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kithtaehyung · 2 months ago

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minted: two (explicit) | myg

title: minted: two (explicit) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: one | masterlist rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , action ; haegeum au , gang au summary: after a whirlwind of a detour, you have second and third thoughts about the guy you saved. who even is this man? and what the hell is in that bag? note: holy shit, y’all. thank you so much for the love on this series already! it’s been a minute since we started a new series here, so nerves were firing on all cylinders. but you all showed out and gave me enormous relief and motivation to keep going, so thank you! note 2: as always, this is dedicated to hali @sailoryooons for ur belated bday, nary @joonary for being a cutie pie and letting me adopt the tangerine cart girl idea in general, and luce @minttangerines for ur url and for being a wonderful friend. love you all! warnings: language, violence, weapons (guns), blood/wounds mentions, drugs, alcohol, trauma/pstd, poor reader :(((, but also YES READER???, tension to the max, inner turmoil, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, yoongi visuals in this one areeee… a ha ha, did i mention tension?, tense situations, crass af yoongi lol, reader is also a baddie but who is shocked, slow burnnnn drop date: september 30th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 9.8k help me @ god

There’s something to be said about the human gut.

Not for being the source of multiple health aspects, nor the way it’s connected to the brain.

But, other than when violence tears it to shreds, it can be quite the defense mechanism. Just like yours churns and churns with each mechanical click of the elevator shaft.

Who is this person next to you?

Who exactly did you decide to follow upstairs hours ago, killing your daily life to save and join on the run?

You don’t know if you release your hand or if Yoongi lets it fall, but you take this unlinking to create space. As you slide your gaze toward your companion, he merely shifts his weight and finds interest in increasing, beeping numbers.

How can someone’s profile be so troublingly handsome? You’d be able to think more clearly if he wasn’t both attractive and dangerous. Or if you simply weren’t on the verge of collapse.

Frankly, if you didn’t just murder a man you’d pass out as soon as you took too long to blink.

To keep yourself alert—and to hopefully gather some much needed intel—you suddenly question aloud, “Where are we?”

No answer.

Alright.

“That driver called you Agust,” you recap on a second go. “What was that about?”

All Yoongi does is stare at his reflection in opulent, dim mirrored walls. Or whatever else he’s doing besides talking.

Okay. Well.

You can face forward, too.

“Those guys after us,” you try a third time, because who are you to give up now even if he radiates annoyance. “They didn’t look like Crane.”

“Doesn’t mean they weren’t.”

Your neck almost snaps when you turn. “Are you kidding me?”

As you watch Yoongi scorn the ceiling again, you can’t believe he doesn’t agree.

Mm. Does he?

From the flex of his jaw, you have to assume you’re right to some degree. Because it looks like he’s very, very bothered by the people that chased you down.

If those weren’t any of the high-powers but had equal resources and numbers…

What the hell were they? Where did they even come from?

Geez, it’s freezing. Is a drop in temperature the best barrier to you making sense of things? You can’t even appreciate the way Yoongi’s veins protrude with every adjustment he makes to that mysterious duffle bag.

Lies. You absolutely can. But there’s no way in hell you’re ever complimenting that. Or anything about him anymore because he clearly doesn’t want anything to do with you!

Why did he even hold your hand? Was that just a ploy, too?

But that taxi drive…

Yoongi looks down before lightly scuffing his shoe, and both of you fall silent as you finally give up with a huff.

Massively dehydrated. Sore. Still covered in a myriad of unmentionables and now being ignored by the guy you saved.

All you wanna do is go home, and you don’t even know where that is.

How far did you travel? What district is this? You’ve never heard of a grey zone, but they seem fairly peaceful even at night. Neutral enough for you to consider relocating even if it meant sleeping on the street.

That brings up another question. “If we’re in a grey zone, how did you know—”

A ding interrupts your last thought, and you look to see where you ended up.

But the elevator doesn’t say a number. Only letters? What kinda floor did you stop on?

One thing’s for sure, though. Whatever room you end up getting, if there’s only one bed you’re hogging it or taking the…

Floor…

There are many things that have shocked you in your lifetime. Many things just from today that had your head positively and forever reeling.

But when the elevator doors slide open, you can’t even fathom what the fuck you’re dealing with.

And in this second, more than ever, you understand how ludicrously out of your element you really are.

“Holy shit,” you blurt, barely hearing the huff at your side.

Don’t elevators usually open up to hallways? Why are you walking into an entire living space? Is this a real place people choose to sleep in for a night? A whole floor?

Forget a whole floor, it’s a whole other place.

You slowly survey everything, wondering how much this has to be because you have never seen a living space so big. Or pretty. Or anything like this.

The ceilings vault and the furniture looks nothing like you’ve ever seen. Everything looks pristine. Clean. Is that a whole kitchen?

How are there living arrangements this big? This one place is bigger than your entire apartment level back home.

And here you are: speechless, virtually homeless, and dragging your filth onto white marble floors.

Perfect.

“What.”

You turn at the scrape of Yoongi’s voice, wondering why now is when he finally chooses to acknowledge you. Head pounding, you ask outright, “Who… Who even are you? What is this place?”

He levels your stare before walking towards a long couch, dumping the duffle and raking his hair back in minted waves. “There’s a shower in every bedroom. Take your pick.”

…Is that really his only response?

“That’s not what I asked,” you fire back, wondering what the hell his problem is so you can add more out of spite.

“But it’s what you need.”

“Say what now?”

The fucking nerve? Even though you obviously, desperately need one, hearing him mention it makes you wanna re-use the chopsticks in your pocket.

But Yoongi simply waves you off, grabbing a remote and flicking on a television so wide you would struggle to reach both ends.

This is all too much.

“You know what I need? To go home,” you huff out, leaving fire in your determined trek to the elevator. “Have a nice life, Yoongi. Or Agust. Whoever the fuck you are.”

You get to the door and run into a dirt-slicked forearm. “The fuck are you doing?”

“Shouldn’t be that hard to figure out.”

“You serious?”

“Yes, I am. So move.”

Yoongi pauses, jaw working overtime before he steps aside—wait he’s gonna let you go that easily?

…Oh.

That was certainly not what you expected, but what else would you even think? This isn’t one of those stories that ends perfectly after trials and tribulations. Yoongi has proven more than once—in mere hours—that he’s no regular civilian.

But despite that, you blink before freezing at a terrible realization.

No matter how you slice it, you’re much better off with him right now than you are by yourself. Even if he is a secretive criminal with a smoking gun.

He did keep you alive that whole chase.

But there’s the smallest, tiniest chance that you aren’t quite safe with him, either. You don’t even know who this man is anymore—maybe you never did.

So in a quick decision, you skim his side to slap the elevator button, chucking daggers at his brows until he leaves you to wait alone.

Good. You don’t need this. You can find your way back to your city block somehow and live the life you’ve chosen to lead again.

Yes. You can do all of that by yourself. The chase is done.

And so is your story with the man that will never buy your tangerines again.

Grabbing your sleeve, a second fact stings your fingers. A jacket woven in Dragon teal.

Shit. You need to ditch this, too. Either right now, or before you get the hell out of this grey zone because if you don’t, this is the biggest target you could ever have on your back.

No good. No good no good you didn’t plan any of this well at all. Fucking pride blinding you to everything else logical. Is this how your story ends? Because of regret and resistance?

You wait for the sliding doors, about to leave the biggest room you’ll ever see to occupy a box. How poetic.

Your heart pounds as you close your eyes. Yoongi just cut you loose; it’s obvious he doesn’t care so why should you? No going back now. You’ll figure it out. The doors are finally opening.

And someone’s inside?

Wait.

Your brain both whirrs and skids to a halt at the sight of the staff member occupying the elevator. When they give you a look, you find your hand drifting towards your back pocket.

Fucking hell, relax. You should be safe with a staff member, right? They wouldn’t be out to kill you. This is just your adrenaline on its haunches.

However, one foot in the elevator and your senses go haywire.

Because you can’t do this alone. You aren’t nearly as prepared to brave this foreign space as you need to be. With red in your hands and Dragon on your back? Absolutely not.

You bow to the hotel staff before you face forward into the expanse.

And as the doors start to close, you see Yoongi’s stare over his shoulder, storming with emotions you can’t name.

Yeah, you fucked up.

Fuck.

Fuck you actually made a big mistake go back don’t let the elevator close shit—

As you lunge for the door, you get your arm through to block it from closing, turning to the employee inside and seeing their expression change.

What was that about?

“Sorry,” you blurt to their pressed and polished grey uniform. “I forgot something inside.”

“I can wait, Miss,” they immediately offer, to which you politely and cautiously decline.

“No need.” When you step out of the elevator, something happens that you think about hours and hours later. “I’ll come down when I’m ready, thank you.”

You can suddenly breathe again. Why was it so stuffy in there?

The worker bows stiff. “As you wish.”

Without pause, you nod, waiting until the doors close to face someone turned away.

Ugh. It’s like Yoongi knew you weren’t gonna leave. Either that, or he really didn’t give a crap about what you did at all.

Either way, fuck this guy and fuck your indecisive ass!

In full aggravation, you march through the entrance before grating out, “You’re lucky I—”

“Shower.”

“What?”

“The blood,” he calmly breathes. “If you’re gonna hit the streets, wash it out.”

“It isn’t mine.”

“I know.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

Fuck. Yoongi’s right.

“Okay. Well,” you scoff, “Good point but how can I trust you to not do anything.”

When he tilts his head with a bored, unamused, borderline ticked off expression, you almost scoff before he drawls,

“Not interested.”

Oh. He’s…

Oh.

But the taxi and the hand-holding and the the the kiss what the hell? Was your liplock not up to this Dragon’s standards? Why are you questioning something so trivial?

The nerve. You plunge your shoulders in exasperation, hating how you chose to put yourself in another situation with this pain in the ass and he isn’t even… “I swear to—You know what? Good. Not interested, either.”

A lie.

Scrambling, your stomach speaks the next sentence for you, “But there better be food when I come out cus you robbed me of lunch today. So do something about that.”

Fucking hell you do not need his lips to quirk up so deliciously. That one look completely offsets what he just said and annoyingly tickles your core.

Stop. Focus. You cannot entertain any of those thoughts so ignore him and find a bedroom.

Opening the first door you can see, you continue your tirade, “And no more stealing my chopsticks.”

“Closet.”

Of course it’s a closet! Shutting it with force, you let out a high curse. “Who needs a closet here? Whatever, just—figure it out, I’m starving.”

“Yes, princess.”

You flick Yoongi off as you blaze down the hall, not even knowing nor caring if he sees or not.

The next door works, and you shut him out before falling back onto its weight, so fraught with emotion that you can’t even register the appearance of the room.

Today has aged you multiple years. So much has transpired ever since this afternoon that you can’t even think in straight nor curved lines. As soon as you remember something, another thought juts between. Why are you simultaneously thinking about dingy, stained floors while agonizing over Yoongi’s lips? Is there a place other than hell or heaven you can settle on?

As soon as you’re physically and mentally patched, you are out of here.

The plan is simple. Shower, eat, give this man a piece of your manic mind, then go home.

Although… It would be nice to at least know what’s in that duffle. If it’s something worth taking you could finesse a piece of the loot.

Swallowing dry, you push yourself off the door and finally notice a flood of ambient light.

At your side, you come across an expansive bathroom, eyeing the wall-to-wall entrance before taking in the center shower with disdain and awe.

The whole setup is lavish.

Does the water just fall straight from the ceiling and into that large square tub? This looks nothing like your cramped, chipped one back home. There’s even lush plants lining the area and towels already folded nearby for use.

Maybe you did get killed on the run and you’re in some type of dreamworld.

Too bad you aren’t alone.

As you drag tired feet onto heated tile, you search for the shower knobs, realizing you have a whole panel to work with instead.

Uhh.

What.

You quickly find that one button blows water like a hose straight from the top, scaring you so bad you jump. When you hastily try another, something whirrs in the floor that has your brows kissing—

“You good?”

Fuck!

You flinch and hit the wall, groaning when you see Yoongi lazily resting against one side of the bathroom entrance. Both of your voices echo in the extravagant interior.

“You ever knock?”

“No.”

“Shocker.”

He walks up the tiny steps, and you’re more than relieved you’re still wearing his jacket. When he gets closer, you turn and face the panel, “I can figure it out.”

“Move.”

You get slightly displaced as he gets close, resting a hand on the wall while bending to operate the buttons. As you inhale his musk, you respond to his second question instead of his first. “What?”

“Is this fine,” he repeats, checking the settings before turning to the shower area.

Oh. Wow. It’s a lot more than fine.

A circle of rain falls into a beautifully lighted tub, steam wafting through the glow and coating your skin.

You’re so entranced that you are quite literally left speechless. Skirting around your present company, you gaze up, down, silently observing the plants sway with the shower air.

Strangely, this whole bathroom makes everything you’ve seen today believable because of the sheer wonder of it all. It’s almost enough to make you forget what you’ve done.

Almost.

When you pause, you see Yoongi watching your face from beyond the rainfall. And he looks so handsome, even now, not doing a thing.

Is it because he’s clearly roughed up but still so poised? Very unlike you in your banged up, dirty state?

Huffing, you fold your arms a little too harshly��out of jealousy or whatever else, who is to say. “I’m good now,” you proclaim, keeping your walls high. “I can do the rest myself.”

Again with that little slant.

Ignore him ignore him. If Yoongi keeps doing that, you’re really gonna have to brave the outside world instead of dying by smirk. A tub has never been so interesting in your life.

“Suit yourself.”

You look up again.

But he’s already left you alone.

Solely to undress and contemplate what the hell he implied by that.

Why did you walk left today instead of right?

Under scorching rain in the middle of luxury, this is the question you repeat in your head. Watching all the burnt streams of your decision swirl, and swirl, and swirl.

The blood will never wash out.

Does the price of saving a life have to be this high? It must be somewhat divine, being that in order to save, you took. If only there was another way to achieve that end goal. Though there’s no way to do it all over again to be sure.

Staring at four chopsticks on the ground, you try to assure yourself. You need to.

Because at least you succeeded.

But will your price be more damning because of the one you saved?

Rushing water mutes your hearing as it pours onto sore limbs. When you reach for the scrub for a third time, you make sure to really dig, scraping at every. Single. Inch. In a last attempt to cleanse yourself completely.

Knowing that even after the water runs clear, you still see nothing but red.

You chose left today.

If you had chosen right…

Doesn’t matter.

Your palm tingles.

Blood never really washes out.

Holy fuck, you don’t have clothes to change into.

Wrapping yourself in plush material, you hastily pad around freezing floors as you think of a plan.

You can’t just ask for them. How would Yoongi even have any for you? The jacket was more than enough borrowing for today and you’re in a hotel room, not his place.

Thank the universe.

But the matter is pretty urgent. Because you’d rather burn your belongings before putting them on again. Which leaves zero clothing and a thousand issues. Fuck.

Dragging feet to the massive sliding doors, you steel your resolve. Hoist your shields back upright.

Because there’s no choice. You’re just gonna have to dread another conversation with this man. An embarrassing, awkward, unprecedented shit why is he in the bedroom!

You flinch backward as you slam the door closed. Peeking out, you gawk, “What the hell are you—?”

Did Yoongi just pocket a phone?

The duffle rests at his feet.

Wait. Did he stay in here while you showered? Thank god you had the foresight to slide all the doors shut because you definitely spent a lot of your time scrubbing like mad or standing completely still.

No. Yoongi’s hair is wet, so he did shower at some point. And he’s donning a robe, which is precisely what made you slam the door shut.

How can he look like royalty wearing that? The material is quite lush and silken, but still plain. It makes no fucking sense and you wanna rip it right off—

Gathering yourself, you rush out, “Why are you in here?”

“You took too long.”

“So? That doesn’t—”

“In my shower.”

Wait. What? “Oh.”

You slide the door open a little more to check his claim. And now that you finally see the room, you can tell it’s clearly been used already, clothes and bottles scattered about. “You said pick one.”

“I did.” Yoongi turns to drop something onto a dark comforter. “Figured you picked it on purpose.”

“No, I… I didn’t notice the room.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says after a brief look your way. “Not sharing the bed, though.”

“No need,” you snip. “I’m leaving soon.”

Motherfucker. Yoongi only regards his sheets with a smile that triggers your fight response. And you almost—almost—drop the towel.

Speaking of. How are you even standing in his vicinity with only a single piece of cloth? Are you seriously that exhausted you didn’t even think twice about it?

Suddenly very, very aware of yourself, you squeak, “Umm.” He waits. “I don’t have any clothes.”

“That’s what you get for kicking me out so quick.”

Your jaw hits the floor. “So what, I’m walking around with a towel? Are you out of your mind? If you think I’m some—”

“Fuck, relax,” he slowly groans to the ceiling. “I was gonna say there’s robes in the closet.”

You snap your mouth closed so hard it jangles. “Then just say that!” And you slam the partition closed before fast walking to find them.

Missing the way Yoongi huffs before staring hard at his bedroom door.

On your second arrival into his room, your steps and demeanor are a lot calmer.

Is it because he’s a lot calmer, too? Maybe. Is it also because you smell food, realizing he did exactly what you wanted? Maybe more so.

Noticing a table situated near balcony doors, you blink before regarding Yoongi’s sitting form on one of the chairs outside.

A man lounging while smoking in a robe should not be this alluring. And yet, that’s the only word you can think of to describe him.

Throat drying and aching, you slowly walk over and take a seat, already ravenous enough to dive into broth head first. But you eye Yoongi while retrieving new chopsticks, scowling when all he does is flash teeth through the glass.

Do not engage do not engage do not engage.

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your—

“You’re really mad about that, huh.”

You snap your head up to see him leaning on the doorway. “I was hungry.”

“There was a cup of them on your table.”

“So why didn’t you grab those instead!”

Yoongi ticks his brows before peering into the night. And he stays like that for awhile, letting a breeze lift his damp locks. “Didn’t expect to see you there,” he admits. “Gotta say you threw me off.”

Nu uh. No more heart skips for today. “I didn’t expect to see you, either,” you too choose to be honest. “Thought I’d never see you again.”

“You were going to.”

As curious brows furrow, you break your utensils apart. “Figured something happened.” Guess you’re being honest about a lot of things. “Or you found another tangerine girl.”

Yoongi holds his look before taking a drag, smoke spiraling around his words, “Why were you even over there? You’re a bit far from Crane.”

You blink at his deflection.

What was that about? What is that look for?

Holding his gaze because you aren’t done challenging him, you calmly answer, “I was shopping.”

“Shopping.”

“Mmhmm.”

Falling silent, he observes a little longer before flicking ash off his cigarette.

And just like that, the conversation dies.

It’s for the best anyways. If Yoongi kept prying, he was gonna get closer to the truth. And you wanna slip around that as much as possible.

But he keeps standing in the doorway, inked arm bending as he breathes in smoke. Donned in a dark robe and topped in teal, he suits Dragon perfectly. Way too perfectly.

Pretending not to care and severely failing, you focus on your noodles instead.

Your noodles.

You’re not hungry anymore.

Something horrid jams up your throat, and you run through your day in flashes. The restaurant. The food. Dragons. The chopsticks. The kill. The chase. Yoongi. The kill the kill the kill.

Dirt and shouts and lifeless lips clog your hearing, and your grip loosens completely as your vision shakes and shakes why couldn’t Yoongi have gotten anything else why does it have to be—

A hand.

A robed arm.

Your new utensils come back into view.

But when you face reality, you don’t see them put them back into your hand. You don’t even see them dug in your noodles and left there.

Instead, you watch as Yoongi plants one palm on the table, slowly lifting strands from the bowl and staring right into your eyes,

“Eat.”

Words. Get them out. Something something communication. Key is communication. What the fuck is happening to your brain?

“I can’t,” you finally croak out. “I’m not.. I’m not hungry.”

“You are.”

“Not anymore.”

Nose scrunching, Yoongi suddenly drops the food and dumps himself on the chair nearest, stretching his leg and revealing a littering of scars. “Didn’t know you were fine with wasting food.”

The icy descent of his tone freezes your bones.

“Thought you of all people would hate that.”

“I—I’m not—It’s not that—”

“Then eat.”

“I literally can’t—”

“Water. Food. If you’re gonna waste all my shit, then leave.”

“What?”

Is he serious? You’re in the midst of post-traumatic shock and he can’t take the hint? You’re so appalled by this man that you can’t even think straight.

“You heard me. Stop acting like you didn’t.”

“Oh, I heard you,” you snap. “Just double-checking what the fuck you said.”

“So you gonna leave or just sit there? If you’re staying I’ll just walk out the roo—”

“Don’t.”

Both of you still at your words.

And you have to force your palms to unfurl on your quivering thighs. One knuckle. Another. Nails leave half-moons in your skin.

Breath haphazard, you finally break. “Just,” you swallow, hard. “I’m not wasting it just give me a sec.”

You don’t want to tell Yoongi why you want him to stay. Despite him being the most infuriating person you’ve ever met, it beats the alternative. And you don’t want the alternative. Truthfully, that’s another reason why you left the elevator earlier.

Yoongi looks pissed as hell.

But he hasn’t moved.

And that’s enough to get you to pick up your chopsticks and try again.

You stare. Stare. Stare. Mustering courage and inhaling all the aromas you indulged in just earlier today.

Fuck, you wanna hurl.

“You’re gonna have to get used to this.”

Your gaze snaps to his, brows and thoughts knitted in disbelief. “What?”

“This feeling.” Yoongi looks out the glass doors, hands resting on the arms of his chair. “The faster you do, the better.”

There’s no way he’s serious. Get used to it? What reason would you ever have for doing that? Caustic, you scoff, “Why, so I don’t waste more of your food?”

You’ve never seen someone laugh in a negative way. But he does before sliding his eyes over. “So when you have to do it again, you don’t lock the fuck up hours later.”

You shoot up from your chair, hellbent on oh fuck you stood up too fast. “You—”

Yoongi just watches as you grab the table for balance, wincing from the pangs in your head. Words grind through your teeth, unable to fully form beyond the light assaulting your brain.

“Like I said.”

Palms press against your forehead before you slump back into your chair.

“It’s better in the long run.”

Technically, he’s right. It’s better in the long run if you get used to this.

But there’s no way you can do it again. Who does he think you are? Yoongi’s got to know that you aren’t planning on making this a daily habit. This isn’t you. You only killed to protect somebody. Killed to save the person telling you to basically get over it.

Fucking hell, this sucks.

Frustration and exhaustion sting the corners of your eyes.

Eat. Build your strength and get the hell out of here. Deal with it deal with it deal with it.

As you regrettably pick up your chopsticks, you don’t care if your tears season your noodles. And quite frankly, you don’t give a shit if Yoongi watches them fall, too.

Because they’re liquid anger. Hot trails blazing down your face, hardening into sticky paths and dried rivers.

“What were you looking for.”

Your eyes slide up to regard him, his arms folded and brows low. Because of course he doesn’t care about your state, either. Of course he’d rather entertain his curiosity. “Nothing you need to know,” you mutter, banning him from knowing another truth.

“Did you find it.”

You swipe at both your eyes.

As spice coats your tongue, Yoongi keeps prying, “Something you needed to go all the way there for?”

“Fuck off,” you dismiss, slurping and swallowing with ease. “I don’t have to answer you.”

“You already are,” he responds, confident. “Now tell me. Is there one in particular you need?”

Wait. You barely gave anything away, so how is Yoongi asking the right questions? There’s no way he actually knows what you were looking for. No way in hell.

This man is more dangerous than you thought.

“Why do you even care,” is all you choose to say, more focused on your food now because above everything else, it’s quite fantastic. It somewhat reminds you of a past home, and you can’t help but escape to those distinct walls. “It’s irrelevant to you.”

“But I have what you want.”

You take another bite before stilling, looking up to see Yoongi propping his head with roughed knuckles. “You’re lying,” you drawl to his smugness, trying to act as if he didn’t just figure you all the way out. Because he didn’t. There’s no way. “And I’m still leaving.”

“If you stay, I’ll show you.”

When you leer over your soup, he simply stares back with no hint of emotion.

And you’re so curious about what he means that you finish your whole bowl.

When you push it forward, you understand exactly what Yoongi did. It worked perfectly, and you have to hand it to him even though he mangled your character minutes beforehand. “Thank you,” you offer some manners. “This was goo—”

The scrape of a chair cuts you off, and your sentence dies in midair as you watch your runaway partner vacate his seat.

Good riddance.

He knows how to stay on your bad side, that’s for damn sure.

But Yoongi simply heads back out to the balcony for another light. So you chalk up his swift exit to vices and not wanting to breathe your air. Or maybe he’s done with his fun and is already writing you off before you head out.

Clearing your bowl from the table, you walk out of the bedroom and bring it to the large kitchen, noting with a scowl that it’s obnoxiously bigger than half your floorplan back home.

Yearning pierces right through your chest.

The elevator is right over there.

You showered, you ate. You can leave as soon as you clean your dish.

Are you way too curious about what Yoongi’s gonna show you? Yes. But is that gonna stop you from getting out of here? No.

Well. This robe is hugging your figure perfectly and feels way too comfortable to just use for an hour or so… Plus, if you ditched it now, Mister Morals will scorn you for wasting that away, too.

How rude of him to assume that about you. Of course you aren’t wasteful. The only times you let things go are when you absolutely have to, like you should have back in that noodle shop instead of braving the back staircase.

Scoffing to no one, you scrub your bowl in the sink, grunting explicatives and stabbing Yoongi with curses until you hear a distinct beep.

Was that the elevator?

You cut the water off with a twist.

Cautiously, you make your way across the kitchen, peeking around the corner to appease your curiosity and spike your anxiety.

A bellhop? Another grey uniform looking to and fro to survey the area. It’s the same person that sent a look of panic your way before you went up to the room.

And your defense mechanism blares.

But before you can hide behind the partition, their eyes lock onto yours. Arm outstretched, the staff is motioning for you to… join them? Why?

You’re the one bunking with a gangster. Why does this person make you even more uncomfortable? This feeling is just like the one you had when you called the elevator the first time. Was your gut warning you then, too?

Maybe it’s because you don’t like the staff thinking they can come in unannounced. Grey zone etiquette or not, you can’t see how this is ever appropriate. In fact, it poses so many safety concerns. How is this okay?

Walking into the foyer, you rest a hand on a robed hip. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the one trying to help you,” they whisper, harsh and with another swipe of their hand. “You have to get out while you can.”

Wait. What do they mean while you can? “And why’s that?”

Sputtering, the bellhop sticks one foot out the elevator while pleading and, for some reason, that pisses you all the way off. “There’s no time to—”

“Get. Your foot. Off my floor.”

Is that fear in their eyes or surprise? “Oh, apologies. I didn’t realize you were… I thought—”

“Thought what?” Your arms fold, weight shifting to your other tired foot. “Speak up.”

Frankly, you don’t know where this newfound energy is coming from. All you know is that there are certain things you still despise and this person is ticking all the boxes.

“I thought you were taken, Miss. I’m here to save you.”

Pausing, you grip your arms, feeling silk gather under your palms.

There’s a lot you tolerate. Many things that a lot of people can’t. But someone assuming you’re the weak one that needs saving? There is no quicker way to lose your interest.

Stepping towards the elevator, you unfurl your arms, robe swaying and billowing around your freshly showered legs.

“Yes, that’s right. Come on, we can take you away.”

Hand on the entrance, you lean forward. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” you command, finger pressing the button at your side. “And you aren’t coming back up here until I say so.”

Slowly, the doors slide shut, your reflection two halves in the metal shine.

Well.

So much for leaving.

You may spend more time here than you thought.

With more thoughts swirling, you spin, heading back into the kitchen to pick up the same bowl you were washing. Hoping you and your gut made the right call.

Yoongi’s a criminal and a madman. But he’s not… the worst. At least, not horrible enough to warrant someone coming up to steal you away.

Besides. Is Yoongi aware that staff can come and go as they please? He seems like the type of guy that would hate that.

Staying vigilant seems to be a little more important now.

It’s soon after, when you’re placing the dish somewhere to dry, that you hear noise in the living room beyond the countertop. Looking up, you see someone much more familiar enter the space.

Hmm. Whatever’s in that duffle must be worth millions for Yoongi to lug it around everywhere.

As he dumps it next to the couch again, you don’t choose to ask about it just yet. Only because you want to ease into it later when you’re both not at each other’s throats. And while you’re not reeling from another strange encounter at the elevator.

So you go with a safer question instead, choosing not mention what just happened. “Is this whole floor… your place?”

Yoongi looks up. “Only when I need it to be.”

Interesting. “Does anyone else know about it—”

“Do you always ask this many questions?”

You blink. “I mean. I don’t get by selling fruit cus I’m quiet.”

“You’re quiet with me.”

“And even then I get you to talk.”

Yoongi frowns slightly before moving away, more towards the sliding door leading out to another outdoor area.

God, this place is obnoxiously huge. There’s still a whole other half you haven’t seen yet.

When you peer out, you watch as he leans against the railing, seeming to look both up at the building and down at the streets below.

Well. If you aren’t leaving anytime soon, may as well offer some sort of peace offering. Maybe the two of you just need to chill the fuck out.

Rummaging through the kitchen, you manage to find some high quality beer in the fridge. On your walk to the sliding glass, you’re reminded of the time you gave him one before when he helped fix your cart.

That was so long ago.

You’re so lost in thought that you barely register Yoongi whipping a hand to his waist when you walk outside. But you catch the metal just in time.

“It’s me!” you quickly alert before regressing back to annoyance, “Really…”

You’ve had way too much to deal with today. You don’t need a bullet in your chest to be another problem.

Especially since his little maneuver showed a bit more skin than you meant to see.

Yoongi eyes you before his shoulders rest, and you stride forward to offer up the cold can in your palm.

But you decide to hesitate while he goes to grab it, and you instead open it to have some.

Ugh. High quality, your ass. This one is way too bitter.

Your companion snorts as you make up an excuse, “I’ve had better.”

“Do you even drink?”

“Well, yeah,” you pout. Needing to prove it, you decide to keep the can. “Lemme try again.”

Somehow, this leads to you sharing the beer with him, tasting the mix of alcohol and smoke even after he tosses another cigarette off the ledge.

It’s not quite enough to forget, but it’s certainly helping. Observing the clouds so close and the city so far beneath your toes is extremely calming. It’s almost like you’re flying.

“It’s different here,” you mention out of the blue.

“This sector?”

“This high up.” Breathing in altitude, you sigh. “I’ve never been higher than my fourth story. It’s nice.”

“It’s usually silent, too.”

Your eyes slightly stab. “Whatever. You like having me around and just won’t admit it.” At this, Yoongi avoids direct contact. “Mmhmm. Don’t even try to hide it.”

“You’re useful to me.” You freeze. “That’s why you’re here.”

You shake your head. For someone deeming you useful, Yoongi’s pretty nonchalant about you dipping. Taking a tangy sip, you clarify, “But you don’t care if I leave? If someone comes to take me?”

He takes the offered can. “Mm.”

That answers that.

You should probably still tell him about what happened, though. His reaction could give more away than his words.

Instead, you drink in the night with your eyes. Knowing that you should know better about the company present.

The more you converse with Yoongi, the more you pick up. And one of those sad facts is that he doesn’t give a shit about anything you do or don’t do. Because all he really cares about is what he needs.

You can’t do anything to change him. Fix him. Whatever exists in fairytales. So you decide to take the night in stride. Not give a shit about him, either, per se.

Your curiosity gets the better of you now. Not just about what he’s gonna show you, but about that duffle. You quite literally don’t have anything to lose anymore, so may as well go for the question you’ve been wanting to ask all day.

“I was gonna ask for a cut of that,” you divulge with a head-tilt to the bag. “But figured you won’t even show me.”

“Why not?”

“Uhh.” You didn’t expect this. “You don’t like questions? You’re always secretive?”

“Never talk to the streets, princess. They’ll snitch on everything you say.”

“That’s deep,” you admit, taking a once full beer in your palm. “But I’m no snitch.”

“I know.”

Your look carries a slight pang.

“Come here.” Both of you walk inside as he plays with his lighter. When you round the couch, Yoongi dumps the bag right onto the cushions. “If you wanna see what’s in here, do it.”

You stare before slowly walking forward and kneeling to unzip the bag. As your slide reveals the contents, you’re nervous about what you’ll see.

But when it’s open, you freeze.

It’s all…chil-don? Tons of money wrapped in sleek stacks with edges so… Crisp. New.

Wait.

These patterns.

These are il-don?

Holy fucking shit there’s no way these are real. This is currency seven generations old. The first ever of the established system. Worth more than anything in current circulation, especially in their pristine state. Forget being worth millions, these are next to priceless.

You’ve never seen them like this.

“They’re some of the last in mint condition.”

The shock value is so high you forgot you were alone. Slowly turning, your breath catches as you ask, “How did you know where to find these?”

“Like I said,” he drones. “Streets talk.”

You look at the bills before glancing back up. “Can I…?”

Yoongi cocks a brow before angling his mouth. “Touch them? Do what you want, doll.”

You blink at the name this time. Because him saying that with a fresh cig in his lips is making your stomach flutter.

Picking up a fresh stack, you inspect the ancient pattern inlay with eyes wide, admiring how paper so old can have such detailed engravings. “These can’t be real.”

“They are.” He shifts. “And most people never see one in their lifetime.”

You put the money back on the pile inside. Yes, these have got to be worth a fortune. But there’s nothing else in the bag? No drugs, no lethal substances, anything? “Wait, so. This is it?”

Yoongi fully laughs before flicking his lighter again. “You want something else?”

“No, I—” You back away. “There’s really nothing else in there?”

Coolly, he lights up before taking the initial drag. “Nah.”

Smoke spirals around you. “I dunno what I expected but it wasn’t that.”

Yoongi lets a wisp leave his mouth. You know it’s getting in your robe, but caring about the little things has now jumped out the window. “Whatever’s in that bag can feed half the city.”

“What?” As you look, he walks over to what looks like a small section of a bar. “Is that why you stole it?”

“Stole it?” Yoongi grins and shakes his head. “Sure. That’s why we stole it.”

“We? Leave me out of this.”

“Too late.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

You step forward in anger, but you only get a sound out before Yoongi straightens, aura blazing,

“I—”

“Say I do leave you out of it. Nothing happened tonight, according to me.” He discards his fresh light in an ashtray, watching it die before sliding his gaze your way. “Doesn’t mean whoever we just fought will suddenly leave you alone.”

Shit. He has a point. You ran for so long and fought plenty of those guys.

Is this what he meant? Getting used to that feeling? Maybe your consequence is joining the cycle of the damned, forced to kill in order to protect. Both others and now yourself.

“But I’m… Just a nobody. A civilian, I…”

Yoongi walks until he’s in front of you, hand cupping your chin and voice whispering mortifying allegations in your ear,

“You took a body for a Dragon, love. You’re not a civilian anymore.”

Your arms shove him backward without pause, face distraught as you watch his smirk bounce with his shoulders. His cackle echoes mad through the room, pinging the floors and piercing through your robe.

Truthfully, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing one. So naked and exposed in the open for this man to see. “You’re despicable.”

“That right?” His mouth sets as his lids lower. “And what about the one that killed and kept running?”

What.

“There was a police car at the restaurant,” Yoongi continues, a reminder so sharp it slices clean. “Yet you didn’t turn yourself in.”

Your feet sink into the rug beneath. “That’s not…”

With measured steps, he stalks forward, a harbinger of horrific realizations that you don’t want to hear, “You didn’t have to keep running. Didn’t have to get in that taxi.”

Stepping back, you find the room so stuffy it’s hard to move. “You—”

“Could’ve taken another train.”

“Stop.”

“Could’ve stayed in that elevator.”

What the fuck is happening right now?

Yoongi’s close. Very much too close, and the energy he radiates sets your instincts ablaze.

This is the man you’ve been pining over this whole time? If you ever get back home, you have got to remind yourself to avoid him at all costs. There’s nothing good for you if you stay. Danger surrounds every inch of him, and there’s no telling when you’ll take collateral damage.

“But you didn’t,” he delivers the final blow. “And you’re still here.”

Lifting your chin, Yoongi grins slow when you yank away.

“I should’ve never saved you.” Gaze finally locked, you growl from within, letting a monster loose,

“I should’ve left you for dead.”

Wait.

Stop.

This isn’t you. This isn’t who you are. You’re a helper. A healer. Those words came out so strange that you’re questioning how they left your mouth so freely.

Did you really mean that? Or was this some feeble attempt to hurt him?

Yoongi doesn’t seem phased. But you clearly don’t know him so it’s not like—

Something heavy and dark as fuck is placed in your hand, and you snap your eyes to his in utmost disbelief.

“Go ahead then.”

Oh, this man is psychotic.

“Be my guest.”

No fucking way you’re gonna do it. “Stop—”

“If you regret it, why waste time—”

“Seriously, I’m not gonna—”

Yoongi forces your fingers flush against metal as he holds the gun to his forehead, both eyes piercing right into yours with no hesitation whatsoever.

And it is frightening.

All anger from before flees as fear and intensity rush into its place. Your brain fizzles and cracks as you try to wrestle out of his grip, and you feel burning at the corners of your eyes. “Stop!”

“Why.”

“I’m not gonna shoot you, the fuck!”

“You sure?”

“Yes!”

Mercifully, he lets go, pistol thrown as you’re tugged forward with a—

“What’s stopping you,” he grounds out, formidable presence all-consuming. “Tell me.”

You’re breathing so hard it hurts. “You”—a shaky heave—“You are out of your fucking mind.”

When you struggle from his grip, Yoongi pulls you even closer. Reacting in a rush, you propel your knee up to wrap around his side and twist.

But he proves just as quick, gripping the bare skin of your leg as you shove him down against the sofa. Grunting, you both curve with the furniture, Yoongi locked onto your knitted, conflicted brows.

“You regret saving my life,” he simply repeats to your frustration. “I gave you the chance to fix that.”

“Shut up—”

“But your will is weak.”

“I swear to—”

“Guess I was wrong.”

Who the hell does he think he is? This guy—Yoongi, Agust, whoever the fuck—has no right to play with you so casually.

But something else is swirling inside your ribs. Because through his cutthroat words and actions, this man is somehow stirring the deepest waters of your soul. Ripples rumble and stretch into waves, tugging your toes in undercurrents of obsidian. Dark. Primal. Hazardous. All you.

Is it from being subjected to such a heavy dose of his power?

Or is it because—even if just for a moment—he’s handing all that power to you?

Quite literally, you’re the one on top.

And Yoongi holds your gaze, unfazed by the way your robe completely spread open during your tumble. Or the fact that you have nothing beneath that silk.

He could easily take over. From the feel of his build beneath your hands and between your legs, you know he can.

But he’s not. There’s no hesitation. He’s legitimately giving you the choice and reveals no ounce of remorse.

This revelation courses through your veins, pumping a new kind of life into your palms. You have a shot at a criminal with a bag of il-don waiting to be snatched. And you know you won’t take it.

And that alone alters the chemistry of your brain.

With more fear of yourself than anything else, you shake out, “If I’m killing you, it’s gonna be entirely my choice.”

He’s laughing? You’re instigating a threat and he’s enjoying it? God, you are teetering on the brink of madness and another emotion that won’t dare be acknowledged.

Tugging Yoongi up a notch, you proclaim to the glint of his eyes,

“And when I do, you’ll die exactly how I want.”

Yoongi’s lips slowly, dreadfully spread, teeth shining in the dim lamp lights that sharpen half his features. When he speaks, you shiver. Because it’s a mix of pride and fear, sprinkled with a hint of alarm,

“That’s my girl.”

The room quiets, your bodies locked in a way that you’ll remember years from now. Breaths. Your bare chest hovering inches above his. If there were bystanders, they would no doubt get the wrong idea. Because if things were different, and if this man underneath you wasn’t who he was, you’d entertain another type of ferality and not stop until morning.

To be fair. That same dark part of you would still do it.

But this is about the righteous part of who you are. The one that abides by the rules. The one that fights to keep days boring, uneventful, the same.

So you quell that monster pacing in your core.

One more exhale leaves your lips before you let him drop, sliding off his silken, tone form to quietly readjust your robe. Turning away, you focus on the night skies, wondering if the people back home are sound asleep as you should be.

“My will may seem weak. But I don’t care what you think of me.”

Sound is crisp again as Yoongi rises to his feet. Around you, the air starts to lighten, cold slipping delicately into your skin.

Slowly tying the wrap at your waist, your words float to the ground, “Because I know who I am. And no one can take that from me, not even you.”

His presence fills the space at your back. But it’s muted. Less intimidating. Or maybe you’re just at your limit because you admit a little more than you intend,

“This world has already tried enough.”

Both of you come to another standstill, two black robes staining a room full of white. Even time itself gives you space, slowing and circling until you’re ready for it to flow straight again.

As a cloud shadows the light of the moon, you feel knuckles caress your neck. And Yoongi’s never sounded so calm as he starts, “They’ll come after you.”

You slightly turn.

“You still want to go back?”

A pause. A nod.

His knuckles continue to glide along your neck, slipping down your back before traveling the swoop of your shoulder. Everything in your body thrums, silently quaking because you have no idea where this is coming from and you can’t say you hate it.

Quite the opposite. And that scares you more.

“If you do, you’re dead to me.”

Of course. You’ve seen and know too much. There’s no reason for him to show up to your street now, especially if tangerines are all he’s looking for. He can always find them anywhere else.

But, for some reason, this still stings. In a way that irks even your reasonable side. Is it because of his touch? No. That’s only making you nervous from the fact that you probably aren’t… as experienced as he is. The uneasiness is wholly from your own limitations.

“I’ll survive without you,” you whisper resolute, chest squeezing when he replies,

“I know.”

The same fingers get bolder, tracing down your arm before sliding along the wrap at your hip.

And you freeze.

Because the tension is palpable. The power is intoxicating. It’s a new type of anticipation and you are fighting yourself to not give in. Don’t let everything get to your head. Don’t let anyone in again. Don’t stray onto a path you can’t quite navigate.

But fuck, you kinda want to.

Rocks slide against exposed skin when he decides to speak again. And it makes you wish the two of you were extraordinarily normal. Or that you at least knew what the fuck to do here because the attraction you feel is not as one-sided as you presumed.

“What made you stay.”

A breath you didn’t know you were holding huffs out, and you swallow with difficulty. “I just…”

Get it together. Keep up your guard. It’s proving so hard, especially when his touches spark fires along your limbs. But you have to.

And therein comes another lie. “I wanted to know what you stole.” Gulping down the truth, you harden your resolve. “That’s it.”

With more restraint that you want, Yoongi bunches silk at your pelvis, hitching your robe and your breath all at once. When his other hand slowly holds your neck in place, you can’t help but flinch, and his low hum pours lava straight down your chest,

“What a shame.”

Oh. Is this how it ends? Did your gut get it all wrong?

He could end your life with a flick of his wrist. You know far too much. You’re not useful anymore.

“Someone will take you back tomorrow,” Yoongi murmurs, proving every single theory wrong. “After that, you’re on your own.”

And just like that, he releases you to stand alone.

Oh. You’re going home.

Good.

This is good, right?

Your heart beats overtime, almost drowning out your entire thought process. The thumps and pulses seem to cut every string of consciousness short.

What was that? What was any of that?

Never mind. Nothing happened and you can keep it that way, for the better. Yoongi is risk draped in beauty, and once you’re back home you can cut ties with anyone like him for good. You saved him; he spared you. It’s over.

…But do you want it to be?

Yes.

Of course you do.

Clouds let moonlight shine again.

When you arrive at an answer, you turn to find that Yoongi’s already gone, duffle and all shut inside his room with a muted click.

A flip switches as you let exhaustion take over completely, falling onto cushions that still hold his scent. Inhaling, you drift into darkness, wondering how your final decision will affect the rest of your days.

Whether awake or asleep, nightmares are real.

Only this time, you aren’t quite sure if the blood and guts you’re seeing are yours or someone else’s. Can’t discern the limb on the ground from the limb on your torso. Screams echo and ping from all directions, a cacophony of death that has you scratching at mania to stay sane.

Murderer. Murderer. A murderer that regrets who she saved. No, wait, that’s not true. You’d still do it again.

And you watch the same swing over and over. The same arc of finality. Those lifeless eyes. Closer. Closer. Sharper. Judging.

You were wrong. Were you wrong? Running does nothing and doesn’t provide an answer. The ground under your toes gives out.

How far are you straying? How low are you sinking? If you told your neighbors who you killed for, would they be upset or betrayed?

They’d hate you. Their fingers aim straight. Their tongues fire bullets.

They’ll hate you. Hate you. Hate you hate you hate you—

A room bursts into view as you jolt awake. Sounds snap silent, the hum of the air all you can hear as you rub your eyes.

So much for sleeping. There’s no way you’ll be able to now.

Focus on something else. Anything else. The past cannot be undone, so live with the choices you made and deal with the faces that haunt your dreams.

Staring into the dark, shapes and sharp edges slowly form, your vision sharpening with every passing second. Tiny pops and creaks tickle your eardrums, and Yoongi’s scent still lingers with your own.

You don’t want to focus on him, but it’s better than what forced you awake.

A lot happened tonight. But also, nothing at all. Something is keeping you both together, tightening and squeezing the strings in your chest. But you don’t know if that’s from the adrenaline of today’s events, or from the pure shock of your unexpected reunion.

There’s something else you haven’t considered until now. Despite his unorthodox and hellish methods, Yoongi did keep your head on straight. You showered. You ate. You drank. You inhaled fresh air.

Your compass righted itself when you didn’t blow his brains out.

The nothingness was all to your advantage. Was that all calculated, too?

One part of you—the bright side of you—knows that it doesn’t matter. No matter how helpful he was tonight, distance is crucial. Stay away from people like him. They’re all too cunning to be kept close.

But if leaping that crevasse allows you to keep your mind off everything else? If you need to stop the bleeding, why not reach for a cure?

Your exhale shakes as your shoulders fall forward, self-deprecation destroying your brain because what the fuck are you thinking? This is nonsense. Madness.

Maybe you’ve just been insane from the very start.

Your breath quickens at the possibilities. The potential outcomes of what you’re about to do.

This is the most solid decision you’ve made all night.

As your toes travel across plush, trek over marble, and arrive at their destination, the rest of your body quietly, nervously follows.

Raising your hand, you listen for movement. When you find none, you softly knock and wait for what seems like an eternity.

For nothing.

All that worry for naught. Yoongi’s most likely fast asleep and not dreaming at all.

Good. This is your sign to let it go completely. In the morning, you’re going back home. The nightmares will consume you and you’ll wake up everyday to brave the streets. Assassins will be on the hunt for revenge. You won’t be saved by the boy in teal.

What a shame, indeed.

As you step to leave, you hear the door slowly swing.

And Yoongi emerges from behind, minted hair mussed over lowered lids and robe slipping down a tatted shoulder.

Fuck everything.

“I don’t regret what I did and I’d do it all again,” you admit with finality. To him, to yourself, to the ones you’ll disappoint back home. “And I refuse to get used to this feeling because it reminds me I’m still a good person.”

Yoongi’s eyes don’t change as he stares.

“But,” you exhale with a shake. “Just for tonight…”

This is it.

The brink of no return.

Your soul dips into the dark.

“Please make me fucking forget.”

—

⟶ what do we feel! | 🥢 join the taglist 🥢 | masterlist

a/n: once again, i cannot thank y'all enough for being patient and understanding as i go through life while working on this and all the other writing projects we have going on! it means the world, and even though there were some not-so-fun asks to get, the supporting and wonderful ones are what i will continue to focus on! so if you've ever left something sweet, thought provoking, encouraging, etc - thank you from the bottom of my heart! you're what keeps this writer going. a/n 2: if there's something you liked about this or a line/scene/whatever thing you enjoyed, feel free to let me know! feedback is never expected, but always appreciated. if the interest level is high, that adds motivation like no other. thank you all for reading! ++ feedback box: ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that are too shy to reblog with a review, comment on this, or send a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a comment dropbox :D feedback can be as short/sweet or as long as you’d like! ⇥ here! ++ more links: ⇥ masterlist ⇥ minted masterlist

#PART TWO IS HEREEE #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi smut #bts smut #bts fanfic #*latest #ryenwrites #minted #*ryenfictalk #tw: violence #tw: blood #tw: murder

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a-b-riddle · 4 months ago

Text

Part 10

Can't stop thinking about reader realizing she fucked up.

"What?" You asked, unsure if you heard him correctly. "I did stuff for Simon." He opened his mouth slightly before shutting it, almost as if he was afraid to argue with you. He was. "I did things for Simon." You repeated. "I did."

You took pause. Racking your brain for examples to throw in his face. You had always tried to be the best girlfriend. and look where it had gotten you. You were always the one to reach out, to plan dates. The only one to manage your time equally among all of them even if it meant stretching yourself then.

But the more you thought, the more you came up short.

"I definitely treated Simon the same." You defend.

Here lately you had been spending more time with the others than Simon. Every evening was the same without fail. He would call you no later than 9, asking if you were busy. Sometimes you were already out with the others, but in the instances you weren't Simon would ask to come over. An excuse of not being able to sleep.

When he first gave you that excuse, you expected him to be using it as just an excuse to come over and fuck you.

But he didn't.

Not that night. Or the next.

The third time he did fuck you. He was a man, not a saint after all. You weren't sure if it was because he was the last one you got around to being intimate with, but it just felt different. The others were great. Letting you turn your brain off and letting them take control.

Where the others took the reins, Simon guided you. It was more like dancing than fucking. Your bodies working in harmony with one another. He would listen intently to each little moan or staggered breath you took. Wouldn't take his eyes off of your face when he ate your cunt. Wanting to take in every reaction you would give him.

He had created a flow of how to fuck you. A way to ensure he pulled several orgasms from you before you practically passed out from exhaustion. You would try and switch things up with different positions and giving him head, but Simon was a simple man. Once he found a way that worked, he stuck with it. He let you indulge. Spicing things up, but he always made a home in between your thighs at some point.

It had been like that ever since. Over and over again like clock work, he would call. He wouldn't always fuck you. Mostly either one or both of you complaining about a hard day and insisting on just having the company of the other. However, it wasn't until Mere had made a comment on why she hadn't met Simon yet.

It was like finally noticing something on a commute you took everyday. Day in and day out you came across it without every really taking note. How oblivious you had been.

Simon had only came over at night. Although he would bring take out or cook dinner with you, he had never taken you out on a date. Not even so much as a cup of coffee-- tea in his case.

You pressed him about it one night.

You seem pretty busy during the day. Plus, that's when I catch up on sleep was his reasoning and you didn't press him.

Simon had always complained about not being able to sleep. You didn't mind the company. So whenever he called and you were free. That's just how the relationship had been between you two. You both seemed satisfied with the dynamic.

"It was just different with me and Si," you defended. "He didn't need any help from me or ask it." You wanted to say he hadn't been as needy as Johnny, Kyle or John, but kept that opinion to yourself.

"Or did he just not feel like he could ask you?" Kyle's question gave you a moment of pause. Your mouth falling open. Appalled at the suggestion.

"Don't try and turn this around on me." You narrow your eyes at Kyle and his audacity. You were the one who was hurt. You didn't like being the victim, but in this scenario you were. "If Simon had any issue he would have said something."

"Like you did with us?" He asked. His boldness growing. "And I'm not trying to turn this around on you, I'm just saying that there everyone had their issues in not communicating on what was really going on. I should have told you how I felt, they should have told you and you should have told us."

"Oh," you said, head tilting to the side and condescension lacing your tone. "So when was I supposed to do that? When John was snapping at me or Johnny had his tongue buried inside of me. God knows you weren't exactly answering my texts and Simon had been the only one I didn't have issues with."

"But you still came to him about us." Outed was the only word fitting enough to describe how you felt. You had tried to keep your relationships separate as well as the issues and frustrations that came along with it.

"He told you?" You asked, feeling embarrassed and, somewhat, fearful about what exactly Simon had said to them. The asshole was just so easy to talk to. For someone who was so reserved, you found it second nature to open up to him. "When?"

"Any chance he got." Kyle huffed. The confession shocked you. If anything, yes, maybe John would have been the one to tell the boys to fall in line if he knew they were falling short, but Simon? The man who couldn't ever be bothered to plan a date?

"I don't understand." You shook your head as if that would jumble the pieces of your thoughts well enough that they would somehow fit together; painting you a clearer picture. "Simon... he..." His words echoed in your mind. Even now they still haunted you. A ghost reminding you of your naivety. "He said some really shitty things."

"I know." Kyle's face fell and you could almost see the anger flicker in his eyes before it extinguished into something more solemn. "He knew he was the last thing holding you to us. Severing that tie would make it easier for you to lease."

"Losing you wasn't easy." You replied through clenched teeth. Tears prickling your eyes. "Is that what you think? That this has been easy for me?"

"I don't think it's been easy, but I know it's the truth." A small part of you knew he was right. And you hated him for it. "Simon was the only one putting in any effort on our end. He was the only reason we didn't lose you sooner." He took your hand in his. Rubbing small circles in your palm. Something he did to soothe. Funny how now the gesture was breaking your heart. "If it's any consolation, he didn't mean what he said."

You scoff, tears now falling as you pull your hand from him. "Just because he didn't mean it, doesn't mean it's not true." You cross your arms over your chest. No longer giving him the chance to try and reach out again.

"Do you think any of us actually felt that way about you?" Kyle asked, his tone a mixture between disbelief and sorrow. He knew Simon's words were meant to cut, but their actions had made his declaration deem true.

"You didn't exactly prove otherwise." The confirmation causes him to falter, not knowing what to say, how to comfort you. It was like somewhere along the way he had lost the knowledge on how to treat you, how to care for you. It was like he didn't know you, but still loved you all the same.

It was killing him.

After several uncomfortable moments of silence, he spoke. "I know John told you we were all on our own in terms of fixing this. But I want you to know that we all regret how we went about things. How we treated you was unacceptable and there is truly no excuse. I can only hope that you let us have the privilege in at least trying to make it up to you."

You let out a breath. Your chest aching as a sob threatens to bubble to the surface.

You swallow it down.

"So I take it then Johnny is taking the same route as Simon?" You couldn't blame him. You had put the final nail in the coffin of your relationship. Fucking and leaving him like that... Not to mention all the details Kyle gave you of the aftermath. No doubt Johnny would feel like being forgiven was pointless by now.

"Johnny is chomping at the fuckin' bit." He laughed. "If Simon and Price weren't keeping a leash on him right now he'd be here right now and I don't think we could get him out of here a second time."

"Well three out of four then." You sighed. "I just can't believe it got this far." Shaking your head, you leaned back against the cushions "I mean, I get that all of you had your own lives, families and stuff going on... But even then, I can't believe Simon found it so easy to say those things. Looking back, yeah, I wasn't girlfriend of the year, but I wasn't a bad girlfriend."

Silence.

"Kyle?" He bit his lips. He wanted to say something. "Kyle." You pressed. "Out with it."

"You don't need to bring it up."

"Fine." You said, but technically didn't promise anything.

"And it's not your fault for forgetting." Your patience was growing thin. Your emotional battery was low and even with a good nights rest you knew it would take a while before it recharged. "Fuck," Kyle rubbed his face, contemplating best how to tell you. "The night you called Simon..." he explained. "It was April 25th."

You waited, not completing grasping what he was trying to say.

April 25th...

What was so damn special about April 25th that made Simon so fucking angry? You didn't buy the whole 'letting you go thing', so it had to be something

Why that day?

April 25th: not an anniversary or a birthday. Not Easter or Christmas. Simon really didn't celebrate Christmas given what happened to Tommy, Beth and Joseph.

Joseph...

Fuck. Joseph.

Your throat felt fight.

What had you done?

He probably just got home from the cemetery when you called to cry about Johnny. Fuck.

Joseph's birthday.

Simon was a man that didn't do a lot of sentimental things. But every year, on Joseph's birthday he would visit his nephew's plot with a toy. You didn't know what he said or how long he stayed but he indulged you once. Telling you he just went, sat by with the toy next to the headstone for a bit before leaving.

Simon was reliving one of the happiest days of his life that was now tainted. And you complained about Johnny leaving after fucking you.

"Oh my God." You drew out shakily. Kyle could see the tears beginning to form. Horror manifesting in your eyes. "What the fuck?"

"You didn't know." He tried to soothe as if that were some sort of excuse.

"I forgot." Confessing it out loud felt like a spike going straight through your chest. "How the fuck did I forget?" Kyle didn't know what else to do. Fuck whatever awkwardness and boundaries you would set before fully accepting him back, he pulled you to his chest, allowing you to sob.

You weren't sure how long you had sat there. Kyle's arms enveloping you as you released it all. Eventually you did subside. His shirt marked with evidence of your tears and snot.

"No wonder he fucking hates me." You said it so softly, so broken, Kyle's heart broke for you.

"Simon doesn't hate you." His attempt of soothing you was admirable, but you knew it wasn't true. How could someone not hate another person after that? Forgetting the birthday of your brutally murdered nephew to call and bitch about not getting cuddled after sex. "If he did, he wouldn't have made sure you got home okay after your date. And the guy at the club-"

"He told you about that?" You shouldn't have been shocked. After all John knew.

"Only after he asked to standby in case bail was needed." He tried to joke. "The point is, there is coming back from this." Taking his thumbs, he brushed away the stray tears that hadn't made it to his shirt. "For all of us."

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #angst #grovel #angst with a happy ending #can’t stop thinking about

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corkinavoid · 5 months ago

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DPxDC Multiverse Police (pt. 2)

"You said you're going to ask questions, then can we ask questions?" Superman really tries to be polite here because, first, he was raised by Kents and, second, Jazz and the whole interdimensional police thing looks non-hostile. At least now.

The redhead nods, "Sure, ask away, I'll answer everything I can." Then, she notices Batman reaching to touch the green shield and makes a soft, warning noise, "Ah, sorry, please don't touch it. I can show how it works later, but it's not meant to keep you out. It's to keep everything else in."

Batman reluctantly puts his head down and turns to her.

"Elaborate."

The sci-fi ship in the air makes a loud hissing sound, like compressed air being released, and the bottom part of it slides open. Jazz nods in the direction of the now open ship.

"You know what they say, it's better to see it once than to hear it ten times."

There are three humanoid figures standing in there. All of them are mostly monochrome, black and white clothes, starkling white hair. They look like one adult and two children, but it's one of the kids who raises his hands to his mouth and yells so loud everyone in three miles radius is able to hear him:

"Step away from the shield, please, shit's about to get real!"

None of the heroes move, but Jazz does take a few steps away. Wonder Woman, after a moment of hesitation, follows her example.

A mechanical voice comes from the ship itself, "Countdown to the breach. Five... Four..."

On 'three,' all three of the monochrome figures step out from the ship. But, before any of the heroes have time to worry, they all float in the air, undeterred by gravity, and the ship door closes behind them.

The countdown reaches 'one'. And in the next moment, it looks like the hell breaks loose.

Countless giant vines shoot out from the portal up, reaching for the ship. True to what the red hoverboarder said, they are very much toothy, every vine splitting in two and attempting to bite the ship like some twisted idea of scissors.

None of them reach it.

The oldest of three kids claps his hands, and a wall of raging fire descends on the vines, throwing them off. In the next moment, the trio falls apart, flying through the lovecraftian mess of carnivorous plants with practiced ease, the younger ones using what looks like icicles and little storms.

"Who are they?" Batman asks Jazz, following the youngest one's - the only girl among the three - movements as she creates a strong gust of wind with a wave of her hand. None of the vines or attacks get past the shield, though.

"My siblings," the girl answers, pointing her hand at the oldest one, "That's Dan. He's the most violent. One time, he destroyed our original world, but that timeline doesn't exist anymore." She then points to the girl, "That's Dani, the youngest. She rarely joins the crew lately. And she is actually a clone, but at this point, most of us have been cloned once or twice, so it's not a big deal anymore." She then points her finger to the last one, a boy that flies past them quicker than a lightning, freezing everything he touches, "And this is Danny. He is the most powerful one. Technically, he could have just ended the fight with one Wail, but kids like to have fun. Also, they don't get to show off their elemental powers a lot, so they are mostly being dramatic for you."

She says all this so easily, just like a matter of fact, and it is at this moment that the members of JL realize the sheer power of whoever these people are. When she casually told them she bested Superman, it could have been written as a coincidence, a joke. But this?

Dan growls as one of the vines scratches his shoulder. He bleeds green, but it's only for a second before both the wound and the suit knit themselves back together. This is not just a simple accelerated healing, it almost looks like a miracle.

"Oi, brats, I'm done with show off, get out of the way!" He yells at the other two, and Danny and Dani quickly follow the order, flying closer to him and behind his back.

"Cover your ears," Jazz tells the heroes around her, and puts her helmet back on, as Dan takes a deep breath and screams.

It hurts even those who follow Jazz's advice. Batman feels like his eardrums are about to be shattered for the lack of better word. But the vines like the sonic attack even less - most of them subdue and pull back inside the portal, and the rest is dissipating like they are being burned from the inside out.

And then, just like it began, the scream - the wail - stops. The silence feels deafening after the end of it, but slowly, the sounds return, and the JL watches Danny flying down to the center of the portal. He puts his hands on the surface of it, and for a long moment, nothing happens.

And then the Pit starts closing up.

Or, no, it is Danny who absorbs it, the green flowing up through his hands, his veins that start glowing the same green. His eyes become the same toxic color, with no whites and no irises, just glowing green all over, and his hair shimmers like stars.

A few minutes later, the portal is gone, like it never even existed, and Danny plants his feet on the ground and stretches, like one would do after a good rest.

"Oof, that was nice!" He turns to the other two, who are still up in the air, "Do you want some?"

Dan flips him off before going back to the ship, but Dani floats down to him and extends her hands out.

"Sure. I like getting it from you better than from the portal itself anyway. Gives it a sparkling taste, like Sprite," she chuckles. Danny takes her hands in his, and the green glow slowly makes its way through their joined palms, now flowing through the girl’s body.

"What are they?" Flash whispers, horrified, but Jazz hears it nonetheless and turns her head to him, taking her helmet off once again.

"That is not a very appropriate question," she chastises and smiles at their faces, "But it's okay, I get it. They are ghosts. Or ectoplasmic entities, or halfas, or highly liminal beings. Or, if you want a very simplified version, they are dead kids who are enjoying their afterlife a little too much."

"Dead?" Batman zeros on the word, snapping his eyes at the girl. She smiles, and for the first time, it doesn't look human. Her teeth are too sharp, her grin too wide, and her eyes are suddenly not just teal, but neon bright and glowing, with vertical irises.

"Most of us are dead in one way or another. And I do not mean it in a metaphorical sense."

-------------------

What I'm thinking is they have a whole system going on. Amity Park generally resides in the Realms, but from time to time, they decide they want to go on a vacation, as a whole town, and they pop into existence on one of the Earths. They don't really care for the universe or dimension they end up in, as long as it is more or less peaceful (as in, no active wars going on right where they pop up), has sunlight and nice weather.

The GIW is taking care of legal things - imagine US government reaction when a whole ass town just boom, starts existing in a place where nothing existed before? So GIW does all the paperwork and discussions. Also, they are doing their basic research on the dimension they end up in, for science purposes.

I'm thinking Vlad is still a mayor of Amity. And sometimes, when a particular dimension is rather annoying, he straight up possesses the authorities because he hates official talks and couldn't care less for morals if he tried for a week. The GIW scolds him, but don't really say no. It's not a good solution to the problem, but hey, it works.

Meanwhile, Fentons are doing ectoplasmic research. They scan the dimension for troubles, basically, looking for natural portals and ghosts causing ruckus. Jazz is almost always the one who does the talking to the heroes native to the dimension - she is the one who has the most patience and social skills. Jack is in charge of transportation and Maddie is the head of biological, ecto-biological and other species research. Tucker is the tech specialist, of course - he is the sole reason why Amity has wi-fi wherever they go. Val and her father are, kind of, protectors? Security? But for the whole town, yeah. They do have GIW agents as subordinates.

Dani is not always living in Amity, she travels the Realms most of the time, but she joins when something interesting happens. Dan is, like, on an eternal probation period, GIW and Fentons keep an eye on him, but he is one of the heavy hitters for when shit goes down.

Danny is living his best life, he is mainly the protector spirit of Amity, but he also gets to protect all the dimensions from ghosts! He helps anyone and everyone - one day he is working with Val on defenses for their main ship they use to travel inside dimensions, and the next day he is joining Maddie in her studies of new species found.

Oh, I forgot Sam. She is probably the one responsible for the magic stuff - mostly everyone else focuses on scientific aspects, but she is the one to research on occult things.

| <- prev | next -> |

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #batman #flash #giw #good!giw #good fenton parents #jazz fenton #valerie gray #dan phantom #danielle phantom #sam manson #justice league #I'm having f u n with this au now #they are a better team than jl and tgey take great pride in shoving the fact in their faces #cork writes #cork prompts

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prettieinpink · 1 year ago

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NEW YEAR, NEW ME

( A collab with thee lovely lele @bloombabydoll )

If you want to reinvent and rebrand yourself, or just continue to make positive improvements in 2024, the first thing is to evaluate your current year.

EVALUATION

Reflect on how things went for you. Was there continuous growth? Were there many difficult times? Did you discover anything major about yourself and so on. Try to summarise your year in (a) paragraph(s) at least.

Oversee your goals. Which ones you didn’t, did achieve, difficult ones, easy ones and the impacts it had on your life.

Compare your dream girl then and now. Is your visualisation of your life currently different to the one you have now and why?

List any major losses or successes you’ve had in your life, and how they have helped you or why it matters to you.

This evaluation can be as detailed or simple as you like, but as long as you have a decent outline of your year.

PREPARING & PLANNING

To prepare for 2024, you want to know what you want life to be like in 2024. Something realistic to a point, but still is a growth journey.

Think of something that you can associate with 2024. This can be a word, a symbol, art, a song, a book, a movie, a place, or even just all of these things. When you think about your goals and your journey, this is your theme. This is something that should relate to your goals or your dream girl somehow.

For me, I chose a word and a song. My word is growth because, for me, 2023 was a year for just being able to shed my old self which I did achieve however I just felt there wasn’t much growth as an actual person and not just in my environment.

For my song, it is Mayflowers by Proleters and Taskrok. This song is the epitome of what I would imagine, is the most polished mindset. I would say perfect, but having a perfect mindset is near impossible. I want to have a mindset glow up because I’ve just been hard on myself lately which has caused my confidence to plummet.

Before we get into the fun part of the preparation stage, we have to do some organisation in our life. I want you to take a look at your daily lifestyle and your habits, and be completely unashamed about this.

Then categorise these habits into two sections; Leave and Leap. Leave habits are habits that you are leaving behind in 2023, leap habits are habits that are leaping into 2024 with you.

Any habits that are self-destructive, addictive or generally harmful are leave habits. Beneficial habits and self-building are leaping with you into the new year.

I want you to do the same for people in your life, all environments (school, work, online etc) and anything else you believe needs to be sorted out.

This works better if you can reason with yourself why it is a leaping or leaving habit, but don’t try to convince yourself a bad habit is good or vice versa.

Now, I want you to document an honest paragraph about who you are right now. List your bad and good habits, your strengths and weaknesses and your behaviours. This one requires a bit more detail.

Then, write a paragraph about who you will be in 2024, your dream girl. List her habits, lifestyle, behaviours, mindset, strengths and anything else extra. I’ll explain later but do not include materialistic desires in this your dream girl. Once again, this one also requires details.

Stemming from those paragraphs, I want you to create specific and achievable goals. SMART goals are best, but I want to introduce you to how I set goals.

I divide my year into quarters. For each 3 months, I have 3-5 goals for those months. Usually, it’s one from each area of my life. Then, I break down these goals.

Questions and How They Help

Why do I want to do this goal - For motivation and commitment.

How it’ll benefit me - For the sake of improvement.

How can I involve myself in this goal - To achieve your goal.

I prefer this method because it is a lot simpler for me, as I am just a young girl and my bigger goals are more in the future in which I’ll utilise SMART goals.

To create good goals; Make sure they align with your current values and life principles first. Try to avoid creating goals that you have just taken from the internet. Those goals just aren’t it and you most likely won’t follow through with it.

Be specific. Don’t say you want to eat more healthily, instead say you want to include (a certain group of veggies/fruits) in your diet and reduce the intake of ( food/drink).

E.g using eating healthy example

I want to eat healthy -> I want to start including foods that boost my immunity system and support my skin while reducing those that have the opposite effect.

Then break down those quarterly goals into monthly, weekly and daily goals. Make these habits that you can establish in your lifestyle and have a way in which you can refer back to your progress.

EXAMPLE GOAL BREAKDOWN

Quarterly Goal - Read 6 books.

Monthly Goal - Finish 2 books.

Weekly Goal - Be or near half way of one book.

Daily Goal - 20 minutes of reading per day.

AREAS TO SET GOALS IN YOUR LIFE

Academics

Spiritual

Fitness/sport

Health and wellbeing

Mental health

Personal life

Relationships

Hobbies and recreation

Now for the best part- vision boards! Collect all of your favourite images that embody your quarters or the whole year, then put them in one place where you can see them regularly!

Some ideas are a scrapbook, Pinterest boards, mood boards, playlists etc.

Choose your theme; It can be your healthy girl era, your academic come back or whatever you want. You can have more than two btw.

Use quotes! Then actually say them in your daily life as a way to shift your mindset to reflect said quote.

Include inspirational people. It doesn't even have to be a millionaire or a very well established person, it could be your friends or someone on the internet.

Be imaginative. Your vision board doesn't have to realistic in my opinion, as the whole point of it to me is that viewing it daily and considering it to be part of your life one day allows for you to open up to those opportunities.

Materialistic Wants

I feel obligated to make this a separate section. This section is practically tangible objects that you want.

However, when choosing this said object that you want, mindfully think about why you want that thing specifically.

It doesn’t have to be meaningful, but as long as each thing on that list has got a purpose to you, and will serve you, I think it’s all good!

Conclusion

If you want, you can definitely start implementing habits before January. However, I believe that as long as you go into 2024 at least knowing who you want to be and shedding away any limiting beliefs, you’ll be fine.

Make sure to incorporate some self care rituals into your daily life as well✨

To end this, I hope everyone has a very merry Christmas! And that 2024 they will achieve to close that gap with their current selves and their dream girl selves! 💖🙏

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blondieeu · 2 months ago

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2 seconds. shigaraki t.

old draft

shigaraki who doesn’t really like to touch you because of his quirk, let alone during sex even if he does have the gloves, so he relies on specific positions and places to fuck you in.

THE COUCH — 8/10

the couch was one of your favorite places because you like being able to see so much of him in the positions you do there. like if he wanted to give you back shots with your face pressed into the wall of the couch, he could do that while you turned to watch!! or maybe he wants to flip you over and give it to you with your legs opened, it was always a good time. the only con about the couch is that it’s not very comfortable fucking laying down.

“u—oh!”

“hmph.”

shigaraki pressed his hand deeper into the middle of your back, molding you into the plush couch. the night was long, and harder than most. there was nothing wrong with japans best villain finding comfort in his lover was there?

your moans filled the relatively empty living room accompanied by muffled slapping as your nails scratched at the back of the couch, almost holding on for your life.

shigaraki pushed his long white hair from his face hurriedly before slapping your ass and you gasped, reaching one of your hands back to rub on his toned stomach, all the way up to his chest to then rub at his shoulder.

THE BED (FULL NELSON) — 10/10

now this, was shigaraki’s favorite position. while the two of you don’t actually talk about sex outside of when you’re in the middle of it or it’s absolutely necessary, this position has made it into your conversations a couple of times!

“what’s that thing we did yesterday called? where’d you learn that?”

“why”

“because we’ve never done that before”

he made a quiet noise. not answering you immediately as he kept working on whatever the hell he was doing. finally, he turned his head a little.

“you liked it?”

“yeah”

you crossed your arms over your chest, wife beater loose around your shoulders. he turned his head back to his work calmly, almost unbothered.

“then don’t worry about it”

•••

“ohmygosh baby”

your fingertips pressed and scratched at your boyfriends pale-ish arms as they held your legs out of the way, ensuring he could fuck you properly. with nothing you could do to run from him, hot tears welled up in your eyes and a pout formed on your swollen lips.

“keep takin’ it.”

his cock barreled in and out at an relatively medium pace, but in this position—with his angry tip kissing your cervix everytime he pushed it in to the hilt, it felt like he was moving way faster.

he cursed you as your cunny clenched around his length, a creamy soap like texture created a ring around the base of his cock.

CHAIRS — 3/10

absolutely not. you really hate fucking in chairs it’s so uncomfortable, especially in spinny chairs, but shigaraki doesn’t really mind it. it makes your back ache and it’s hard to find a place to put your knees!

“baby i don’t like this spot”

“you got so much to say for someone not doing any work.”

“please?”

“stand up”

blondieeu xx

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fishnapple · 1 month ago

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Signs that they are the one for you

This reading is about the signs that show the person you have in mind is the one who is best suited for you and can match you the most. This is not about THE ONE(TM) or your ultimate happiness, but they might very well be that.

This is a general reading meant for multiple people. Take only what resonates and leave out the rest.

Your feedback is much appreciated. If you find the reading resonated with you, leave a comment, I’d love to know 🎐

About me | Masterpost Book a reading with me - KO-FI (→ personal reading)

GROUP 1

If you are someone who is not always decisive, someone who takes a lot of time to commit to something seriously, someone who needs to weight all the pros and cons to arrive at a decision, then this person will make you step out of that operating mode. They will make you want to commit, fast. You will find yourself making decisions about this person, about this connection a lot easier, taking just a little time.

Sometimes, it will feel like a sudden move, a rash decision on your end. But you being decisive and committing fast is not because you are afraid, worry or want to rush things. This person, this connection, just feels right to you. You don't have to think long and hard or to find excuses and reasons to do something or not do something.

There will be elements of fatefulness surrounding the connection. Your intuition will be in top shape, there will be no illusions muddling up your mind and heart. You will see this person clearly, both their good and bad, and you won't find excuses for their bad nor focus exclusively on their good. There is a willingness to see and to understand each other truthfully. But that doesn't mean you will accept all of their problems and let them be, no, you will want to work with them, trying to help them be a better person, to improve together, to transform together. It's not the "I can fix them" mentality, it's"we can work together."

You will be able to talk freely with each other and discuss everything on your mind. Even when your opinions and viewpoints clash, it won't create conflict between you. You will feel a sense of shared missions, shared dreams, and together, you can achieve those easier, like having two hearts and two minds look in the same direction.

One of the sign that they are the one is that people will view you being together positively. I'm not saying that you should depend on opinions of other people to gauge your relationship. A lot of relationships that are considered ideal by people are actually not that ideal to the people inside those relationships. What I mean is, people will see an improvement in your life when you are together, the good impacts you have on each other will be visible.

GROUP 2

An obvious sign is that you will smile a lot when you are around this person or when you think about them. They just bring joy into your life. Other people would probably comment that you guys are a lot more talkative when together than being with others, a loud couple perhaps?

You will trust this person more easily than other people, there is a sense of familiarity, having experienced the same things, dream the same dreams. You share the same values and life philosophy that makes it easier to navigate life together.

You will want to give gifts to each other, on no special occasion, just because something reminds you of them and vice versa so you want to give that to each other. It will feel natural to share with this person. If you are someone who is independent and used to getting everything by your own efforts. This connection will make you more open to accepting from others and also sharing with others. Instead of "you" and "me", it will be "we".

The energy of this group feels very positive and active, like you guys are building something together. Lots of stones stood upwards, pointing to the same direction, almost like they were about to take flight, towards the sky. "Waking up" or "arise" would be the word.

The revelation that they are the one will hit you suddenly, likely when you're unsure of how to ground the connection, the feeling of uneasiness will keep piling up inside. Until they all fall down over the cliff, leaving behind the tiny sprout of realisation. It will be an overturn. You will feel a new creative energy. By being with this person, you will want to create something, to build something, it might translate to sexual desire. As if a restraint has been removed in your psyche and the energy inside is released and set free.

This person will feel like an answer to your long forgotten questions, a warm meal and a nice rest at the end of a hard day, they will appear in your mind when you're asked what do you see in your future.

GROUP 3

There are two distinct sides here, one is warm and dark, one is cool and light. This person will be the other side of the same coin to you. You will feel a sense of mirroring and contrast with this person. Like chirality, right hand and left hand. You will be able to balance each other out, bringing to the table the traits that the other person lacks, helping each other develop a more balanced psyche.

You will have a grounding effect on this person. As much as they are the one for you, this is the sign that you are the one for them. You will know intuitively how to work with their worries and pains. They may suffer some insomnia, repressed anger and some hidden unknown fears that are hard to express and harder to have someone understand them. But you will be that person. With you, they will feel more safe and grounded enough to work with themselves in a healthy way. And they can do that for you too, remember that you guys are mirroring each other. You just know how to touch the other person in the most caring and considerate way that makes the other person feel safe and anchored. You will probably develop some more healthy habits together, trying to get rid of toxic and unhealthy habits that have their roots in losses and insecurities.

You will be in a constant mode of being both the student and the teacher, learning and guiding each other, together. Sometimes, you can both learn to be more confident in yourself, to express your individuality, having fun, other times, you both will learn the importance of being in a social group, of friendships and how to care for society. How to be a part of something yet still have your freedom. There's no definite role for each person, each has something to share and teach while also has something to learn from the other person. You will have a sense of growth with them. That what you do and what you think matters, not just to your life but bigger, and they will make you more aware of your impact on the world.

Talk of serious, long-term commitment will be early on with this person. Similar to the other groups, you will want to commit, to build a lasting relationship with this person. The idea of having a home together, acting as one unit, and the relationship being sanctioned officially will feel natural to you.

GROUP 4

This person will make you want to dream the "impossible" dreams. Whatever you think as impossible, they will have a way to sway your belief and make you feel like it's possible after all. You will not feel contented anymore with just being small and playing it safe with your life. You will dare to cast your gaze to farther horizon, seeing yourself in a grander way, acting in a more decisive way, which may come as a surprise to the people around.

They will introduce you to many different topics and diverse subjects to widen your perspective and knowledge. They could act a little like a mentor to you, maybe they are someone who has more experience in various areas of life, regardless of their age, who's seen the world more and they are ready to share that with you. Their way is not bossy nor domineering but gentle and affectionate, making you more willing to open up to new ideas. When they're explaining something to you, it will not feel like sitting in a class, hearing the teacher droning on and on, but it will feel like sitting with a friend, eager to share experiences of their newest adventures, lots of giggling, laughing and joking.

In the most positive way, by being with them, you will become more of yourself, light up those dark, forgotten corners inside and embrace them with clarity and self-forgiveness.

I think both of you will bring some baggage and old habits into the relationship at the beginning. Could be a desire for perfection, the desire for control, to force and bend the situation to one's own will. But gradually, those baggage will be lifted and unpacked neatly, transformed into something that can work for both of you. The force that wants to lead, to direct, will be united. Instead of working against each other, you will work together.

Your appearance might even change. Notice how some couples tend to look alike and similar to each other after being committed to each other for some time. It will be a positive change. The state of happiness will be apparent physically.

GROUP 5

You will feel triggered by this person. Every action and word from them will feel like a personal attack, at first. It will be unpleasant, but only when you're not ready to face yourself. And they will be the one to help you with that task. No matter how hard it is, you can count on them to be there for you, to remind you how to be strong and yet vulnerable at the same time.

They will help you free up emotional baggage that you've held on for far too long, lighten your loads so that you can run more freely, see the world more clearly and discover the poetry in living.

Time and space will not be felt when you're connected to this person. No matter where you are, no matter how much space and time is between you, you will feel an inexplicable connection with them. You guys can disconnect for a few months, come back and resume the conversation as if no time has passed at all, you maybe continents apart from each other but the presence of the other person will always be felt. Through the conversations you have with other people, through the lyrics of the song you listen to, through the rain and cloud, through the blanket and cold hands.

You open a window so that the wind can come in at any moment, you will be like that with them. This person will be there when you have the loudest laugh, and when you have the heaviest tears, they will bear witness to them all, without a flinch, without judgement. If at first, you find their words and action harsh and cruel, you will gradually see them differently. You will see them as your pillar of strength and comfort. Has anyone ever dared to be so honest with you like that? Has anyone ever let you be that honest to them like that? If your answer is no, then you will know that this person is the one.

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sitepathos · 2 months ago

Text

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 3: The End (Warning: this will be dark. Read at your own risk)

The last bell of the day rings, letting everyone know that they’re free to go. In unison, your classmates begin shoving books and papers in their designer book bags before getting up and flooding the exit all at once. People begin to pair up with their friends, talking about hanging out and staying over at one another’s house for the weekend, but as usual, you’re left by yourself; when you first enrolled in GA, many students wanted to be your friend, but you could tell they were more interested in Bruce Wayne being your father than you because they talked more about Bruce than you. When Tim became Timothy Drake-Wayne, everyone flocked to him, starstruck that he was now a member for two of Gotham’s most elite families. Since you lack Bruce’s good looks and charisma, Dick’s athletic prowess, Jason’s brute strength, Tim’s intelligence, and Damian’s pure pedigree, everyone here has deemed you unworthy of a passing glance; you’re painfully average in every aspect and in a family as prestigious and remarkable as Gotham’s beloved Wayne Family, that’s an unforgivable sin.

It didn’t matter to you, though. You didn’t care that no one in school or in your “family” acted like you didn’t exist and think you unworthy of a fraction of their attention, you had your video games. When the silence of Wayne Manor became deafening to you, you had your faithful 3DS with multiple generations of teams full of loyal and strong Pokémon that have defeated the mightiest of champions and your preowned laptop that’s allowed you to play a wide variety of games, your favorite being Fallout New Vegas as it took place in your rightful home of Nevada and started off in your beloved Goodsprings. You’ve gone through countless playthroughs because you feel close to your childhood home, no matter how many times you go through the same dialogue options and quests.

In fact, video games have been a major influence on you that you’re determined to be an indie video game developer when you finally graduate. Your laptop isn’t too old to run a visual novel maker software that came out four years ago and you spent over a year scribbling away in a notebook that held all the details that would form your first game, staying up late for three months working on the plot alone and the remaining nine months on side quests, combat, dialogue, and everything else. Despite your best efforts, you’re not an artist like Damian (and how ironic that someone so spiteful like him has the gift to create beauty) or a musician, so the only thing you’re able to work on right now is the code, but you’re not tech smart like Tim so it’s full of bugs and errors and despite you following your Guide to Making Video Games book to the letter, the code just won’t do what you want it to do. With spring break around the corner, maybe you’ll be able to make progress on it.

As you step through the front door of the school, you see Damian and Tim being dragged into a bear hug by Dick, the little shit quickly breaking free; Dick laughs and ruffles his hair before all of them getting into the older man’s car and drive off, leaving you behind. That’s nothing unusual, though, Dick’s always picked up the two of them from school and you know they always go get ice cream or go to an arcade while you get left behind to find your own way home. You’ve never been offered a ride to or from school or asked if you’d want to go hang out with them and with how they’ve treated you over the years, you’d sooner have a tea party with the Mad Hatter before you ever got in a car with any of them. Knowing them, Damian would probably try to strangle you with your seatbelt, Dick would most likely try to guilt you to spend more time with your “brother,” and Tim would just sit there, not saying anything, no matter how wrong their words were or how upset you got.

You’ve been relying on Alfred to give you rides (always a block away from the school since you didn’t want them knowing you were relying on him), but Bruce gave him the month off. He tried to turn it down, of course, insisting that he had important duties at the manor (you knew it was because he was worried about what would happen to you while he was gone), but Bruce insisted. Only after you promised to text him everyday and call him the moment something went wrong did he book a flight to Essex. After taking care of a museum the size of the Smithsonian, taking care of a family full of assholes, and dealing with your emotional baggage, the man deserved to take off and relax for a while.

Since he’s been gone, you’ve used the bus to get to where you need to go and have kept a wide berth between you and the Waynes and so far you’ve managed to stay under their radar. Though, with you not even clocking on their radars, can you really claim such an achievement. Hell, you’re positive they wouldn’t notice you even if you were right behind them. World’s greatest detectives, your ass.

That’s right, you knew about their nightly activities of wearing bird themed costumes, jumping across rooftops, and battling with the demented freaks locked up in Arkham. Not because Alfred told you (and god knows they’d never tell you shit), but because your status as the unwanted and forgotten firstborn of Bruce Wayne is like an invisibility cloak allowing you to walk in plain sight without anyone noticing you and it’s thanks to that you’ve been able to spy on conversations. You’ve come down many times in the late hours of the night to find them sitting at the dining table, eating, talking, laughing, and enjoying their lives as if you don’t even exist. Sure, it hurt you to see them so happy while you sit above them, miserable, what hurt even more was the fact that Alfred didn’t tell you. Sure, you have no intention on joining them in fist fighting Joker or solving the Riddler’s Saw-inspired puzzles (not that you could, you obviously lacked the capabilities), but you thought that after all that they’ve out you through, you were entitled to know what was going on.

But, you know that Alfred is also in on it, providing support from cave under the mansion (that you found after investigating the library while they were all out) and since he’s helped you through the bad times, hugging you tightly white you cried your eyes out, you decided to keep your discovery to yourself. Besides, if the secret ever comes out, you have plausible deniability.

Your phone rings and when you pull it out to check the caller ID, you see a picture of Alfred and you on the screen.

“Hey, Alfred,” you answer.

“Good afternoon, Master Y/N. Did you have a pleasant day at school?”

“I did. Since spring break is next week, the teachers toned down on the lessons.”

“And how did you fare on your algebra test?”

“Fine, I guess,” you mutter. “I’m sure I got more right than wrong.”

Math’s always been your worst enemy (at least until you met Damian) and getting an A on an anything math related was always once in a blue moon. A B was always your goal back in Goodsprings Elementary, but with Gotham Academy being a prestigious institution, their math classes were as difficult as a speed run in Dark Souls. Sure, all your classes are hard, but math has always been your Achilles’ heel.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you prepare for it. Maybe I should come home—“

“No,” you quickly say, cutting him off. “It’s fine. I studied my notes and found some practice problems online. I’m sure I passed.”

There was a brief pause before the man said, “Very well, Master Y/N. If you’re sure. How have you been faring? I trust you’re eating three meals a day and sleeping enough?”

“Of course,” you say. You’re lying, of course. You skip breakfast and dinner since they’re all downstairs at the same time in the mornings and at night use before going out on patrol and only eat lunch at school, where lunch is prepared by five star chefs because their elite students will accept nothing less. As for sleep, you’ve been cramming for this test and trying to work on your game, where as soon as you fix one bug, three more come to take its place.

“Of course,” he says, obviously not convinced, but chooses not to call you out. Not over the phone, anyway. Had he been here in person, it would be a different story. “And how have the others treated you?”

“Like I don’t exist. So, things are status quo.”

“I know their behavior has been nothing less than unacceptable, but have you tried talking to your father? Maybe he’ll be more receptive to you if you approached him while he was alone.”

“We both know that’s not gonna happen, Alfred. Bruce can’t stand the sight of me because I’m his greatest mistake.”

“Master Y/N!”

“It’s true and you know it! Both he and Momma were young and stupid, one thing led to another, and I was their reminder why condoms were invented. He got stuck with me and he’ll never forgive me for that. You know it and I know it.”

His silence tells you he knows you’re right. You hate to say how you really feel since you know that Alfred raised the man after his parents were murdered and telling him things like this makes him feel like he failed as a father figure, but after being treated like shit for most of your life, you’ve really run out of fucks to give. Hell, when you turned eighteen last month, you had your bags packed and were ready to buy a ticket on the first bus to Las Vegas, but Alfred begged you to stay long enough so you could graduate and since it would be a pain in the ass to transfer this close to schools letting out for summer, you agreed. Plus, it’d look good on a resume that you graduated from Gotham Academy. .

“Maybe I could talk to him for you? I just don’t want you to leave hating your father so much.”

“Look, Alfred, I really don’t wanna talk about this. I gotta go, I’ll be late for work.”

“Very well, Master Y/N. Please be safe. You know I hate you being out at night all alone.”

“Don’t worry, I will. Talk to you later, Alfred.”

And with that, you hang up and head to the nearest bus stop to take you to Chinatown. When you turned sixteen, you decided that it wasn’t fair taking Alfred’s money (in your defense, you helped out in cleaning the mansion, but you were still taking his hard earned paycheck), so you went out and found a job working at Gotham Games, a small store in one of the few nicer parts of Gotham that specialized in video, trading card, and tabletop games. Your boss, Mr. Chen, is a sweet old man who loves to talk games with you, especially Pokémon; in fact, he always gives you a free booster pack when he hands you your paycheck, saying that it’s a bonus for doing a good job. You love your job and aside from Alfred always willing to lend an ear to listen to your troubles, it’s made living in this hellhole of a city actually bearable.

After arriving at the bus stop in Chinatown, you walks a few blocks to find Mr. Chen closing the door and locking it.

“Mr. Chen,” you say when you near him, making him turn around to face you.

“You’re always on time, Y/N,” he says with a chuckle, but you can see he’s sad about something.

“Is the store closing for today?”

“No, I’m afraid I’m closing the store for good.”

Your heart stops and you feel yourself losing balance a little and you quickly steady yourself. You quickly think for any reason why the store would be closing for good.

Poor sales? No, you helped Mr. Chen with the spreadsheet for last month and sales had gone up by 11% thanks to the Pokémon TCG tournament you hosted.

Too much theft? No, you keep a close eye on all the customers and last time you checked, all inventory was accounted for.

Threats? Please, Mr. Chen’s been here for twenty-five years and is a pillar of the community. If anyone ever had the dumbass idea to threaten him, all shop owners in the street would rush to his aid, yourself included.

So, why?

As if he read your mind, he says, “My daughter said she was worried about me when the Penguin broke out of Arkham the other day and his car chase with Batman ended when he crashed a block away from here. She said that she and her husband had already set up a room for me at their house and now they’re here to take me with them to Florida.

You remember hearing about that. Bruce devotes all his time to fighting Gotham’s crime problem and one would think all the time he doesn’t spend with you could go to keeping things like car chases with Arkham’s inmates far away from innocent people and their businesses, but guess that’s what you get for having expectations when it comes to Bruce.

“What will happen to the store?”

“Mark’s already taken care of it. He called up some company that owns plenty of stores that’s just like mine and they agreed to buy my entire stock. They’ll have some people here tomorrow to get it all.”

For the second time in your life, it feels like your entire world’s been turned inside out. Working here and being around Mr. Chen was the best thing that’s happened to you since you over to Gotham and with Alfred gone and the loss of your job and boss, you’re extremely tempted to get on the nearest bus and ride it out of Gotham right now.

“I also wanted to wait for you so I could give you this.” He hands you a neatly wrapped box that you just now realize he’d been holding this entire time. “To thank you for keeping an old man company.”

You take the box and with shaky hands, you unwrap it and open the lid to see a pristine aqua blue Game Boy Advance surrounded by several cartridges. When you take a closer look, you see that they’re all Pokémon games, ranging from the original Red and Blue to Red Rescue Team.

“You appreciate the classics and it seemed a shame to let that Game Boy and those games just sit around, collecting dust. Plus, it’s my way of saying thank you for taking care of an old man.”

At this point, you realize you’re crying and can’t help but hug your boss. “Thank you, Mr. Chen.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N. When you move back to Nevada and win big in Vegas, don’t forget to give me a call so we can celebrate.”

You laugh at that and it makes you feel better, but only a little bit. When he promises to call you when he’s set up in Florida and you promise to call him when you’re back in Nevada, you two separate and watch as he gets in his daughter’s car and drive off, waving at him until he’s out of sight.

As you neatly tuck the box into your backpack, you realize that your schedule’s totally fucked up now. Normally, Alfred comes and gets you when you get done working at 7, but with him gone, you’d been using the bus that comes at that time to take you to the closest stop to Bristol and walk the rest of the way to Wayne Manor, but that bus won’t be here for hours. And you’d sooner chew your own arm off before calling any of them for help.

You mull it over for a minute or two before deciding to walk to the nearest stop, hop on the bus, and ride it to as close to Bristol as possible. With the store closed (and your beloved job lost) you can use the time to get ahead on your spring break plans and work on your game, ironing out bugs and working on your art. You pull out your map of Gotham’s bus stops and see the closest station is over in the East End, a place no one with a half working brain cell goes. Still, it’s the closest bus stop and you’ll only be there for a few minutes. You’ve survived Wayne Manor for thirteen years, surely you can deal with Gotham’s trash can for a little bit.

With your mind made up, you make your way to the East End. As you cross into the district, you’re greeted by a group of kids playing Cops and Robber, but instead of cops, one of them plays the role as Red Hood, complete with two stick guns and a red plastic pail on his head. That’s right, East End is Jason’s territory and is well loved by many of the children. The thought of the brute gives you even more incentive to leave the area as fast as possible because you’ve heard Jason yelling at the others for entering the East End because it’s his to protect and he doesn’t want any of them unless it’s a really big emergency and even then, they need his permission. Knowing him, he’ll accuse you of invading and try to fill you full of lead, despite the fact that you’re not a vigilante and he ever pulled his head out of his ass, he’d know that, but you guess that being in a family full of distrust and paranoia has polluted his higher reasoning skills.

The further into the district you get, the closer you hold onto the straps of your book bag. With every step you take, you hear glass shattering, people screaming, and even a gun shot or two, making you regret ever coming here. You should’ve found another bus stop or just found something to kill time until your regular bus showed up. Still, you’ve already come this far and turning around would probably be more dangerous than continuing forward, so you keep your head up high and try to change your stride to be more confident, hoping that appearing more confident would keep people away from you.

You see the bus stop and pick up speed to get there quickly, but just as you get close enough to see the map and schedule, you feel something grab your book bag and you’re quickly yanked backwards. You turn to look behind you to see three men staring down at you and by the way they’re grinning down at you, you can tell this won’t end well for you.

“Well, what’s a little GA snob doin’ here,” one of them sneers.

“Surprised you’re actually walking,” the other jeers. “Thought all you little shits were carried around by your butlers and maids. Too good to use your own legs.”

That little joke actually pissed you off because you’re not like the rest of your classmates who have their private drivers open their car doors when they go to the airport to spend Christmas on their private islands. You aren’t using Bruce’s money to pay for every little thing you see (not that he’d give you any because he’s forgotten you exist), you actually have a job and work hard for your money, damn it!

“Bet there’s someone who’d pay a pretty penny for you,” the man, obviously the leader of the other two, says. “Looks like we’ve hit pay dirt, boys.”

You struggle to break free of their grasp, but the three of them are too strong for you. The leader pulls out a rusty pipe from his back pocket and the last thing you see is said pipe rushing towards your head before everything goes black.

“Wake up, you little bitch,” a gruff voice says as you’re overcome with feelings of sheer cold and wetness.

You open your eyes to find that you’re sitting on n extremely dirty floor. You look up to see a man looking down at you, a sadistic look on his face and a dirty metal bucket in hand. Your mind finally boots back up and you remember being stopped by three dirtbags and being knocked out be a pipe to the head. As if on cue, the memory triggers immense feelings of pain in your head and while you’re no doctor, you’re pretty sure that you have a mild concussion. When the rest of your senses come to, you realize that you’re tied to chair with thick ropes you have no chance of getting out, at least without a knife. Through blurry eyes, you’re able to look around to see you’ve been dragged to some dirty shack and based on what you see through the busted windows nearest to the door, you know two things: that you’ve been dragged to Gotham Woods and you’ve been knocked out for a while.

“Alright, now that you’ve had your beauty sleep, it’s time to get to business.” The leader squats down to your level, an old flip phone in hand. “You’re gonna give us a number we can call to ransom you off. Try any funny business and…” he trails off as he brings out a gun and points it at you. “You won’t live long enough to regret it.”

You hears the words, but all you can focus on is the gun aimed at you. You’ve known Gotham is a dangerous place and going to certain parts of the city at night is practically committing suicide, but you never thought you’d be in this position, where the slightest action or inaction was the difference in sleeping in your bed or being put to rest in a pine box when everything was said and done. Ever since you’d turned eighteen, you’ve kept a tally of how many days you have until you graduate and put this city of the damned behind you and now there’s a good chance you’ll die here, in a city you’ve hated since you were forced to move here.

“Hey,” he says, breaking you out of your stupor. “Number. Now.” He emphasizes his point by waving his gun.

At first, you’re tempted to give him Alfred’s number, knowing the butler would probably come to your rescue and kill these thugs John Wick Style, but you know that they wouldn’t appreciate talking to someone on the other side of the world and right now, you couldn’t take the chance on pissing them off; you need someone here in Gotham and as much as every fiber in your body wants to throw up at once just for even thinking it, you know Bruce is your only hope of making out of this in one piece. Even if he doesn’t care about you, he’ll be able to swoop in and bash in the heads of a bunch of kidnappers, so that should be enough of a reason to bring him here.

“Alright, you can call my father,” you say, the word “father” leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, but right now, you can’t afford to let your hatred for the man get the better of you; not when your life hangs in the balance. You give him the manor’s home phone number, which he dials and puts it on speaker.

You wait with bated break as the phone rings. After the third time, you can feel yourself breaking into a cold sweat and when you look up at one of your captors, you can tell he’s getting angry by the second; with every ring, his scowl gets more and more intimidating and the gun starts to shake in rage.

Finally, after an eternity, you hear someone pick up.

“Hello,” Bruce’s voice comes through, and based on the tone, he sounds pissed. Knowing the time, he was probably getting ready to go out on patrol. Still, you can’t help but feel just a little to relived to hear his voice. You just might make it through the night. “Bruce Wayne speaking.”

“Holy shit, man, we’re about to be rich,” one of the other men whispers to his cohort, who nods in agreement.

“We have your son, Wayne,” the man says with an air of confidence. “Do as we say and you—“

“No, you don’t,” Bruce says, cutting off the man.

“What,” the leader says, the wind obviously taken out of his sails.

“No, you don’t,” Bruce repeats.

“Fuck you mean,’ he shouts. “I’m looking at him right now! Don’t you know you’re missing a brat right now?”

“All my kids are right here with me and I’m none of them are missing,” Bruce says in a matter-of-fact tone that makes your heart stop.

“Did you really think we wouldn’t notice if someone was missing” Dick chimes in.

“Man, you’re fuckin’ stupid,” Jason mocks.

“You’re not the first to fake holding a Wayne for ransom,” Tim explains. “It hasn’t worked before and it won’t work now.”

“If you lowlifes put as much effort into finding a job as you did trying to steal money, you’d be rich,” Damian taunts.

“Wow, you’re a loser,” Cass laughs. “Don’t you have anything better to do with your life? Why don’t you get out of your mom’s basement and go outside to touch grass and maybe talk to a girl.”

They all laugh at that and you can feel your heart just collapse in on itself. Right now, you have a better chance of sprouting wings and flying out of here than this man letting you go after being insulted by every member of the Wayne Family. And based on the fact that his face is as red as a beat, this definitely won’t be for you.

“As you can see, all my children are home, where they should be. I don’t know how much you hoped to get out of this, but you aren’t seeing a dime.”

And with that, the call ends and so does your chances of leaving here in one piece. You always thought that your existence was a complete unknown to them, but to actually see something that proves it? You can’t help but begin to cry, both at how the call went and for the world of hurt you’re no doubt about to experience with your captors.

“Bet you thought that was funny,” the man says as he slowly flips the phone shut, indicating that he’s pissed off beyond words.

You decide that Alfred is the one you should’ve had him call, but before you correct your mistake, you’re filled with pain as he strikes you on the head with the pipe. He hits you again and the force sends the chair tumbling to the floor, but that doesn’t matter to the man; he’s pissed and all he cares for now is hurting you. He’s spouting off insults and threats, but all you can focus on is the immense pain you’re in. He never hits in the same place twice, spreading the pain to your head, arms, torso, and legs. You feel your skin tear, bones break, and blood shed and the pleas you’d been shouting since he began his assault finally die, opting for crying and sounds of pain.

By the time he’s finished, you’re in so much pain, you can barely think. All you want to do is die.

“Hey, look what I found in his bag.” You look up through swollen and blood filled eyes to see one of the other men is holding up your Momma’s pen. “Looks like real gold. Might be worth something.”

After the pen incident three years ago, you’ve lived in constant fear that Damian would take you pen in an act of revenge, so you’ve kept the pen on you at all times, even keeping it under your pillow as you slept, only taking it out when you were in the safety of your room. Up until now, it’s kept your most treasured possession safe, but it looks like it’s about to cost you dearly.

“At least it’s something. Anything else?”

“Naw,” the man responds as he rummages through your bag. “Just the regular school shit, a wallet with a few bucks in it, and…” He pauses before pulling out the box Mr. Chen gave you and opens it. “Holy shit, looks like an old Game Boy! And there’s a bunch of games with it!”

“Is it worth much?”

“Might be able to get something for it. A bunch of collectors out there looking for shit like this. Couldn’t hurt to check around.”

“Haven’t seen one of those in years,” the last man chimes in. “Had one when I was a kid. Someone stole it, though. Hey, if we can’t get much of it, can I keep it?”

“Not now, Butch,” the leader growls. “Batman’s busy dealing with that clown bustin’ outta Arkham and all we got out of this is a lousy pen and a stupid video game.” He looks down at you. “Since you didn’t give us a name to ransom you off to, guess no one’ll care if you go missing.”

He picks his gun up and aims it at you. You feel your heart skip a beat at the sight of staring down the barrel of a gun aimed at you.

“No, please,” you beg, struggling to spit out the words as you’re so badly hurt, it’s a miracle you’re able to talk at all, but right now, all that matters is that you do what ever it takes to survive this.

“What’re we gonna do with the body,” one of the men asks.

“There’s the chasm near Mt. Gotham,” the one called Butch says. “That thing goes down for miles. We dump him in there and not even Batman’ll find him.”

Is this how it ends? After everything you’ve gone through, you die from being shot by three thugs in the forest and you’re thrown in a big ditch like a trash bag when you’re so close to leaving this damn city behind. You try to open your mouth to say something, anything that will at least buy you a few more minutes, but whatever you wanted to say is drowned out by the flash of a muzzle and the bang of a gunshot.

Your world goes to black.

A/N: Sorry, we were a little under for on cliffhanger quota, so we had to up production. The original plan was to split this chapter into two, with the kidnapping at the end of the first and the shooting at the end of the second, but with October upon us, I think things are going to get really crazy for me this semester, so I decide to be merciful (this time) and make one big chapter that only has one cliffhanger. Enjoy the wait for the next chapter! Also, if you asked to be added to the tag list and don’t see your name, I promise it’s not because I didn’t do it on purpose, but because when I went to tag you, Tumblr didn’t find your blog. I always check twice before uploading a new chapter to ensure everyone who asked to be tagged has been added.

Tag List: @space1crow @bat1212 @minkyungseokie @solelifauna @nosyrobin @bunbunboysworld @kitty-from-daaaa-voidddd @feral-childs-word @l0serl0v3r @phoenixgurl030 @soriansick

#male reader #yandere damian wayne #yandere dick grayson #yandere dc #dc x male reader #yandere tim drake #yandere stephanie brown #yandere alfred pennyworth #yandere cassandra cain #yandere bruce wayne #yandere batfam #yandere jason todd #yandere batfamily #yandere barbara gordon #batfamily x male reader #batfamily #batman #from gold to mold

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myfictionaldreams · 1 year ago

Text

Accidents Happen // Mafia!Stucky x Fem!Reader

Summary: You were visiting a friend when you were accidentally hit in the face, leaving behind a cut across your cheekbone. How will Steve and Bucky react when they see their girl injured?

Requested by: @theatrelove3000 (thank you so much for the message! I hope your eye is doing better and I hope you enjoy this fic)

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, fluff, angst, hurt/comfort, hints of winter solider, minor injuries/reader is injured, protectiveness, possessive behaviour, anxiety, pool sex, butt plugs, anal/vaginal sex, double penetration, handjob, multiple orgasms, sir kink, praise kink, size kink, bucky needs a hug, mentions of murder, not beta read

Words: 6.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Making friends whilst being in close connection with the mafia was both easy and difficult. Easy because you meet hundreds of new people every month and difficult because many of them were dangerous and untrustworthy. On the rare occasion, a friendship would be created and even though you were busy nearly every day for the gang, you still attempted to spend time with them.

Especially on special days such as your best friend’s baby's birthday. You’d met Laura Barton through her husband Clint, whom you’d met through Natasha. The two of you instantly bonded over having partners in dangerous jobs and if you ever needed a break, she’d always welcome you to her home with a hot drink ready and the kids running rampant which was a great distraction.

Today, it was her youngest, Nate’s 2nd birthday so you’d spent the afternoon celebrating with cakes and toys with the family. By early evening, you were the only one remaining, finally having time to cuddle with the toddler who was playing with the plastic toy train that you’d bought him as a present.

“What time are you and the boys leaving for the hotel?” Laura asked in between bites of vanilla cake.

Your head flew back to avoid the wild swing of Nate’s tiny arm as he continued to play with the toy, making little noises with his mouth that made you smile. “Um, I think around 7, it’ll only take us half an hour to drive there but I can’t wait! Even though we are going for work, the hotel is stunning, and of course, Steve had to buy the best room, I think we’ve even got our own private pool”.

Laura’s eyebrows raised, letting out a low whistle, “They really do live a life of luxury. If they ever want to treat Clint and me to a weekend away any time soon I’d be forever in their debt”.

You laughed at your friend, “I’ll see what I can do”. Turning to look at Nate and poking the tip of his nose, “Do you think mommy deserves a trip away?” As you asked, you made the grave mistake of not watching his arm and there's one thing about toddlers, it was that they were surprisingly strong as he swung the train toy and accidentally smacked you in the face with it. “Oof, ok I’m taking that as a no”.

“Shit! Are you ok? Nate be careful”, Laura chastised to her son as she took him into her arms.

“It’s ok, he didn’t mean it, I’m fine”.

“You aren’t fine, you’re bleeding!” Laura was looking at you with wide eyes.

You were still slightly in shock, trying to remain calm to not scare Nate but you couldn’t deny it, your face was throbbing. Excusing yourself, you rushed to the bathroom and glanced into the mirror. “Shit, the boys are going to go crazy”. The toddler had managed to hit you right underneath your eye, the sharp corner had cut the skin and the surrounding area was already swelling and felt tender. Sighing to yourself, you cleaned the bleeding cut, thankfully it wasn’t deep enough for stitches and the bleeding had stopped already but with the location, you knew you’d probably end up with a black eye over the next day or so.

After you finished cleaning up, you spent a couple of minutes contemplating what the fuck you were going to say to Steve and Bucky. There wasn’t any way you’d be able to hide it with makeup and there wasn’t anything they hated more than seeing you hurt and you knew an overreaction was coming your way. Should you call them or tell them in person? At least in person, you could stop them from running off on a vengeance before you could even explain what had happened so decided you’d wait to tell them.

Leaving the bathroom, you found Laura waiting anxiously with the kids all playing in another room. She took one look at your face before mumbling, “Shit. Does this make me number one on the Rogers mafia hit list?” she joked but you knew she was also slightly serious.

Walking closer to your friend, you took her hands and grinned, even though the action hurt your cheek. “Not it doesn’t, it’s absolutely fine, the boys love Nate they’ll forgive him for anything. I should probably go through, face the music now rather than waiting around”.

You called Sam to pick you up and he text you once outside. Giving Laura and the kids a big hug, you reassured her once more that everything would be ok before leaving her house and walking down the path to the parked SUV with Sam in the driving seat. As you saw him, you waved happily, trying to appear as at ease as possible to keep the tension calm.

However, the moment you were close enough for him to notice the injury to your face, his smile dropped, eyebrows frowning as he hastily got out of the car, rushing to you. “Sam it’s fine-”.

“Who did this to you?” he asked urgently, hands cupping your jaw and tilting your face so he could examine your cut closely. Sam’s face was contorted into anger, something rarely displayed by your bodyguard and friend as he usually likes to be sarcastic and funny when around you.

Lifting your hands, you held onto his wrists, trying to pull him away but he held strong having not finished checking your injury. “Nate accidentally hit me with his toy train… A TODDLER hit me Sam so please relax”.

Thankfully he did. The tension in his shoulders eased as well as the frown on his face. Eyes still flicking across the cut, he instructed, “Tell me when it starts to hurt”. Carefully, he pressed his fingers across your face, inching towards the wound and you informed it where it began to be tender, so he knew just had big the injury was and how bruised it was beneath the swelling. It took a couple of minutes before he seemed somewhat at ease about the injury, finally looking away from the injury to look at the rest of your face before the corner of his lip turned up, “so a baby hurt you this much, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, gently pushing against his shoulder, “Yes! He’s stronger than he looks and yes, I am very embarrassed so please never bring it up again”.

Sam laughed as well, placing his arm over your shoulder and turning the two of you back towards the car. “Oh, you know I’m going to bring it up at any opportunity right?”

Rolling your eyes, you climbed into the car, pulling your seatbelt across your front as he did the same in the driver’s seat. “I could just have Steve or Bucky demand you to never bring it up again”, you suggested unseriously.

Sam’s smile faltered as he began to drive the two of you to the office, “I’m assuming you’ve not told either of them yet? Feel like we need to call everyone in to try and keep them both calm, they’re going to go apeshit when they see you”.

Sighing heavily, you had to refrain from wiping your face. “I thought about calling them but I know they wouldn't listen to me after I’ve told them about it so decided it was better to tell them in person. I just hope that it doesn’t ruin our trip away, I mean, maybe they’ll be calm because it was a baby, there will be no need to go on a vengeance tour of Brooklyn”.

Sam looked towards you with an awkward smile and that’s all you needed to see to know that was most likely not going to happen today.

Arriving at the warehouse, you tried to ignore the glances from other gang members when they noticed the cut to your face, a tension quickly building in the atmosphere which only meant your anxiety increased. You tried to smile at everyone to ease the nerves but it didn’t seem to work. It was only as you and Sam walked into the elevator and it was just the two of you did you release a deep, aggravated groan.

“I’m screwed aren’t I”, you say, glancing at Sam as he rolled up his sleeves like he was preparing for a fight.

“You aren’t screwed, I think you’re the only one who is actually safe”, he reminded you as the doors opened to the corridor to Steve’s office. The two of you walked at a slow pace, your head hanging low so that you didn’t see Steve and Bucky’s bodyguard waiting outside of the closed office door.

“Who died?” Natasha joked, seeing the solemn reaction from you both. Your head snapped up to her, about to reassure her that everything was fine but the words floated away as her grin instantly dropped at seeing your cheek. “What happened?” she asked in an authoritative tone, closing the gap with a single step, hands gripping your face much like Sam had.

Trying to keep your voice as steady and as calm as possible, you explained, “Little Nate decided the toy train had better use on my face than in the normal way”.

It took Natasha longer than usual to believe you, only accepting it as she glanced towards Sam who nodded his head and let go of your face. “Well… we’re all in for a long night then”, she joked but this time there was a hint of warning in her tone.

“Don’t say that, you should have seen what it was like downstairs”. You took a deep breath before continuing, “It’s going to be absolutely fine. I’m going to walk in there, explain to them that a toddler hit me in the face, let them have a little freakout and then we are all going to remain calm and continue with our trip away and it’s all going to be fine”. Niehter Sam or Natasha seemed convinced so you sighed once more, chewing on your bottom lip with nerves. Shaking your head, you rolled your shoulders to try and look as unbothered as possible, “I need to get this over and done with. If either of them leaves, could you follow them please and make sure they don’t do anything stupid”.

“We can try our best, boss lady”, Sam responded for the two of them, walking towards the office door and holding it open for you.

Taking a deep breath, you walked into Steve’s office, seeing both of them sitting at the large oak desk that was positioned in the centre of the room, laptops in front of them, face set with concentration. As your mouth opened to announce your arrival and quickly explain what had happened before they could freak, Steve’s eyes had already glanced away from his screen.

“What the fuck!” he growled, standing with such force his seat toppled over as he stormed towards you. “Who did this to you? What happened?” Steve was in front of you within half a second, his hands cupping your face, eyes full of a whirlwind of seething anger, worry and concern.

“Please don’t freak out, it’s absolutely fine, it was just an accident”, you managed to say as your face was turned in different directions by Steve as if the size of the cut would change but it remained the same. As Steve finished his inspection, Bucky was right there over his shoulder, eyes full of fury as he too checked the cut but then continued further past just your face.

“Accident or not, I’m fucking killing someone”, Bucky barked, lifting your arms and searching for any more injuries and it was only as he lifted the front of your shirt did you push his hands away and take a step back.

“Both of you just wait, please. Absolutely no killing is happening because it was done by a two-year-old” you emphasised, not sure if they were even listening as they crowded around you. Placing a hand on either of their chests, you tried not to concentrate on the pounding of both of their hearts beneath your palms as you explained. “I was sitting with Nate, he was playing with his toy train that he loves by the way. I happened to get too close and didn’t see him swinging the toy and it caught me across the face and let me tell you, that boy is strong!”

You grinned to show the humour, looking between Steve and Bucky, waiting for any sort of reaction from them. Both sets of ocean-blue eyes were flicking from your mouth to your injury and just as you were able to explain again to them, it was Steve who moved first by cupping your jaw with his hand, this time it felt more comforting rather than him assessing you.

“Right let me just make sure I’m understanding this, Nate hit you in the face with the toy that you bought him and caused this much damage?”, he tilted your chin as he finished his sentence to show off your injury more.

“Yes that is exactly what happened. You can check with Sam if you want. Nate is a lot stronger than you’d expect someone so small to be”.

Steve nodded whilst taking a deep breath to try and calm himself down but his heart was still pounding under your hand. Leaning down, he kissed your forehead, showing his understanding of the situation. “How does it feel? Does it hurt?” he questioned, his blonde eyebrows furrowing in concentration.

“It feels tender and bruised but only when I touch it and I can see the swelling out of the corner of my eye but otherwise it’s fine. I’ve had worse that’s for sure”, you tried to once again defuse the tension with a little joke but all it caused was Bucky’s jaw to tighten.

Steve noticed too and suggested, “Why don’t you go and wait by the car baby, we just need to wrap up everything here and we can start heading to the hotel

It was a simple idea but put you on edge with worry as Bucky had yet to say anything or snap out of the protective trance. Instead of arguing with Steve, you nodded, knowing that Steve could handle Bucky when he was like this and it was best to leave the two of them to it.

Stepping out of the office, you released a long heavy breath, now facing Natasha and Sam who were waiting in a stance like they were ready to tackle someone but relaxed seeing that it was you. Glancing over your shoulder, they were surprised when no one else followed after you. “Everything ok, Sugar?” Natasha questioned uncertainly.

“I’m not entirely sure. I think Steve’s ok but Bucky… he didn’t say a word to me. I think they’re having a talk so I’ve been sent to the car like a naughty child”. Sam chuckled, finally stepping forward and holding his elbow out for you to take.

“Well let then me escort you to the car m’lady”, he mocked and managed to pull a smile to your lips as you accepted.

It took nearly 45 minutes for them to finish whatever talk that needed to happen, and you’d hoped that Bucky would rush to the car but it was quite the opposite. He inclined for Sam to get out of the car and they spoke out of sight.

Sam wouldn’t be coming with you to the hotel, it was just supposed to be you and the boys so you waved to him in farewell as he climbed out of the car. Steve then slide in next to you, closing the gap in the middle so his body brushed against yours as you blinked up at him with a worried expression. Once again, his hand slide along your jaw as he kissed your temple. “You know I hate seeing you hurt”, he admitted against your skin before pulling back and looking at you with an apologetic gaze.

“I understand that, but that doesn’t mean you have to shut me out”, you countered, lifting your hand to stroke along his stubbled cheek.

“It doesn’t”, he contemplates. “But, I also don’t want you to see me in this state, the things going through my mind when I saw your face, I was just about ready to kill everyone in this building to find out what happened. No one hurts what’s mine”.

Your heart was thumping hard in your chest at his passionate declaration. “Yes, but that doesn’t mean you have to push me away. I know you don’t want to see me hurt but accidents happen and if there was something wrong, you know I would call you immediately”.

Steve’s eyes softened, “Yes I know that now but, it doesn’t stop the panic that I feel when I see you’re hurt”.

Shifting even closer so that you could kiss his cheek, you continued, “I’m sorry for scaring you, it’s hard to tell you when these things happen, I don’t know whether I should call to prewarn or wait to see you in person”.

Steve’s lips lowered to yours, giving you a quick kiss to your lips, “We’ll figure it out”.

“What about Bucky?” you asked nervously.

“Buck might need a little more time, he’s still struggling to process his emotions”.

This did little to ease your anxiety, especially as the said man got into the driver's seat and didn’t say a single word to you, only glancing at you from the rearview mirror for a moment before beginning the drive to the hotel.

Steve easily managed to fill the silence with natural conversations which did little to distract you from the nerves of Bucky not talking. Even when the three of you arrived at the hotel and were shown to the penthouse where you’d be staying, Bucky didn’t say a word. After a quick tour of the breathtakingly beautiful surroundings which included a kitchen, living room area and pool that overlooked the city, you decided to go and freshen up.

After returning in a flowing dress that felt more comfortable than the jeans and shirt, you looked for the boys but only found Steve who was leaning against the kitchen island, staring at a spot in deep thought. “Steve?” this snapped him out of his trance as he instantly looked at you, standing to his full height. “Where’s Bucky?” you continued to look around but didn’t see him and by the look on Steve’s face, you knew you wouldn’t find him. “Where is he?”

“He said he needed a moment so has gone to the bar a few floors below”. Your shoulders dropped hearing this, feeling awful that he was struggling so much. “He’ll be ok sweetheart, he just has his own demons that he’s trying to fight with at the moment, you know the sort of headspace he gets into when you’re hurt”.

“I know but I haven’t seen him like this for a while, I guess I thought that side of him was over”. Sometimes when Bucky was overtly stressed with work, or needed to protect someone, particularly with regards to work, it was almost like his mind would shut down and someone else would take over. It was hard for him to deal with especially as he tended to get his emotions out violently when like this but as he hasn’t had an outlet today, he felt the need to separate himself from everyone. You knew he would never hurt you, even when he was like this so you asked Steve, “What floor is the bar on?”

Steve walked down with you and you both found him sitting on a stool in front of the bar with a very large glass of dark liquor on the bar in front of him. Steve decided to stay back and let you talk to him considering his talk earlier seemed to have done nothing to help him but reassured if you needed anything just nod.

As you walked towards Bucky, you thought about what you were going to say but your mind seemed to be completely empty of thoughts as you were so anxious you felt nauseous. Stepping next to him, he made no move to look in your direction or acknowledge your arrival and continued to stare forward. Every single muscle in his body was tense, eyes blazing with a look that you hadn’t seen in eyes like he was figuring out a way to murder everybody in the room. Your eyes flicked over his face, noting his jaw was so tense it looked like it was going to break. Unsure whether to touch him or not when he was like this, you said the only words that sprung to mind: “I miss you”.

Bucky’s entire body shifted, all of the tension seemingly melting away like a reset button had been pressed, as his eyes softened their glare as he flicked them to finally look at you. Seeing the change in him and drawing his attention, you reached across him to grip his metal hand, lifting it up to your face and reeling in the recognisable coolness of the metal against your uninjured cheek.

Turning to kiss the metal palm, you repeated, “I miss you Bucky”. There was even further relief when the pad of his thumb stroked across your cheekbone. Your boyfriend doesn't say a word, he didn’t need to as he stood from the stool, towering over you as he wrapped both of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his chest, his face nuzzling into your neck, taking a deep breath against your skin which seemed to also calm him further.

You hugged him back just as fiercely, eyes squeezing tight as you clung to the back of his shirt, probably crinkling the expensive material but neither of you cared. After a couple of minutes, he finally began to pull back enough that your arms could wind around his neck, pulling him down so you could kiss him passionately, ignoring the ache in your injured cheek from the movement.

His hands clenched around your waist at the kiss until you pulled back but that was only so you could kiss his cheek repeatedly whilst whispering, “I’m so sorry I’ve scared you Bucky, everythings ok I promise but I need you to be here with me and Steve”.

Bucky didn’t say anything at first, his only response was a nod as his body continued to try and calm down from its heightened alertness. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity he said with as much passion as possible, “I’m sorry, I love you”.

“I know, it’s ok, I love you too Bucky, now let's go back upstairs and relax for the evening, ok?” he nodded his head in agreement, his hand clasped around yours as you pulled him towards Steve who smiled at the two of you.

In the elevator up to your floor, Steve turned to Bucky and placed a tender hand on the back of his head, pulling him roughly into his side, “It’ll be alright Buck”, he spoke tenderly into his ear before kissing him on the side of his head. The sight had your chest warming at the intimate show of support from the mafia leader but your thoughts didn’t dwell as the elevator dinged to indicate arrival to the penthouse.

The three of you opened a bottle of champagne and watched the sunset over the city before you decided that it was time for the pool and needed a moment to get ready. As you stood in the bathroom, you decided to continue with the plan that you’d had since you knew you were coming here. Of course, when travelling anywhere, especially somewhere this beautiful, you would want to be intimate with them both and you were hoping to take them both at the same time. So, you had decided to prep yourself a little bit with the use of your favourite butt plug and then when the three of you were ready, they could simply take it out and save the time of prepping.

It took a few minutes to work inside of you but you were happy to see the jewel gleaming from within your arse cheeks and then continued to dress into your swimsuit. You looked somewhat ridiculous with the stunning swimsuit and swollen cut to the face but it would have to do as you finally exited the bathroom.

Bucky turned to you first, hearing your footsteps as you approached the edge of the water but it was his raised eyebrow and deadpan expression that had you faltering. “What?” you asked, looking down at yourself and wondering what was out of place.

“Doll, seriously? We have our own private pool and you still think to change into a swimsuit?” Your cheeks warmed at the realisation that both Steve and Bucky were completely nude in the water and with a small smile, began to remove your own swimsuit which captivated Steve and Bucky’s attention, especially as you revealed your breasts.

As the material gathered at your waist, you turned on the spot so they were looking at your back, you bent forward to fully remove the outfit but it also gave them the perfect view of your arse with the butt plug on display.

“Fuck”, Steve cursed under his breath as he moved towards the stairs just as you began to walk over, holding out his hand for you to take and carefully descend into the water, being careful not to splash your face too much in the process. The water was the perfect warm temperature and it felt so relaxing to be almost weightless as Steve pulled you easily through the water you couldn’t reach the floor like he could, until you were near the edge, looking out over the city with Bucky on the other side of you.

The three of you huddled close together, your arms holding onto the edge of the pool, enjoying the ambience and serene moment of blissful quiet. However, Bucky couldn’t keep himself restrained for long as his hours of not seeing or touching you were beginning to get to him. Sliding behind you, his arms crowding you closer to the pool edge, his lips kissed delicately below your ear, moving south down your neck and to your shoulder. You tilted your head to the side to give him more room, releasing a soft breath at the tingling sensations his lips were causing, especially as his stubble brushed against your skin.

“You’re so beautiful”, Steve admired from beside you, his words making your cheeks flush with warmth at the compliment.

“Even with a black eye”, Bucky joked from where he was kissing the top of your back. You let out a shocked laugh, attempting to elbow him in the ribs but he easily held your arm away as he chuckled. The noise and joke were welcomed from him though to know he had calmed down enough from the initial shock of seeing you injured. “Could I make one request for tonight?” Bucky enquired, returning to kiss the pulse point on your neck.

“Yes?” you asked, already sounding a little breathless as you lazily moved your legs through the water, still holding your weight up by holding onto the edge.

“Don’t hold your noises in tonight, even though we are outside, I want this whole damn city to hear you”, Bucky grunted as he thrust his hips against your lower back, making you feel his considerably hard cock. Once again, your body warmed thoroughly at the thought of those a few floors below potentially hearing through their open windows but that also turned you on, knowing people could hear how much your boyfriends were making you feel good.

Nodding your head in answer, Bucky’s hands began to graze over your stomach under the water, stroking near your hip where you had a particularly sensitive spot that had you shivering and leaning further into him.

Steve’s hand cradled your chin, turning your face towards him where he began to kiss you desperately, his tongue immediately teasing the seam of your mouth to gain access that you granted instantly. You moaned as his warm muscle twisted with yours, loving the dominance of the kiss as he easily stood over you in the pool with his tall stature.

Bucky’s metal fingers then began to do their own exploration as they travelled between your legs, first stroking over your pussy lips, giving you a little warning for his next movement before he pressed more firmly until he was rubbing your clit. He moved in slow circles, and your hips jerked at the action, more moans rumbling from the back of your throat and into Steve’s mouth.

The blonde man pulled back first, breathing heavily as he instructed, “What I want you to do is take Bucky and after you cum, we’re going to fuck you at the same time, understand?”

“Yes, sir”, you automatically responded, your arousal aching in your core.

“Good girl”, Bucky praised as he shifted his position but continued to play with your clit as he moved. His lower half moved further beneath you so your body was moved a little out of the water, revealing your breasts to the cool air as you balanced on his body. The tip of his cock nudged against his fingers at the apex of your thighs, and with a flick of his hips, it moved to your hole. Even though you were in the water, he still took his time, being careful to not move too quickly as he stretched your cunt. Each inch that moved in had you gasping and moaning, grabbing tightly onto Steve’s arm that shot out to support your body from toppling forward. “That’s it, you’re taking me so well, Doll”, Bucky continued to encourage you as soon his hips were flush against yours which meant that he subtly pressed against the plug in your arse which only added to the heightened pleasure.

“Feels so good Bucky”, you say, closing your eyes for a moment to try and savour the feelings but then they snapped open as Steve began to squeeze your nipples. Your back arched into the touch, loving the twists and pulls he was doing to them that sent shivers straight to your centre which only meant that you kept clenching around Bucky.

After what felt like an eternity, Bucky finally began to move, slowing his fingers at your clit to match the pace of his thrusting. Each snap of his hips would cause the plug to be pushed and even his cock within your pussy was brushing against it, you already felt so full and you only had one cock in you. The motions increased as Bucky nuzzled into the back of your neck, the water surrounding the three of you splashing over the edge.

As you got used to the position and pleasure that was being pounded throughout your body, you felt aware enough to reach into the water and grip Steve’s throbbing shaft. It floated in the water and you could feel it bob at your touch as well as Steve’s very audible gasp. He always did love it when you pleasured him so even though Bucky’s cock and fingers were very distracting, you attempted to try and also make Steve feel as good as you felt.

“Fuck, I love the feeling of your hands on me baby”, Steve grunted, thrusting into your palm as you squeezed harder, moving up and down the shaft in time with Bucky’s cock. Steve’s eyes closed, head tipping back as he fell into the pleasure, but his hands never stopped with both supporting your upper half and squeezing your breasts whilst tweaking the nipples.

Bucky moved faster now, feeling your pussy clenching harder around him, his fingers swiping back and forth in firm motions. You didn’t even need to tell him that you were going to cum, from the feeling around his cock and the sweet moans escaping your mouth, he knew you were close. He fucked you harder which meant your hand moved faster up Steve’s shaft.

“Oh-God, yes!”, you chanted, eyes closed as you squeezed Steve’s cock hard as the pleasure took over you, Bucky not stopping his thrusts as you came, extending the length of your orgasm as he continued. All until Steve quickly cursed and grabbed your wrists, pulling your hands away from him did your pussy stop fluttering as you looked at him in worry. “Did I hurt you?” you asked, realising that you were probably squeezing too hard.

Steve chuckled, a light pink shade tinging his cheeks as he shook his head, “No baby, you were going to make me cum if you carried on like that”.

“Oh”, was all you managed to say as you felt proud of yourself for making him nearly cum so quickly.

Bucky laughed under his breath at your reaction, kissing the back of your head before easing his cock out and wrapping his arm around your waist so he could move you further away from the wall, giving Steve room to move in front of you. Both of your hands moved to his muscular shoulders, holding on as Steve pulled both of your legs around his waist, the waterline now at your navel.

Bucky's warm hand massaged one of your arse cheeks as he instructed, “Relax for me, Sweetheart”. You made sure to ease all of your muscles down as he gripped onto the butt plug and began to slowly pull it out. You gasped loudly at the feeling of your hole stretching around the toy before relief as it moved past the thickest part.

Bucky dropped the plug, declaring that he’d retrieve it from the bottom of the pool later and began lining up his cock at your asshole. You mewled into Steve’s shoulder as you felt the thick tip breaching your hole, the stretch was just as intense as the other hole but he moved slower this time, making sure not to hurt you.

“You’re so tight, shit”, Bucky groaned as you took his length, his hands flexing against your hips as you tried to adjust to him. After a long moment, you nodded your head against Steve and felt him moving his hips, the tip of his cock now penetrating your cunt, slowly but from the fucking by Bucky, it didn’t take you as long to adjust.

As they both were fully inserted into your holes, you let out a desperate moan, feeling so full it was nearly overwhelming. Your thighs were shaking in Steve’s grip around his waist and you wanted to speak to tell them how good it felt but your tongue felt heavy in your mouth so you told them through moans and mewling noises.

Steve moved first, pulling out a few inches before moving back in. Then Bucky copied his action. Both of your boyfriends fucked you, their thick cocks stroking against every single nerve and with the way your legs were wide and spread to be wrapped around Steve, your clit was brushing against his abdomen.

Your head dropped back against Bucky’s shoulder and you had to refrain from hissing as you accidentally brushed the injury of your face against his stubble. However, with the overwhelming pleasure that was being fucked into you, you didn’t vocalise the momentary discomfort and simply turned your face away so it didn’t happen again.

With how much you were being stimulated, it didn’t take you long to orgasm again, your body tightening like a coil around both of their cocks as waves of pleasure pulsed through you.

Bucky let out a deep groan and that was your only warning as he came suddenly, the feeling of your tight ass around his cock was too much for him and he was already so pent up from the day that he couldn’t hold it back anymore. His balls emptied everything within them into your ass, his teeth biting into the junction between your neck and shoulder as he grunted your name over and over until there was no more cum within his body.

You shivered as he pulled out, wishing you had a camera under the water to see the cum seeping out and clouding the water slightly. Bucky’s hands moved to under your thighs, taking them out of Steve’s grip as he took your weight instead so that Steve could fuck you without any restraint.

With your eyes half-lidded, you watched as Steve leaned forward, one hand on your waist and the other on Bucky’s shoulder, using the two of you to help ground him as he continued to fuck your pussy. With the more sturdy position, he was able to fuck you as hard as he could with the water adding some restraint so that he didn’t hurt you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders, leaving little crescent-shaped dents in the skin but he enjoyed the sparks of pain that came with it. “I want you to orgasm one more time for me baby, I know you can do it”.

You shouted out in pleasure at his words, hearing the desperation in his tone so you knew he was holding back from cumming because he wanted you to do it one more time. Steve fucked you, hard and fast, water splashing everywhere as Bucky continued to hold onto you tightly.

It didn’t take you long to cum again, especially as Steve dipped his head and began to suck on each of your sensitive nipples. By the time your pussy stopped pulsing around him and you were becoming entirely too overstimulated, Steve finally shouted and stilled his thrusting, his cock throbbing with each spurt of his cum as he filled you up.

The three of you took a couple of minutes to catch your breath and stretch your muscles from being in the squished position. “At least we’re in the water, don’t have as much of a clean up”, you joked as the cum mixed with the pool water. Bucky laughed before ducking into the water and returning with your butt plug.

“For you, hot mama”, he handed over the toy and kissed your cheek before helping you over to the stairs but swiftly picked you up with a steady hand at your back and under your knees. “Please tell me you two are hungry, once we’ve finished drying up, I’m ordering some room service”.

You groaned in a different sort of need from only a few minutes ago, your arms wrapping around his neck, “yes please, I’m starving after all of this activity!”

#mafia au #mafia stucky #stucky x reader #stucky smut #steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers smut #bucky #bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky smut #marvel one shot #marvel smut #mine*

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keytomind · 4 months ago

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The right woman isn’t going to pick an argument with you for game or sport. She has had her fill of that bullshit and she is tired of it. If she picks an argument with you, it’s because she wants to teach you something important. She wants you to grow as a person or she wants the two of you to grow as a power couple. The right woman isn’t here for a fight. She is here to love you.

The right woman doesn’t need a boy; she needs a man. She needs a man who is capable of elevating himself, a man who does not mind being corrected if it is going to make him a better person. She needs a man who points the finger at himself before he dares point it outward at anyone or anything else. She needs a man of confidence who will inspire her to do better for herself and her family. The right woman no longer has any patience for boys, except for her sons (and even that wears thin).

The right woman wants to suffocate and drown herself in your masculinity. It makes her feel warm, loved, safe, and protected. By providing her with your masculine energy, you are creating an environment that allows her to radiate her own feminine energy, which is something that every man truly needs. He needs her loving warmth in order to balance himself out and to become the best version of himself. His voice, his mind, and his body will all be able to relax from the wars that he fights every day. The right woman is not threatened by toxic masculinity as she understands that the only thing toxic about masculinity is the absence of it in a man.

The right woman does not hide behind her man. Although she often wants him to lead and to assert his masculine energy appropriately, she will fight alongside him like a warrior Queen. And even though he would rather she stayed out of harm’s way, she would even stand in front of him and take a bullet to protect him. She goes to battle next to him whenever necessary and she safeguards his darkest secrets under lock and key. The right woman does not run away; she plants her feet like roots and she weathers the storm right next to him.

The right woman does not make excuses. She knows that she is not perfect and that there is still much that she can learn. She possesses the raw emotional intelligence to know that she isn’t always correct. She loves for him to teach her new things without belittling her or making her feel unintelligent. She takes accountability when she is wrong and she does her best to take action whenever possible. She is a true Goddess to the world who craves to be soft and little in the arms of the deserving man. The right woman is a force to be reckoned with.

The right woman learns his love language without asking, although there is no shame in asking in order to learn better. She studies his every move - what does he like, what does he want, what does he need - what turns him on, what makes him happy, what does he hold close to his heart.. what does he fear… she wants to know every single detail so that she can love him correctly. And the right woman should only expect the same reciprocity for herself.

The right woman understands that we are a team and that he is not a punching bag. Men are conditioned to be protective and to be strong, but men also fall weak because the human body can only take so much abuse, and some of our greatest battles are fought in our minds. This is not a sign of a lack of strength but rather it is an indication that he must rest as he is exhausted from fighting certain battles alone. While he would rather she did not engage in certain battles, he needs help dressing his wounds, protecting his body, and relaxing his mind so that he can safely remove his armor. The right woman will spring to action without having to be asked as nurturing him to health is her greatest reward.

The right woman doesn’t need to fight other women if they show you favorable attention. She knows to handle such battles with grace and she does not need to clench her fists. She instead will walk right into view, grab you by your tie, kiss you like it might be your last night on earth, and cling to you like a lifeboat while making eye contact with her newfound enemy, letting her know who won the battle without firing a single shot. Again, the right woman is a masterful Goddess who claims her territory appropriately.

The right woman comes in many different forms. She varies in shape, size, color, beauty, attitude, and much more. She will have her heart broken, probably more than once, by a man who did not value her for looking differently on the exterior. This will wound her temporarily, but in time, the right woman rises from her ashes and she learns her worth. If another man doesn’t value her for any such reasons, then she dodged a bullet because, ladies, I fucking promise you that there is a man out there, perhaps many men, who adore you exactly the way you are. If you aren’t his cup of tea, so be it, and if he doesn’t want you for you, the right woman knows when to say “fuck em”.

The right woman deserves absolutely nothing less than the right man, for without the right woman, that man is nobody and nothing. She makes him whole. She gives him great purpose. She gives him life and energy that had evaded him for years before they met each other. He would die for her as she would die for him, and it will be hell when the day comes that they are forced to live without each other. She may bless him with a family one day, but if not, they will make their home warm and full of the love that they both need to enjoy their time spent here in this life.

The right woman is absolutely fucking priceless. Fight for her and, when you do, the right woman will fight for you.

#the right woman #my post #my writing #tumblr rant #spilled ink #me

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3hks · 9 months ago

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How to Get Better at Writing Without Actually Writing

Are you looking to improve your writing without needing to write? I'll admit, I am definitely that kind of person--I have the hardest time even finding something interesting to write--despite that, I have noticed that my writing has vastly improved over the past year or two when it was hardly a hobby, and here's how I did it!

ANALYZE DIFFERENT WORKS

Yes yes, everyone tells you to READ, READ, and READ, even I will agree. However, unlike what some people tell you, you don't actually have to read all those classics like Heart of Darkness or The Hobbit. Of course, those books are very beneficial, but if you find no interest in those types of books (like me), then don't read them!

If you prefer reading casual stories posted by online authors, whether it be a fanfiction or their own, original story, it still qualifies as reading! As long as you are able to find a work that you particularly enjoy, that's all you need!

When reading, the key to improving at writing is to always study the story. Take a moment to look at certain words or phrases that stick out to you. How does the author use them? What do they mean? Keep track of the characters' development and how it affects them. Additionally, note things like powerful scenes, dialogue, and more to have an idea of how you can create something just as impactful. For example, if a text made you cry, think about how and why you reacted like that. This can actually help you re-create events that hold the same effectiveness, if not more!

To add on, if you really dislike reading just that much, then you can always analyze things like shows, movies, etc. However, this will prove to be less efficient because you often don't get access to the text behind the shows. Still, it's a good way to study the plot, characters, character developments, dialogue, and relationships!

2. PROOFREADING

No, I'm not saying that you should be an editor; this actually ties back to my first tip. Remember how I said that if you don't want to read classics, then don't? Well, this is because forcing yourself to read them is completely unnecessary (unless you like them or want to write like the author, of course). As a matter of fact, reading poorly written stories can be very helpful for improvement!

When we read books or novels that have obvious grammar errors, repetitive words, and choppy sentences, we will realize these mistakes and point them out to ourselves. Being able to scout out faults means that we are able to learn from them and grow! Noticing these things will also help prevent you from making the same or similar mistakes!

3. STUDY TIPS ONLINE

I used to go search up websites on Google whenever I wanted help with a certain topic. Of course, not all of the sites are reliable and/or helpful, but some point out good ideas that a couple of us just need! This can be especially useful regarding the things that we are unfamiliar with when writing. They can offer a base foundation and tips on how to start and finish!

They can also serve as a great inspiration for fresh ideas and new perspectives!

Yes, these three tips are pretty simple; however, I have found that they work very well for me! People vary from person-to-person, so it can't be guaranteed the same effect, but this is the best I got! HAPPY VALENTINES DAY! <3

Happy writing~

3hks :)

#writing #writeblr #writerscommunity #writing tips #creative writing #writing advice #improve at writing #improve at writing without writing #writers on tumblr #writer tips #get better at writing #get better at writing without writing

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samsno1 · 11 months ago

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Celebrating

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

hi, heres what i promised to the dean girls! i don't know what to say, this is long and i don't know if the smut is good enough, might edit later, also, dean in this red jacket is my favorite

Summary: It had been a while since you got some and at night of celebrating a successful hunt you expected to finally, after a long time, get laid

Warnings: SMUT, piv, unprotected sex (wrap it up), finger sucking, jealousy (? if you squint), oral f. recieving, fingering, dean is so in love ohmygod, english is not my first language, not proof read (if i forgot anything let me know)

Read it on AO3

WC: 4.7k

You can learn how to change Y/N for your actual name here

enjoy!

It was difficult for you to find anyone willing to spend the night with you in the current settings of your life, having to lie about what you do, who you are…Basically create a whole new personality just to be able to bring someone to your motel room. In that sense, it was frustrating, both sexually and mentally to be put in this scenery but, either way, saving lives was more important than getting laid, even if you were thoroughly stressed beyond comparison by your inability to find a guy (or girl).

You, Sam and Dean had gone to California for what you discovered, after great questioning and piles of research, was a simple salt ‘n burn of a poor ghost of a roadkill and was haunting that particular highway and crashing trucks of drivers who were mildly intoxicated behind the wheel.

After finding out where the bones were buried you went to the cemetery and started digging up the grave. Shovel after shovel of dirt fell behind you while you panted in exhaustion until you hit something hard at the bottom of the hole you dug up.

You harshly broke the wooden casket, revealing the remains of the ghost and a putrid smell hit your nose like everytime it happened when you had a salt ‘n burn. You scrunched up your nose and threw the shovel on the ground beside you, reaching with a hand towards Dean for him to help you get out of the hole.

“There it is.” You say proudly as you stare down at the decomposed body being covered with salt by Sam while Dean reaches for the alcohol in the bag and the lighter in his pocket.

You three watch as the bones light up in an orange fire, burning away what’s tying the poor soul to this world, the heat radiating in your skin. After some time you bump your shoulder with Dean’s, making him look at you.

“Let’s go, I need a shower so we can go out and celebrate” You say with a grin as you turn back to walk towards the Impala and Dean follows suit along with Sam, the fire slowly extinguishing itself behind you.

You opened the door to the backseat, the creaking of the hinges echoing through the night, getting inside and closing the door with a thud. Dean and Sam sat in their designed seats at the driver and shotgun, respectively, and you drove into the night towards the motel.

“I saw a bar not far from where we are staying” Dean said and you hummed and Sam nodded. “You two might have to come back alone, you know” He suggested with a smirk and Sam scrunched his nose and let out an amused huff and you chuckled dryly, a weird nausea bubbling in your stomach.

Deep down you wished Dean could see you the way he sees the bartenders and strippers in bars or clubs you three often go to. You didn’t know if he thought you were too rough, too scarred, both mentally and physically. You usually dressed up nice, using makeup from time to time when you noticed your eyebags were getting darker or when your lips looked too pale. You also tried your best with clothing, well, the best someone could do when you were a hunter. Either way, you never looked like those girls, they were absolutely stunning, even for you, and you couldn’t compete with them.

You shook your head. You were probably thinking these things because it had been some time since you last got laid. Tonight was your night, you were feeling it, you were taking someone to your room.

Dean turned the car off after parking and you got out, going to the trunk to get your bag.

“You guys meet me in my room? I’ll most likely take longer to get ready” You said with a grin and the boys nodded. You took out the keys to your room and got in, throwing your bag over your bed and going to another bag you had in your room, where you kept your “fancy” clothes and makeup.

You took out a beautiful black dress with long sleeves that ended in your mid thighs. It was a dress you thrifted when you went on a hunt alone a while ago and never had the opportunity to use it. When you tried it on, though, it hugged your curves in all the right places, made your body look amazing and you felt as confident as one could feel.

You left the dress over the bed and rushed to the bathroom to take a shower, smiling to yourself. You took your time, washed your hair thoroughly and finished it off in the usual way. In the hunting life you often get your hair very dirty almost everyday with blood, dirt, ectoplasm…you name it. So, keeping it lucious and healthy was a process that you grew fond of doing to recollect some of that normalcy that hunting didn’t give you.

You came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around your body and picked up an underwear set that was, well, sensual to say the least and dropped the towel to the ground to put it on, the dress going over it, careful not to mess up your hair in the process.

You looked at yourself in the mirror and whistled in surprise at your own appearance, you looked good. Time for makeup.

You didn’t do much, a simple concealer, contour and blush with mascara and a smokey eye was enough to drop any man to the ground.

You decided to put shoes on because, first, if you really had to walk back, heels weren’t helpful, second, you didn’t have your heels with you at the moment.

While you were finishing up you heard a knock on your door. You opened it and there they were, Sam and Dean, practically on the same looks, just cleaner, waiting for you.

They both eyed you up and down, drinking your appearance in, Dean dropping his jaw slightly as he stared at your exposed thighs. Sam let out an impressed sigh and cleared his throat.

“Wow Y/N you look…amazing” He said and you smiled, looking down, feeling a tad bit embarrassed.

“Yeah…” Dean agrees, half on earth, half in his head trying to get rid of the thoughts of those beautiful legs wrapped around his neck while his nose deep into your–

“Well, thank you, I hope it isn’t too much.” You said.

“No, n–no, ha, it’s not, at all,” Dean said to quickly, finally grasping the courage to look into your eyes, the beautiful colors drowning him and your shy smile making him want to smash his lips to yours that moment. He cleared his throat. “Shall we go?” He offered.

“Yes, let me just get my phone” You said and went inside for a couple seconds, coming out with it and your wallet. “C’mon!”

You passed through them and went towards the car. Sam elbowed Dean to make him turn to him.

“You are staring at her like she’s a cheeseburger and you haven’t eaten in days, man” Sam teased and Dean frowned at him “You were practically drooling”

“I–I was not, okay? She just looks…pretty, that's all” Dean said, ignoring Sam’s ‘Yeah, right’ and going to the driver's seat in the Impala, you already sat down in the backseat. After Sam got in you all went to the bar and you felt particularly excited this time.

“Okay, every single one who tried to flirt with me was a disaster” You said, coming back to the table with a sigh, Sam and Dean almost laughing at you as you handed them their beers. “Seriously, who do I have to kill to get laid in this shit”

You took a swig of your beer and looked around once more, trying to find a decent man for you to take back tonight when you eyed a handsome black haired guy a few feet away. You smiled to yourself and got up from your seat.

When you walked up to him you didn’t see it but Dean was fuming with jealousy, this feeling bubbling up inside him that made his fists unconsciously clench over the table. He tried flirting with other women that night, chatting them up like he usually did but it all went down the drain the moment his eyes darted to you again, a guy practically snuggling up to you while you gently pushed him away and refused his advances, either not finding him attractive or just not feeling a spark.

He should be the one you looked at, he knew everything about you, how you liked your coffee, your favorite drinks, the faint lines that would appear around your lips when you smiled, the way your eyes lit up when you were talking about something you enjoyed. He knows you.

Sam noticed his brother’s demeanor and called out to him to snap him out of his jealous haze. Dean turned his eyes to Sam and he had this stupid smirk on his face, sipping the beer once again to hide his amused smile.

“What?” Dean snapped, his hand wrapping around the bottle, the cool glass doing nothing to ease his temper down, his knee going up and down under the table with nervousness.

“Nothin’” Sam answered and finished his beer, getting up and leaving a couple dollars, enough to pay for the beers he drank. “I’m going back, y’know, tired. Tell Y/N”

Dean nodded, he didn’t know if Sam meant for him to tell you that Sam went back or that you’ve been in his dreams for months now, not all of them cute and fluffy, some made him wake up with a hard-on, sweating and longing for you.

He looked in your direction and you were coming back with an annoyed face, arms crossed in front of you, feet stomping the ground. Dean made a confused face and when you got back to the table you sat down on the chair with a scoff, his eyes never leaving you.

“He has a girlfriend” You murmured and then realized you were one man short “Where’s Sam?”

“He called in, tired” Dean said and you hummed. He had a weird look on his face, something you couldn’t make out what was. You sighed and looked down.

“I think we should go too, this night was disappointing to me” You breathed out a laugh “I’m impressed you didn’t find anyone, I saw some girls eyeing you”

“Nah, I’m fine,” He said and finished his beer. You widened your eyes at him but didn’t say anything, just nodding hesitantly in shock. “Let 's go?”

He said getting up and you mirrored him, pulling your dress down a bit, Dean’s eyes on you all the time. He bit his lower lip and mentally told himself to cool it.

As you two walked towards the car you couldn’t help but look at him up and down, silently appreciating his figure. His strong jawline, his green eyes now dark thanks to the night, his slightly crooked nose that made him look unique.

When you got into the car, in silence, you drove back to the motel and you felt an unmistakable tension in the air and you were worried you might’ve done something to upset the man. You started to fidget with your fingers over your lap, the street lights going past the car through the window as Dean sped up through the pavement.

His hands gripped the wheel, holding back the urge to pounce on you right there and then. When he parked the car and reached for the door handle you held his wrist.

“Wait! Dean, is something the matter?” You asked, big eyes looking into his as he looked at you, noticing the trouble behind those beautiful orbs. He wanted to punch himself in the gut for making you feel bad. “What happened?”

“Nothing it’s just…” He trailed off and looked at your hand wrapping his wrist. His other hand enveloped over it and your skin flared up with goosebumps. He felt warm, rough, his strong grip comforting. You took your hand away from his wrist, allowing his hand to wrap over your and pull you into him.

You yelped and was about to question him when you felt his plump lips against yours, his other hand hesitantly holding your cheek and you melted. It took you a while to process what was happening. Dean Winchester is kissing you. Though, when you did, your free hand went to the back of his neck to deepen the kiss.

Everything felt like a fever dream and you were afraid that if you pulled away you’d wake up and Dean would be gone. His lips had a taste of beer lingering from the night out, they were full and smooth. You felt like you were drowning in this feeling until Dean pulled away, seeking a breath of air.

You looked between his eyes, your breaths molding into each other from the closeness. You moved the hand he was holding up his chest, to his shoulder, up to his cheek, his eyes closing and his head snuggling against your hand, his fingers fidgeting around your wrist.

He opened his eyes, a thousand feelings swimming behind his green orbs as you both communicate in silence, an agreement, a revelation. You smiled and pulled him in again, this time with no hesitation. His hand went down your arm slowly, your skin warming up where his hand passed by, and settled by your waist, pulling you closer. His tongue teased your bottom lip and you eagerly opened your mouth with a low moan.

At that, he smirked into the kiss and pulled you over his lap, the steering wheel digging into your back, his hands both placed at your hips as you unconsciously rocked against him. He let go of your mouth again and you stared down at him.

“I wanted to do this so bad” He whispered and you smiled, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck mindlessly. He placed a loving kiss at your jaw and pulled away again while you hummed, content.

When you looked at his face again there was a frown and he was avoiding your eyes. You grabbed both his cheeks and made him look at you.

“What was that thought, hm?” You ask lightly as to not push him away. You didn’t want this to end, not ever. He seemed nervous.

“What does this mean to you?” He asked and you furrowed your eyebrows. “To me, Y/N,” he continued, his hands rubbing up and down your thighs “you’re everything, I mean, you– you’re perfect. You’ve seen everything I’ve done and never let me down, you’re beautiful and so much more. If to you I’m just a way to get off then–”

You cut him off with a peck on his lips.

“Stop. Right there.” You started, looking deep into his eyes. “Dean I– you are everything I’ve ever wanted, needed. You mean more to me than words can describe, you’re not just a one night stand, you’re my dream”

When you finished, he didn’t waste a second to wrap a hand behind your neck and steal your lips again, his mouth addicting. There was so much passion, feeling and desire pumping through your veins.

Your dress was high on your thighs and one of his hands squeezed the flesh hungrily, making you groan in his mouth. He went further with his hand, his thumb caressing over your covered sex and you opened your mouth in a whimper.

Dean attacked your neck with kisses and hickeys, his teeth leaving a pattern over your skin as his hand ghosts over where you need him the most.

“Dean…” You say, a beg behind your words and he pulls away, both his hand and his mouth, making you shiver from the lack of contact and the cool feeling his saliva left behind over your neck.

“Sweetheart, as much as I’d like to have you in the car,” He said, his voice rough and deeper with lust, his pupils wide as he opened the door, a cool breeze coming in that did little to nothing to cool your skin off. “you deserve a bed, another time” He finished, leaving an open mouthed kiss under your ear.

Another time. You nodded, words failing you as you stepped out of the car, adjusting your dress and hair the best you could to seem decent. Dean stood up behind you and let a hand linger on your waist, eager to touch you at all times and all ways.

You both walked towards the door of your room, Dean’s fingers tightening on your skin the longer it took for you to get the door open. The moment you were able to open it, he pushed both of you in, turning you around and pinning you to the door inside, closing it with a loud noise behind your back and his lips were on your again, his hands roaming over every inch of your skin.

You yelped in shock but soon reciprocated the touches and kisses, your fingers wrapping around his jacket and pulling it off, his hands momentarily leaving you to drop it to the ground. When his hands came back he grabbed both your legs and lifted you, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips for support, his fingers digging into your skin yet again.

Your hands pulled on his hair, your tongues battling in a messy kiss when you feel your body move to the bed, your body being gently placed over it.

Dean pulled away, standing up fully and you took him in with a bite of your lip. He unbuttoned his flannel, slowly and you lifted your dress over your hips, lifting them off the bed to help, revealing your panties and over your head to take it off completely and throwing the fabric away.

Dean’s breathing got heavier, the confine of his pants bothering him as he finally discards the flannel, torso naked to you. You drink his defined physique with hooded eyes and he smirks down at you, his head going close to the waistband of your panties, eyes never leaving yours as he leaves kisses from your hips to your stomach to the valley of your breasts until he came face to face with you again, a smile lingering in his lips making one of your own appear on yours.

Your hands grab at his cheeks and pull him in again as he holds you by your waist, pulling your near naked torso into his. His fingers ghost over every inch of new exposed skin as if he was memorizing every atom of your being like you were going to disappear.

Your hands start to explore over his chest, the strong muscles flexing against your palms, your nails scratching at his wide back and shoulders.

His hands travel behind your back to unclasp your bra and you let him, letting the undergarment go loose against your breasts and Dean takes it off. He drinks the view in, staring and you start to feel self-conscious and take your hands to cover yourself up. Dean catches onto that and kisses you again, one big hand grabbing at your right breast and you whimper in his mouth.

“I always knew you were beautiful” He whispers against your lips and pulls back to look at you again “But you are the most perfect thing I’ve ever laid eyes on”

This time you turned away from him with a stupid smile on your face.

“Says you” You say and turn to him again, your hands over his shoulders and moving towards his back “Your back is a perfect place for my nails to dig in” You whisper seductively on his ear and leave a hickey on his neck. He groans and lowers his head to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples, the warm feeling against the sensitive nub making you arch your back into him and your fingers to tangle in his hair.

“Dean, fuck–” You moan as he gently bites your nipple and moves to the other breast, his eyes looking at you from below and drinking in your noises.

One of his hands sneaked up your inner thigh and teased your clit over your panties and you shivered, a smirk on his lips against your breast. He slowly took your panties off, discarding them on the ground and now you were completely bare below him, vulnerable.

His middle finger pressed over your clit and you arched again.

“Dean, please…” You beg, your best attempt at puppy dog eyes looking down at him and he adds his ring finger, starting to do slow circles over the sensitive nub as he kisses up your neck, your noises of pleasure egging him on.

He lowers his fingers to your entrance and he slips both in with no restraint given your wetness, the feeling making you let out a moan and grab onto his shoulders as he hooks his fingers inside you, touching that special spot.

He smirks smugly and continues his ministrations, your pussy clenching and tightening around his fingers making him groan.

“You’re so wet” He mumbles “I wonder how you taste like” He gives your nose a peck, your mind too drowned in pleasure to respond to his words. He kisses down your body, his fingers never leaving you, until he's facing your cunt. He places both your legs over his shoulders, your thighs resting around his cheeks, the light stubble leaving a tingly feeling behind.

He leaves a lingering kiss over your clit and you buck your hips, looking for more friction. He teases a bit more, biting and sucking at your inner thighs, everywhere but where you needed his mouth to be. You took charge and grabbed at his hair, pulling his face closer and he complied.

“Oh, fuck!” You groan.

His tongue licked at your sex and your loud moans echoed through the walls, the warm muscle doing wonders against you and the mix of his fingers bringing you closer and closer to the edge, your eyes fluttering close in bliss.

“Dean, God” You moan as he squeezes your thigh. All the ministrations send shivers down your spine, your core tightening inside you, that familiar rush of warmth spreading through you. Your thighs try to close, forgetting Dean’s in between and he hums against your cunt, the vibrations making you feel like you were in heaven. “I’m cumming”

“Cum for me princess” He mumbles and you let go with a chant of his name. The feeling washes over you, making you feel lighter for a couple seconds, Dean helping you ride out your orgasm. When the stimulation becomes too much and you whine and squirm away, he gets up from his knees, chin glistening in your juices. He took his fingers out, a grunt scaping your throat at the emptiness. It was a sinful sight.

He crawled over you again, his middle and index finger teasing at your bottom lip.

“Open up” He said, voice deep and demanding and you obeyed, opening your mouth and letting his fingers in. You lick your juices clean off his fingers, never breaking eye contact, humming and moaning against his digits as Dean bites his lips with force. Your hand travels down to unbuckle his belt and he takes his fingers away from your mouth to kiss you.

Once you got the belt open, Dean backed away, taking his shoes off and unzipping his pants. Meanwhile, you drank in his appearance. His hair was a mess, a thin sheen of sweat covering his skin, his arms flexing as he lowered his pants along with his boxers. He was divine.

When he dropped the jeans his eyes drifted back to you, catching you staring and he smirks.

“See something you like?” He asks, closing the gap between you again, smashing your lips to his in yet another breathtaking kiss.

He completely lies you down on the mattress, his elbows supporting his weight over you as his cock bumps against your sensitive sex and you gasp, hand gripping the back of his neck.

“Fuck me” You say, bluntly and whiny but he gets the hint and aligns his member to your hole.

“Yes Ma’am” He says and starts to insert himself inside you, an immediate groan coming out of both your throats, his forehead dropping to the nape of your neck as his fingers dug into your hips, holding himself back to not slam into you at full force. You felt amazing around him, the warmth of your walls made him never want to go away.

“Oh my God” You moan as he slowly goes deeper, his cock throbbing inside you. Once he bottomed out you were breathing heavier than ever, pupils blown and nails teasing at his back. “Dean”

“I’m right here sweetheart” He reassured you and left kisses over your shoulder to distract you. You grinned at his sweetness and rolled your hips against his, a sign that he could move.

“Move, please, I want to feel you” You mumbled and he obliged, instant pleasure going through your body.

“God, Y/N” He moaned close to your ear as he went faster, your moans getting louder.

He smashed his hips against yours, eyeing the way it went in and out, being deliciously consumed by your cunt, glistening with your slick and cum. He stared at you, your fucked out state, the way you were a moaning, whimpering mess beneath him and he felt proud to be the reason you were like this.

You felt every inch ripping your insides, Dean’s hands roaming through your body as his lips left bite marks and kisses around your skin. His lips wrapped around your nipple and everything just added more to the pleasure when his tongue circled around your nipple.

“You’re so pretty” He groaned after pulling away from your breasts and felt that familiar feeling go through him as your pussy clenched tighter around his cock. He was close and he knew you were too. His hands traveled both down to your lower body, one pressed over the skin under your belly button and the other circled your clit messly.

When he pressed down over your lower belly you felt him impossibly deeper and grabbed at the sheets underneath you to ground yourself to reality.

“Jesus– Fuck Dean, please!” You moaned incoherently as that bubble inside you was about to pop “I’m gonna cum, baby, please” You moaned again and you knew he was close to, his hips stuttering and losing rhythm.

“Cum with me Y/N” He said and not even seconds later you unraveled beneath him, your high hitting you like a bus, a loud moan rippling through your throat and Dean pulled out, cumming over your stomach, his chest heaving with his breaths.

Dean forced himself to get up and get a wet towel to clean you up in the bathroom, coming back and gently wiping away the fluids. You were spent and at the same time as happy as you could ever be.

You adjusted yourself in the bed while you waited for Dean to come back from the bathroom after discarding the towel, his naked shadow visible thanks to the light inside. When he walked out he smiled at you and snuggled beside you, tucking your head under his chin and wrapping an arm around your waist.

You were both silent for a while until he spoke up.

“I love you so much” He said “And no, this is not post sex haze, I’ve loved you for so long” He admitted quietly above you and you felt your heart beating ten times faster at his words. You looked up at him and placed a gentle hand over his cheek to make him look down at you.

“I love you too, dumbass” You say with a chuckle and kiss him deeply again, pouring all the love you knew you felt towards him into the kiss.

A/N: Notes and reblogs encourage me to keep writing, feedback makes those writings better. Thank you for reading, Xoxo.

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