrington had him pinned down at Skull Rock after Eddie had taken his flirting a little too far during a weed sale. He'd had the same look in his eyes that he sees on the Deputy's face now.

Hunger masked as anger.

So instead of running, Eddie decides to show his hand. Make his offer clear and see if the Deputy takes him up on it. And if not, he will hole up in the inn and hope that Ray gets his parts as soon as possible.

"I'm talking about your cock, Deputy." Eddie mutters.

He rises and positions himself to cover his hand as it reaches out to squeeze the bulge, feeling it swell under his touch. Big Boy, indeed. He takes a stumbling step forward to have an excuse to press himself against Deputy Tillman's hard body and leans in to whisper in his ear.

"Too bad we don't get to play with it. I'm sure you'd be so good." Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth with a soft tzk. "But what can you do, right? Have a good evening, Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman."

Counting on dear Deputy Tillman needing another moment to process what Eddie just said, he steps away from the other man and saunters out, heading toward the inn.

He hasn't even made it out of the parking lot before he hears the sound of heavy footsteps following him outside.

Bingo.

He keeps walking and doesn't turn around, but there's a pleased smile on his face. If the Deputy was going to bash his head in, Eddie hopes he would have done it by now. The footsteps behind him are faster than the saunter Eddie was taking, but they don’t charge at him, just follow a few steps behind.

Eddie makes sure to sway his hips as he walks, feeling the other man's eyes on him the whole way. He can't be sure, but he thinks they're fixed on his ass, and he's glad he put on his skinny jeans that hug his thighs and ass just right. Not that it will see much action tonight. Eddie knows what Deputy Tillman needs, and soon he’ll know it too when he’s on his knees and begging for it.

For now, Eddie lets him think that it's his tight ass that’ll be getting hit tonight.

The walk to the inn is silent and the cold air around them feels heavy, charged. Anticipation crackles under his skin like a summer storm brewing in the sky and he can't remember the last time he felt so alive.

After passing through the entrance, he waits at the bottom of the stairs until he hears the front door close again, and only then does he begin his ascent to his room on the fourth floor, climbing the stairs with the steady sound of steps creaking under two sets of feet.

When he finally reaches the door to his room, his chest is heaving from more than just the physical exertion. Something about the whole night feels so goddamn surreal, and he still half expects to wake up in a ditch after being beaten half to death for flirting with a fucking cop in a part of the country where that could very well get him arrested. Or worse. So much worse.

And yet here he is, inviting danger into his room, into his bed, into his arms.

Something about Deputy Tillman makes him forget everything he's learned about staying out of trouble.

In fact, he's walking right into it, with a devilish smile and a raging hard-on.

Eddie hears the heavy steps behind him coming to a halt as well and he can feel the presence of another body close to his. For just a second, he contemplates calling it off, taking the safe route, just like he promised his uncle to do. But then he remembers the hot, thick girth under his hand and the way Tillman reminds him of a ghost from the past that has come back to haunt him and thinks fuck the safe route.

Slipping the key into the lock and turning it to the right, he opens the door and walks into his room, turning on the light and waiting for trouble to follow him inside.

They still haven't said anything, not since Eddie so boldly proposed the Deputy Sheriff, but he thinks they both know why they're here.

"I take it you're here to play a little, Deputy?" He doesn't even turn around when he asks this, the question being mostly rhetorical anyway. Just him playing with his food, making Tillman admit why he followed Eddie here.

More silence answers him.

"Cat got your tongue? Don't tell me you're getting shy now." Eddie coaxes, finally turning to look at the young man he never expected to meet tonight. He's met with a defiant look on that awfully pretty face, eyebrows drawn together and lips almost pouting at him. Adorable, really.

"Fuck you," the Deputy spits, clearly at a loss for words, inferior in their duel of wits.

Eddie taps his chin mockingly, as if he has to think about it. "Nah," he finally concludes, "I think I'd rather fuck you."

His words don't immediately hit the Deputy, an almost cute look of confusion on his face before his eyes widen, first in shock, then in anger. Too bad the admittedly impressive bulge in his pants gives away just how much Tillman is not against the idea.

"But...you said...in the bar..." he stutters, more indignation in his words than in his voice. Oh, he's precious, Eddie thinks, just the kind of guy he loves to corrupt. He knows he lured the Deputy in with the vague promise of a blow job, and knowing what he packs in those hideous combat pants, Eddie thinks he might still do it. After all, he thinks the man will be much more pliable after a nice orgasm. He doesn't want to hurt his prey, he just wants to play with it, and if his prey enjoys it, that's all the better in Eddie's book.

Taking a step toward the other man, Eddie catches his eyes and raises an eyebrow. "Look, if you can't use your words, Deputy, then I can't use my mouth or my hands on you. Simple as that. Speak up or get out."

Delighted, Eddie notices Tillman's spine straighten at his tone.

Bingo.

It's clear the Deputy needs a firm hand.

With his chin sticking out, Tillman tries again, still stumbling over his words here and there, but doing a much better job than before. "You said I was a mouthful. That my," he pauses before venturing on, "that my cock was a mouthful and that you wanted to play with it."

"I did, didn't I?" Eddie wonders aloud, his eyes deliberately dropping to where the Deputy is still hard in his pants and licking his lips. "And you've been a good boy so far, haven't you, Deputy?"

Tillman nods eagerly, making Eddie grin. He just loves his men easy.

"Good boys get a reward, but I'm not sure you deserve my mouth on you just yet, Deputy. I think you need to show me how good you really can be." Another step forward brings Eddie close enough to the other man to see how his pupils have dilated, swallowing up the beautiful hazel of his eyes. He puts a hand on Tillman's shoulder, fingers spread wide so that his thumb presses into the hollow of his throat, and gently pushes him down to his knees without any real force.

The Deputy sinks to his knees in a fluid and graceful arc that sends the blood rushing to his cock so fast he feels dizzy for a second.

Fuck, who would have thought that a random cop he picked up in a bar in the middle of nowhere North Dakota would turn out to be the sweetest of temptations?

Certainly not Eddie.

"Gorgeous," he praises the man on his knees in front of him, because he is. He looks up at Eddie with wide eyes, dazed, as if he doesn't even know what he's doing here, but likes it anyway. Thumbing his full lower lip until it opens for him, Eddie can't help but want to see how far the man will let him go. When the Deputy sucks Eddie's thumb into his mouth without a second thought, Eddie doesn't even try to stop the moan that falls from his lips. It's obvious that the man kneeling before him is starved for praise, so giving it to him will only make him more eager.

He pulls his thumb out of Tillman's mouth, already missing the warmth, and unbuttons his jeans. He pushes them down just enough to free his cock, the cool air of the room making him shiver. "Now, let's see what you can do, Deputy," he murmurs, anticipation coiling in his belly.

Deputy Tillman doesn't answer with words, but with action, leaning in and enveloping Eddie's hard length in the wet heat of his mouth. It's a clumsy start, but Eddie is more than willing to show him the ropes. If he's honest, it only fuels the flame of lust burning brightly in his stomach to know that it's him the Deputy is on his knees for, sucking his cock when it's clearly something he wouldn't normally do.

It's only fair that Eddie teach him how to be a good boy for him.

Eddie guides the Deputy's movements with a hand tangled in his hair, enjoying the feeling of complete control. He expects Tillman to bitch at him for ruining his hair, but the only reaction he gets when he tangles it between his fingers and pulls is a broken moan. The night might've started with a broken-down van and ended up in a dive bar, but now, it's shaping into something Eddie never could've anticipated.

Tillman may have been clumsy at first, but with Eddie's guiding hand slowing his movements, the Deputy seems to get used to the feel of Eddie's girth in his mouth, growing more confident with every lick of his tongue and bob of his head.

Eddie continues to murmur encouragements into the quiet room, each one swallowed hungrily by the man on his knees before him. As the night stretches on, he finds himself lost in the pleasure, the cold North Dakota winter forgotten in the warmth of Deputy Tillman's mouth.

"God, you're good at this," he praises, voice hoarse and strained. The Deputy looks up at him then, surprise in his eyes, but Eddie recognizes a flicker of something else there, too. Pride. Satisfaction. It makes him smirk.

He allows himself to sink further into the sensation, guiding the Deputy's movements with a firm hand in his hair. When he hits that sweet spot at the back of his throat, Eddie can't help the groan that escapes his lips.

"That's it, Deputy," he encourages, "Just like that."

As Tillman's moans vibrate around him, Eddie can feel the tension building in the pit of his stomach, an all too familiar pressure that signals his impending release. He tries to hold back, to prolong the pleasure, but it's a losing battle. With one last thrust into the warm cavern of the Deputy's mouth, he succumbs to the pleasure. His hips buck and he spurts down the Deputy's throat, a guttural moan tearing from his lips.

Tillman swallows around him, his throat working around Eddie's length, milking him for all he's worth. When he's spent, Eddie pulls back, sliding out of the warmth of the Deputy's mouth with a sigh.

"Well," he pants, "I think that's enough for tonight, Deputy." Leaning back against the wall to catch his breath, he pulls up his pants and buttons them, ignoring the Deputy's whine at his words. It's been a long time since a simple blowjob left him feeling like that. Completely worn out, but deeply satisfied.

When he finally regains his composure, he looks down to see Deputy Tillman still on his knees, looking up at him with wide, dazed eyes. Eddie grins down at him, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

"Good boy," he purrs, watching as the Deputy's eyes flash with a mix of indignation and satisfaction.

Maybe tonight doesn't have to be over right now.

Smiling, Eddie steps over him and heads for the bed, leaving the Deputy on his knees in the middle of the room. He sinks down on the edge of the bed, his legs slightly apart, and takes in the sight before him.

It takes his breath away.

He can't get over how the hard lines of the man's strong body look unexpectedly soft in his vulnerable position, less coiled serpent and more obedient puppy. The Deputy has surpassed all of Eddie's expectations tonight and he wants to reward him. Wants to encourage this unsuspected side of him, maybe even dig a little deeper to find more of it.

Deputy Sheriff Gator Tillman is more than meets the eye and Eddie is itching to know how much more.

“Look at me,” he tells the kneeling man and after a moment’s hesitation, still slightly unfocused eyes find his. Eddie knows that this must have been pretty intense for someone who hasn’t done anything like that before and the Deputy looks like he’s still far away, only slowly coming back to the here and now. His eyes roam over where Eddie’s body is perched on the edge of the bed with a questioning look on his face.

"Very good," Eddie purrs and smiles down at him. "I promised you a reward, and after how well you did on your knees for me, I think you deserve my mouth on you now."

Hazel's eyes widen in pleasant surprise at the promise, but when the Deputy starts to get up, Eddie stops him. "Who said you could get up again, pretty boy?"

The look of confusion on the man's face is adorable, Eddie thinks before he can stop himself. This is neither the time nor the place to get attached. He can't deny that the Deputy has gotten under his skin, but he'll deal with that when he's back on the road and their night is a distant memory. Just another pretty boy haunting his dreams.

"If you want your reward, you have to come here to get it." He waits for his words to sink in, but the confused puppy dog look doesn't leave the Deputy's face, so he clarifies, "On your knees, Deputy."

He can tell the exact moment the words finally sink in when Tillman closes his eyes as his hips twitch eagerly. If he didn't just come his brains out of his dick and into the Deputy's mouth, Eddie would get hard again at the sight. The man keeps surprising him. No matter what Eddie throws at him, he takes to it like a fish to water, so eager to please, so easily led.

With an eager tilt of his pretty mouth, the Deputy crawls over to Eddie, staying on his knees as he moves between Eddie's spread legs, a look of hungry anticipation in his eyes. Eddie can't wait to show him what a real reward feels like.

He cups the man's face with his hand and pulls him closer so he can lean in and whisper in his ear. "Strip for me, pretty boy. Show me how beautiful you are."

For the first time since they started this whole thing, Deputy Tillman is using his mouth for something other than sucking on Eddie's thumb and cock. "Can I stand up for this?" He asks and Eddie hears some of the petulance creep back into his voice even though his words remain perfectly polite. Like a puppy, the man is eager to be good, but he also loves to test Eddie's limits.

"You may. But do it slowly, I want to enjoy the show."

"I thought this was my reward, not yours?"

Ah, there is the fire he was met with earlier, Eddie thinks. Despite what some people might think about him, he likes a challenge, and if the Deputy wants to make Eddie work for it, then he can. It's part of the game, and he enjoys it just as much as he did when the man was on his knees gagging for it.

Eddie leans back leisurely, spreading his legs a little wider, deliberately giving Tillman an unobstructed view of his slender body. He wears a smirk on his face, a confidence born from countless encounters of this kind. "Well, Deputy," he begins, his voice smooth like aged whiskey. The corners of his mouth twitch up into a devilish grin. "It's your reward, of course. But don't think for a second that I won't get my share of enjoyment out of this too." He leans in a little closer, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous glint. "Now, show me what you've got."

Rising to his feet, the Deputy does as he's told and with every inch of tantalizing skin he reveals, Eddie's hands twitch with the desire to touch. His skin is smooth, the fine hair on it almost golden, with the exception of his chest hair, which is dark and thick. There are beauty marks of all sizes and shapes all over his body, little beacons that call out to him to put his mouth all over them. His body is athletic, arms and legs defined but not bulky like Eddie has seen a lot of cops. Those muscles come from physical work, not pumping at the gym.

Eddie's favorite part, though, are the Deputy's legs. They seem to go on for miles, the golden hair and thick thighs make his mouth water. He wants them wrapped around his waist as he pounds into the tight heat of what must be a virgin ass, eliciting broken moans and high-pitched whimpers. For now, though, he'll take those thighs wrapped around his head.

"Come here, Deputy," Eddie says, patting the bed next to him. "Let's see how good you can be for me." He can't wait to feel those strong thighs tremble around his head as he shows Deputy Tillman exactly how good his tendencies can feel.

With a slight hesitation, the Deputy crawls onto the bed, his movements a little awkward without his clothes on. But Eddie doesn't mind. It's just another sign of how new this is for him, how far out of his comfort zone he is. And Eddie likes that about him. The way he's willing to put himself out there, to try something new and scary. It's unexpected, but endearing. It makes Eddie want to reward him all the more.

He guides Tillman until he's straddling Eddie's chest, his knees resting on either side of his shoulders. His cock is hard and leaking against his belly and Eddie can't resist reaching up to wrap a hand around it, giving it a light squeeze. Tillman hisses at the touch, his hips jerking forward into Eddie's hand.

"Easy, Deputy," Eddie says, his voice low and soothing. "I told you, this is your reward. Just relax and let me take care of you."

Then he begins to stroke Tillman in earnest, his hand moving up and down his length in a slow, steady rhythm. He watches Tillman's face as he does so, watching as his eyes flutter closed and his lips part with a soft moan. The sight sends a rush of satisfaction through him, knowing he's the one making the Deputy feel this way.

But it's not enough. He wants to taste him as well. He wants to feel the way Tillman tastes on his tongue, the way he squirms and moans as Eddie takes him in his mouth. He wants to hear the way Tillman curses under his breath, the way he begs for more.

So he leans up, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of Tillman's cock before taking him in his mouth. The taste of him, salty and a little sweet, is intoxicating and Eddie moans around him, the vibration causing Tillman to gasp and buck his hips forward. But Eddie holds him steady, one hand on his hip as he continues to suck him off.

The sounds Tillman makes as Eddie works him with his mouth and hands are music to Eddie's ears. He can feel the way Tillman's body tenses under his touch, the way his breath hitches every time Eddie does something he particularly likes. And Eddie uses all of this to his advantage, learning what makes Tillman tick, what makes him moan and gasp and beg for more.

It's not long before Tillman is coming undone under Eddie's touch. His moans grow louder, his hips start to move in time with Eddie's strokes, and his fingers clutch at the sheets beneath them. And when he comes, Eddie swallows him down, his own cock throbbing in response to the sight of Tillman losing himself to pleasure.

But even after Tillman's body goes slack, Eddie doesn't stop. He licks him clean, pressing soft kisses to his sensitive skin until Tillman is squirming and whimpering beneath him. Only then does he pull back, his eyes meeting Tillman's as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

"That was your reward, Deputy," he says, his voice low and satisfied. "I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did."

The look in Tillman's eyes tells him he did, even if the Deputy can't find the words to say it. And that's more than enough for Eddie. Part of him thinks he'd actually like the Deputy to stay the night, to get comfortable under the blankets with a warm body in his arms for the first time in a long time. It's been a while since he felt connected enough to someone to let them stay close after they both got what they wanted out of their hookup.

Even longer since the last time Eddie considered a next time. And then another. It's a slippery slope, he knows, so he does the only logical thing.

He taps the thighs that are still clutching his shoulders until Tillman falls to the side and lies down beside him. Without looking at the other man, Eddie says, "I'm going to take a shower. I think it's best if you're gone when I get back."

Stripping off his clothes as he makes his way to the tiny bathroom, he continues to look everywhere but at the naked, beautiful man on his bed. They've both had their fun and now it's time to move on. Easy as that, right? Right.

Or not, because just as he opens the door to step out of the room that smells of sweat and sex, a deep, gravelly voice stops him.

"What's your name?"

Shit.

"Why? So you can look me up? Arrest me as soon as the sun comes up on some trumped up charge of sucking your dick?"

Maybe that's unfair, but in his experience you can't trust a cop, and it's on him that he forgot that, even for a second. That's what he gets for thinking with his dick.

"No," Deputy Tillman replies, his voice surprisingly soft. "I just want to know the name of the guy who just blew my fucking mind, is all."

And that's...huh. Eddie doesn't even know what to do with that.

"It's Eddie."

"Just Eddie?"

"That's all you need to know so you can moan it the next time you jack off, sweetheart." He turns around with a smirk as he says it, but he'd be lying if he said the thought of Tillman moaning his name didn't do it for him. If a next time wasn't such an epically bad idea, he'd like to hear it himself as he takes the man apart.

"Maybe I will," the Deputy replies, and Eddie wants to believe him. "Next time you should call me Gator, ya know? Only fair."

Next time?

"There won't be a next time, Deputy. This was a one-time thing."

And damn it, he shouldn't have turned around, because the look in Gator's-no, Tillman's-eyes is hurt.

It's not that Eddie enjoys hurting the guy, but it's better this way. Safer.

"Goodbye, Gator." He says as he steps into the bathroom and closes the door behind him.

The hot shower feels good, relieving some of the tension that had crept into his shoulders and neck after their conversation. He loses himself in the task of getting clean, scrubbing away the remnants of the night, and when he steps back out into the empty bedroom, he almost feels like himself again. The last few hours hadn't been how he expected to spend his first night in this shithole of a town, but he can't say he regrets a single thing.

As he settles into the soft mattress, he can't help but think that despite all the trouble, Dickinson, North Dakota might not be so bad after all.

Happy very belated birthday @baronsamediswife 💜💜💜Thank you for indulging me and watching Fargo and Marmalade with me and letting me ramble about how pretty Joe Keery is.

#Metaldeputy #gator tillman x eddie munson #eddie munson x gator tillman #Stranger Things fanfiction #Fargo fanfiction #Eddie Munson #Gator Tillman #nsft #my writing

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hoseoksluna · 5 months

Text

METAMORPHOSE | ch. 1

pairing: postmilitaryracer!jungkook x she

genre: angst; fluff

word count: 1.9k

warnings: swearing, smoking?, anxiety, mini dom/sub play, jungkook doesn't understand his feelings:(, he gets lost in his head a lot, attachment issues, fears, distrust

note: not me already writing abt post military jungkook even tho he hasn't enlisted yet hahaha! i'm so excited about posting my first jk fic on here. pls show some love as i've only been a silent reader here but lately i've been pining and burning for jungkook so here i am! enjoy enjoy and here's a cookie for u to eat while u read 🍪

MASTERLIST | PINTEREST BOARD | WATTPAD

THE SNOW blankets the entirety of his car.

Disguised under the frail and the fragile layer of ivory coruscation, the blue begs to be seen. Not yet, thinks Jeon Jeongguk. You've already made a spectacle of yourself. Now that he is having a wistful look at his precious possession, his heart takes in all the unblemished beauty before his body. The twinkles, those little fuckers, hide under the plum-infused heavens, but once a car interrupts the ice cold quietness of the night, Jeongguk unmasks their playful secret. You look so cold, but look at how pretty you are. He can't help but think of the girl he is waiting for. She is as sturdy as the bark of an oak tree, but once the snow melts on her skin, it leaves the glitter in its wake. The glitter he likes to collect. Gather. And carry as a keepsake in his wallet.

She has always been his Tinkerbell and Jeongguk ponders over that thought as he reaches into the depth of his pocket to pull out his packet of cigarettes. Blue and white—akin to the state of his car. He lights the end with a lighter that must have been misplaced. The color pink beams at him on his palm. Fuck if he knows how that ended up in his winter jacket, but he returns the smile until the smoke burns in his left eye. He puts the body of the cigarette between his fingers, eyelid closed, and with his ring finger he traces over the ghost of his lip-piercing. His tongue, out of habit, licks over the hole but does not find what it searched for. The piercing is gone and so is a part of him that he thought would live forever within him. Jeongguk sighs and takes a fat puff of his cigarette.

Crunchy footsteps sound behind him and he turns around. His Tinkerbell walks towards him and the barren trees, dressed only in the flimsy nightgown of winter, almost intertwine to make a crown over her head. Her hair, the scent of a dark wine, cascades in soft curls over her white woolen coat and pink scarf. Snowflakes have long stopped their fall, so Jeongguk does not find them in her midst, but he proceeds in the rampage of his curiosity over the sweet perimeter of her body. Her coat ends below her knees and it is merciful enough to reveal her legs to him, warm in thick tights, and her feet shod in shoes he knows too well.

He probably should fight the smirk forming upon the thinness of his lips. But Jeongguk decides he does not want to.

"Hey you," he says to her, the deep dimple of his cheek also acknowledging her. The smoke does little to conceal it.

She smiles at the greeting, the fullness of the cosmos glistening in her eyes. Jeongguk sees the order and the pattern of the world within the twinkle of those browns and he understands all of the sudden. He understands the whole world.

Looking up at him, she giggles. "Hey you."

He scrunches up his nose at her sweetness, a grin taking full form. He missed it—he missed her nectar.

In the past, when Jeongguk devoted more of his time to her, he discovered that this was her thing. She took pleasure in imitating a person's gestures and facial expressions if it sparkled a warm rumble of laughter in her chest. She was the girl who noticed profound details in people, whereas he was the man, whose heart longed to unbury the composition of his surroundings. Snow, the drowsy heavens, the trees and the misty fuzziness of it all when he steps on the gas. She had a wonderful memory, capable of remembering the certain movements of hands or mouths, the lift in the eyebrow or the intonation in someone's storytelling. It grew roots in her, it sweetened her blood and the whole room burned with flare at the start of her charades, but it never made her her in the slightest. She was still her own person. Ordinary to the fullest. With no quirkiness to her articulation. She kept her hands folded, the muscles on her face untouched by a fervent emotion. Shielded she was. She always was.

People versus art, it would seem.

He never cared much about people. Though, on the other hand, that was then. He doesn't know who he is now, half-empty, a new shape of forever extending in his bones. He wonders, for a mere second, as he regards her face, if she changed at all. Time passed between them, no matter how strongly he wishes it didn't in the least.

It differentiated her from everyone else, her ordinariness. It would pain him to bid his goodbye to it.

His heart quivers with the threat of anxiety. He blinks, lifting his hand and rubbing his thumb back and forth along the apple of her rosy cheek while taking a long drag from his cigarette. This is a good distraction, Jeongguk thinks to himself, his grin dropping to a melancholy smile. Has anything been changed in you?

Her skin feels the same as it did in the ostentatious time before. Back and forth, the ebb and the flow of the sea. He enjoys the innocent touch he can give her, gladness clutching his chest that his past memories are now replaced by new ones. They can't snicker at him in the dead of the night anymore. He has control now—he is living in the moment.

She leans into his touch. The anxiety backs away. It occurs to him, as light opens within him from her responsiveness, that she is saying something to him from the depths of her eyes. He can't figure out what it is. It has been too long; he has forgotten the language. More? he tries.

Jeongguk anchors his palm on the top of her head. "You missed me?"

He pats it a few times and watches as her eyes grow bigger and brighter. He never thought it was possible.

The remembrance that she never made the first move, but invariably waited for the green light of his first move, infuses his veins with a buzzing sensation. It scurries to each blood cell to make itself at home. Of course she did not flung herself at him, ask him questions, warm up his ears with the heat of her palms. Her submissiveness was the center of her being. The silent go, the permission. She thrived off of it. That is how she existed within the moonless woodland of his mind all that time spent apart. He could not forget that, even if he tried his hardest.

Go, Tinkerbell, Jeongguk thinks, pushing the little flyaways across her forehead to their rightful place. I allow you. It amuses him in such a loving way.

He wiggles her head, messing up her hair in the process, then lowers his hand to pinch her cheek hard. She groans and wraps her small hand around his wrist. Jeongguk finds it still warm from the confines of her home. His stomach moves under his jacket in the way he remembers it used to. The memory of all the times she touched him, a film of private pleasures that only he was acquainted with, spreads goosebumps over his arms—goosebumps like growing twigs of hardness that makes him strong. Fast passing memories that abandoned him during those long months he was gone, a year full of winter, longer than the current winter breathing in their lungs, they come up for air in him. He cannot seem to stop it and he holds his breath, daze intoxicating his mind. The trees are swaying. He is lost.

She punches his shoulder with her fist so he could let go of her reddened cheek. Once, twice. Oh, he is found. Then, she presses herself against him and envelops him in a hug that was long overdue. There you go, Tinks. Atta girl.

"'Course I did," she replies, her voice muffled against his jacket.

Warmth spreads across Jeongguk's heart. Such a strange, foreign feeling.

He pulls away to take the last puff of the cigarette. The only way he knows how to deal with his tenderness. She watches him and before he throws it away, she grabs his hand, stealing the half burnt body from his fingers and placing it between her rosily powdered lips. She takes a long drag, just like he did.

Nothing has changed. But he fears it might be an illusion.

"Have you smoked today?" he asks, quirking an eyebrow at her.

She scoffs, averting her gaze and taking another drag. "No."

Despite his fear, he remains calm as if emotionless. "What did you do all day?"

Her eyes remain fixed on the snow on the sidewalk beside her. "I napped."

Jeongguk chuckles. His teeth might hurt from her saccharinity.

"You haven't changed, have you?" he breathes the question, half hoping it is true.

She blinks up at him and tilts her head to the side. She must be thinking of what to say next in that cotton candy mind of hers. How endearing.

"And you still don't finish your cigarettes, do you?" she murmurs at last, lifting the cigarette with a smile to prove her point.

So she remembers him as deeply as he remembers her. The softness of her voice causes his eyes to lower into slits. He missed her. He missed her painfully. He can't stand it, the growing twigs, the warmth, the buds of flowers that burst open within his heart. It is too much at once.

"Snuff it out and come," he orders, turning on his heel to head back to his car.

He feels as though he was drunk on his tenderness, almost staggering. He inhales the winter through his nose and straightens his back. This has to stop. This has to be kept at bay. The decision strengthens his legs.

"Wait."

Jeongguk hears her call, but he is already occupied with sweeping the snow away from the hood. He hears her suck hard on the bud to enjoy the last of her nicotine delight and puffing out the smoke into the iciness of the now prolonged night. He listens, and it paints a grandiose composition of a specific painting in his mind. Trees, a crown, a fairy with frail wings in the middle, the twinkles of snow. But he shakes his head to rid himself of that picture. He walks over to the passenger side and removes the ice for her with ease. Though the hesitant crunch of her footsteps forces him to look at her.

Wobbly legs. Unfocused eyes. It adds to the half-true illusion that she hasn't changed at all.

Jeongguk rolls his eyes, but it is a play for her, a charade. He opens the door and wraps his hand around her arm when she reaches him, guiding her carefully into the heat.

"Don't finish it so fast next time," he tells her, eyebrows furrowing at her impetuousness.

"Haven't heard that in a while," she retorts, looking up at him with her round eyes.

A dagger pierces through his heart, taking with itself all buds of growing flowers. The understanding of his feelings eludes him, leaving him barren and shivering in the cold.

Jeongguk closes the door without a word. He gets behind the wheel and indulges in a deep breath. Tinkerbell watches him, a small smile playing a dangerous game with him upon her lips.

"It's cold," Jeongguk comments, but it is a lie.

He, too, is disguised now under the frail and the fragile layer of snow. But there are no twinkles. No. How could there ever be? He hasn't touched her yet in a way that would make her gush with glitter.

With that in mind, Jeongguk starts the engine. He has to touch her. His tenderness will stoop like a wounded animal.

It is the only way.

#jungkook fic #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook x oc #jungkook x reader #jungkook x female reader #bts angst #bts fic #kpop #kpop fanfic #jeon jeongguk #jjk x reader #jjk #bts imagine #jungkook imagine

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daechwitatamic · 1 year

Text

XI. All of It || KNJ

(banner by @itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns, eventual and brief smut

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love.

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

Being away from home for Christmas makes you re-evaluate the choices you’ve made, and the people you’ve pushed away.

Section Warnings: language, drinking, kissing, one pov switch, big time jumps

WC: 8k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Sunday December 24th

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” Namjoon asks you for the ninetieth time.

“Namjoon, go,” you laugh. Mrs. Kim is running out to get a few last second groceries, but insists that you stay at the house to “rest”, instead recruiting her son to help her carry everything home. “She’s waiting for you!”

“You could tag along,” he offers. “I know she told you to stay, but she’s not that scary! You can disobey!”

“I absolutely cannot,” you tell him seriously. “It’s fine - you’ll be gone, what, an hour? I can entertain myself.”

He sighs, like he hopes you’re right. “Okay. I’ll try to hurry her along so we’re back sooner.”

You stretch to kiss him goodbye, and watch as he exits through the kitchen door, loping around the house to where Mrs. Kim waits for him. Then, alone in the kitchen, you face the silence and stillness.

This is fine, you think. It’s a moment where you don’t have to be on in front of strangers, a moment where you don’t have to watch what you say because his family is forming their impression of you. You stand there for a minute, palms on the cool countertop, just breathing.

Then, from the other room, you hear something: the unmistakable sound of the opening lines of your favorite, cheesiest Christmas movie.

You creep to the doorway of the living room. The second he sees you in his periphery, Mr. Kim jumps a mile and scrambles for the remote, rushing to change the channel.

“I’m sorry!” you call, trying to bite back laughter. “I didn’t mean to interrupt - I’ll go do something else!”

His cover blown, he stops scrambling. On the tv screen, a team of flying reindeer pull Santa’s sleigh across the moon as the opening credits run. Mr. Kim hangs his head in shame.

“I will never hear the end of it if they find out I’m watching this,” he tells you.

“This is my favorite one,” you tell him honestly. “So if you want to leave it on for a while… I promise to take the secret to my grave.”

You sit in comfortable silence in a plushy, blue chair next to the couch, enjoying a garbage holiday indulgence, listening to the crackling fireplace, and watching the snow flurries out the window. And, true to your word, when you hear the front door unlocked, you pull out your phone like you’ve been doom-scrolling for an hour while Mr. Kim turns on the news station.

–

That night you accompany the family to Namjoon’s uncle’s house. It’s big, and bright, and loud, and full of screaming little cousins running underfoot, and aunts that shriek and hug you when Namjoon introduces you as his girlfriend.

“Our Joonie!” one aunt cries, pulling him sideways away from you like that will stop you from hearing her. “She’s beautiful!”

Namjoon winks at you, and tells her, “Smarter than me, too.”

Later, you catch some air together outside.

“I am not smarter than you,” you tell him adamantly.

“We can agree to disagree,” he murmurs into your mouth, because he’s already kissing you.

“Merry Christmas,” he tells you when you break apart, his voice low and soothing, warm and loving. “I’m really glad you’re here with me.”

“Yeah,” you say, snuggling closer into his embrace. Snow falls lightly, as it has on and off all day, landing on your dark winter jackets. “I am, too.”

Monday December 25th

Christmas Day is bittersweet.

The morning is lovely; Namjoon and his parents exchange a few small gifts and you bat away Mrs. Kim’s apologies that she has nothing for you.

“We keep telling you,” Namjoon laughs, his feet in huge, fluffy slippers that his parents got him, “just send us home with food. Neither of us can cook, it’s a miracle we haven’t starved.”

“Don’t say that to your mother, she’ll worry,” Mr. Kim chides.

You glance at the clock and notice that it’s about the time that Lin would be getting home from work. Impulsively, you excuse yourself and step back into the guest room, closing the door nearly all the way and pulling out your phone.

Lin answers on the second ring. “Everything okay?” she greets you.

It makes your heart a little heavier. It doesn’t even occur to her that you might be calling just to say Merry Christmas.

“Nothing’s wrong,” you assure her. “I just wanted to tell you Merry Christmas before you went to bed.”

“Oh.” She sounds surprised. “Well, Merry Christmas to you, too. And your boyfriend. Are you having fun?”

You’d shrug if she could see you. “They’ve been really nice,” you tell her. You hesitate, then say, “Hopefully you’ll meet them someday.”

“Sure, at the wedding,” Lin jokes. “You’ve always been so private!”

You’re not sure what to say to this. You know it’s true. You never shared much with her, never had a big group of girlfriends to tell things to. It was always just you and Taehyung.

Now you’re sad for two reasons.

Somehow, Lin seems to read your mind through the phone. “Is it weird not having Christmas with Taehyung’s family?” she asks.

“I was trying not to think about it,” you admit, and she laughs.

“I’m sure they miss you!” she says. “I’ll tell them hello - I see his mom all over town. I’m sure it was weird for him to come home without you. Do you think he’s jealous that your boyfriend gets your attention now?”

She’s joking, but she’s spearheaded the truth so perfectly that it knocks your breath out.

She interprets your silence correctly and the teasing vanishes instantly. “Oh, honey,” she says, voice full of regret. “I didn’t know you were going through that. Are you, like, actually fighting? What happened?”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “We… aren’t speaking right now,” you admit, your voice tight. “But could we talk about it another time? They’re all waiting for me out there and I don’t want to get all upset…”

“Sure, sure,” she says quickly. “But Y/N? Taehyung loves you - he’s been your best friend for so long. He’ll adjust. It’ll be okay. Alright?”

That’s all it takes to set you off - just her kindness, her reassurance. As you tell her thank you, and goodbye, you’re choking back tears, trying to get it together. As you hang up, you feel - for the first time maybe ever - like you actually miss her.

You and Namjoon spend the afternoon reading on the couch together, your feet on his lap. His parents tut and whisper that there’s two of him now, and you can’t help but smile.

Late in the afternoon, you glance at your phone, tempted to text Taehyung Merry Christmas. You’ve never had one without him before, except for the year he had the flu. In the end, you slide your phone back into your pocket, screen still locked.

Tuesday December 26th

You and Namjoon decide to head back a day early once the weather reports start forecasting an actual blizzard.

His parents are disappointed, but understand. Namjoon’s dad warms up the car, idling in the driveway while you two collect your bags and zip your coats. Namjoon steps out ahead of you, and you can see past him that the clouds are low and gray, the air feeling like impending snow.

Mrs. Kim calls you back by your name, and you hesitate, turning to see what she needs. She shuffles in from the kitchen, a reusable grocery bag in her hands, laden with leftovers. She pushes it into your hands wordlessly.

“Thank you,” you tell her enthusiastically, eyeing the number of containers she’s crammed in there. “We’ll eat well for at least a week. Thank you so much.”

She keeps her hands on the bag’s handles for a second longer, not allowing you to pull away. She opens her mouth, then hesitates, like trying to decide how to say what she wants to say.

“I hope you’ll come back soon,” she says finally. “If you need help with… cooking, or… if you need someone to talk to… I hope you’ll come to see me as someone you can reach out to.”

Tears well in your eyes and you blink them away quickly, embarrassed, as she finally releases her hold on the bags.

“Thank you,” you tell her, your voice a little choked. “And thank you for letting me stay here. I appreciate it… so much.”

On the train, Namjoon bumps his knee against yours. “You’re quiet,” he says, a loving accusation.

You sigh. “Your family’s awesome,” you tell him.

Understanding, he takes your hand and gives it a squeeze. “Come home with me any time,” he says. “They’d love it. And so would I.”

You watch the countryside roll by in silence for a while. You’re almost drifting off when your phone buzzes in your pocket. Then again, and then again.

[10:51 AM] Taehyung: my mom says merry christmas [10:51 AM] Taehyung: i missed you during the drive home [10:52 AM] Taehyung: i miss you now, at home [10:52 AM] Taehyung: we’ve always spent christmas together [10:52 AM] Taehyung: the guys said you’re with namjoons family [10:52 AM] Taehyung: i’m glad you weren’t alone. I would have felt even worse [10:53 AM] Taehyung: i know i said it a lot of times, but i’ll say it again. i am SO sorry for what i did [10:54 AM] Taehyung: can we talk when i get back to campus? Like… actually talk?

You turn the screen and nudge Namjoon’s elbow, letting him lean over to read it. You feel… kind of empty.

“I think he means it,” Namjoon murmurs.

You press your lips together, clutch the phone so tight your knuckles turn white.

“I think he does, too,” you agree finally.

“You gonna talk to him?” Namjoon asks.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. You turn the screen off and slide your phone back into your pocket, the messages unanswered. “I’ll think about it.”

An hour later, as the train rolls past campus, your heart clenches as you catch glimpses of the places you’d spent with Taehyung the last few years - the dorms, the academic building, the football field. You pull your phone back out, feeling something inside you crack and break.

That something might have been your pride, your hurt feelings, your tightly-clutched anger.

[12:04 PM] You: merry christmas to you and your family, tae

[12:07 PM] You: yeah… let’s talk when you get back

Friday December 29th

“Did you know that you’re the warmest person on the planet?” you ask.

“I think you mean hottest,” Namjoon jokes.

You’re wrapped up together, in his bed this time, as you’ve been for most of Christmas week. The blizzard came and went without incident for the two of you - you stayed inside, comfy and warm, reading together, eating food that only needs to be microwaved, and talking - about his book, about your upcoming classes, about the beautiful snow coating everything outside.

About your upcoming conversation with Taehyung.

There’s something you don’t talk about, though - your niggling feelings that you owe Lin more, like you have something to make up for for bailing on going home.

“I can mean both if it makes you feel better,” you tease back. “But right now, I really mean warmest.”

“I’m sticking with hottest,” he says, eyes closed happily.

You’re quiet for a few minutes, just listening to him breathe, just reveling in feeling happy and safe and - yes - warm.

“Joon?” you murmur.

“Mmm?” He doesn’t open his eyes.

“Wanted to ask you something.”

Now he peeks at you, curious at your sudden meekness. “What is it?”

You wiggle your toes in discomfort. Namjoon waits you out, like he always does.

“I was thinking about how I left Lin alone this week,” you say slowly. “I mean, she’s always alone. It’s not, like, my job to make sure she’s not lonely.”

Namjoon says your name quietly, disarmingly, a reminder that you don’t need to jump to defensiveness - not with him.

You sigh. “I feel bad,” you admit. “So I was thinking about going home on the train for New Years? And, um, no pressure, but if you want to come with me –”

“Of course I do,” he says immediately, not even letting you finish. “Of course I’ll go with you.” He laughs, once. “Honestly, I’m honored. Have you ever brought a guy home before?”

You hide your face, blushing and fighting a smile. “Literally never.”

He grins at you, and you press a kiss to the dimple closest.

“Sounds fun,” he says. “When do you want to go?”

“Sunday, maybe?” you suggest. “New Years Eve day?”

“That’s fine,” he says, eyes on the ceiling as he flips through his mental calendar. “You gonna give your aunt a heads up?”

In the end you text Lin and Taehyung the same thing - “coming home Sunday for new years. See you then?”

Sunday December 31st

The train ride to your hometown is significantly quicker than Namjoon’s was. Somehow, you feel even more nervous this time than you did on your way to meet his parents. You’re not sure if your nerves are for introducing Namjoon to Lin, or for talking to Taehyung again after what a disaster it was last time.

Both, probably.

“What if he pulls some shit again?” you ask out of nowhere, the question that’s burning under your skin finally breaking free.

Namjoon grimaces. “I’ll be there this time.”

You sigh, frustrated. “And that’s fine for in the moment, but I’m more worried about like… the long-term. If he acts like an idiot again, where do we go from there? Do I just just not talk to him for another week until he’s sorry again? Is it a cycle? Or do I cut him out completely and just… give up on the friendship?”

Namjoon’s grimace doesn’t waver. “I think that’s up to him. And you,” he says gently.

You let out a slow breath.

“I wish I knew what to mentally prepare for,” you admit, huffing out a quiet laugh.

“Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it,” he promises, and you appreciate the gesture. But it isn’t the same for him, and you know it. Taehyung’s his friend, sure, but it’s very not-the-same.

“Anyway,” you say, trying to give yourself a mental shake. “I’m excited to bring you home. I’ll focus on that.”

“I’m more nervous about that part,” he admits with a smile, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. You sit like that for the rest of the trip, leaning into his embrace.

Lin’s house is walkable from the train station if you know the shortcut through a broken chain-link fence - which, luckily, you do. You let yourself in the front door with the key you keep, both of you kicking off your shoes and leaving your suitcases in the narrow entryway.

You enter the small living room first, Namjoon behind you trying to get his boot off of his foot. Lin gets up from the couch with a smile, coming to give you a hug.

“How was the ride?” she asks, starting to pull away.

You start to answer her, when her face suddenly changes as she sees Namjoon come through the doorway behind you. Her smile drops, her face goes pale, and - completely inexplicably - she starts to tear up, a hand coming to cover her mouth.

Adrenaline and alarm rush through you.

“I’m sorry,” you blurt, “I should have warned you I was bringing Namjoon. It was kind of a surprise. Shit, Lin, are you mad? We can get a hotel room for him instead –”

“I’m not mad,” she manages, wiping under her eyes. “I’m happy. I never thought - Honey, it’s so nice to meet you.”

She’s moving around you and hugging Namjoon, who looks at you with comically wide eyes over her shoulder.

She lets him go, sniffling a little, pulling back to get a good look at him.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” Namjoon says awkwardly. “If it’s too late notice for me to stay here, I understand –”

“No, no,” she says quickly. “It’s fine. It’s wonderful.” She turns her teary gaze back to you.

You’ve never seen Lin cry, never in your life - not even over Grandma.

“It’s just,” she says, clearly trying to get her voice under control, “Y/N’s never brought home a partner before. You barely even brought home friends. As you grew up… it felt like you were pushing this place away, rejecting it as a home - like you didn’t consider it a place worth bringing the people who were important to you.”

This floors you, knocks you right out. You take a deep breath, try to still your shaking hands. You turn to Namjoon. “The guest room is through that door off the kitchen,” you tell him. “Do you want to bring your bag in?”

He gives you a long, searching look - like he’s trying to figure out if you’re okay, like he’s trying to figure out if it’s okay to leave you on your own.

But it is. This time, it is.

You give him a reassuring little nod, and he gives you the tiniest hint of a smile back before going to get his suitcase from where he’d abandoned it in the entryway. He wheels it past you, through the kitchen and you turn back to Lin, who’s wiping furiously under her eyes.

“Lin,” you say quietly. “I… I didn’t know you felt that way.”

She sniffs again, working hard to get it together. “I understood,” she says kindly. “Things were so hard for you. I could understand it if you took your anger at your situation out that way.”

“It wasn’t that,” you say, trying to explain. “It was just… the only person who was important to me was already here.”

Her eyes flash to the living room’s front window, which looks out to the street - where, across the pavement, you can see the corner of Taehyung’s house. Then her gaze flits back to you.

“I see,” she says somberly. Then she brightens. “But not anymore, huh? Now you have a boyfriend.”

“Yeah,” you say, eyes on the doorway where Namjoon had disappeared with his bag. You can’t fight your smile. “Apparently I do.”

She squeals a little and pulls you back into another hug. “I can’t wait to get to know him,” she tells you. “I hope you two will come around a lot more.”

You’re reminded of Namjoon’s mom saying the same thing. It feels… strange - to have homes waiting for you, with people wanting to see you. It’s something you hadn’t ever really felt, growing up.

For the first time, you’re starting to see family as something you have to build.

“By the way,” Lin says, glancing at the clock, “are you two having dinner at the Kims with me tonight? If so, I’d better tell her to add a place at the table for your man.”

“Oh my God,” you say, laughing, covering your face. “Don’t call him that.”

“Dinner at the Kims?” Namjoon asks, finally deciding it’s safe to come back now that you’re done hugging. “Tonight?”

“Just across the street,” she tells him. “I have work tonight, so unfortunately I’ll have to leave around ten. Are you joining? Or are you and Taehyung…?”

You shrug. “He texted. We’re supposed to talk. Maybe tonight’s a good chance for that.”

She reaches out and squeezes your shoulder. “I like the sound of that. Start the New Year off with a clean slate.”

You like the sound of that a lot, too. You really, really hope that’s what the night will bring.

“We’ll go,” you say, looking up at Namjoon for confirmation. He nods, like he doesn’t care what you do as long as you’re together. Which… is probably exactly what he thinks. “Right?”

“Sure,” he says easily, reaching out to grab your hand. “What’s for dinner?”

–

Tons is the answer to that question. Taehyung’s mother cooks for the six of you like she’s cooking for twenty.

Lin leads you into the house, calling cheerful hellos. You hug Taehyung’s parents happily, then step back, meeting your best friend’s eyes for the first time in almost three weeks. He chews his lip nervously, gives you a tiny nod. You return it. Behind you, Namjoon is shaking Mr. Kim’s hand, introducing himself.

“Sorry,” you say quickly. “Mr. and Mrs. Kim, this is my boyfriend, Namjoon. He’s a grad student at the university.”

Mrs. Kim and Lin head into the kitchen and Mr. Kim heads for his study down the hall, leaving the three of you alone in the living room.

Awkward silence echoes.

Taehyung breaks the silence first, addressing Namjoon. “You want a beer?”

Namjoon eyes him for a minute, jaw clenched. For a scary second, you think he’s actually going to tell Taehyung to go fuck himself. Then, he unclenches, twists his mouth to the side like he’s thinking, and nods.

“Sure,” he says. “A beer would be great. And maybe one for Y/N, too?”

“Yes, please,” you say, flashing Taehyung a thankful grin. When Taehyung returns, holding out the bottles to you, you take them, feeling… hopeful. It’s just a beer, sure, but it feels like a peace offering. It feels like everything might actually be okay.

–

Dinner is delicious, and somehow not awkward. Taehyung’s mother has always doted on you, so she peppers you with questions - about school, your thesis, about how you and Namjoon got together. You’re afraid it will be weird, but while Taehyung doesn’t contribute to this part of the conversation, he listens attentively. You realize he probably didn’t know the story, himself.

When ten o’clock rolls around, you hug Lin goodbye at the door - something new for both of you.

“This year’s gonna be better for us,” she promises you in a whisper. “I can already tell.”

You nod against her shoulder, then wish her a safe drive.

–

“Five… four… three… two… one! Happy New Years!”

Everyone in the room cheers, Taehyung blowing into a noisy paper horn. Namjoon’s eyes glitter, and then he tugs you closer by the waist, kissing you soundly. Somebody - Mrs. Kim, you suspect - whistles and you feel yourself blush. Your happy, bashful laugh breaks the kiss, and he squeezes your waist once as you break away.

You grin up at him, so happy you could burst from it. It’s hard to believe that four months ago you were strangers, tip-toeing around each other at home. It’s hard to believe that four months ago you couldn’t shelter in his arms, listen to his heartbeat, tell him every stupid thought you have.

The Kims have huddled noisily on the other side of the room, giving you two a little privacy for a moment, so you take the opportunity to press yourself closer to Namjoon. You stretch onto your toes, your lips close to his ear, and whisper, “Looking forward to this year of loving you, Joon.”

His arms tighten around you and you swear you hear his breath catch.

Then, he nuzzles his face in his hair, whispering back, “I love you.”

You hold him tight, swaying a little, your heart soaring and soaring. You don’t think you’ve ever been this happy in your life.

–

Tae’s parents go to bed shortly after midnight, and you’re eager to leave, too - your house across the street is empty tonight, after all.

Taehyung walks you two to the front door. Namjoon steps out first, heading down to the grassy yard. Taehyung calls your name from the top step, and you hesitate.

“Can… could we talk now?” he asks, voice small. “Like… alone?”

Two steps down from you, Namjoon mutters something that sounds an awful lot like audacity.

“I’m all ears,” you say.

Taehyung flushes, his chest going dark and patchy above the collar, the way it does when he’s upset. “Listen,” he says, “I know what I did was really fucked up. I want to apologize - to both of you. I really am… so goddamn sorry.”

“I appreciate that,” Namjoon says evenly, voice low. There’s something hot about how he says it, and you feel a tingle and a thrill. You want to take his hand and drag him home.

“I…” Taehuyng falters, his eyes on you. “I really do want to talk to you about everything. And… it’s hard. Right? It’s not just me? I think I’ll… do a better job saying what I mean if it’s just us.”

You frown, but the truth is you understand. For your whole lives, it had been the two of you. You speak your own language with each other. What he’s trying to tell you is he can be more authentic if he isn’t trying to communicate in a way that lets Namjoon in, too.

You look at Namjoon to gauge how he feels about this. He looks back at you, face unreadable. Your choice, the blankness tells you.

“We stay right here,” you say, pointing at the steps.

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says eagerly, like he can’t believe you agreed.

You look at Namjoon again, and he nods. “I’ll be over there,” he says, nodding at your house. “You know where to find me.”

“Don’t worry,” you tell him, a little devious. “I definitely plan to come find you.”

His smile back is wicked as he turns and lopes across the yard, disappearing into the dark.

You wait for him to start, to say what he wants to say, but he just looks at you. In the dark, his eyes look almost black.

“Okay,” you say finally. “I’m here to talk. So let’s talk.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, like it’s bursting from him, like he was waiting for permission to unleash it. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you.”

You press your lips together and look away, shove down the wave of emotion - fresh anger, deep hurt. “So why did you?” you manage.

“I could see myself losing you all semester,” he admits. His voice trembles, just slightly. “I could see it happening little by little and I couldn’t figure out why and I felt so… frozen… I didn’t know how to pull you back without crossing any lines with you…” He rubs a hand over his face, inhales roughly. “When I found out you were in love with Namjoon, it’s like my brain went into this panic state and my body just reacted and did the only thing it could think of that might stop you from walking away.”

You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head. Angry tears string at your eyes, their tracks suddenly warm on your cheeks. Your voice shakes when you mutter, “That’s so fucked up, Taehyung. I don’t deserve that.”

“I know,” he says, rubbing a hand down his face again. His shoulders shake, barely noticeable, before he pulls it together to continue. “Of course you don’t. I just… wanted you to stay. I don’t know… how to live a life that isn’t… half yours.” His sentence is punctuated with long sniffs, hurried swipes under eyes - for both of you.

You hate it, but you know exactly what he means. You hadn’t known how to live a life that wasn’t half his, either. But you’d learned - you have to build it yourself. It doesn’t come out of nowhere.

“Tae…” you say, sniffing once more and trying to take a steadying breath. “That stuff you said to Namjoon…”

He hangs his head, exhaling, the sound whispery and warbling. “He really just pissed me off,” he admits, not looking at you. “But, for a second, I really did wonder…”

You can see exactly what’s coming and you brace yourself, wondering how bad this next admission will hurt.

“Of course I love you,” he says, looking up at you. He’s not crying, now. Instead, he looks at you so seriously, like he’s got to see your reaction, to know you hear him. “You’re my best friend. There was really a minute there where I wondered if my way of loving you could really be that different from…”

From your way of loving me. He doesn't need to say it.

It doesn’t hurt as bad as you thought it would.

“The answer to that,” you say dryly, “is yes, very.”

He nods, acknowledging this. “And,” he admits, voice going quiet with shame, “I think a little part of me was trying to hurt you back. When I found out you’d been getting serious with him and keeping it from me… that hurt, you not telling me. You and me… we don’t lie to each other, and we don’t keep secrets.”

You scoff. “That’s bullshit, Taehyung. We’ve been doing both for… years.”

The silence stretches between you as he considers the truth of these words. His gaze drops to the ground.

“I guess you’re right,” he says sadly, like he hates that it’s true. “Things have been fucked up between us for a long time now. And… I’m sorry for that, too. I’m sorry for being a terrible friend - this year, and all these years. I shouldn’t have let you… keep hurting. I think I was lying to myself about… how you felt. If I didn’t address it, if I didn’t technically know, then I didn’t have to do anything about it. And if I didn’t do anything about it, I couldn’t risk doing the wrong thing.”

You take in his explanation, your arms crossed over your chest. It doesn’t make things okay, it doesn’t absolve him. But you can understand. You’d been afraid to rock the boat, too.

You two should have talked years ago.

“How long have you known?” you ask quietly.

He makes an unhappy noise. “Ah. We don’t have to do that.”

“I just want to know.”

He sighs. “Since high school, I guess?”

You look away, letting out another bitter laugh. “That’s a long time.”

“I guess I thought if I never looked directly at it, then nothing between us would change,” he explains.

“It had to,” you say firmly. That’s the truest thing you can say right now.

“I know that,” Taehyung says, exhaling. “I know that, now.”

You’re both quiet for a minute. You shiver a little, wonder if Namjoon is okay over at Lin’s house.

“These last two years were hard,” Taehyung says suddenly, like now that he’s opened the tap he can’t stop the flow of words, can’t stop spilling every truth. “I stopped knowing… how to be your friend. I didn't know where the line was - I didn't know what would hurt you, what would mess with your head when I was just being me, just being us.”

“We need new boundaries,” you say quietly.

He nods, agreeing. “It won’t be easy,” he sighs. “Because… well, it can’t be the same. But I feel like we can figure it out.”

“Should be easier, now,” you observe. Now that he doesn’t need to worry about your heart, you mean.

He nods, understanding.

Past the horizon of trees, a burst of fireworks light up above the line of rooftops.

“You have a resolution?” you ask him.

He nods, sucking on his teeth a little. “Yeah. To… let someone in.”

You turn to look at him, silently waiting as he finishes the thought.

“We wasted a lot of time,” he says, smile twisting sideways wryly. “You were… y’know… waiting for something that wasn’t coming. And I don’t think I gave anyone else a fair shot either. Just because… she’d have to be my best friend, right? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to be?”

You look across the street again. “Yeah,” you say. “Usually that’s how it works.”

“And where would that have left you?” he asks.

“Yep,” you say flatly, understanding exactly the point he’s trying to make. “That was my problem for a while too, when this started.”

“What I’m saying, though,” he tries again, a little frustrated that his words aren’t doing what he wants, “is that you were the brave one. I was too scared to see what would happen, to see what we could figure out. You gave someone a chance. You had faith that we’d be alright.”

You nod, considering this. “So, are we?” you ask. “Alright?”

He nods. “Can I hug you?” he asks.

You smile, crooked. “I think that’s allowed,” you joke.

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and you lean your head against his chest. “My dummy,” you say affectionately, and his laugh rumbles under your ear. “I missed your stupid ass.”

Then, you step away. “I should go,” you tell him. “Namjoon’s probably looking at my baby pictures and there’s no one in there to stop him.”

Taehyung laughs. “Okay,” he says. “See you back at campus? Happy New Year, Y/N.”

“Happy New Year,” you tell him, as you walk away.

Friday May 25th

[3:55 PM] Joon 💕: it’s here [3:55 PM] You: O.O [3:55 PM] Joon 💕: you want me to open it? [3:56 PM] Joon 💕: or should i wait for you to get home? [3:56 PM] You: omg pls open it [3:56 PM] You: just text me yes or no [3:56 PM] You: nothing else. just that. hurry.

[3:58 PM] You: NAMJOON

[3:59 PM] You: i will THROW UP!!!!!!

[4:01 PM] Joon 💕: you got in [4:01 PM] You: SHUT THE FUCK UP [4:01 PM] You: YOU’RE KISDING RIGHT [4:02 PM] You: PROMISE ME YOURE OT LYING [4:03 PM] Joon 💕: lol you think i’d fuck with you over something like this? [4:04 PM] You: no??? But??? Everything is turning black around me??? I think i’m dying??? [4:04 PM] Joon 💕: breathe, babe [4:05 PM] Joon 💕: and come home soon so we can celebrate [4:05 PM] You: be there soon

You call Lin first. She answers on the third ring, groggily, and you’re aware that she must have worked last night and you’ve woken her up.

You can feel guilty later.

“I got in!” you squeal, and she shrieks so loud you have to pull the phone away from your ear.

“Congratulations!” she’s crowing when you get brave enough to put the phone near your face again. “I told you you would!”

“I know, I know,” you say, breathless with delight. You’d applied for a few grad programs in the area, but your sights were really on a small, private university in the city. Their writing program was renowned, but they only took a small cohort each year. You had felt confident that you’d get into the writing program here, at your current university, with Namjoon, and you’d been right. But it hadn’t been your first choice, not if you were being really honest.

“We should celebrate,” Lin tells you. “What if I came to campus this weekend? I could take you and Namjoon out to dinner?”

“We’d love that,” you say. “I’ll just double-check that he doesn’t have anything on his schedule but it should be fine.”

“Let me know. And Y/N? I’m really proud of you.”

You’re almost home when you hang up, and you practically skip the rest of the way to the apartment. It’s almost hot out, the late-spring evening promising summer days on the horizon. You take the steps two at a time, ready to get swept up in Namjoon’s arms, ready to share your joy and triumph with him the way you’d once shared your uncertainty.

He delivers; you’re barely through the apartment door when he’s sweeping you into a hug, swinging you around so your living room spins around you. You laugh, delighted, holding on tight. He sets you on your feet, peppering your forehead, cheeks, and lips with playful, sloppy kisses.

“Namjoon!” you protest, laughing. “Let me put my bag down!”

“I can’t,” he murmurs, smiling, lips still against your forehead. “My genius girlfriend got into her dream program. I must kiss her.”

Even as he says this, though, he steps away, allowing you to slide your bag off your shoulder and set it on the floor.

“Did you tell Lin?” he asks. “I texted my mom - she’s so happy for you. She wants us to come visit; she said she’d make your favorite as a celebration.”

“Ooh,” you say. “So many people want to feed me for this. I should get into grad school more often.”

“No one tried to feed you when you got into the mid options,” he points out, eyes glinting playfully. He moves to sit at the breakfast bar, turned sideways in the seat so he can still face you.

“To answer your question,” you say loudly, ignoring his bullshit, “yes, I called Lin. And please tell your mom thank you, and we’ll visit soon.”

Namjoon’s thumbs move as he types. “As much as I love my mom’s cooking, I was thinking tonight we should celebrate just us?”

“Keep talking,” you say slyly, coming up behind him to read over his shoulder as he answers his mother. You lean against his warm, wide back, letting him hold you up for just a moment. Then you wrap your arms around his middle, resting your cheek on his shoulder, waiting as he finishes up.

He sets his phone down and turns to look over at you. “Want to go out for dinner?”

“What did you have in mind?” you ask, picking your face up from his shoulder so you can see him better. You keep your arms around his, his own little jail cell of affection.

“Somewhere nicer than normal?” he suggests. “Since this is a big deal.”

“How nice?” you push, eyes narrowed.

He smiles at you easily. “The kind of nice where they have you try the wine before they pour it.”

You laugh loudly, finally releasing him. “Wow,” you say. “I might need to pull out some high heels for that shit.”

“You might,” he agrees, his smile turning a little flirtatious. “What do you think?”

“Yeah,” you say, considering. “You want to call and make a reservation somewhere while I go wash my hair?”

He nods, already reaching for his phone again. “Anything for my genius.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, swatting at the bit of his ass you can reach with him being seated as you pass by, heading for the bathroom. “Don’t miss me too much.”

“Impossible,” he calls, as you disappear.

Later, after you’ve dried your hair, as you sit at your desk with your make-up bag unzipped before you, you wonder if this is news you should tell Taehyung.

Once upon a time, you would have told him first. Back in the fall, even, he would have been the first to know.

Now, in the five months since you’d reconciled, you and Taehyung don’t talk that much. What used to be several dinners a week on campus is now a meal at the apartment maybe once a month - and never just the two of you. The last time he’d come for dinner, Namjoon had been home, and Jungkook and Hoseok had both joined, too. And that was over a month ago.

What used to be daily texts about absolutely every stupid, little thing is now maybe a text or two a week - Taehyung’s texts to you mostly consist of dumb memes that make you feel like you’re losing brain cells by looking at them. Your texts to him tend to ask after him - how are you, how’s your mom, did you pass that midterm?

It isn’t like it was before. You feel a little bit like you’re both tiptoeing, teetering in this space between too much and not enough. You’re both pushing the boundaries of your distance, of your time apart, hunting for the edges, looking for the places where the map turns black. To not tell him big news like this seems like a deliberate distancing, not quite the middle ground you’re trying to find.

And besides, Taehyung does know you’ve wanted into this program. You’d talked about it months ago when the application process started, when you’d been choosing your back-ups, talking through your Plan B’s with anyone who would listen.

You text him - ‘big news’.

[5:52 PM] Taehyung: 🫄?

[5:53 PM] You: i literally fucking hate you kim taehyung!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[5:53 PM] Taehyung: lmaooooo it’s a legitimate question!

[5:54 PM] You: now i’m not telling you! I’ll call your mom and tell her instead!

[5:54 PM] Taehyung: wow. You haven’t used that line on me since we were eight.

[5:55 PM] You: yes and i was very upset with you that time too 😤

[5:57 PM] Taehyung: ok so what’s the news

[5:58 PM] You: ask your mom

[5:58 PM] Taehyung: this is abuse

[5:59 PM] You: ok you crybaby. I got into the good one. I got the letter today

[6:01 PM] Taehyung: yooo congrats!!!!!!

[6:02 PM] Taehyung: i’m so happy for you seriously

[6:03 PM] You: thanks tae

[6:04 PM] Taehyung: you honestly SHOULD tell my mom lol she’ll cry

–

“So,” you say to Namjoon. His face flickers before you, broken and dancing by the candle flame on the table between you.

“So,” he echoes, leaning back in his seat. The bottle of wine you’d split sits nearly empty next to the flickering candle. And yes, he’d gotten to taste it before it was poured. This place is upscale.

“Do you want to talk about this?” you ask cautiously. “Or should we not tarnish the celebration?”

“Tarnish?” he echoes again, brows furrowing in confusion.

“Yeah,” you say, “I mean… my program’s over an hour from here. We have to talk about that eventually. What it means for us.”

His brows don’t unfurrow, and his mouth slides into a frown. Seconds ago he’d been relaxed, but now he sits up, leaning closer to you. That candle flame flares and settles again, excited about nothing.

“What it means for us?” he repeats.

“Can you say something that I didn’t say first?” you snap. His eyes widen, and you close yours, deflating. “Sorry,” you say immediately, before you even open your eyes to look at him again. “I’m just… scared about this, I guess.”

“Sweetheart,” he says softly, still frowning, “I didn’t know you were worried about what we’d do. I thought it was obvious.”

“What?” you utter. Sometimes Namjoon does this, has entire conversations or solves problems in his head, forgets to let you in on it. “What did you think?”

He shakes his head, like he can’t believe you didn’t know what was going on in that brain of his, like he forgot you don’t reside in there, too. “I thought we’d just find a place together, in the middle. We could each commute to class about half that distance. It’d be like forty minutes each way, it’s not totally unrealistic. Plus, a lot of the classes are hybrid these days, half the time we’re online…”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “It’s forty minutes by car. Have you looked at the train schedules?”

He looks embarrassed suddenly, not meeting your eyes.

“Namjoon?” you prompt, suspicious.

“I…” he says, still not looking at you. “I mean… yeah.”

“Yeah what?” you ask.

He sighs, caught. But he’s so predictable, this boyfriend of yours.

“I was looking at what towns are in that area, right in the middle,” he admits. “I checked the trains from there… and some apartments, too.”

“Namjoon!” you scold. “I hadn’t even gotten in yet!”

He gives you a sheepish smile, those dimples shadowed dark in the dimly lit restaurant. “I knew you would, though,” he says, so easily, like it was just a basic truth. “I knew they’d want you.”

You sip at your water to cover how choked up you feel at his absolute faith in you. When you’ve got yourself under control, you set your glass back down and ask, “So, what’d you find?”

“I can get here on light rail,” he says, a little bit of victory slipping onto his face. “Right outside campus, honestly. There’s an express sometimes, too.”

“You don’t think you’ll get tired of that?”

He looks at you seriously. “My choices,” he tells you, voice low, “are to commute by light rail to my grad classes from the place we’ll share, or to learn to drive and buy a damn car so I can drive two hours to you every night from here. Which would you rather I do?”

You stare at him, face slipping into an indignant frown. “Be serious,” you chide.

“I am being so serious,” he tells you. “I’m going to see you every night. I’m going to sleep by your side every night. Those are the options.”

You can’t even look at him; there are times you’re slapped with how undeserving you feel of the love he gives you, how completely he’s made you his world. This is one of those times.

“And for me?” you croak finally. “Is there a light rail option for me to get to my classes?”

He shrugs, which means no. “You’ll need a car,” he admits.

“I don’t have a car,” you point out needlessly.

He grins at you across the table. “How’s your credit score?” he asks.

Tuesday July 12th

Namjoon locks the padlock on the back of the rental moving truck, ensuring the door won’t open and spill your belongings all over the highway.

“I think that’s everything,” he says. “Do you want me to check upstairs one last time for anything?”

“Check the closets,” you tell him, and he nods, giving your arm an affectionate squeeze on his way by. As he disappears upstairs, you sit on the bumper of the moving van, desperate to get out of the scorching summer heat.

A few of the guys, who’d all come to help - and to say goodbye, follow Namjoon inside. Jungkook plops down on the sidewalk, using his bucket hat to fan himself, and Jimin sits next to him, taking a long drink from a sweating water bottle.

Taehyung sits next to you on the bumper, the van bouncing a little as he does.

“Hey,” he says. He doesn’t look at you. You’re reminded of sitting side by side on the stone steps that are to your left, past Jungkook and Jimin, the day you’d told him about Namjoon. “I have something to tell you.”

You look over at him, alarmed. His face is drawn, and he chews on his lower lip nervously.

“Yeah?” you say uneasily. Once, you might have reached for his hand to help ease his apparent nerves. That was Old Boundaries, though. New Boundaries say hands-to-yourselves, except for hugs goodbye.

He licks his lips, eyes on the pavement. He scuffs his sandal along the road, takes a deep breath.

“I got into an art program abroad,” he says finally, all in one breath.

Your eyes go wide. “Taehyung!” you cry. “That’s amazing news! Where? When do you go?”

He looks at you sideways, almost smiling, almost happy. “All the way in Europe,” he admits, laughing a little. “I’m scared out of my mind.”

“Oh my god,” you say, reeling a little. “You’re moving to Europe? How long is it? Is it, like, for school technically, or a job-?”

He considers this, head cocked as he thinks. “Kind of more like an internship with some killer benefits, and education mixed in?” he says. “It’s a little… unorthodox, I think. Anyway… it’s eighteen months… so almost two years.”

“Wow,” you say. “Wow, Taehyung, congrats.”

“Thanks,” he says, almost shyly, back to looking at the ground. “Anyway, I’ll make sure we have dinner or something before I go. I have the rest of the summer here. Just… make sure you call my mom a lot while I’m gone, okay?”

This makes you laugh, knocks you out of your little stupor. It’s just so typical Taehyung, asking you to do his duties for him. “They have phones in Europe, Taehyung,” you point out flatly. “You call your mom.”

Namjoon emerges from the apartment building, followed by Yoongi and Hoseok. Seokjin, a year ahead of Namjoon, had graduated the week prior, had already moved away from campus. “You ready to go?” Namjoon asks.

“Yeah,” you say, pulling the truck’s key from your pocket. “You ready, co-pilot?”

He grins at you over the heads of the other guys as you stand, preparing to hug everyone goodbye. “Ready,” he tells you.

Thursday December 19th

[9:14 PM] You: i have☝️ a question about christmas

Your phone lights up with a facetime call; you should have known Taehyung wouldn’t just text like a normal person.

“Taehyung’s facetiming me,” you inform Namjoon, who’s sitting on the opposite end of the couch, scrolling through his own phone. “Don’t say anything questionable.”

“Questionable how?” he asks, as you answer the call.

“Hello, Kim Taehyung,” you say, waving.

“Bonjour,” he says, grinning.

You grimace. “I know I don’t speak French, but… I think your French is pretty bad,” you tell him regretfully.

He rolls his eyes. “Anyway. Christmas. I’m staying here.”

You frown, disappointed. “Really? I know it’s a long flight, but…”

You trail off as a voice behind Taehyung says something. He turns for just a second, murmuring, “Just a second, jagi.”

Namjoon’s head snaps up and his eyes meet yours, comically wide as you both clock it. You bring the phone very close to your face.

“Kim Taehyung,” you say, and he looks back at you, eyes equally wide, caught. “Did you just call someone jagi?”

“He did,” Namjoon says. “He absolutely did.”

Taehyung covers his face with a hand, slender fingers obscuring closed eyes.

“Oh, my god,” you say.

“Don’t,” he whines through his fingers. “Don’t make a big deal about it.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” you demand. “In France?”

“Stop,” he complains. “You’re so annoying.”

“Does your mom know?” you cry.

“Yah! Enough!”

“I need to know!” you tell him. “I have to know or I will simply combust!”

Taehyung lets out a long, defeated breath, and looks silently at someone off-camera. Then, resigned, eyes on the ceiling, he says, “I’ve sort of been seeing someone here.”

“Sort of,” the someone off-camera scoffs.

You end up talking for almost another hour, both Namjoon and Taehyung’s new girlfriend moving into view as the four of you talk. Taehyung blushes and complains his way through the story of how they met, and she chimes in happily to add how they ended up together.

You hang up with smiles after telling Taehyung how happy you are for him. And you are - you remember his New Year’s resolution, almost a year ago: to let someone in, finally. It seems - based on the affectionate little touches, the quick, sly glances, the giggles and jokes that you’d just witnessed through your phone screen - that he actually did.

And, somehow, it doesn’t hurt at all. How could it, when Namjoon slides his hand affectionately up your thigh before he rises from the couch, stretching and yawning as he heads for the bedroom you share?

As you brush your teeth side by side, he asks you around a mouth full of toothpaste, “So, do you want to stick to what we did last year? Christmas with my parents, then New Years with Lin?”

“Sounds good,” you say, sliding your toothbrush back into the holder.

No need to think about it. It’s an easy answer. It’s always an easy answer when it comes to Namjoon. Because wherever he goes, you know you’ll always follow - feet, heart, all of it.

<- Prev

wow wow wow wow wow i can't believe it's over!!!!!! i fully do not know what to do with myself now!!!!!!

thank you all so so so much for going along this journey with me, and waving your pitchforks at taehyung, and putting up with my incessant need to defend his stupid ass, and for just being really incredible readers i love y'all so much :(

I have a Seokjin fic coming sometime in April, a fluffy oneshot called "Sit. Stay."

After that, it might be quite a long time until I post a long series again - fall at the earliest. I was doing okay balancing work and grad school through the fall and in the winter I had some breaks like over Christmas. But to be really honest, since late January it's been really, really hard for me to stay active. If this wasn't written ahead of time, I couldn't have done it. So just... know I'll be back, I have more stories I want to make happen... I hope some of you will wait for me even though I know I hardly deserve it <;3 and i'm really really thankful that you were here at all

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blossom-hwa · 9 months

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tyun dragon au pls B)

I died this is ur fault fuck you chip <3

summertime drabble fest: send me an idol from the list (Stray Kids, Ateez, TXT, Seventeen) + a prompt (check out the post for ideas) and I’ll write a drabble for you!

REQUESTS CLOSED!

Title: Glass on the Ice and the Wind

Pairing: Taehyun x gender neutral!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Genre: fluff, dragon!au, mc is a glassblower

Warnings: n/a

When you return to your hometown, you don't tell anyone of your journey.

Well, in ways, of course, you do. You must. People knew where you were going, knew the treasure that you sought—they knew you meant to find the rare dragon sands lost to legend hundreds of years ago or more. It would not have made sense if you'd come back, shimmering sand in tow, ready to be blown into the finest glass the world has ever known, and had no adventure in finding it.

So you evade. Tell them bits and pieces, blather about the unimportant things—the price of supplies in surrounding villages, how green the forest leaves glinted under sunlight, the way the white sands of the beaches you crossed glowed in the pale of the moon. You tell them about towns they know, about some they do not know, and you tell them, of course, that you had a guide.

"I would not have found the sands if not for him," you admit readily. "My journey would have been for naught, had I not found him first."

And so, there are questions about your guide that follow. Who was he, what was his name, how did he know the way to the dragon sands and why did he not come back with you?

To all this you laugh, and smile, and give blithe answers away as though there is nothing to hide. A simple traveler of the winds, who gave you a name you could not pronounce (which is true—it was simply not the only name he gave). The path to the sands is one his family has known for generations. He would not have come, though you asked once. He has his own home on the winds, traveling where his fancy guides him—to the snow, to the sands, to the water, the trees.

And all of this is true. None of it is a lie. Much easier to tell them this than, say, tell them that your guide was a dragon.

It's not as if they'd believe you, anyway. Dragons have been the stuff of legend for millennia—even more so than the sands you found, and the shimmering glass they make. No one believes they exist. You wouldn't have, if you had not met one yourself. Which is why you neglect to tell them this one detail, even though it forms the core of one man whom you've grown to care for deeply.

Taehyun. You remember him every moment in your forge, with every bead of sweat that drips down your face. The fire in his eyes follows you in the flames that flicker and leap in your fireplace, the warmth of his laugh etched into every glass sculpture you create. You see him, the dragon you found and helped nurse back to health—you see him everywhere you go, though he has never once been here.

On a dark night, the moon shining full in the sky, you find it in yourself to finally admit it, then. That you fell in love with a dragon. And that though you understand why he couldn't come with you—the same reason you couldn't stay with him—it still hurts to know that there could be nothing more of it.

It's not fair. Which is obvious—life isn't fair—but on nights like these where you miss Taehyun so much it feels like your breath is gone, you almost wish you hadn't gone on your search for the dragon sands. Almost is the key word, almost—because you know in your heart you never could have regretted meeting Taehyun, meeting a dragon and learning legends long lost to humans as you helped him in the ways you could to recover from the curse that had tried to eat away his soul. But if you'd never met him, never heard his voice, never saw his dark eyes under the light of the moon...

If you hadn't known what you were missing, at least you'd never have to mourn it.

But that sort of thinking isn't fair—not to Taehyun, and not to yourself. Which is why, in the morning, you go back to work as usual, and continue to find small comfort in your dragon's warmth everywhere you look.

Until one morning under a cold, blue sky, when the wind blows so strongly that you crave the blazing heat of your forge as soon as you've forced yourself to climb out of bed.

It was a day like this when you met the dragon who used to ride on the winds—no ice and snow, not just yet, but gales whipping you to and fro until you sought shelter in what you thought was an unoccupied cave. You smile a little at the memory, laughing at your fear when you realized the cave was not, in fact, unoccupied, and when you enter your forge the cold melts away and you get to work, toasty warm and safe from the chill. You haven't even been in there half an hour, though, before someone comes pounding at your door.

"Y/N!" A pink-cheeked, breathless Huening Kai stands before you when you step outside. "Someone in the square is looking for you!"

"Looking for me?" You frown, trying to recall if you're expecting any guests. None that you can remember—it's getting too cold for travel, anyone who would have visited would have come in the warmer months. "Did they specifically ask for me? What was their name?"

"He didn't give a name, but he says he seeks the artisan who shaped dragon glass." Kai's eyes sparkle with interest, which is all that keeps you from shutting the door—too often, since you sold the first shimmering piece of glassware that sparkled like the first sun on snow after a blizzard, have you been besieged by those wanting to buy your little shop or try to pry the secret of the dragon sands from your lips. "He's not like the others, Y/N. He said you would know him."

Your frown deepens. Who would you know—

Oh.

You blink rapidly once, twice. Even with the chill of the air, something begins to warm in your stomach, in your chest—a reckless hope that grows against your will the longer you look at Kai. Because it can’t be him. There’s no way.

And yet—

"You said he's in the square?"

You’ve thrown yourself into the cold wind almost before Kai has given you an answer.

The walk to the square is a short one, barely five minutes on a good day. In weather like this it's usually empty, and for good reason—you certainly wouldn't choose to if you didn't have to. But today, there are more people milling about than usual, fighting the sharp wind to gain a glimpse of—

Him.

Wrapped in brown furs tinged with the slightest red, ice-pale streaks running through his dark, dark hair. Warm skin that almost seems to glow, and large eyes that catch yours where you stand at the edge of the square, knees turned to water and arms to jelly. He's dressed so plainly, just the way you would be if you'd thought to put on a coat to ward against the wind, but somehow, still, he wears those ragged furs like a prince.

Taehyun. The dragon you met, the dragon you loved—in his human form, now, in a place you never thought you'd see him.

You're not sure who moves first. In the end, though, it doesn't really matter. You meet, somehow, and then it's just you in his arms and him in yours, his inner warmth seeping into your skin, sheltering you against the chill the way he always did.

"You're here." You realize you're tearing up the moment you speak, embarrassment and emotion clogging your throat. "Why are you here?"

He laughs, and the sound reverbs through your chest—comforting, like the soft gusts of wind that had followed his laughter when you tried to cheer him as he healed in his dark cave. "Why aren't you wearing a coat?" he asks in turn, all the warmth of his love in his eyes as he repeats a question he asked you so many moons ago. His arms pull you closer than you ever thought possible as your hand rises to touch his shoulder, his chin, his cheek, eyes searching his throat where you know there are scattered scales of icy blue hiding behind the furs covering his skin.

You snort wetly, wiping the tears from your face. "Answer me first."

"As you wish." He smiles, and you realize then how much you missed this—how, in the end, you wouldn't have been able to bear the distance from your love, your dragon—how you'd have set out to find him again at least once before you died. The flames that dance in his eyes burn so steadily, rooting you to the here, the now, even as the winds that gust around you threaten to blow you away. "I told you before that I go where the winds blow."

A kiss to your forehead, another to your nose. Feather light, butterfly soft, and then he presses his lips to yours.

You're there for seconds. You're there for an eternity. You're there as the sun rises and sets, the winds howling past—you're there, here, steady against the earth, steady as the fire banked in Taehyun's soul, whose warmth he has shared with you.

When you break away, his eyes are soft, softer than they've ever been. And as you cup his cheek in your palm, brushing away a tear that has just begun to trickle down his skin, he speaks once more. "I go where the winds blow," he says again, words so quiet yet so warm against the icy cold. "This time, they brought me to you."

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katnissmellarkkk · 6 months

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Hiii! Here’s the bookcomb for Katniss receiving affection, Catching Fire Edition 🥰🥰🥰🥰. Again, I tried to limit this to when she was receiving affection, not giving, so like the see you at midnight kiss couldn’t make the cut, etc. Anyways I love doing these! 🩵🩵🩵🩵

I gulp my tea even though it’s too hot and push back from the table. “I better get going. Make myself presentable for the cameras.”

Hazelle hugs me. “Enjoy the food.”

Then I looked up and there he was, ten feet away, just watching me. Without even thinking, I jumped up and threw my arms around him, making some weird sound that combined laughing, choking, and crying. He was holding me so tightly that I couldn’t see his face, but it was a really long time before he let me go and then he didn’t have much choice, because I’d gotten this unbelievably loud case of the hiccups and had to get a drink.

I’d given all the game to Gale to trade since we had so much food now. I told him I’d skip the Hob, even though I was looking forward to going there, because my mother and sister didn’t even know I’d gone hunting and they’d be wondering where I was. Then suddenly, as I was suggesting I take over the daily snare run, he took my face in his hands and kissed me.

“Has anyone touched this since you last saw us?” he asks sternly. “Remember, we specifically asked you to leave your hair alone.”

“Yes!” I say, grateful that I can show I haven’t totally taken them for granted. “I mean, no, no one’s cut it. I did remember that.” No, I didn’t. It’s more like the issue never came up. Since I’ve been home, all I’ve done is stick it in its usual old braid down my back.

This seems to mollify them, and they all kiss me, set me on a chair in my bedroom, and, as usual, start talking nonstop without bothering to notice if I’m listening.

When my hair is done, I find Cinna downstairs in the living room, and just the sight of him makes me feel more hopeful. He looks the same as always, simple clothes, short brown hair, just a hint of gold eyeliner. We embrace, and I can barely keep from spilling out the entire episode with President Snow.

Just then, Effie Trinket arrives in a pumpkin orange wig to remind everyone, “We’re on a schedule!” She kisses me on both cheeks while waving in the camera crew, then orders me into position.

My face breaks into a huge smile and I start walking in Peeta’s direction. Then, as if I can’t stand it another second, I start running. He catches me and spins me around and then he slips — he still isn’t entirely in command of his artificial leg — and we fall into the snow, me on top of him, and that’s where we have our first kiss in months. It’s full of fur and snowflakes and lipstick, but underneath all that, I can feel the steadiness that Peeta brings to everything. And I know I’m not alone. As badly as I have hurt him, he won’t expose me in front of the cameras. Won’t condemn me with a halfhearted kiss. He’s still looking out for me. Just as he did in the arena. Somehow the thought makes me want to cry.

We slog back to the train in silence. In the hallway outside my door, Haymitch gives my shoulder a pat and says, “You could do a lot worse, you know.”

“You know, everyone’s always raving about your paintings. I feel bad I haven’t seen them,” I say.

“Well, I’ve got a whole train car full.” He rises and offers me his hand. “Come on.”

It’s good to feel his fingers entwined with mine again, not for show but in actual friendship. We walk back to the train hand in hand.

Someone clips a microphone on me. Peeta takes my left hand. The mayor’s introducing us as the massive doors open with a groan.

The man has only just crumpled to the ground when a wall of white Peacekeeper uniforms blocks our view. Several of the soldiers have automatic weapons held lengthwise as they push us back toward the door.

“We’re going!” says Peeta, shoving the Peacekeeper who’s pressing on me. “We get it, all right? Come on, Katniss.” His arm encircles me and guides me back into the Justice Building.

Somewhere below, musicians begin to play. As the first wave of our little procession begins down the steps, Peeta and I join hands.

Cinna begins to take in my clothes around the waist. The prep team frets over the circles under my eyes. Effie starts giving me pills to sleep, but they don’t work. Not well enough. I drift off only to be roused by nightmares that have increased in number and intensity. Peeta, who spends much of the night roaming the train, hears me screaming as I struggle to break out of the haze of drugs that merely prolong the horrible dreams. He manages to wake me and calm me down. Then he climbs into bed to hold me until I fall back to sleep. After that, I refuse the pills. But every night I let him into my bed. We manage the darkness as we did in the arena, wrapped in each other’s arms, guarding against dangers that can descend at any moment.

President Snow himself makes a surprise visit to congratulate us. He clasps Peeta’s hand and gives him an approving slap on the shoulder. He embraces me, enfolding me in the smell of blood and roses, and plants a puffy kiss on my cheek.

The music’s slow and dreamlike, so Peeta pulls me into his arms and we move in a circle with practically no steps at all. You could do this dance on a pie plate.

When I open my eyes, it’s early afternoon. My head rests on Peeta’s arm. I don’t remember him coming in last night. I turn, being careful not to disturb him, but he’s already awake.

[…]

“I had a dream, though,” I say, thinking back. “I was following a mockingjay through the woods. For a long time. It was Rue, really. I mean, when it sang, it had her voice.”

“Where did she take you?” he says, brushing my hair off my forehead.

He steps in and I feel myself lifted off the ground. The room spins, and I have to lock my arms around Gale’s neck to brace myself. He’s laughing, happy.

“You’re sure?” I say. “Because it’s going to be hard, with the kids and all. I don’t want to get five miles into the woods and have you —

“I’m sure. I’m completely, entirely, one hundred percent sure.” He tilts his forehead down to rest against mine and pulls me closer. His skin, his whole being, radiates heat from being so near the fire, and I close my eyes, soaking in his warmth. I breathe in the smell of snow-dampened leather and smoke and apples, the smell of all those wintry days we shared before the Games. I don’t try to move away. Why should I, anyway? His voice drops to a whisper. “I love you.”

That’s why.

After a while, my mother comes in and treats my face. Then she holds my hand, stroking my arm, while Haymitch fills her in on what happened with Gale.

“No. I’ve dragged you into enough trouble,” I tell him.

“And avoiding a stroll by the Hob . . . that’s going to fix things for me?” He smiles and takes my hand. Together we wind through the streets of the Seam until we reach the burning building.

“None of you deserves candy!” I say.

“What, because we’re right?” Peeta wraps his arms around me. I give a small yelp of pain as my tailbone objects. I try to turn it into a sound of indignation, but I can see in his eyes that he knows I’m hurt. “Okay, Prim said west. I distinctly heard west. And we’re all idiots. How’s that?”

“Better,” I say, and accept his kiss.

When my mother has locked the door behind them, I slump against the table.

“What is it?” says Peeta, holding me steadily.

She wraps my bad foot, and Peeta volunteers to get me to bed. I start out by leaning on his shoulder, but I’m so wobbly he just scoops me up and carries me upstairs. He tucks me in and says good night but I catch his hand and hold him there.

“Don’t go yet. Not until I fall asleep,” I say.

Peeta sits on the side of the bed, warming my hand in both of his.

[…]

“No, I’d have told you,” I say. I pull his hand up and lean my cheek against the back of it, taking in the faint scent of cinnamon and dill from the breads he must have baked today.

My whole body aches with exhaustion. So I let my mother doctor me and feed me breakfast in bed and tuck another quilt around me.

Each afternoon he carries me downstairs for a change of scenery and I unnerve everyone by turning on the television.

I want to ask them more, but Cinna appears to give me a hug and check my makeup.

As I stagger up the steps to my house, the front door opens and Gale pulls me into his arms. “I was wrong. We should have gone when you said,” he whispers.

They appear in the doorway, holding tea and toast, their faces filled with concern. I open my mouth, planning to start off with some kind of joke, and burst into tears.

So much for being strong.

My mother sits on the side of the bed and Prim crawls right up next to me and they hold me, making quiet soothing sounds, until I am mostly cried out. Then Prim gets a towel and dries my hair, combing out the knots, while my mother coaxes tea and toast into me. They dress me in warm pajamas and layer more blankets on me and I drift off again.

Downstairs, my mother and Prim embrace me again, but they’re not overly emotional. I know they’re holding things in to make it easier on me.

When Peeta holds out his arms, I walk straight into them. It’s the first time since they announced the Quarter Quell that he’s offered me any sort of affection. He’s been more like a very demanding trainer, always pushing, always insisting Haymitch and I run faster, eat more, know our enemy better. Lover? Forget about that. He abandoned any pretense of even being my friend. I wrap my arms tightly around his neck before he can order me to do push-ups or something. Instead he pulls me in close and buries his face in my hair. Warmth radiates from the spot where his lips just touch my neck, slowly spreading through the rest of me. It feels so good, so impossibly good, that I know I will not be the first to let go.

Cinna just smiles. “Had a damp morning?”

“You could wring me out,” I reply.

Cinna puts his arm around my shoulder and leads me into lunch.

I’m determined to keep him alive, knowing the cost will be my own life, but the part of me that is not so brave as I could wish is glad that it’s Peeta, not Haymitch, beside me. Our hands find each other without further discussion. Of course we will go into this as one.

It’s such a short ride that there’s no real time for conversation, but when Peeta takes my hand, I don’t pull it away.

Peeta and I are finally left alone. He reaches across the table to take my hands. “Decided what to do for the Gamemakers yet?”

[…]

We sit in silence awhile and then I blurt out the thing that’s on both our minds. “How are we going to kill these people, Peeta?”

“I don’t know.” He leans his forehead down on our entwined hands.

We finish the meal in silence, but when we rise to go into the sitting room, Cinna puts his arm around me and gives me a squeeze. “Come on and let’s go get those training scores.”

Peeta walks me down to my room in silence, but before he can say good night, I wrap my arms around him and rest my head against his chest. His hands slide up my back and his cheek leans against my hair.

It feels like such a luxury, sleeping with Peeta again. I didn’t realize until now how starved I’ve been for human closeness. For the feel of him beside me in the darkness. I wish I hadn’t wasted the last couple of nights shutting him out. I sink down into sleep, enveloped in his warmth, and when I open my eyes again, daylight’s streaming through the windows.

No one bothers us. By late afternoon, I lie with my head on Peeta’s lap, making a crown of flowers while he fiddles with my hair, claiming he’s practicing his knots.

The other tributes begin to line up as well. I’m confused because, while they all are angry, some are giving us sympathetic pats on the shoulder, and Johanna Mason actually stops to straighten my pearl necklace.

“Make him pay for it, okay?” she says.

I automatically rise and, as I do, I sense Peeta reaching out for me. Tears run down his face as I take his hand.

“Any last words of advice?” Peeta asks.

“Stay alive,” Haymitch says gruffly. That’s almost an old joke with us now. He gives us each a quick embrace, and I can tell it’s all he can stand. “Go to bed. You need your rest.”

Do we sleep? I don’t know. We spend the night holding each other, in some halfway land between dreams and waking. Not talking. Both afraid to disturb the other in the hope that we’ll be able to store up a few precious minutes of rest.

Cinna and Portia arrive with the dawn, and I know Peeta will have to go. Tributes enter the arena alone. He gives me a light kiss. “See you soon,” he says.

“See you soon,” I answer.

We sit, as we did last year, holding hands until the voice tells me to prepare for the launch. He walks me over to the circular metal plate and zips up the neck of my jumpsuit securely. “Remember, girl on fire,” he says, “I’m still betting on you.” He kisses my forehead and steps back as the glass cylinder slides down around me.

When they reach the sand, I help haul Peeta up onto dry land.

“Hello, again,” he says, and gives me a kiss. “We’ve got allies.”

“Yes. Just as Haymitch intended,” I answer.

We position ourselves in a line at the mouth of the hut and Peeta slips his hand into mine.

I stretch out, pressing my hot cheek on the grass mat, staring at the thing in aggravation. Peeta rubs a tense spot between my shoulders and I let myself relax a little.

I know it’s stopped when I feel Peeta’s hands on me, feel myself lifted from the ground and out of the jungle. But I stay eyes squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles squeezed shut, hands over my ears, muscles too rigid to release. Peeta holds me on his lap, speaking soothing words, rocking me gently. It takes a long time before I begin to relax the iron grip on my body. And when I do, the trembling begins.

While Johanna collects water and my arrows, Beetee fiddles with his wire, and Finnick takes to the water. I need to clean up, too, but I stay in Peeta’s arms, still too shaken to move.

Peeta and I sit on the damp sand, facing away from each other, my right shoulder and hip pressed against his. I watch the water as he watches the jungle, which is better for me. I’m still haunted by the voices of the jabberjays, which unfortunately the insects can’t drown out. After a while I rest my head against his shoulder. Feel his hand caress my hair.

This time, there is nothing but us to interrupt us. And after a few attempts, Peeta gives up on talking. The sensation inside me grows warmer and spreads out from my chest, down through my body, out along my arms and legs, to the tips of my being. Instead of satisfying me, the kisses have the opposite effect, of making my need greater. I thought I was something of an expert on hunger, but this is an entirely new kind.

I let him lead me over to where the others are. He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick.

There’s nothing to do now but wait. Peeta and I sit at the edge of the water, hand in hand, wordless. He gave his speech last night but it didn’t change my mind, and nothing I can say will change his.

“Gale,” I whisper.

“Hey, Catnip.” He reaches down and pushes a strand of hair out of my eyes.

#everlark #thg #bookcomb ♥️🔎#hunger games #Katniss everdeen #Peeta mellark #haymitch abernathy #gale hawthorne #finnick odair

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cosplayproblemsposts · 2 years

Text

Running and avoiding are much easier

Summary: It is hard to walk away from a certain set of beliefs and it's tough to be entitled to the game of immortality. The full moons of the werewolves and the infection of perversion, diseases of leaving are indeed hard but avoiding the entire thing is much easier.

Male character x male reader

Warning: Religious trauma and angst ending.

The concept of fear comes in many forms and the context of beliefs made it even more difficult and you hated it. The idea and the structure of solitude, it is nauseating to play along to the plague of being 'normal'.

"Oh don't be so dramatic Crowley, a date with a beautiful woman won't kill me" you exclaim to the displeased redhead. "Yes, it would this is the fourth brunette this week" you roll your eyes as Aziraphale finally sat down.

"Aziraphale back me up here, Crowley being his usual dramatic self" Aziraphale fiddles with his bowtie. You eye the blonde with disbelief "Oh you got to be joking, you can't be considering his little notion are you?". The blonde adverts his gaze to the demon "See angel here has a good head on his shoulders".

You weren't angry but disappointed in them, why believe in what your heart wants and not the logical and realistic alternative that stands as the right 'thing' and 'choice'. You huff and shimmy deeper into your leather chair "I-I'm deathly sorry Y/-" you cut him off with a loud scoff.

"Don't give me that!" Aziraphale looks at Y/N angry? frustrated? annoyed? expression. "Oh C'mon Y/N don't act like that, me and Aziraphale are just worried that's all" you wanted the easier way out of this conversation so you took it.

"We believe it would be better to find a healthier and easier way to cope with this internal fear," Aziraphale says after he collects himself. Crowley was about to add something else but you were up and making your way to the bookstore's entrance "I wish you two a lovely evening and cheers". "Oh do wait Y/N w-we just want t-" Aziraphales words were long forgotten and Crowley's chase came to an end.

2,100 BC the beginning of werewolves in ancient Greece and Rome is the year you met the two entities.

You were a wood carver and sculpturer who sold to the middle class and high class of Greece. Aziraphale eyes sparkle at the beauty of the smooth workings of art "tempt to purchase one or many".

A smooth greek accent of a middle age man steals the angel's attention "I admire your work, you are the one who molds this beautiful masterpiece?". You grin and nod with pride "yes I'm the one who brought my vision of love to life" Aziraphale lips part in a pure gold manner "L-love?". You hum "Yes the beauty of love" your eyes were intimidating but yet bold in color and illusion.

"How magical" Aziraphale swoons his gestures in an adorable fashion that made you chuckle. "I wish you could have seen the process, now that is the true work of love" Aziraphale could listen to you talk for an eternity if you allowed him to. "Ah yes the development and hard work you..." Aziraphale finally realized he hadn't even asked your name. "Y/N L/N" the angel smiles "Aziraphale" you whisper the blonde's name under your breath with no intention of forgetting.

"Aziraphale where are you?" the newfound voice made you meet this glasses-wearing male. "Oh there you are" this redhead approaches and just by looking at him, he is the total opposite. Aziraphale was white as snow and pure gold for him dark and rose gold "Oh I was observing this man's artwork".

"Oh yeah lovely now C'mon we are gonna be late" you frown all of a sudden "Late? late for what?". Crowley huffs as Aziraphale decided to answer your question "Poetry, a man named Andie reads his written work". You nod, you've heard of him and his crazy beliefs of wolf-like creatures "enjoy your poetry hour" Crowley nods "Yes we will, and good day to you". They were gone, you never felt so intrigued for quite some time.

A tall trench coat figure stalks down the busy streets "I'm not wrong to know what's right and what's wrong" you mutter out. "I know what I am and...their" slowing down in pace you realize where your steps have taken you.

A church is a building that is constructed out of break and wood. Installation to keep many warm and comfortable from the cold of the ungodly temptation "What have I become?" you wanted to throw your words away. You weren't yourself and you know that you'd be one of the happiest men alive if you weren't so afraid.

You made your way across the street to the standing church "light, white and firm" rambling in a whisper. Delicate and happy "Just set your mind and heart to the task before you and you would be free".

You took a seat in one of the many rows of pew chairs "open your heart and allow him in" with no warmth and no comfort. You felt absent from the two things instead you felt disappointment and doubt "why do I sit here in doubt".

Why is it hard to leave but easier to avoid the thought of leaving "are you okay?" a voice made you lightly jump. The priest's wife stares at him with curiosity "I'm fine just questioning a few things" she hums. "Why?" if you could you'd laugh for doesn't she see why "I believed I knew what it was to feel and understand love but it seems I don't".

She hums "Love can come in many shapes and sizes" Let's be honest you thought she'd just say something like the holy Christ. The sacrifice of the man himself and the power of gods love can save everyone and everything "I-I...thank you". This strange woman smiles and bids you farewell and leaves you there is a much lighter heart.

It had been months since you have spoken to the duo and the woman you decided to keep as a friend. The full moon couldn't be any rougher and dull "Y/N you need to see a doctor about your back" Anna recommends.

You shook your head "no, the transformations always leave me like this for a few days" Anna could only scowl. "You have a funny way of reassuring your friends" Anna watches your frown "I-I...oh be quiet". Anna laughs at your little embarrassed expression "I'm just teasing" Anna goes back to the menu. "What are you gonna order?" Anna asks which made you slouch "Steak".

"You ordered steak last time and time before that and the time previously" Anna points her index finger at you. "Okay!" you threw your hands up in defeat "the crab special looks promising" Anna wiggled her eyes brows at you.

"What?" Anna eyes the background scenery behind you "What are you looking at?". She quickly stubs your shoed foot under the table "Don't look silly" you groan "What is it then?". "You know I care about you right?" you nod as Anna sets one of her hands on top of your right one. "You can avoid a lot of things and" Anna has a problem with stretching out so much context, that's another way to put it I guess...She doesn't get to the point fast enough.

Annas' eyes advert upwards as if her eyes met another person's eyes "Gentlemen" she clears her throat and gives you an apologetic gaze before taking her to leave. You didn't look up or over your shoulder for the thought that she set you up made your stomach and heart twitch.

"Y/N, please hear us out" Arizaphale speaks first as Crowley goes off to fetch the angel a seat. "You have been quiet for seven months and you have been unreachable" Y/N wanted the angel to stop talking and leave him alone. "Seven months and five days" you mutter loud enough for the blonde to hear.

"Please, Crowley and I want the best for you, and if you deem it appropriate to end our friendship then... " Aziraphale smile falls for you wouldn't even spare him a glance. "Crowley, he hasn't budged" the demon makes a face "he can't be quiet forever Aziraphale". "Go away" the two stare at you "what?" Crowley says "I'm done, our friendship has grown cold and I'd like you two to acknowledge my choice".

"Of course, you two don't have to respect it but you can and you will accept it so... goodbye" with that your up and gone.

The two watch you leave the restaurant and no you weren't in a hurry and no you don't regret your decision for now. Yes, you'd regret it later on but you have so many years to get over it and they do too.

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thelustybraavosimaid · 2 years

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Blatant foreshadowing:

"Kings are a rare sight in the north."

Robert snorted. "More likely they were hiding under the snow. Snow, Ned!" (Eddard I, AGoT)

"King," croaked the raven. The bird flapped across the solar to land on Mormont's shoulder. "King," it said again, strutting back and forth.

"He likes that word," Jon said, smiling.

"An easy word to say. An easy word to like."

"King," the bird said again.

"I think he means for you to have a crown, my lord."

"The realm has three kings already, and that's two too many for my liking." Mormont stroked the raven under the beak with a finger, but all the while his eyes never left Jon Snow.

It made him feel odd. (Jon I, ACoK)

He had known what Snow was the moment he saw that great white direwolf stalking silent at his side. One skinchanger can always sense another. Mance should have let me take the direwolf. There would be a second life worthy of a king. (Prologue, ADwD)

When Gilly entered, she went at once to her knees. Jon came around the table and drew her to her feet. "You don't need to take a knee for me. That's just for kings." (Jon II, ADwD)

"My uncle declared for Stannis, in hopes it might provoke the Lannisters to take poor Harry's head. Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already." She rubbed away a tear angrily, the way Arya might have done it. "Will you help me?"

"Marriages and inheritance are matters for the king, my lady. I will write to Stannis on your behalf, but—" (Jon IX, ADwD)

"Shortly." Sigorn might take it as a slight if he did not appear. And this marriage is mine own work, after all. (Jon X, ADwD)

He rose and dressed in darkness, as Mormont's raven muttered across the room. "Corn," the bird said, and, "King," and, "Snow, Jon Snow, Jon Snow." That was queer. The bird had never said his full name before, as best Jon could recall. (Jon XII, ADwD)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"No. He was a great man. A maester of the Citadel, chained and sworn, and Sworn Brother of the Night's Watch, ever faithful. When he was born they named him for a hero who had died too young, but though he lived a long long time, his own life was no less heroic. No man was wiser, or gentler, or kinder. At the Wall, a dozen lords commander came and went during his years of service, but he was always there to counsel them. He counseled kings as well. He could have been a king himself, but when they offered him the crown he told them they should give it to his younger brother. How many men would do that?" Sam felt the tears welling in his eyes, and knew he could not go on much longer. "He was the blood of the dragon, but now his fire has gone out. He was Aemon Targaryen. And now his watch is ended." (Samwell IV, AFfC)

"Allow me to give my lord one last piece of counsel," the old man had said, "the same counsel that I once gave my brother when we parted for the last time. He was three-and-thirty when the Great Council chose him to mount the Iron Throne. A man grown with sons of his own, yet in some ways still a boy. Egg had an innocence to him, a sweetness we all loved. Kill the boy within you, I told him the day I took ship for the Wall. It takes a man to rule. An Aegon, not an Egg. Kill the boy and let the man be born." The old man felt Jon's face. "You are half the age that Egg was, and your own burden is a crueler one, I fear. You will have little joy of your command, but I think you have the strength in you to do the things that must be done. Kill the boy, Jon Snow. Winter is almost upon us. Kill the boy and let the man be born." (Jon II, ADwD)

The fandom:

#asoiaf #jon snow #ramble

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adrianasunderworld · 1 year

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Imagine Disney Princess AU in ghost marriage. Obviously they will be sideline since they are girls but I like to think they watch what some of the NRC cast being slapped by the ghosts. Some laugh, some are disappointed, and some are sad. I like to think the princesses feel bad for some like Trey, Cater, and Deuce who are just being themselves and act politely to the ghost, but the ghost is rude because they didn't fit her standards. While they'll be mad at some like Floyd, Sebek, and more.

Ariel: While you did give her flowers and she is dead, I do think giving her Poison flowers isn't a best way to show it

Tiana: I kinda predict Floyd on failing.

Anna: And no women wants to be squish by a stranger.

Belle: Obviously the ghost will be offended if they brag about someone great in this conversation.

Rapunzel: And for a prince, you are being rude to her.

Leona, being sarcatic: Oh I'm sorry that we wouldn't live in the same standards as your perfect boyfriends.

I like to their comments made them more annoyed on how they fell to their perfect princes while they couldn't.

I like to think Mulan joining with Riddle and the rest disguising herself as a man since she did fit the criteria and she did dressed as a man before.

Mulan in her suit in which men are almost speechless that they couldn't recognize her.

Riddle: Sometimes I forgot she can disguise herself as a man.

I also think Idia feeling rejected by the ghost after she end up with someone else.

Idia: I don't know why but I feel offended on being rejected by a girl. Is this how breakups are like in real-life?

Megara: You get used to it.

I like to think Megara experience what's like being heartbroken by a man and she can't help but feel sorry for him despite not showing much.

This ask makes me think Ace wouldn't fall for any of the Disney princess due to his experience to his ex and how he would rather be with friends right now. When the Disney princesses learn about this, they can't help but feel saddened and heartwarming from his speech.

Honestly seeing the Princesses in the ghost bride event would be interesting, because it's clearly poking fun at the fairytale princess trope of classic Disney. What with Eliza mentioning things like a prince needing a sword, expecting a tall handsome stranger, the singing. Eliza is basically a Disney princess gone wrong, and I think the classic princesses would not be here for it. Tiana and everyone after her would especially be like "this girl is crazy." While all the classic girls are going "She's giving us a bad rep. We do not condone her actions."

I do think some of them would feel bad for her, Especially Snow White. She dreamed of love and perfect prince like Eliza, only Eliza met a tragic end. So I feel like Snow would have the most sympathy for her, even though she doesn't agree with with what she's doing.

It's been hundreds of years, maybe Eliza recognizes some of them as the princesses of old, figures she admired and whose stories she wanted to emulate. She wanted what they had, and all her retainers enabling her only turned it from a childhood fantasy to a full blown obsession. All the princesses are horrified, and have to try to bring Eliza to reality.

Eliza: Princess Aroura, you fell in love with your dream prince who slew a dragon for you! How could I not want that?

Aroura: I got lucky is what I got. Even if I didn't like Phillip, I would have still had to marry him. Even my father who arranged thought it would be a good idea to wait. But I certainly never forced him. And look at Idia and tell me he's going to slay anything bigger than a fly! No offense,Idia.

Idia: None taken. But also ouch.

Also I was gonna say Mulan, but then I read the second half, and yeah. lol Mulan will rock the suitor suit and also fight her way through all the ghost. Sometimes the best Prince Charming is a woman.

Honestly the aftermath may be a good bonding moment for Meg and Idia. Because Meg has had her heartbroken before and even though Idia didn't love Eliza, rejection still hurts, especially since Idia isn't used to the kind of attention where he is the object of someone's desire. So Meg is sort of off to the side with him and Ortho going "You'll be fine. It may hurt, but you'll be okay."

And yeah I can see what you mean about Ace not wanting to date anyone, at least not for a while. They all have different wants and needs that I can Ace can recognize and be like "this wont work"

#twisted wonderland #twst ghost marriage #twst ghost bride #disney princesses #idia shroud #ace trappola

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supercap2319 · 1 year

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Baby It’s Cold Outside Chapter 3

A/N: Chapter 3 is up.

It was silent between them.

It wasn’t that awkward silence where you fill it with small talk back and forth, but the comfortable kind. The quiet you get when you’re in your room, comfortably lying on your bed as you watch a movie or listen to music. Tyler’s hands had been tight on the wheel; his knuckles white into the first four hours of their trip. He looked back every mile until he was sure his father wasn’t following them. The barista was surprised his boyfriend hadn’t picked up on his nervous energy. Y/N could smell fear, thanks to his vampire senses, and could hear the slight change in someone’s heart, so Tyler figured either Y/N didn’t notice his uneasiness or he was waiting for the right moment to catch Tyler and confront him on his lies.

Tyler's stomach did knots at that. God, he hoped not. He could handle his father hating him, but Y/N? He would die if he did. The sound of Y/N’s singing brought Tyler out of his thoughts as he watched him sing to the radio song of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen, but he changed the words to them. Probably, the version he sang with his own family.

“It's Christmas, and the graveyard folk has all come to play. They're going to make a fuss and walk around causing disarray.” Tyler began to chuckle. His first laugh in a while. His boyish features were displayed as Y/N looked at him and frowned. “What’s so funny, Puppy? Aren’t those the words?”

“The words are much different, but I like your version better. Sounds more fun.”

“It is. Remind me to teach you the full song later,” Y/N said.

Tyler smirks. “Deal.”

Y/N looks at his boyfriend as he has his eyes glued onto the road. His smooth skin and his golden brown curls, along with his blue eyes, were dressed in flannel over a white shirt with a brown jacket. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. His mother told him that her undead heart came to life the moment she met his father, and Y/N wondered if that was the same feeling that he was experiencing right at this moment. A boyfriend who was half normie, half Hyde. His family would be so proud of him. Tyler's head turned towards Y/N, who looked away. Tyler smiled once again. Busted. “You were checking me out, weren't you, Y/N?”

Y/N blushed. “No…”

“You were!” Tyler cried. “What were you thinking about, mmh? Something naughty?” He couldn’t help how his smile grew as Y/N squirmed underneath Tyler’s teasing stare. “Perhaps, kissing out in the snow? Or maybe handjobs underneath the Christmas tree?” Tyler was surprised those words just came out of his mouth. He was never one for dirty talk. I guess his Hyde side was shining through and through.

The Munster boy looks at him, red in the face, but he smiles. “Sorry, I just forgot how beautiful you are. You’re like those paintings in museums. Absolute perfection. I’m lucky to have you as my boyfriend.” Tyler’s heart did not skip at being called Y/N’s ‘boyfriend.’ Nope, not one bit. The way it rolled off Y/N’s so smoothly that you just had to believe that they belonged together. It just made sense, but at the same time, it couldn’t. Not because of Y/N, no, this was all Tyler’s fault. He couldn’t give Y/N his everything like the other male had him. The curly-haired boy couldn’t even stand up to his father and say Y/N was his boyfriend with pride because he was scared of the repercussions of letting his homophobic dad know that he was very much not of the straight guy variety.

Y/N deserved someone happily out of the closet instead of a closeted, psychotic, curly-haired bartisa with daddy issues. Y/N’s probably told his family about him, and Tyler’s not sure if he’s ready for the expectations or rejections. The young man was so much into his head that he barely registered that Y/N was calling his name. “Uh, What….?”

Tyler turned to see Y/N looking at him, all traces of a blush gone as he glanced at the barista with concerned but hopeful eyes. “I said can we stop somewhere to get something to eat? I’m hungry.” The supplies of soda and chips could only take them so far into their journey, and Tyler was surprised that Y/N hadn't piped up early to ask to stop to get some food. He felt bad. He should have asked. What kind of gentleman doesn't ask if someone is hungry? His face reddened with embarrassment. “Sorry, Y/N, I should have asked if you were hungry sooner.”

“It’s fine. My fault for not asking before, but you looked so insistent on getting to New Jersey that I didn’t want to bother you.”

Tyler flushed even more at that. Y/N did notice Tyler’s off-putting nature in his efforts to get as far away from Jericho as he could, and in the process, he disregarded his boyfriend’s feelings and needs. “I’m sorry. Shit, that was stupid of me.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Y/N said. “You were probably eager to get out of Jericho for a while. It’s okay, Ty. No need to beat yourself over that.”

The sheriff’s son cleared his throat. “Right, so is there a place in mind?” He looked at their gage, and they were close to running on empty. They needed to put some gas in soon. Otherwise, Y/N would be a vampire speeding them the rest of the way. It was a funny thought that plagued the corners of Tyler’s mind. Seeing Y/N caring for Tyler's bridal style as he speeded them to his home in New Jersey. “Well, there’s a diner near a gas station if that’s okay with you?” Y/N looks at his phone’s GPS. Tyler nods his head. “Yeah, that’s perfect. Kill two birds with one.”

Y/N frowns. “A stone? Oh, no, no, no. If you want to kill birds, grandpa says you should use a throwing ax or arrows. More effective.”

Tyler laughed.

Once Tyler guided his truck into the parking lot of the Silver Diner, he and Y/N got out as the snow lightly clung to their jackets and on top of Tyler’s curls and Y/N’s red beanie that he did not steal from Tyler’s room. The door chimed like Christmas bells as they opened it and were greeted by the old-fashioned classic American diner as the jukeboxes played Christmas songs. The place looked like something out of the sitcom Happy Days. With its pink fluorescent lights all around the booths that were red in leather, with miniature jukeboxes at every table. It was awesome.

They walk towards the booths as customers, which consist of regulars, truckers, and tourists, stare at them as they walk past them. Tyler knew why they were staring. Their judgment gazes were the same ones as back in Jericho. Hateful. Fear filled. He briefly wonders if they would look at him the same way if they knew he wasn't one of them. If Y/N noticed their judgmental stares, he didn’t say anything as a waitress approached them. “For two? You and your…. umm… brother want a counter seat or a booth?”

Y/N looked at her, an exciting shine in his eyes. “He’s my boyfriend, ma’am. Not my brother.”

“Oh, sorry about that. I just assumed that.” She looks at Y/N’a green hues. “That’s some mighty fine Christmas-colored hair you got there.”

“Thank you. It’s the hair I was born with,” Y/N smiles as the waitress frowns in confusion.

“Booth will be great, right?” Tyler asks in a hurry to avoid the awkward stares their waitress is giving Y/N.

“Yeah, sounds great!”

They were led through the aisles, and people stared at them as they passed. Tyler put a protective hand on Y/N’s shoulders until he slid into one side of the booth. Tyler slid into the other as he looked over the menu. So many different choices to make as he looks up at Y/N as he’s deep in thought about the food he wants to order. The barista was surprised to learn that Y/N doesn’t have to feed on blood to survive; he could stay on normie food just fine. He only drank blood to keep his vials normal and healthy.

“You know what you’re going to get?” Tyler asked from across the booth.

Y/N looks up at him. “Yup. You?”

“Yup.”

The waitress, Mary, her name tag stated, made her way back to the table, perching a hand on her hip as she held up her order notepad. “You boys ready?” she asked.

“I’ll have your double bacon cheeseburger, please,” Tyler politely said.

“Fries or tots?”

“Fries.”

“And what to drink?”

“Coke.”

The waitress turned to Y/N. “And for you?”

“The same, please. No onions, and can I order your cakes in a pan, please?” It took a moment to register to Tyler that his boyfriend meant pancakes. Mary wrote their order down and looked at them. “I’ll be back with your drinks. Did you want those pancakes before or after your meal, sweetie?” She looks at Y/N, and Tyler’s pleasantly surprised look of bewilderment is gone. Maybe not all normies were so bad.

“After.”

“You got it.” She walks away.

It wasn’t long before they received their food, as they settled into a comfortable conversation that should have been impossible for a normie, well, half normie and an outcast, but it wasn’t like that between them. When they talked, it was like the rest of the world faded away to just them, and there were no labels in their world—just peace and safety.

Tyler felt himself finally relax as he laughed at something Y/N said. His boyish features are on full display, including his dimples too. He honestly left his worries behind him, and now he’s going to enjoy the holidays with his boyfriend. The consequences could suck it. There was an ease that settled in Tyler’s soul when he reached over and stole fries from Y/N’s plate. Y/N didn’t mind, though; he smiled as Tyler munched on his stolen French fries.

“So, who’s coming to your family’s Christmas party? Your uncles from the old country?” Y/N’s uncles, who lived in Transylvania and other places, were coming to the states for Christmas. Y/N nodded. “Yup. There’s uncle Charlie, my dad's twin brother. There’s uncle Phantom of the Opera. He has a beautiful voice that shatters glass. There’s uncle Gilbert from the Black Lagoon and uncle Stefan. He’s from Italy.

“Well, I can’t wait to meet them.”

“And they can’t wait to meet you, too,” Y/N said. “That’s okay, right? I told my family about you, and they’re so excited to see you, Ty.”

“Really?” Tyler asked. “Even though I’m half normie and a Hyde?”

“Of course. Grandpa says I found myself a keeper when he learned you were a Hyde. He practically gave me his blessing for a marriage proposal. He says Hydes are like royalty back in Transylvania.”

Tyler hadn’t expected that answer. He expected to be turned away as soon as they discovered he was a murderous killing machine, but the Munsters liked that quality in a future-in-law. Go figure. The curly-haired boy licked his lips as his blue orbs looked at Y/N. “I hope that I don’t disappoint them. I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time that I didn’t live up to someone’s expectations.” And just like that, the angst is back. Thinking about his father is back in full force as Tyler frowns.

Y/N frowns, too, as he puts a hand over Tyler’s. “Ty, what are you talking about? My family’s going to love it as much as I do. You could never disappoint them or me.” The promise in his boyfriend’s voice was so commanding and powerful that Tyler just had to believe him. That strangers were willing to welcome someone they’d never seen in their home. It was almost enough to make the Galpin boy cry. Almost. “You think so?”

Y/N smiled. “I know so.”

…..

After their waitress brought them their stack of pancakes that they shared down the middle; their diner date was pretty uneventful, except for who should pay for their dinner. Tyler and Y/N both fenced back and forth before it was agreed upon that Tyler would pay for dinner, if Y/N paid for the gas. Once they had left the diner and filled up Tyler’s truck with enough gas to get them to Y/N’s house, they set off once again for the road as they finished the last three hours of their trip.

Tyler drove through the town of Mockingbird Heights as the GPS guided them towards the street of 1313 Mockingbird Lane.

Once they had arrived at their intended destination, Tyler got out of the car and opened the other side of the door for his boyfriend as he turned towards the house and gasped. The house, or mansion a better word for it, was a Gothic Victorian style. The house stands on a property enclosed by a stone wall and the yard is full of weeds and dead trees. Tyler’s never seen a house like this in life before, only in the movies and tv shows. It was amazing.

Y/N successfully grabbed all their luggage in one go thanks to his Frankenstein like strength as he guides Tyler through the gates of his home with a giant ‘M’ on the bars. As they head up the porch towards the house, the barista notices some Christmas decorations on the front lawn. There’s all the colorful and festive lights surrounded by a giant spider web with mechanical spiders. There’s also the snowman getting his head cut off by the executioner at the guillotine. Over and over again. And the rabid reindeers on top of the house.

“Wow, this place is pretty bleak and horrifying,” Tyler said. Then he realized how that sounded and blushed as he stammered out an apology. “Y/N, I’m sorry I didn’t mean too–”

“–Wow, Puppy, that was so sweet of you to say.” Y/N smiled. “My family sure did try hard and to hear you say those kind words about it makes me smile.”

Tyler rubbed the back of his head nervously. “You’re welcome.” Bad and bloody, we're good here. They were compliments.

They stood on the other side of the door as Y/N set their stuff down and knocked. The whole mansion shook underneath Y/N’s fist as Tyler tried to steady his nerves. Any minute now, he was going to be meeting his boyfriend’s family as soon as that door opened. Hopefully, he doesn’t screw things up. Sensing his uneasiness, Y/N grasped his boyfriend’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze and a small smile. Tyler smiled back.

The sound of thundering footsteps could be heard as the front door opened up to reveal a hulking figure about 8-foot-tall if Tyler had to guess. He had green skin with a square shaped face, a scar on his forehead, bolts on either side of his neck and black hair. He wore a gray coat over a black sweatshirt with pants and giant boots. Probably the biggest shoes Tyler’s ever seen. Despite his monstrous appearance, he had a sunny disposition about him like his son, as his blue eyes sparkled when he looked down at Y/N and Tyler.

He let out a loud braying bellow as he grabbed Y/N into a hug. Tyler could hear the faint crush of bones and he was concerned, but Y/N seemed ecstatic. “Y/N! Good to see you, my son!”

Y/N giggles as he hugs his father back and Tyler hears bones crunching underneath Y/N’s arms. “You too dad!” They separated as Y/N’s father turned towards Tyler. “Oh, and just who is this young man?”

Tyler opens his mouth to speak, but Y/N beats him to the punch. “Dad, this is my boyfriend, Tyler Galpin. Tyler, this is my dad, Herman Munster,” He introduces the two. “He’ll be staying for the holidays and maybe New Year’s before the spring semester.”

Herman stares at Tyler, and he has to fight the urge to shrink underneath his intense gaze. Finally, Herman breaks into a smile as he holds out his hand. “How do you do, Tyler?” The son of the sheriff looks at the outreach hand and grasps it with his own. It’s surprisingly cold to the touch. He shakes his hand as he politely says , “It’s nice to finally meet you, sir,” Tyler says, proud to hear that his voice doesn’t shake or crack.

“Likewise, young man. Though he’s certainly less hairy than the boyfriend I had when I was your age, Y/N.” Herman laughs at his own joke.

“Seriously, dad jokes? Are you trying to embarrass me?” Y/N blushed as Tyler looks at him and giggles. Herman smiles. “Why don’t you both head inside and I’ll take your bags upstairs?” Y/N nodded as he grabbed Tyler’s hand and led them into the mansion.

Y/N led Tyler past a staircase as Herman traveled up said stairs with all their stuff in his hands as the barista was led into the living room. The first thing Tyler noticed were the webs. The whole living seemed to be covered in it, like Spider-Man had a fight here and didn’t clean up after himself. There were candles lit all around with an old-fashioned clock, an electric chair, a tv, and a fireplace with a couch and a coffee table. There was also a giant harp too.

“Hope you don’t mind, but my mom cleaned this place up for our arrival,” Y/N said.

“That’s fine. No problem at all.” Tyler smiles.

From another room, a beautiful and slender woman with long dark hair with flex’s of gray mixed in and greenish skin, wears an ankle-length pale pink gown that appears faded and old, a bat-shaped medallion around her neck as she is accompanied by an older looking man who also has green skin. He wears a tuxedo with crazy curly gray and white hair. They stop when they see the two boys.

“Ma! Grandpa!” Y/N whooshed towards them and hugged them tight as they did the same to him. “Oh, dear, it’s wonderful to have you home for Christmas, Y/N.”

“It certainly is. Especially with the new blood you brought into the family.” The old man looks at Tyler, a gleam in his eyes as in a blink of an eye; he’s right in front of Tyler, grasping his arm. His fangs come out as the curly-haired young man watches him attempt to bite his arm.

“Grandpa!” Y/N speeds towards them and gets in between as he stands in front of Tyler protectively. “You can’t just bite my boyfriend’s arm.”

“That’s right, grandpa you can’t. You didn’t even ask him for permission first.” the woman says. “Besides, Y/N already has a claim over him and will bite him if he so chooses to do so.”

“Ma, I told you, vampires, my age, don't bite people anymore. It's not considered cool.”

“Cool?” the old man asks. “Back in my day, it was the coolest thing about being a vampire and suddenly now it's not? Your grandma would be turning in her grave right now.”

“What are you talking about? She always turns in her grave.” Y/N gives Tyler an apologetic look. “Sorry about that, Tyler. That was very rude of my grandfather.” He glares at the old man.

“Oh, so this is Tyler?” The woman asks Y/N.

“Wait, he’s Edward Hyde’s great, great, great great, grandson?” The old man gasps.

“Yup, he sure is. Ma, grandpa, this is Tyler. Ty, this is my mom, Lily, and my grandpa, Sam Dracula, Count of Transylvania.”

“Hello, there. Nice to meet you both,” Tyler said.

“You too, Tyler. So wonderful to finally meet you in person. Y/N’s told us all about you,” Lily said.

“He sure has.” Grandpa smiles as he pats them both on the shoulders. “He’s a keeper, Y/N. You have my blessing.” He leans close to Tyler. “Catch ya later, your highness.” He walks out of the room.

“Where are Marilyn and Eddie?” Y/N asks.

“Oh, Marilyn is on a date, and it’s nighttime. I suppose I should wake up Eddie from his sleep. Don’t want him wasting a beautiful night in bed,” Lily said.

“Speaking of bed, Tyler and I are going to get some sleep. It was a long trip.” Y/N noticed Tyler trying to hide his yawn.

Lily nods her head. “Of course, dear. I made sure to clean your room with fresh cobwebs and dust.”

Y/N leads Tyler away from the living room and up the stairs, passing his father as they go up and he goes down. “Going to bed, son? In the middle of the night?”

“Yeah, pops, we’re pretty tired.”

“Alright then, son. You and Tyler have a bad night's sleep and sweet nightmares,” Herman said. Y/N nods and kisses his father’s cheek goodnight as he leads Tyler towards his room.

When Herman comes down the stairs, he finds his wife waiting for him. “Oh, Herman, do you really think they should be sleeping in the same room together? You know how boys are.”

“I do, Lily. Because I am one,” Herman says.

“Would you two stop worrying?” Grandpa said. “Y/N’s a responsible young man and he would never do anything inappropriate. Besides, when I was his age, my parents let my partners stay in my coffin all the time.”

“Yeah, that’s because most of them were dead on their feet.” Herman says with a loud bellow.

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