#pls know it’s gonna happen even if i’m slow about it!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kithtaehyung · 1 month ago

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minted: three (explicit) | myg

title: minted: part three (m) pairing: street king!yoongi x street vendor!reader series: masterlist | one | two rating/genre: m (18+) ; angst , smut ; haegeum au , gang au summary: at this point, you would do anything to forget. including the unthinkable with a gangster. note: sooo this series basically saved my writing slump haha. i am still having the time of my life and i’m so excited to show y’all more of this minted universe. and to also show you just how spicy things can get❤️‍🔥 note 2: this is ofc a present for hali @sailoryooons that spiraled into a whole universe. still always gonna thank nary @joonary for letting me use the vendor reader idea, as well! also happy birthday to @remmykinsff @awbells @keylime4eva @aaclariww and @noshit-cantfindagoodone!! to everyone else having a bday around this time, this is my gift to you hehehe. warnings: language, drugs, alcohol, slow burn, murder mentions, gang activity, mint!yoongi, haegeum!yoongi, tatted!yoongi, his eyebrow is pierced, chains bc of course :)), world-building, reader is still sassy, yoongi is still infuriating, tension explicit warnings: under the cut! drop date: december 9th, 2024, 9:03pm est word count: 12.3k 😀👍

explicit warnings: i know it’s a slow burn but there’s definitely smut lol, choking, head/hair tugging, penetration, oral (f rec), backshotssss, marking bye, rough sex, ass play, breast play, his hands are a nice necklace😀, taunting cus reader’s an icon, thighs, breath play, spanking, hand job, protected sex, multiple orgasms, restraints (his hands, robe tie), brat!reader but who is honestly shocked🙂‍↔️, brat tamer!yoongi lmao, yoongi is a menace i’m sorryyyy, but reader is…?????, need them both™, teasing, rawdogging HELLO?? (pls wrap it up fr!), commanding yoongi a ha ha, pain kink, cowgirl🙂‍↕️, this is just the calm before a whole damn storm

—

“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.”

Did you go too far?

Is there a limit to his accommodation? Did you actually think this was gonna be easy?

When silence swirls between your robes, you start to second guess your demand.

But Yoongi simply stares before stepping aside, allowing you to enter his room with jellied legs.

This is madness, but you’re gonna go through with it. Whatever the hell this will be. Because you may not know much, but you figure all men sit up the same when sex is on the table.

This man, though...

Quite frankly, you aren’t sure about anything when it comes to him. Unless it’s about him doing something questionable. Then there’s no question about it.

The enigma himself makes no conversation as you step inside, even as your eyes roam around a cleaner, more put-together room than when you left the first time. Did Yoongi clean this much while you made a mess of your dreams?

The only answer you get is a door shutting, followed by a massive presence at your back. Before you can so much as turn around, the first words on your shoulders burn like embers,

“Was he your first.”

Fuck.

This isn’t what you approached him for. He’s supposed to make you forget, not remember. Remember?

You don’t turn around; you don’t respond right away. Instead, you swallow before focusing very hard on the fact that Yoongi sleeps on the bedside nearest the window. At least, judging by the way the covers are flipped. You happen to prefer the side opposite.

The heat from his body proves soft but intense, and you can’t help but close your eyes when you finally answer with a question,

“Do you remember yours?”

“Yes.”

“Do you ever regret it?”

“No.”

Your vision lowers to the rug lying still under the bed. A splash of light grey amongst a darkened, moonlit sea.

No matter how quick Yoongi answers. No matter how even his tone.

He still remembers it, too.

But this isn’t what you expected when you walked in here. You assumed this man was going to get right to it, save no room for you to second guess yourself. Clearly he gave zero shits about kissing you in that taxi, and he damn near undressed you in the living room.

So what’s the holdup here? Does he want this for real? Or not?

Head at a slight angle, you admit with a hint of finality, “I don’t wanna talk about that.”

“Mm.” A warm, rough hand subtly tugs at your belt, and prominent knuckles nudge through the smooth material of your robe. “So what are you really here for.”

Your eyes blink thrice.

Yoongi cannot be serious. Does he really not know?

No. He knows. With a shift of your jaw, you realize he’s just fucking with you, purposefully not in the way you want. “You’re being difficult.”

“You woke me up.”

Ah. That’s fair.

“So tell me.”

Well. If you’re gonna have to spell things out for him, he’s gonna be waiting for awhile. Because the more you stand here not doing anything, the harder it is to gather a little thing called courage. Courage to meet the beast in his den, and madness to let him devour you whole. Now you have neither. Neither, neither, neither.

Awkwardness sticks to your throat until it’s jammed, and you can barely mush your lips together to form sounds. The courage you speak of flees before you can wrangle it, and what’s left of your answer tumbles out like boulders, “This is.. I don’t.. I can’t.”

“You can.”

“It’s,” you huff, noting that you don’t like this horrible mix of hesitation and anger, “It’s… I’m—”

Your vision jolts as you feel a quick tug shit you’re spinning fuck your back just hit a wall—

“Of all things today,” Yoongi murmurs with slits for eyes, “This is what gets you to shut up?”

Damn it.

You don’t even have a rebuttal. Because he’s right. Yoongi’s sharp discernment is millimeters from your face and you have no intention to move nor speak. Only quick breaths. Only shaky exhales.

But you do swallow.

Which brings out a sound you will never admit you like: a breathy, condescending laugh, as coarse and as soft as his touch.

“You mean to tell me,” he observes, tilting your chin while his irises blaze dark, “You came all the way in here for nothing?”

“No, I—”

“All that talk, and for what.”

Defend yourself. Say something. Say just one word two words any words—

Did Yoongi just pat your cheek? ..Twice?

Why did you kinda like that—

“Makes no sense,” he ponders aloud, lolling his head and staring down your crumpled lips. “Who even are you..”

Now that's an easy one. You always have the answer to that question.

“No one,” you whisper. “Sorry to disappoint you.”

Seems like the people back home aren’t the only ones you’ll let down. If Yoongi keeps that question loaded in the chamber, he’s gonna keep shooting the same target. Over, and over, and over.

But you don’t have to worry. Because he drops it, caging you in with a hand near your stiff, risen shoulder, “So what are you here for.”

This is a mistake. Either Yoongi doesn’t want this, or he’s being frustrating on purpose and your fire is both stoked and quelled. “Now I don’t know for sure.”

“The more you stall the harder it gets,” he goads with a lick of teasing. And for a split, minuscule second, you wonder if that meant more than one thing.

Goddamn, he’s annoying. He’s outright savoring this.

Maybe you shouldn’t be surprised. You woke him up for god’s sake. If someone did this same thing to you after the day you’ve had, you wouldn’t have even let them in.

Unfortunately for you, Yoongi’s version of dealing with a midnight inconvenience is whittling them down until they leave—

“So you can tell my bellhop off but I get nothing, huh.”

Oh, shit.

You’re so taken aback that you can only ask, “What?”

Mercifully, the dragon gives you air, straightening before leaving your personal space.

Your focus should be on his words. You know this. But he uses this moment to rake his hair, and words are no match for the sleeve cascading down his inked forearm.

Even as his hair flows in waves, you still cling to his tattoos as he looks downward in thought. “You think I wouldn’t check who the fuck was coming up here?”

It takes you a second to process.

But you realize what this means and you fall silent again.

Yoongi saw that? All of that? You acted without much thought, and if he really did see and hear everything that went down, there’s a chance he thinks a lot differently about you now. No wonder he’s so thrown by this switch in behavior.

But on the other hand.. The way he touched you in the living room. Was all that because of what he saw? Is that side of you the one that pulled him close?

You thought his parting would allow you room to breathe. How very wrong you were.

Shoving all contemplation aside, you decide to coat the room with concern, your assertion making a brief comeback, “He said a lot of shit, Yoongi. What was that about?”

He languidly approaches the long table at your side—one you faintly noticed while leaving the room the first time. Unbothered, he slides unhurried fingers over a gun, stopping on the barrel before reaching for something less lethal.

A decanter, it seems. Liquid flows from the container into a smaller glass, and you assume it’s whisky from the deep amber tones and luscious pour.

When you wonder where else Yoongi litters his weapons, he cuts through your surveying,

“You really wanna know?”

Looking up, you nod.

He sets the bottle down with a dull clink. “He took his chances.”

“His.. What?”

Now what the hell could this man mean by that? You were clearly being coaxed into leaving the premises, vaguely feeling like something seemed off. How is he being so dismissive about all this?

Slowly, Yoongi shakes his head, looking out into the night while taking his initial sip. “I don’t come here often. But when I do, I come alone.” Long fingers nestle his cup perfectly as he explains further, “It’s been awhile, so. Had to feel out the staff.”

The staff. Is that why Yoongi held your hand? To weasel someone out? You really thought he meant it when he said he just wanted to…

How naive.

“His plan could’ve been solid.”

“But what?” You ask, newfound frustration clipping your tone.

Yoongi slides you a look over the rim of his glass. “He didn’t know who he’d be dealing with.”

Your eyes roll so far they strain.

But this begs a question. Does he mean dealing with you? Or him? Surely he meant your little show at the elevator but he could very well mean himself.

Facts are facts. Would Yoongi really trade il-don for you? Absolutely not. So you have to assume he’s mostly talking about the latter.

Your scoff is pitched to the side, “Of course. You wouldn’t trade il-don for anything.”

Yoongi pauses, not acknowledging your comment in the slightest as he strolls back your way. “Something I am curious about..” As he leans in, musk and whisky invade both your space and senses. And you hate, hate, hate that you need more of it. “Who was he talking to?”

“Someone he royally pissed off.”

“Mm.”

“You’re not gonna punish him?”

“Me? Nah.” Leaning on the sideboard, he stares out the windows across the room. Your vision follows suit. “Not until I have to.”

If what happened wasn’t enough to warrant a punishment, you’re morbidly curious about what ticks the box. “I figured he’d be dead by now. At least for trespassing.”

Yoongi only shrugs. “Grey zones aren’t just amnesty for the clans. Anything goes here, too, so a ransom attempt isn’t surprising.”

This man really doesn’t stand on black or white. Here you are with eggs for brains discovering you were almost taken instead of saved, and he’s chalking it up to, what, just another Tuesday? Or is it still Monday? You don’t even know anymore.

Your question leaves you a little scuffed. Because you feel exactly like leftover goods. The fruit at the back. “Are you always this heartless?”

“So I’ve been told.”

Great.

So much for being… Safe up… here…

You glance at the touch on your hip, and your eyes traverse up his arm as he toys with your belt again.

Shouldn’t you feel disgusted? Shouldn’t you be walking away? It’s crystal clear how little this man thinks of you, or anyone for that matter. He probably brought you along just to be a shield for his precious il-don. So why can’t you bring yourself to leave?

Your knot starts to loosen.

His voice begins to flow.

“But if you’re gonna go for what’s mine, don’t be an idiot.”

Wait.

No. Nope. Stop thinking about what that could mean. Because if you think too hard, it will only leave you disappointed.

But there’s something you won’t stop doing. And Yoongi knows you won’t. So as he keeps playing at your waist, your words come out in shudders,

“Can’t believe you used me.”

Yoongi hums, and it makes you shiver when his touch leaves you to rest against wood counters. “You’re about to use me, too.”

Fucking hell, he’s right.

“Gotta say I didn’t expect it, but..” Damn him and his head tilts. “I’m impressed.”

You’re too empty-headed that you can’t even process his words as genuine praise. His touches already feel like pops of lights in the night sky.

It’s a given. You aren’t prepared for him in the slightest.

“Come here.”

Lightly pulling your hand, Yoongi brings you to stand in front of him. And from this point of view, you become even more ensnared.

His robe flows down his taut build so beautifully, painting him like dark water over rolling hills. At his peak, the hair you’ve come to miss frames his face like artwork. Mesmerizing. Your downfall.

“You get one more chance. Tell me why I’m awake.”

Your brow lift is only a front. The rest of you is shaking, trembling, howling. “You clearly know.”

“Tell me anyway.”

Relentless. Will you shame yourself for wanting to see him use this same strategy on other people? Most likely. But will that stop you from thinking about it anyway? Absolutely, positively not.

But there’s another side of you that’s being comforted. And it’s the side that realizes how much he’s spoken, how much time you’ve spent without needing to watch behind your back.

Yoongi talking this much? It’s making things easier. And it’s strangely making you feel a little better, even if the subject matter isn’t the greatest topic in the universe.

After you steal a glance at the other whisky glass, you look into his eyes. Determined and decisive. Knowing exactly what you want at this very moment, because you just need a little more time.

“Tell me more. About grey zones.”

Something in the air freezes. And Yoongi’s brows crease so comically you almost laugh. “That’s it?”

“Yes.”

His nod is slow as he sets down his glass.

And you’re quickly hauled back so fast that you don’t have time to react.

A rush of air. The world topples. Soft sheets.

Dangerously, a thin chain sways above as Yoongi shrouds your body in silk and lingering smoke. A gasp escapes you as he peers into your eyes, and your senses fire as a commanding hand slides up your thigh.

“Final answer?”

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck you know you want him and you still do but also talking to him isn’t half bad and maybe you’re just tired of being lonely—

Musk. Alcohol. Breathing hard, you take it all in. Slowly nodding because you can’t function otherwise, which makes a dragon flash teeth.

But he obliges without moving a muscle, so you’re left underneath a demon—robe dangerously close to opening and exposing everything once again.

A man of conviction, Yoongi does exactly as you ask. Eyes drooped, he continues his explanations, as if he didn’t just shove you into his enormous bed and tangle you under his legs,

“They started awhile ago, back when all the high-powers got locked in a grudge match. Took half the city with them.”

Immediately, your shoulders start to sink into his tale. “Half is a lot.”

“Everything went to shit,” he agrees. “Not even the Politicol could stop it all.”

“Bullshit.”

His level expression is enough to refute.

Now that’s a shock to learn. For as long as you can remember, the Politicol have always held more power than any force should ever have. If they weren’t able to keep this under control, the high-powers used to be ungodly.

Staring at the slippage on Yoongi’s shoulder, you wonder if those ink lines are to immortalize the ones that came before him. The history he must’ve grown up memorizing.

Still.. Why does he have them all? There’s no way he doesn’t know how disrespectful that is to all three clans.

But then again. He said he didn’t choose them himself. Which leads you nowhere in this unending maze.

Head disheveled; robe coming undone. To outsiders, you’d be at Yoongi’s mercy.

But in reality, you’re laser focused on him and his explanations. Especially when his voice scratches every itch just right. “So…” You watch his gaze slowly slide down your face. “What happened?”

Even now, Yoongi’s hands stay exactly where they are. The only thing that moves is the tinkling swing of his silver above your warming neck. “Deals were made, stripping power from all of them in certain sectors so that none could completely take over.”

“Why only in certain ones?”

A corner of his mouth quirks up. “Let’s just say the negotiations went how you think they did.”

Your eyes roll yet again. But another question pings into your mind as quick as the first one, knitting your brows. “Wait… Deals with the Politicol? Or each other? No way they would’ve let cowards put them all on a leash.”

At this, something interesting passes over Yoongi’s face.

But it flits away before you can snatch it for further inspection, and the shift of his leg against your thighs resets your brain.

“Any of the clans could’ve monopolized if they had the right resource, but. They weren’t ever gonna let outsiders get a piece. Called a truce and kept their mouths shut.”

Makes sense. You know exactly what resource he’s referring to. “The il-don.”

“That’s part of it.” He shifts again, but this time, your legs have more room to move. “But grey zones have priority infrastructure. The ones that keep the lights on. If you had the money, you had the people. And people are the best resource there is.”

It’s at this moment that a lot of things click into place.

And one of those is figuring out that you may have been a little wrong about the man above you.

Is he heartless? To a high degree. But that comes with being calculating. Patient. Smart. Everything that Yoongi has been this entire time you’ve tagged along.

He’s not keeping the il-don safe because he treasures it. It’s because the money is a tool. A tool to help him get what he wants whenever he needs. And leverage it for value instead of frivolous decisions and material things.

Yoongi must have really, really enjoyed your tangerines.

A stray touch finally makes its way inside your thigh. And you flare between your legs. Shivering. Aching. You’re sparkling inside but won’t allow yourself to fully explode. Not when he’s revealing so much without telling. Not when you’re starting to see things from his angle.

“Keep talking,” you rush out, gripping his robe and squeezing his pelvis.

Though his fingers still light flares on your skin, Yoongi stops in his daring quest, observing your face without judgment.

“I like it,” you shakily admit. Because screw it, since you’ll never see him again. “Learning about all this.”

You sigh at his weight. His beautiful, strangely calming weight. “About you, too.”

Stopping all movements, Yoongi coats your skin with gravel. “What good will knowing all this do.”

He’s got a point. And it hammers home exactly what you were just thinking. “Nothing, maybe,” you answer, squeezing his robe a little longer.

Fuck, you really are this deprived. This lonely. Is bedding a dangerous man—this dangerous man—really better than being alone right now? A mental reset is outstandingly in order throughout the coming abysmal months.

You finish your weak explanation, hoping it’s enough to convince him,

“But it’s helping.”

Yoongi lifts his head to watch your eyes. And you observe how dark his are in return. How cold.

But yet.. Why do you also see…?

With a slight huff, you tack on, “And you aren’t so annoying to talk to right now.”

There it is. That spark you’ve seen before in dusty, tinkering streets. “Don’t push your luck.”

“I might.”

He exhales, shifting himself into a sitting position and facing the door. “The thing about grey zones.. No affiliation, no rules. You can be anyone here.”

When you lift your upper body to sit, you watch his side profile as you repeat, “Anyone?”

Yoongi turns to look at your lips.

You know there’s a question you want to ask. But for some reason, it’s difficult to say.

But eventually, you can’t help it. Because you’re intrigued. You’re haunted. And you really, really need this.

“Then who do you want me to be.”

He lets out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. Looking into your eyes, he asks in disbelief, “You?”

“I’m pretty good at pretending.”

“Sure you are.” He gives you another small grin before resting forearms on his knees. “But you don’t want my answer to that.”

Swallowing is proving too difficult. What the hell does he mean by that? Is it one big bluff or a real opinion? “You’re just being a pussy.”

All you get is the side of his cheek rising high.

Yeah. He’s not gonna tell you a damn thing.

“Forget about me then. Who are you right now?” You wait as his expression falls back to earth. “Agust? Or Yoongi?”

When you end with silence, you’re met with an approaching shadowed visage. And even in this moment, you sense static in the air, both of you poised and locked in a dangerous, thrilling dance.

“You tell me.”

Your breath cuts as he slips a finger inside your robe, and you dare not breathe when he pulls—slow, unhurried, intoxicating.

You’ve never felt quite like this.

Are you supposed to do something, too? Is there something that usually happens here? Your experience isn’t zero but it is clearly leagues below where it should be.

Before you can blink a third time, your garment is ever, ever so slightly off your shoulder.

And you haven’t uttered a damn thing.

So he keeps going, sliding it lower, and lower, until he reveals a part of you that you didn’t mean to reveal so suddenly before.

This time, it’s deliberate. And that makes it terrifying.

This is the point of no return. The slope of your chest barely keeps your robe from dipping any farther. It’s happening, and life between you will never be the same when it’s over.

And yet.

Your nerves speak up at the worst time.

“Get me a drink,” you whisper, “Then maybe I will.”

Yoongi flicks up an eyebrow before obliging, and you silently mourn the loss of his heated touch.

He walks over to pour you something neat, taking his time bringing both glasses to the bed. When you sit up properly, you habitually adjust your robe, scoffing at his hum.

“Thanks,” you whisper, taking the glass and smelling the piercing aroma. “Maybe this is what I needed all along.”

“You ever had sex before?”

The question is so sudden and blunt that you cough up a burning sip. “Ow, fuck..” Wincing, you wipe your mouth before breathing in scratchy inhales. “If you must know, I have.”

“Maybe you are good at pretending then,” Yoongi drawls. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Don’t get me wrong. This situation is new to me.”

His brow raises are definitely talking a lot for him.

“I’ve just never.. I dunno. Never had just one night.” Taking a more cautious sip, you continue. “Much less with someone like you.”

“Like me?”

“With a.. You know.” You fiddle with your glass. “A customer.”

When you hear his reaction, you stare at his raised cheek, stomach fluttering when he sighs downward,

“You can’t just say shit like that.”

“I can say whatever I want,” you counter. “Especially since I…”

You don’t wanna finish that. It helps that Yoongi doesn’t look your way still, taking a sip of his whisky instead. His locks swing forward as he leans, and you almost reach out to feel them. Maybe you’ll get to very soon. When you finally get over this final hurdle of outright shyness.

Why are you so timid right now? Why can’t you just tell him what you very obviously came in here for and get on with it? You’ve been decisive as fuck the rest of today, so what’s got your tongue pressed this time? Is it really your abysmal level of experience?

Or is it because you’re gravitating to more sides of him with each passing second?

“Since you what.”

“Since I don’t like you,” you snip.

Yoongi flashes teeth in amusement. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, shut up.” You take another drink, feeling the burn down your throat. “I don’t have to if it’s true.”

Both of you keep drinking in silence after that. Which makes things a weird mix of calm and awkward, considering what your original mission was.

Going over the events of today, it’s a wonder why you aren’t crashing into a dreamless sleep. You’ve been up and having the most exhausting day ever, and yet, you can’t imagine shutting your eyes.

Think of something else to talk about. Anything. Any topic you could possibly hold a conversation with Yoongi over.

What did he respond to before? No small talk, since the plantains thing from months ago was a bust. And when you conversed over ramyeon it was more of him angering you on purpose—wait a minute.

There was something you never circled back to.

And as soon as you ask him about it, he appears impressed you remembered,

“Were you bluffing when you said you knew what I was shopping for?”

“No,” he responds immediately. “And I know I’m right.”

“Prove it.”

Mouth curved at an annoying angle, Yoongi shoots you a look before placing his drink down, getting up to walk to a tall armoire.

Your eyes follow his every movement, even the way his ass moves under that damned robe. But soon, your jaw goes slack not because of his assets.

But because the motherfucker was right on the money.

How the… How the fuck did Yoongi know?

In front of your face lies exactly what you were searching for. Sleek. Minimal. Lightweight and visibly balanced. You don’t even want to keep shopping around because this is the only one you want.

How did he know you were shopping for daggers based on one single line of questioning?

“I wasn’t gonna show you until you asked,” he divulges. “Honestly, I was hoping you’d forget. This one was hard as fuck to track down.”

Eyes flicking up to his, you ask in wonder, “Can I…?”

He lifts it slightly, signaling that you can indeed hold it yourself.

And it’s perfect.

“Wow,” you breathe out, feeling along its edges and hilt. It’s all one continuous line, with metal so black and matted that you almost moan. “I don’t have much on me, but.. I’ll give you whatever you want for this.”

“Keep it.”

What?

“It’s yours.”

There’s no way he’s just gonna gift this to you. It’s perfectly crafted in material you can’t even find in Crane. And they have almost every class of ore in existence.

Who even is this man?

“Yoongi, this is…” You shake your head while extending it back. “I can’t just take this.”

“You can.” He fiddles with the bracelet on his wrist. “I did.”

Oh. Charming. The weapon you’re being gifted is stolen goods. “Well, in that case, I really can’t accept it.”

But goddamn, this is more than perfect. You can’t even pluck one finger off the handle. And you can’t change the fact that it was already taken, right? Right?

“At least…” Scowling at your own crumbling morals, you mumble, “Not without good reason.”

He looks at you over his shoulder. “Do I need a reason?”

“No,” you reply. “But I’d like one.”

Yoongi sighs long before moving his fingers. “I lied to you back there in the lobby.” Looking up at a clock instead of you, he works his jaw. “But this time, it really is just that.”

“You expect me to believe you?”

Fuck, the veins in his hands are so prominent when he laces them together. “No. But it’s better than those chopsticks you’re saving in the bathroom.”

Oh. So he saw those, too.

“Thank you,” is what you wave in white. Because that’s exactly how you feel and this one gesture does excuse some of his faults. Maybe. Or your standards have plummeted to the gutters. “I, umm. I usually keep one for self-defence. Just in case.”

Turning it over and back again, you marvel at its light but solid weight. “But I lost mine in the last rough raid before they suddenly stopped.”

“Don’t sweat it.”

“K.” Placing it on the closest nightstand, you go back to holding your glass between your hands. “One day I’ll pay you back somehow.”

Yoongi shoots that down on sight. “No need.”

“But I want to.”

He glares before picking up his alcohol. “Anyone that owes me shit gets treated a lot different.” The drink rests in his hand like a liquid gem. “So just accept it as a gift, doll.”

You’d laugh if you knew he was kidding. But you know he’s dead serious, so you only nod.

It’s quiet again as you both retreat into your minds.

Yoongi has the mental fortitude of a fortress it seems. Because he really is set on waiting until you tell him what you woke him up for, and it’s been awhile since this all started.

But being in his presence while the night is quiet is somewhat comforting. You’re finding it easy to think about other things now, especially after he gave you so much to mull over.

Like grey zones and how they came to be. It’s fascinating how you had no clue even though you should. Even though this whole conflict affected half the city.

Wanting to gain more insight, you blurt your curiosity, “How long ago were the grey zones fought over? Before everything was decided?”

“Years. Decades, at this point,” Yoongi answers, his gaze locked as you think about this timeline. “Most people don’t even bother knowing, though.”

“Why? This sounds like a big part of our history.”

“No one cares if a Crane kills a Dragon.” His tone shifts slightly. And you wouldn’t have caught it if not for his subtle sulk. “They only resent the blood they have to wipe from the street.”

Your lids lower all the same. Because that resonates deep within your chest, so much so that you feel your heart bend in its aching. “No one cares about us, either.”

When Yoongi catches your look, you give a sad excuse of a smile. “Being a vendor? Especially where I am? You quickly figure out how little you matter. You as a person, I mean.”

You slide fingers along the tiny rim of your glass, lost in the fibers of his rug more than anything else.

Maybe you’re just a loose fiber in the rug of this city. One that will pretend to run only to be swept back into the folds. “The only things that people remember are what you offer. Anything other than that isn’t worth their time.”

Lifting your chin, you save face. “Can’t say I won’t miss you.” May as well admit it all if you aren’t ever gonna see him again. “You were the only one that ever let me bother them.”

“You never bothered me.”

You look up to see him staring. Lip curled upward, you huff. “With all the looks you gave me? I find that hard to believe.”

Yoongi doesn’t laugh in return. “What would I gain from lying?”

Mm. That’s an interesting question. But the alcohol starts to talk for you as you have the balls to flirt. “People lie to get laid, for one.”

“Mm.” He takes a measured sip of his glass, the last dredges of it swaying at the bottom. “Can’t say I’ve ever needed to.”

“Shocker,” you drawl, sipping to match his pace. And it’s after this drink that you loosely admit, “This is really good, by the way.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.” Lifting the glass to peer inside, you swirl it around before divulging a past you don’t talk about—ever. But what are rules of conversation when you want to stall? “My uncle got me into whisky a long time ago. But fruit stands don’t pay for top shelf alcohol.”

“Where’s he at now?”

“Uhh.” You look away. “Gone.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

He gets up, and you watch in silence as he makes his way to the sideboard. Stuff shifts around before he appears to pour another glass. And he stays there for a bit, black robe blending into all the dark decor.

“Yoongi?”

He turns.

“Can you keep talking?” You keep your drink steady between your robed legs. Buzzed and vulnerable, you offer an explanation, “Turns out there’s a lot I wanna forget right now.”

Like endings. And future endless days without your most frustrating, most dangerous, most favorite customer.

Yoongi pauses before walking back to the bed. When his thighs settle next to yours, he asks without much heart, “What do you wanna know.”

“You.”

His jaw shifts, and you feel a slight tug in your chest.

Was that too forward? Probably. But you’ll take what you can get, like a last meal chosen to hit every one of your desires. “Anything you wanna tell me, of course.”

Yoongi remains quiet. Which isn’t unexpected but still a little letdown.

“Not much to tell.”

Ah. Just more lies then. Maybe you should stick to the original plan. “Nothing at all?”

He looks at you, planting a hand on the bed to lean a little closer. “Nothing you’d wanna hear.”

You shift between his eyes. Wondering if it’s better not knowing or if you really do wanna give in.

Perhaps his eyes will speak for him instead. Glowing dark. Hints of ember and smoke. Years and years squeezed into those irises.

“What if I do,” you quietly question, catching the light on his alcohol-tainted lips.

Reaching out, you boldly place a thumb over one side, slowly brushing off excess liquid and marveling at how soft he is there. Tender, just like his name. “What if I don’t care.”

Yoongi waits for a moment before holding your wrist, the atmosphere trembling and buzzing around your shoulders. Oxygen depletes as he leans in close, his beautiful features almost touching yours.

You feel something locking into place. Something beautiful and terrifying. And it holds you down as you feel his hair, his warmth, his—

A noise blares into the room before you can feel yourself rushing upward, your body reacting on survival instinct alone. Glasses spill onto the rug and you don’t know what’s happening but lack of sleep lack of comfort lack of everything has you ready for—

Time stops.

Sounds muffle.

And your eyes flash wide as you see the tip of your blade pointed straight at Yoongi’s side.

Just as he’s poised with a gun pointed towards the door.

It’s a phone ringing.

A fucking. Telephone.

What have you done?

As Yoongi slowly shifts his gaze to your outstretched hand, you tremble in severe regret. Regret that you pulled this on him with the very weapon he gave you. Regret that he knows all there is to know about how you still feel about him.

But you didn’t mean to… You didn’t even think. And you abhor how you directed your fear at the one person that kept you alive. The one person you fucking saved.

When Yoongi lowers his gun, he doesn’t acknowledge the guilt on your face. But as he walks away to grab his device, his gaze flicks back to you before he answers across the room.

Shit.

You fucked up you fucked up you fucked up.

You weren’t lying when you said you wouldn’t care. You really weren’t. But who knows what Yoongi will think of you after that shock of a face off.

Coming into his room was most definitely a mistake. Now you can’t wrangle your emotions for shit, head pounding with feelings and outcomes and adrenaline to the brim.

Yoongi’s close to the wide bathroom stairs, so you can’t hear what’s being said. He does keep looking at you, though, which keeps your fingers pressed against a hilt.

Are you in danger? Will Yoongi not want anything to do with you anymore? Is it alarming that you can’t decide which one is worse?

The call doesn’t last long.

And as soon as he hangs up, you’re sputtering like a broken fountain, dagger still wielded as he stalks forward—phone clunking to the ground. “Who was that.”

“No one.”

“What’s gonna happen to me.”

“Nothing.”

Fuck. You really did fuck everything up. Your brain is so battered that you’re gonna be skittish and paranoid for a long, long time. “Yoongi, I’m so—I didn’t mean to—It just happened—”

Forget it. It’s over. Your last interaction will haunt you forever and the only way you’ll experience what could’ve happened between you will be in your wildest darkest sweetest illest—

Burns flare at your eyes when Yoongi’s chest meets the quivering tip of your blade.

“Stop,” you wince out, a damning tear pinging to your feet. “Just stop.”

He starts to walk forward, which alarms you enough to step back because what the fuck is he doing! Why can’t your arms move? Why can’t you lower the fucking dagger?

“I can’t,” you croak. “I can’t move.”

You’ve been firing on all fronts the whole day. Even in your dreams, you’re in survival mode. You can’t unlock your arms because they fight for the rest of you. Your legs propel you when the rest of you wants to give up.

But that still doesn’t stop your heart from aching. It burns, it burns, it burns.

When Yoongi grips your wrist, you choke on a sob. When he calls you smart, you squeeze your eyes shut in shame. And when he whispers to drop the fucking blade or he’ll do it for you, you do so after a maddening pause.

It clunks to the ground when a gun does, and you’re suddenly spun until the backs of your knees hit something solid.

Immediately, you’re thrust back onto dark sheets again, tears now rolling into your ears as you instinctively let Yoongi smother you whole.

His hand slides to your inner thigh, and your mind reels when you start feeling a hardness on your stomach. Breath whooshes out of your mouth before you're covered in silk and muscle, and pleasure bursts from where he quickly devours your neck fuck.

Hands are quick to untie your robe as fire stokes your throat.

“I won’t ask again,” he vows with a voice that rumbles. “Tell me what you fuckin’ want.”

“Yoongi—”

“Say it and it’s yours.”

“Make me forget,” you shove through your teeth. “Just make me fucking forget.”

“How.”

Fuck lack of experience. Fuck being shy. You aren’t wasting another damn second and your emotions need all the release they can get. Loose lips, loose tongue, looser inhibitions.

The monster inside of you yanks at its chain, claws and claws at its confines screaming at you to give in. You need this. You want this, especially if Yoongi himself is gonna give it so willingly.

Just say it. Just say it.

“If this really is the last time I’ll see you…”

Yoongi stills as your eyes lock unblinking.

Tell him. Four words.

“Fuck me like it.”

A proverbial chain snaps as Yoongi dives into your neck, ravishing you and sucking hard on your vein. When you yelp, your clenched legs seem to encourage, and he thrusts forward to launch you up the bed with a purpose. With intention.

All to let you know what you just got yourself into.

His fingers light little fires along your skin, burning everything in their paths up your arms, your sides, squeezing into your imperfections and latching down. His lips set your being ablaze as he keeps feasting, causing your breaths to get shorter, and shorter, and shorter.

“So sensitive..”

When you feel the warm swipe of a tongue, your eyes scrunch shut as you shudder. Which makes the whole thing worse for you when Yoongi chuckles dark in return.

“I don’t think you’re ready for this.”

“Shut up,” you huff out, grasping for his robe and raking at his sleeves. “Of course I am—Fuck.”

His thumb rolls across your exposed nipple, pinching it to make you arch right up into his chest. “You sure?”

When the hell did he even open your robe? How did he do that so quick without you knowing?

You bite down on your lip to keep from screaming, nodding in determination while your brows almost kiss.

Watching your expression, Yoongi pinches again, biting his own lip while slowly spreading that shit grin. Your moan comes out more like a muted hum, which seems to displease.

“Uh uh,” he orders. “You’re gonna be loud for me.”

“But what if someone—”

“They won’t.”

He continues in his control, sliding a hand under your thigh to hitch it up before shoving it to the side.

And you know where he’s going. But it still shocks you all the same when his fingers make contact with your slick.

Your very, very wet slick.

Many, many things will haunt you for life. Your experiences. Your choices.

But right now? The only thing that will follow you to your grave is this distinct, biting, staccato batch of laughter. “You shouldn’t’ve ever come in here.”

Breath ragged, you watch as Yoongi concentrates, exploring your cunt with his long digits and hitting every nerve with perfection. When you rub against him, he growls, lifting shiny fingers to insert right into his mouth.

Sucking.

Licking.

And your eyes mirror his at once—as black and pulsing as fallen stars.

He swoops down at the same moment you tug on his clothing, his mouth latching onto the side of your neck he hasn’t ravaged. Impatient, his hand yanks the bottom of your robe to the side, fully exposing your legs and leaking folds while you grapple with your own obstacles.

It’s messy. It’s jilted. It’s exactly what you want.

As soon as you find the slit in his robe, you take a brave leap and reach for his cock, not knowing what you’re gonna find but having a vague idea based on his—

Oh. What.

Fuck, he’s gonna split you in two.

You’ve held one before. You know what they feel like. But this cannot be possible and you’re already mentally preparing yourself for your breaking point.

“You good?”

You snap your head right up, realizing how stunned you must be if he’s asking. “I… You’re fucking huge.”

Yoongi doesn’t react, but that somehow makes it more attractive. Like he knows. And he doesn’t deny a thing. “That a problem?”

“I mean… I think I’ve lived a good enough life.”

To your surprise, the man above breaks completely as you keep blabbering, shoulders shaking alongside those stupid dimples. Those beautiful, elusive dimples. Too bad this is the last time you’ll ever see them. “Did what I wanted.. Not everything, but most of my list.”

Yoongi’s still chuckling. And for a brief moment, you’re brought back to the days he was just a patron. Back to when you would think about him before bed, delighted to see him stop by.

This is him. This is Yoongi with you now.

Where was he this whole time? Was he really waiting until you answered him for real?

You went so far into your head that you missed the change in position. So it makes you jump like hell when you realize where his teal mop of hair resides. “Wait, wait, wait. What are you doing?”

Between your thighs, Yoongi lifts a brow, locking your legs with tough arms before you can even move.

“Yoongi, you don’t have to—oh, fuck!”

The first contact of his tongue on your folds makes your eyes burst, your legs effectively being pinned down in their tensing. Jolts of lust spiral from your core as he licks, sucks, twirls around your clit like it’s second nature, and you feel yourself welcoming his every thrust.

This is happening. This is happening? You’ve never done this before, not that you’ll admit it. Whatever Yoongi’s doing is completely new territory for you and you don’t ever think you’ll leave. Permanent residence. No other land to discover.

Whines echoes throughout the room before you slap a hand over your mouth. Because the whole world will hear his name if you don’t. Especially when he adds fingers and curls them just right what the fuck!

He makes you forget. And forget. And forget. You even forget your own name. Only his. Saying it into your palm over and over and clawing his sheets with the other.

A low growl rumbles between your legs before you hear him purr, “Just like I fucking thought.”

What’d he say? He didn’t say that. You’re hearing things, you’re sure of it. There’s absolutely no way Yoongi’s imagined anything about you, much less what you taste like.

And the words keep coming as he whispers how tight you feel. How hot. How perfect you’re gonna fit him.

While all you can utter in return is gibberish mixed with the syllables of his name.

Pleasure rolls in waves as he learns every inch of your cunt, fingers drenched in your slick and the curves of his cheeks lathered in your scent. When he reaches beneath you to grope your ass, he gives a rough squeeze.

“Move your fucking hand.”

Your eyes fling wide.

“I wanna hear you.”

“No, I’m—there could be people—”

He clambers over you, robe wide open and revealing a body that rips your soul clean out. When he seizes your palm to shove it to the side, another monster starts to wake within your chest.

And this one takes treacherous pleasure in those slitted eyes.

“You’re gonna scream for me.”

“Or else what.”

The dark rumble. The rolling thunder.

Your other monster is starting to match his glint. “You don’t wanna do that with me, doll.”

“Do what?” you ask with flitting eyes.

When all you get is a sharp smirk in return, your stomach flips in desire and excitement. So when he slaps the side of your breast, you hum high with a delighted flinch.

“Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

Yes. This is what you came in here for. Your shyness will have to be comfortable with the unknown, but it’s also helping seeing Yoongi much more relaxed.

Like a normal person.

Especially when he leans over to open his bedside drawer, hair swaying as he grabs for what you think are condoms.

Your hunch is right when he rights himself again, teeth nicking a wrapper before tearing it in one sweep. When you start to clench your legs together in response, he shoves them back open with a thigh, robe parting to show exactly what’s going to splice you in half.

You’ll gladly take his amusement at your jaw unhinging. Because what you see is heaven sent.

Yoongi says nothing as he wraps himself fully, and he continues to be silent as you whisper,

“I wanna see you.”

It doesn’t take long for him to understand. As his length presses against your core, he slips off his dark robe, letting it slide down equally dark sheets before pouring onto the floor.

You’re just as quiet as he situates himself above your beating heart. Which is for the best. Your thoughts are better left unsaid.

All you can do is grip his arm, sliding your hand up until you can finally, finally brush his hair with your own fingers. Exhaling when you discover how soft it feels. How comfort can be found in something as trivial as tendrils.

“This is helping, too,” you murmur to his lips, inhaling what you realize is your own scent.

When he cradles your chin, your breath cuts. “Things happen when you say what you want.”

“If only it was always that easy.”

“It is with me.”

Your heart skips twice before tripping on itself, and you instinctively curl your palm against his head. “Everyone around you must be so lucky.”

An eyebrow lifts before he huffs. “Not talking about just anyone, love.”

…Huh?

What does he mean by that because shit you’re getting tugged forward he’s so strong—

“Now, if you’re gonna be difficult,” Yoongi warns. “Let’s give you enough time to reconsider.”

Your thighs widen as he positions himself at your entrance, cockhead rubbing along your folds as you tense.

“Uh uh.” He hums. “This is what you want, yeah?”

“It’s been awhile,” you spat, rolling your eyes when he shoots you a knowing look. “Just… give me a second.”

Obliging, Yoongi starts slow, making your head roll into the pillow as you accommodate his girth. Holy fuck, he’s big. But he’s sliding in easy after his little feast down there, which you piece together as one big prep for the main course.

“Fuck,” he groans, resisting every urge to plow straight into you. At least, from what you can decipher in his pinched features. If this feels amazing for you, you can’t even imagine what he must be feeling now. It only gives you butterflies knowing he’s following through with his word. “So fucking tight.”

“Not my fault you take up… so much space,” you grit through your teeth, neck straining as you blow air to the ceiling.

Fully sheathed, Yoongi rests inside until your muscles relax. And you only peel your eyes open when you start to slip into more pleasure than anything else.

Okay. You can do this. You can fit him surprisingly well—maybe too well—and you’re okay to keep going without restraint.

When you peer down your body, you expect him to look bored or indifferent. Like he’s wasting time dealing with you.

So it makes you shiver when Yoongi looks ready to ruin.

Toned arms flex at his sides, hands keeping your thighs held in their place. When a strand of vibrant hair falls, his chains spark in the moonlight streaming in from the windows. A dragon that waits. And waits.

You’re ready. Your demise will be your reward.

“I’m good,” you assure him. “You can move now—”

A second invisible chain snaps with a clink, and Yoongi launches into a thrust that has you seeing stars. You tumble through the dark as he thrusts again, mouth open with silent yells before you gnaw right into your lip.

“Relax for me,” he commands. “Just like that.”

Your cunt hugs him tight as you bounce even harder, his little grunts of praise making you mewl and whimper in bursts.

Fucking hell, this feels good.

You cannot wait to find out how it’ll feel when you piss him off.

His hands grip your hips, hosting you up onto his thighs as he thrusts hard into your cunt. Your body rocks in an arch, limp and at his mercy—which there is very little of. Enchanted, your lip tightens with the pull of your teeth, eyes squeezing shut as he feels so fucking good and hitting. Just. Right.

It all carries you so far gone that as soon as you feel a rush of air, the sting on your ass makes you react—piercing moan making both of you freeze.

And Yoongi’s eyes deepen a shade as he slowly grins. “There you go.”

“Don’t act like you—fuck!” His second swat has you grunting through your teeth, and his thrust forward at the same time he does it again has you whining. Monosyllabic, his name shoves out of your lungs, with each part more chipped than the next.

“What’s that, love?”

“Yoongi, please—”

“That’s right.” He clutches your sides so damn rough. “Say my fuckin’ name.”

And his pace pitches you into the sun, rocking so hard you won’t be surprised if the bed frame snaps in half. In thirds. In sevenths. Your legs go completely limp as he drives in, filling you and hitting a spot that pierces your eyes with stars and light and lust. Down down down you spiral, up up up you go. It’s only you and him now, with Yoongi plowing into you like his life ends come morning.

There’s nothing in the world that feels like this. Burdened by the dangerous weight of a man—this man—while feeling so light you could float? Absolutely nothing can compare.

Your body finally rests as he stops, but you get no breather as he flips you over with strong arms. Disoriented, you squeak as he tugs you backward, your ass rising in the air as your head is shoved into luxury cotton.

Sweet pain sears your ass again, and you gasp with wide eyes as you feel his cock at your entrance. “What are you—”

“Lift up. Higher.” He slides his dick up your folds. “You’re gonna like this.”

“You don’t speak for me—”

He thrusts into you as soon as you get accustomed to his length and size. And the place his thumb presses makes you scream into your pillow. His pillow. A hotel suite pillow that you’re biting to stay afloat.

How the fuck does that feel so good? How does all of this feel so good? His thumb on your asshole already has you melting, but the smacking of his sack against your clit makes you want to repent.

“So fucking—fuck.”

Drool strings from your mouth as your arms are tugged at the elbows, your whole upper body coming up for air. Precious precious air that’s cut off when Yoongi chokes you from behind.

“Yoo—!”

His strength slams your chest into the headboard, right at the edge of the bed before you feel the force of his palm hit the wall.

“What did I fucking say.”

“A lot.”

“I’m gonna hear you.”

“But—”

He shoves you flush against dark wood, your cheek smushing hard and your lips curling. “Let them hear you, too.”

You keep your moans muted until fingers are shoved down your throat. And you gargle until he yanks them out.

“That’s it. I know you can take it.”

“You’re easier…” Gritting your teeth in a smug grin, you taunt in a bold-faced lie, “Easier to take than I thought.”

His laughter is not lighthearted. “You’re still gonna go there, huh.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you pout, eyes drooping from the euphoric shocks his thrusts provide. Sweat rolls down your arms as you slip on the wall, but it gives your chest a cool surface to rest. “Go where?”

Suddenly, the grinding stops. And your cunt feels abandoned as he pulls out so fast. When you think to spin around, he spanks your ass with a harsh, “Don’t move.”

Do you want to disobey? Yes. But you’re more curious than anything, so do as he says.

And your eyes light up when you realize what he comes back with.

“Now… I could use this,,” he warns, pressing a silky smooth robe tie along your neck. “Since you don’t wanna behave.”

“Do it,” you taunt, wishing like hell that he does. Yes, yes, yes. You’re drunk on lust and volcanic want and you will fight for nothing more. “You won’t.”

Your neck is rocked back before you feel him slap your ass. “Then stay still.”

And you obey as you feel your belt—or his, either one—wrap loosely around your column before it’s tied.

Gently, your chin is turned, and you’re surprised when you’re met with stern eyes. “Can you breathe.”

Blinking, you nod. “Yeah, I can.”

“Two taps if you’re out, understand?”

“Yes.”

A swift pat to your cheek. “What’d I say.”

“Two taps,” you repeat, figuring out fast that you’re liking this development a little too much. “If I’m out.”

Holy fuck the yank you feel is exhilarating, your body bending back as shock overcomes your senses.

Lidded eyes staring down at yours, he vows, “You better make them count or we never do this again.”

“I will, I will,” you rasp out, breath still coming to you fine albeit a little more harshly. “I promise.”

“Good girl.”

Wait, did he say again?

As he slips right back inside, you lose all passing trains of thought. Cunt filled while his fingers clog your mouth makes you traverse to another plane. Every part of you, at his mercy—

Then he yanks you backward and all that mercy burns in the flames of heaven. Flocks to the clouds of hell.

The belt is completely taut as you succumb to his thrusts. Hard. Fast. Rough thrusts make you cry out as he toys with you, gravelly hums tumbling down your back as you arch for him. All the sounds you make echo throughout the room, a symphony of mewls and moans as Yoongi controls your every move.

“Take it.”

“Hmm?”

“You want it,” he repeats. “So take it.”

Oh. Oh, he wants you to—Oh.

You start moving back and forth, doing exactly as he says. Taking what’s yours for the night and shamefully not forever.

But it turns out it’s not enough because he tugs.

“Like you fucking mean it.”

Fuck.

Groaning, you move with more intention, sliding up and down his cock and feeling full every time. It feels good having control, you muse, and imagining him watching your debauchery turns you on that much more.

Your thrusts turn to rough slams, friction running fast while you chase it with all your strength. The groans you hear sound primal, hissed taunts egging you on.

“Guess you can listen after all.”

“Fuck you.”

Another hard yank.

Your laugh only spurns him on.

Slaps to your ass, grabs to your breasts. Yoongi is worshipping every inch of you and you won’t even notice this until nights later when you’re alone. You’ll remember the way he squeezes just right, the way he fits so well, the places he hits with no hesitation nor guesswork. It’s pure experience strangling you with passion and you don’t even know how to embrace it all.

But then you start to feel it. Your breath tapering. It’s getting harder and harder to suck in air and you’re starting to see stars across your eyes.

When you reach an alarming point, you quickly slap his leg twice, oxygen gushing into your lungs right as he lets go.

You almost come on that exhilaration alone. Adrenaline pumps pumps pumps into your veins, eyes blowing black as he spins you around.

Hot, open mouth kisses pepper your burning throat, and you have the nerve to catapult him all the way back onto the bed.

Yoongi lets you top him with a laugh, and you immediately use this opportunity to pin him down with a chokehold. Wanting him to feel the same way you just did. Knowing deep in your soul that he wants it, too.

“Cute.”

“You asshole.”

Holy fuck, you can’t even recognize your own voice. It’s hoarse. It’s rugged.

It’s salacious.

He cocks a brow while peering down his nose. “You done?”

“What?” You blink. Slowly releasing his neck, you admit with a rasp, “No, that’s not what I.. I’m not done with you.”

Yoongi slides into a smirk, and you attempt to scoff with a burning throat.

You wanna tell him how good he is. How stupidly attentive he is. But all you settle for is something neutral. Safe. And maybe a little forward.

“Just felt like calling you that.”

Yoongi’s smile mellows into a line, and if you weren’t in such an evocative position, you would have thought it was genuine contemplation. But he slides hands up your thighs before slapping the side of your ass. “Get on.”

Fuck. You don’t really know how. At least, you don’t know how to do it without showing him you aren’t used to it.

So the confidence will keep getting faked. With a little help of your quick wit and tongue as you grab his length. “Didn’t hear a please.”

Yoongi huffs out amusement. “I don’t say that.”

His tip goes in fine. Fuck. Okay. You can do this you can do this. “Why am I not surprised—!”

He shoves you down as soon as you give him enough leeway, and you groan out as you catch yourself with hands on his chest.

“This is where you’re gonna live,” he says with confidence, laughing in condescension when you scowl. “Fuckin’ love it.”

He can’t say stuff like that.

You ride until you find a rhythm, rolling your body and finding the friction you want. It’s there for the taking. And he’s encouraging you with gravelly words and hums, with hands up your stomach and grasping your chest.

After a single swirl of your hips, he throws his bed back until his neck strains. “Fuck.”

So you take that cue, rotating between rides and swirls. When he tweaks and rolls thumbs around your nipples, you clench hard around him, and he does it until you moan to the ceiling.

A slap to your breast makes you whine, and you keep going before leaning forward, placing hands against his shoulders and bouncing your hips on his cock.

“—a fucking natural,” Yoongi praises, chuckling to himself as he toys with the silk streaming down your neck.

“Maybe I’ve just practiced.”

“Show me more then.”

Quickly, he tugs you down flush against him before grabbing your ass, slamming you down and pistoning up until you scream.

You start biting his shoulder to quell your shouts, which makes him moan loud enough to make you possessive. Wildly possessive. Before long, you feel yourself going limp on him, only for him, solely for his pleasure and yours.

“Just like that. There you go.”

You mewl into his skin as he grabs you, holding you down as he slams into you again and again and again. Drunk with power, you begin to mark his throat, devouring and feasting with reckless abandon.

Growling ragged, Yoongi flips your position and pins you face down, shoving up hard into your cunt before plowing. You fully lean into the yells now, saying his name and inching over the goddamn edge of the bed.

It’s there. Your release. It’s potent and it’s visceral and it’s everything you need need need—

“Yoongi, I’m close—”

He penetrates so far that you can taste him, and you come so harshly that you convulse. Squeezing like hell and quivering in a full body fold.

Holy shit, the screams. Is that you?

The sinister laughs of pride prove you right. “That’s my girl. Fucking scream.”

You can’t stop. All you know is extreme pleasure coursing through your veins, pulsing beautiful colors and making you arch like mad.

But you have more to handle. Yoongi prolongs your euphoria by yanking you back only to sink into you again, hands rubbing both nipples and tongue speaking deadly sins in your ear.

“You aren’t done,” he growls. “Lemme hear you again.”

“I can’t—”

“Liar.”

His name rips from your mouth as you surprise yourself, gushing around his length and squeezing in powerful pulses. Nothing exists. Nothing at all. Everything you know is a feeling, as vibrant and shimmering as the sun above your street back home.

All the heat you’ve ever felt coalesces along your skin, and the words whispered in your ear slide right down with your sweat. You aren’t quite sure what you hear. But judging by your preening, it has to be praise. Dirty, dirty, sinful praise.

When your limp weight is flipped, you allow your legs to be hoisted up with no resistance. Looking upward, you peel open lids to the equivalent of a king. A god. And your outright awe blocks your ears from catching what your dragon swears.

“—perfect,” he grits, inserting himself into your squelching folds. “Again.”

No fucking way you have more left in you. You’re already floating in the ether, buzzing in pleasure and sweat and ecstasy. If you come one more time you’ll be an empty shell.

“Earn it,” you boldly rasp out, grappling a bit of your spirit and reining it back one last time. “Take it, you bi—”

Your heart leaps up your throat as you’re pitched upward, groan serrated and high as you grin in triumph because it feels so fucking rewarding when he gives gives gives.

Letting everything go relaxes your folds, causing Yoongi to rock into you with pride and without resistance. His chain smacks against his pecs at the same pace as your bouncing chest, and you’re more than sure you’re gonna feel bruises on your legs where he sinks his claws.

Skin slapping skin. Mewls and gritted curses. Heady scent covers them all in a thick layer and you feel the light grow closer and closer, stronger this time than all the others before it. Why? Why do you know this one will pitch you over the edge for good?

Both of you may feel the same.

Because Yoongi suddenly shoves himself so far into you and presses his body flush against your shuddering shaking screaming form.

You pulse frantically around him, throat sore and ragged from your final cry as tears stream down your face. It feels so fucking gorgeous that it hurts, and you enter a plane so mystical it’s completely separate from your earthly vessel. The two of you become closer than one, and you feel Yoongi stutter in his groan before yanking out and ripping the condom off.

Hot spurts paint your skin—a sweaty, spent canvas that dips slow with your labored breaths. His own breathing is rough but not exhausted, and you chalk that up to the mountain of stamina and experience he has on you.

It’s done.

Thoroughly spent.

All the pent up emotions dissipate in a slow descent. The chaos of today finally lowers its head, your monsters making their ways back into their cages. Moonlight shines brighter. Fuller.

Illuminating a man in silver as he slowly heads into the bathroom.

Holy fuck. You just slept with a gangster. With a Dragon.

With Yoongi.

There’s no way you can forget this. No way you can see yourself moving past this moment, even years and lifetimes from now. It doesn’t matter if Yoongi never thinks about you again, because something transpired in this room that you’ll keep locked away in your soul forever.

As he brings back a towel to wipe his essence from your skin, you wonder.

Was it all worth it?

Or will this torture you in every dream you’ll ever have?

A palm digs into the mattress before you feel weight and jewelry. The silk around your throat is carefully undone, and lazy, heated lips descend on your neck once more.

Bliss.

Sighing, you utter his name much softer now, telling him please without knowing what for.

“What do you want,” he whispers.

“I don’t know,” you admit in a wisp.

Yoongi keeps worshipping your throat, and you mewl when he reaches to rub your breast in a slow squeeze. When you drag your hand down to grip his cock, he tenses with a gritty hum.

“Careful, love,” he rumbles. “There’s a lot more I can do with you.”

“Tell me.” Your breath starts shorting in anticipation. “Tell me everything.”

“Nah.” When he slides forward, the bare tip of him meets your cunt, causing you to flinch with a bitten lip. “You’re just gonna have to wonder. Day, after day, after day.”

Fuck this guy with the spite of a thousand lives. You’re the one holding his cock, so how the fuck is he still being this sure of himself?

“Put it in,” you blurt, earning his gaze of utter confusion.

“What?”

“Just for a second.” You stroke him, feeling slick velvet and wetness coating your fingers. “That’s the last thing I want.”

His eyes search yours, and for the first time tonight, he’s the one that looks hesitant. “You sure…?”

“We’ll never do this again,” you whisper. “And I know you want it, too.”

His gaze holds yours for a moment, searching your eyes for any sense of doubt.

When he finds none, Yoongi positions himself at your entrance, and you feel his knuckles brush your folds before he sinks in. Slowly, cautiously, extraordinarily.

And both of you groan so full.

“Fuck,” Yoongi glowers, teeth sharp as he grounds them hard. His arm veins strain, shifting all his ink in pretty ebbs and flows. All his stomach snaps taut, and you can’t look away from his sheer look of concentration and lust. “Fuck.”

“Feels so good,” you gasp, enjoying the way he’s slowly grinding against your walls. All the slick from your releases allows smooth strokes, and you already feel close for yet another time. An unbelievable amount of orgasm in such a short span. You’ll never reach this peak. Not with anyone else. “What the fuck, I’m close again—”

“Shit—”

It happens in a snap. But more of a mellowed, drawn-out river flow than a full waterfall. Your eyes slowly roll before closing, and your chest arches slow as you rock back and forth on his cock. The squeezes are harder. The pulses are fuller. You’re milking him for all he’s worth, like your cunt won’t let go until it’s pumped him dry.

Which makes Yoongi lose his absolute mind, hissing as he pulls out quick before spilling onto you all over again. Again?

Holy fuck, again?

As he groans up above, his eyes are wiped dark completely. Which makes you wonder how you can still see stars embedded inside.

Was it all worth it?

You’ve never been more achingly sure.

It’s a long shot to know if he feels the same. And an even longer one for that to truly be the case.

But it’s okay.

This is the first, the last, the only time you have. And it was more than you could’ve ever asked for.

As he falls into the sheets next to you, both of you exhale harsh, hearts pounding and pounding into the bed and to the ceiling.

You can’t even move. Every single limb is sore from base to tip, and the door looks so, so far away.

When you whisper his name, you get a little acknowledgement at your side. Gathering all the strength you have left, you whisper,

“I know this is when I’d be kicked out, but.. I can’t move.”

The small puff of air you get in return sounds like a yes. But you aren’t sure until Yoongi verbally gives you a real answer,

“S’ok.”

All you can do is hum, noticing with a sharp pang that you feel soft towel wipes before the smooth slide of sheets up your bare skin.

“Just stay on your side.”

Ah.

Well. At least you aren’t alone for a night.

“And you.. Stay on yours,” you murmur, darkness seeping into your peripherals.

“Mm.”

Yoongi can be as cold and heartless and calculating as he wants. But you know he’s more than what he shows.

Because with a second sharp hit to the chest, you also realize the side you’re on is the side he was on before. He’s not gonna make you move just to keep his preference.

Don’t think too much about it. Do not.

“I wish everything was different,” you whisper, drifting into a dreamless sea. “I don’t want to hate you...”

Your forehead is swept by a warm hand. You cannot lift your lids any longer, but your ears still hang onto their efforts.

And the last thing you hear before succumbing to the dark is a lighter flick and a fact. A cold, expected, damning fact.

“You’ll always hate me.”

When you wake, you’re greeted by the same room you fell asleep in.

Sunlight cuts through grey skies to shine every surface, and you breathe in a musky, comforting scent as you stretch your limbs.

Did last night really happen?

The soreness between your bare legs is more than enough to prove so.

Slowly turning, you whisper to Yoongi that you’re ready to go when he is.

Only to find out that you’re talking to no one.

Shit.

Shooting up, you start to panic. Maybe he’s in the living room already? Getting ready to call someone to bring you back home?

Glancing at the nightstand on his side, you don’t spot the dagger he gifted you, brain grappling with what that could possibly mean.

Your ribs crackle when you bite back emotion. It’s all over.

Shifting back to swing your feet onto cold fibers, you pause with swimming eyes.

Because the blade rests ready on your nightstand, propped on a set of plain clothes in the perfect position you would need it to be.

Teeth clenched and eyes burning, you swipe it before rushing out of bed, head pulsing and a dull ache between your legs. “Fuck..”

The shirt and pants you’re given don’t exactly fit, but you’ll take what you can get as you punch limbs through long sleeves and high pants.

Yoongi isn’t here.

You feel it in your whole being, and you have no fucking clue why it hurts.

But if he’s not here…

Who do you start to hear outside the door?

You freeze, lungs expanding as you hold multiple breaths.

It sounds like talking. But also a myriad of sounds?

Heading into the bathroom, you silently glide across the floor before swiping up the chopsticks. Because yes, you’re still gonna save them. For defence. For keepsakes. For a grave reminder.

Tucking them in a pocket, you ready your dagger under your garment, pressing it flat against your skin like you were trained to do.

Slipping out into the hallway, you hear the sounds clearer. Movement. Slides of furniture.

What the hell is going on?

You’re about to retreat back into the room when a man crosses in front of the hall.

And his hair is strikingly…

Orange?

As he catches you in his vision, he stops on a dime, hand outstretched in greeting. “Hello!”

Your step back makes him laugh. But you’re not laughing in the slightest as you question,

“Where’s.. Where’s Agust?”

“Gone.” The smile spreading makes you squint. “Need to see him?”

Your answer is immediate.

“I’d rather die.”

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

a/n: alright before i say anything else: use the bathroom after sex, and especially after doing it unprotected!! i normally include it so this is a rare exception. but yes. please use the bathroom after, and practice safe sex always! a/n 2: WHO COULD THAT BE AT THE END THERE... ahahah but seriously, i for one am still swirly eyed just thinking about what's coming for these two.. they have no idea what's in store and i'm itching to get the next part done! a/n 3: 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

#FINALLY FINALLY #5000 words in two days just wanted to say i love y'all #bts fic #bts imagines #bts reactions #yoongi fic #yoongi angst #yoongi x reader #yoongi x you #yoongi smut #bts fanfic #bts smut #ryenwrites #minted #minted3 #*ryenfictalk #*latest

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teaspacebar · 4 months ago

Text

spiced chai

pairing: carmen "carmy" berzatto x reader

summary: you've been living in chicago for about a year, and you're suddenly managing the coffee shop in the well beloved bookstore, nan's. you meet carmen berzatto on a not-so-good day. you're thrust into the everchanging societal landscape that is making friends in your 20s..

word count: ~9.7k

warnings: language, depictions of mental illness, barista!reader, afab!reader (but tried to be as neutral as possible), neurodivergent!reader, they don't kiss, could be read as platonic tbh but there's crumbs in there if you look, takes place over the course of a few months, probably doesn't follow canon fully (i'm not caught up yet forgive me)

a/n: *dumps this here and runs* but actually this piece of writing appeared in my brain and i've been picking away at it for a couple of months. i feel like i've put more of myself into this fic than with anything else i've written, so this is definitely more of a self insert (pls be kind or don't read if that's not your vibe). i'm queer, non-binary, and autistic and i just wanted to insert that into this space. i feel like there's more to explore here, so i might write more for this if i feel so inclined.

Meeting Carmen Berzatto was not on your to-do list for Tuesday morning.

Not that having to run down to the nearest corner store to grab milk - since the milk fridge was on the fritz…again - at 4am was in your plans either. It always seemed like one step forward, three giant leaps back with the little shop on the corner you basically called home. It was weird, to be thrust into leadership as your manager made an abrupt exit.

The small bookstore, with an even tinier coffee shop, had been your place of work for the last year or so. You loved it. The people were great, and Nan, the shop owner, was absolutely lovely. She was getting up in her years, but the genuine care she had for the employees made all the difference. She put her trust in you to run the cafe, saying “You have the experience, and the care you have for people shows. I know this. Everyone knows this. Now you just have to see it - have confidence.”

“Confidence my ass,” you mutter, carrying five gallons of milk around the corner.

What happens next might have been considered the beginning of a rom-com, but you’re a realist, and the world is shitty.

There’s a crash, and the distinct sound of three of the five gallons of milk dropping onto the sidewalk. You stare, watching in slow motion as the milk forms into a river, dripping off the sidewalk into the gutter.

The person who ran into you curses, “Shit — fuck, sorry, I—I wasn’t looking where I was…dammit.”

You grip the other two jugs in your arms, blinking out of the haze to let out a hysterical laugh. “Great…cool cool.” Cold plastic bites into your fingers, and you take a deep breath. “Yeah, okay, what else was gonna happen?” You finally look up to see the one you collided with. The man looks extremely uncomfortable, foot tapping like he wants to bolt. Plastering on a smile you shake your head, “It’s fine. I’m the one who thought carrying five gallons of milk would be fine.” You ramble on, trying to ease his nerves, “I mean — why would I drive, like, thirty seconds. Park, get the milk, come all the way back. Seemed stupid…but now there’s milk in my socks.” You grimace, fighting the urge to chuck the remaining jugs of milk in the street so you could also hurl your milk-soaked shoes and socks after them. It makes the ache in your chest sharpen.

“Here, where are you —“

You cut him off, “No, no, it’s okay. I got it, thank you.” You gesture to the door that’s just a few feet away from you. “This is me, anyway.” You adjust your hold on the milk, brushing past the man to pull open the door. You catch it with your hip, not daring to look back as you head behind the counter. You release a sigh, setting the bane of your existence on the black speckled marble.

“Fuck,” you whisper, pressing the backs of your hands to your eyes. You shake out your arms, biting your lip. “Okay, asshole, let’s get your shit together.” You quickly put the milk into the small fridge below the bar and walk to the back. The squish of your socks curdles your stomach, and you breathe through your mouth to avoid the smell. You take off your shoes, throwing them into a plastic bag to take home. Tossing your socks into the garbage, you grab your replacement sneakers and socks from your cubby. It wasn’t the first time you’ve dropped something on your shoes, it wouldn’t be the last.

You take your time in the back. You had gotten to the shop around 4am, unable to sleep. You were messing around with recipes, seeing if there was a possibility of baking some of the food in the cafe fresh, instead of outsourcing. It was something you put on your own plate, and you didn’t want to disappoint Nan. You had shown up early, looking to try out some muffins, and noticed the fridge had been hovering at sixty degrees all night. You’ll have to grab some more milk before the day starts, but that could be a problem for 8am you.

Walking through the swinging doors, you jump as you see someone at the bar counter. Pressing a hand to your fluttering heart, you finally take in the man that had run into you earlier. A mop of curly hair on his head, white tee, very blue eyes…and standing behind eight gallons of milk.

“Um…” you look between the milk and him a few times.

“The…uh – the door was unlocked. Figured I owed you one.” He rubs the back of his neck.

“How’d you even get it all here?”

“Made two trips.” His gaze snaps back to you as you laugh, this time more genuine. “Fridge go out, or somethin’?” You’re still staring at him like he has two heads, and he rambles on, “Sorry for just…barging in. I used to go to this place…when I was kid. My sister and I would grab whatever pastries they had left for the day. And, yeah, we’d just sit, read random shit. I work at the restaurant just down the street…’s why I ran into you. Wasn’t paying attention – sorry, again.”

Suddenly, it all clicks. “You own The Bear.”

“Uh, yeah – yeah, I do.”

You feel nervous, out of the blue. Nan hadn’t stopped talking about the Berzatto’s, and Natalie had become a regular while the restaurant was being remodeled. You’re sure you’d seen other employees come in as well, for reading material. You vaguely remember talking to a very sweet man about baking, as he carried a ton of cookbooks in his arms.

You knew Carmen Berzatto, but only through the words of others – and the research you did late one night because you were nosey. To have him standing in the bookstore you worked at, for him to have gotten you milk, is sending you for a loop. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you begin to put the milk in their new home. You really need to call the refrigerator guy again.

“That’s so cool,” the words fall from your mouth, others staying in your head.

It's insane that someone like him is even speaking to you. He’s around the same age as you; He owns a restaurant and you’re barely able to run a tiny coffee bar in a bookstore. You’re an idiot who dropped milk onto the sidewalk. Why didn’t you just take the car? You should’ve just taken the car. Now Carmen fucking Berzatto has bought you milk at 5am because he feels bad for you. How pathetic. Call the fucking refrigerator guy.

“Thanks…for the milk.” You back away from the counter, gesturing behind you, “Lemme grab some money from the cash box real quick.”

“No, don’t worry about it.”

“It’s really fine, you didn’t have to go out of your way. I’ll be right back.” The itch creeps its way up your spine, and you push through the door as a shudder passes through you. You shake out the twitch, going and grabbing the cash box. You do mental math, trying to see how much you should give him. Did he even need the money? “Idiot,” you chide yourself. Today was not the day for your brain.

Snagging a twenty and a ten, you rush back out to the bar, only to find the store empty. A groan escapes through your teeth, and you clench the cash in your hands, crumpling it. You walk to the front door, peering out to see if you can spot the chef. He must’ve made a quick getaway. As you turn to get prepped for the day, you spot a brochure on the counter, far away from its home of the stand at the front of the bookstore. Eat Your Way Through Chicago!

Scribbled on the front is a phone number, and the words:

Fridge Ask for Fak Say Carm sent you

“Fucking fuck.” You whisper, a smile creeping on your face against your will, “Asshole.”

It’s later in the week when you hear the bell attached to the front door – ding! You poke your head up from where you're arranging some alternative milks under the counter, seeing a familiar blonde.

“Hey, Natalie!” You pop up, an easy grin appearing on your face. “Half-caff?”

She nods, “Please.”

“How are you?”

“Oh, you know.”

You ring her up quickly, then grab a pitcher to steam some milk for her latte. Natalie walks away from the counter to browse some books. The steam wand whirs, and you watch the vortex inside the pitcher. You touch the sides every so often, waiting for it to get to the right temperature. Making drinks is all muscle memory now, and you tamp the espresso grounds into the portafilter with precision. Wiping the excess from the lip, you lock it into the machine and press the shot button. As the shot pulls, you wipe down the steam wand with a wet cloth.

“Is this any good?” Natalie has come back over, holding up a book with a half-naked man on the front.

You laugh, “It’s a Nan recommendation, so…” The shots are poured into the paper cup, and you swirl the milk into it, doing a quick tulip design. You sprinkle a little cinnamon over the top, before placing it in front of the woman.

“Smutty then, for sure.” Natalie laughs, then does a little excited gasp when she sees the latte art. “It looks so good every time!”

“Thanks,” you reply, “Gets covered by the lid, but it’s fun to practice.”

“Too bad you don’t have for-here mugs,” she says thoughtfully.

“Ever the idea-haver! There'd be more spills to clean up – Nan would lose her mind if any books got ruined.” You point to the book still in her hand, “You want me to ring you up for that?” It was early enough in the afternoon that the only other person here was a part-timer, Jack, somewhere between the shelves stocking books. You had convinced Nan to upgrade to a different register system (which ended up saving money in the long run), so you’re able to ring up both books and café products at your register.

She shakes her head, sighing. “I barely have any time to read, these days. I was thinking about trying out audiobooks? I used to listen to them at my old job, but it’s way too loud in the kitchen for that to work out.” The latte goes to her mouth, a pleasant hum leaving her as she takes a sip. “You’re the best.”

“Thanks, Natalie.”

She squints at you, “It’s Nat, c’mon.” A big conspiratorial grin makes its way onto her face, “So, I heard that you got some help with your fridge.”

A sharp pain twists in your chest. “Oh, um…yeah.” You let out a soft chuckle, “It’s working, which is great. Neil was a big help.”

“He said you made him the best hot chocolate he’s ever had,” Natalie taps the counter with her pointer finger twice. “Said he didn’t know how you got his number, though.”

You shrug, wiping down the counter, “Nan had it. And the usual guy wasn’t calling me back.” Neil had told you the exact same thing, both about the drink and the number. Something had held you back from saying where you got the number from. Embarrassment, maybe? It felt weird, feeling like you owed anyone favors, or that things would be unbalanced. People usually never give without looking to receive.

“Frankie, right? He’s an asshole. Overcharges for everything.” Natalie doesn’t push you for answers, something you’re grateful for.

“Right! He disappeared one time and said he’d ‘be right back’ and then was gone for like, two hours! And he added that to his hourly!” The two of you giggle at the shittiness of people for a minute, when a ping causes Natalie to pull her phone from her pocket.

“I should run.” She reaches into her purse, and puts a five into your tip jar. “Thanks again!”

As she turns to go, you call out her name. “Would you - maybe - I have some extra muffins. The place we get them from gave us some of the wrong ones…or they’re a tad over baked, or something. I can’t sell them. Would you wanna take them with you?”

“That’s so sweet of you! Yeah, I’m sure they’ll get eaten up.”

You grab the box of muffins, handing them over to her, “Thanks.”

“Thank you, babe.” She leaves with a smile, and you look down to brush the flour off your apron.

“Hey, guys, I got some goodies!” Natalie sets the box of muffins on the table, where everyone is seated for family meal.

Neil immediately grabs the box, pointing to the sticker on the top, “You went to Nan’s? Man, I could use a hot chocolate right now.”

“I’m sure you can walk over there and order one, my love.” Natalie replies, waving for him to put the box back on the table.

Marcus snags two muffins, handing one to Sydney who is sitting on his right. Taking a bite, he stops chewing, eyebrows raised. “Dude,” he nudges the girl next to him.

“Dude,” Syd parrots, popping some muffin into her mouth. “Wait, woah.”

“That’s what I’m saying!”

“Nat, where did you get these?” Sydney calls to the woman now sitting at the end of the table. The muffins are passed down the rest of the table.

Marcus has started dissecting the muffin, “Macadamia nuts, sick.”

“Oh they’re from Nan’s just down the corner!” She tells them how you offered them to her since they were the wrong ones from a vendor and possibly over-baked.

Syd snorts, “Over-baked? These are perfect!”

“What’s perfect?” Carmy walks out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.

“Bear, come eat!” Natalie waves him over, pulling him into the seat next to hers. “You’ve been at it all morning, take a minute, okay?” She gives him a look that tells him not to argue, and he huffs in response, but does as she says.

“What’s perfect?” He asks again, taking the muffin box from Sweeps as it’s passed to him. As the cinnamon crumble topping hits his taste buds, he leans back in his chair. “Shit.”

“That’s what we’re saying!”

Syd and Marcus begin talking over one another, the dull roar of family making its home in Carmy’s ears. He has another bite of muffin, thumb swiping over the sticker atop the box.

Nan’s Books & Brews

Simple lettering, surrounding a doodle of a coffee cup sitting on an open book.

“When did they,” he clears his throat as he leans closer to Nat, “when did they start doin’ stuff like this?”

Natalie purses her lips, “Not sure, honestly. They only had that small coffee machine and that plastic pastry case when we were growing up, remember? I think they added the actual coffee bar right before Covid?” Carmy nods, looking out the windows, a curdle in his stomach.

“A lot’s changed,” he murmurs.

“Yeah,” Nat sighs, a hand over her stomach, “a lot has.”

A few weeks go by, as uneventful as they can be. You try out more recipes, and the staff of Nan’s is always sent home with one treat or another. Muffins, cinnamon rolls, croissants (which were a bust), and the like. Natalie is still a regular, and Neil has shown up to save your ass more than once. The brochure with his number on it taunts you from where it’s stuck up on the corkboard in the back.

Which is what has led you to standing in front of The Bear, a joe-to-go in one hand, paper bag in the other. An envelope burns in the inner pocket of your flannel jacket. Steeling your nerves, you knock on the door. Some yells are heard from inside, nicknames getting passed around like it’s a holiday dinner. You see a man walk towards you, in a nice suit, and he opens the door.

“Can I help you?” It’s not said unkindly, but there’s a look in his eyes that’s making you nervous.

“Coffee delivery?” You say sheepishly, holding up the coffee traveler by its cardboard handle.

“Richie, who’s at the - hey!” Natalie immediately smiles when she sees you, and you sigh a breath of relief. Things were easy with her; she had this amazing way of comforting you without even trying.

“Hi,” you wiggle your fingers, still keeping hold of the objects in your hands. “Wanted to say thanks for all the help Neil’s been giving me, and when Nan found out, she insisted I bring over some coffee for the team, so…”

“You workin’ at Nan’s?” The guy - Richie - asks.

“For the past year or so, yeah.” You reply, thanking Natalie as she grabs the paper bag from you.

“Let them in, Richie, c’mon.” She presses on his chest, causing him to back up with his hands in the air. “Come in! I’ve been meaning to ask if you wanted to come by for a tour.” You follow behind her, taking in the layout of the place. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and a sense of awe falls over you. She has you set the coffee traveler on the bar, letting you take the paper bag from her hands. You pull out a cup holder with two cups in it.

“One half-caff french vanilla latte for you and…a hot chocolate for Neil.” As if by magic, Neil pops through the door to the kitchen.

“For me?!”

You chuckle as he pulls you into a hug. When he pulls away, he grabs his cup with a happy sound, rushing back into the kitchen when “Fak!” is yelled.

“The fuck Fak get a coffee for?” Richie frowns, causing you to bristle. Natalie swats at him, beginning to explain as you continue to walk around the restaurant. As you pass by a wood table, your fingers tap on it, the sound echoing in your ears. It sends a shiver through you, and a small smile appears on your lips.

Natalie calls out to you, tearing your gaze back to her. People have begun to swarm around the bar, placing food on it, and your coffee is suddenly surrounded by things that smell amazing. “Did you want to eat with us, babe?” Attention turns to you, and the itchiness in your limbs reappears with a vengeance.

A tall man, wearing a beanie, grins, “Hey, those muffins were amazing, by the way.”

You sputter, “Oh. Um—“

“Tell the chef, or baker — whoever,” he laughs at himself. “They were fire.”

Warmth rises in you, “Yeah, I’ll pass it on.”

“Babe, lunch?” Natalie says again, louder this time. More of the staff have begun digging into their meals.

“No, it’s okay!” The corner of your mouth curves up in a small smile, this one less genuine than before. You begin to back up towards the door, a gnaw of guilt in your gut as Natalie frowns.

“Cousin! Food!” Richie yells out, followed by laughter from everyone else.

“I’m coming!” A familiar figure bursts through the kitchen door, “You don’t gotta yell like an asshole.”

Carmen Berzatto stops in his tracks when he sees you; the envelope in your pocket burns hotter. You look down at your shoes, but they just remind you of the milk dripping down the sidewalk.

“Carm,” Natalie introduces you, “they work at—“

“Nan’s.” Everyone chimes in, and you have to stop yourself from flinching. You look over at Carmy, eyes meeting.

There’s a moment where you feel like you’re going to get swallowed whole. The pipes are going to burst and water will fill up the room and you’re going to drown.

You walked straight into a den of hungry beasts, and you’re just a measly rabbit.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay?” Natalie’s words are muffled in your ears, but you manage to shake your head.

“I have someone from books covering me, and they barely know how to work the espresso machine.” You force a laugh. It grates against your vocal chords. “It was nice meeting you guys, though.” With a meek wave, you turn on your feet and speed out the door. Rounding the corner, you keep walking until you’re sure they can’t see you. Veering into the alleyway behind the restaurant, you let out a shaky breath, leaning against the brick.

You press your thumb into the palm of your hand. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. Inhale, hold four seconds, exhale. It’s over before it starts, but your chest remains tight. A reminder, which will eventually dissipate once you're back in the shop.

The coffee bar, your shield; apron, your armor.

A door opening causes you to jump, startled. Your eyes meet blue, widening like you’ve been caught. “Sorry! I was just–” You push off the brick.

Carmen seems just as surprised as you, “No, s’fine.” He clears his throat, as the two of you settle into silence.

A fwip of a lighter. Four seconds. An exhale of smoke.

You’re unsure if you should leave, but it’s like the bottoms of your shoes are stuck to the ground. “Did you-” He starts, lifting up his hand that holds a lit cigarette.

You shake your head, “No, but - um, thanks.” Your fingers twitch, and you reach to pull the envelope from inside your jacket. Something that appears so insignificant, held out in the space between you. When he just stares, you wave it a bit, until he takes the envelope with his free hand.

“What’s this?”

“Cash, for the milk you bought.”

“You didn’t have to-“

“I did.” You bounce on your heels, “I should actually get going this time. Just wanted to give you that but…” He doesn’t respond, something you’re getting used to. You wonder where the man who rambled about reading with his sister at Nan’s went, but decide now is the best time to make your escape. As you start to walk toward the street, you turn, “The restaurant looks great, by the way. Good luck with the opening.”

“Good luck with the opening.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

"Let it rip, Bear."

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“-a complete waste of fucking time.”

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

“I’m really sorry you feel that way, Carm.”

Natalie invites you to Friends & Family.

You don’t go.

The next month flies by. Marcus, Richie, and Syd have joined your little group of regulars. Richie even brings his daughter, Eva, whenever he’s able. She’s a joy and absolutely hilarious to have around. Richie has grown on you, the rough edges of him softening after a few cortados.

One night, he had rushed into the shop, Eva in tow, all but begging you to watch her for a few hours. He was supposed to be off for the day, to spend time with his daughter, but they’re understaffed at The Bear. A few weeks in, which confused you, but questions weren’t asked. You said yes - obviously - and had Eva help you with little things around the shop, until you close. The two of you bonded over a shared love of Taylor Swift while making muffins. By the time Richie came to pick her up, Eva was tuckered out in a loveseat, patchwork blanket tucked up to her chin.

“I owe you one,” Richie had whispered, holding his daughter in his arms.

You shook your head, “You deserve to have time with her.”

He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “Yeah, bring it up with the Bear himself.”

You weren’t planning on it. The man is barely on your mind. Except for every time someone from The Bear walks in. They look drained, more and more each day. It’s a certain type of pain, to watch people – that once had so much life in them – lose the light that you felt so harshly the first time you walked into the restaurant. You hear inklings; mentions of a changing menu every night, nonnegotiables, and the like.

It worries you. It’s not your place - you’re more than aware of that. But you’ve come to care for these people. And by extension, some part of you wants to see how he’s doing. It’s an odd - biting -feeling. How strange it is, to know someone through everyone else’s eyes but your own. You have to fight back the urge to force yourself into the places you do not fit. You’re resigned to watching from afar, providing comfort behind your coffee bar. It’s what you’re good at. It might be all you're good at.

Some sick twist of fate decides to upturn it all one Friday night.

Carmy had stayed late, to nobody’s surprise. He’d been adjusting the menu, preparing it for tomorrow, when the flashes hit him. He decides to walk it off, popping another thing of nicotine gum into his mouth. He walks aimlessly, trying to push the overwhelming thoughts out of his head. The street is dark - most places being closed - but light pours onto the sidewalk, just a few feet ahead of him. Almost a reflex, he peers into the windows.

A laugh of disbelief - more a huff of air through his nose - leaves him.

You’re dancing, headphones over your ears, as you mix something in a large bowl. It’s unlike anything he’s seen - from you or otherwise. There’s a sense of freedom in your movements, so different from the few times he’d seen you before. The tightness in his chest lightens, some, at the sight of you so obviously in your element.

And you're looking right at him.

“Shit,” he mumbles. You tilt your head at him, doing a little wave. He lifts a hand in reply, and you point haphazardly at the door. Before he can respond, or walk away – anything, you’re heading around the counter. A click of the door unlocking, and you pull it open part way.

“Hey,” you say, a little loud. With a wince, you pull the headphones off to rest around your neck. Music can be heard – a muffled, upbeat song that he doesn’t recognize. “Hey,” you say again, quieter this time. Silence passes between you, and he watches your nose twitch. “…did you wanna?” You jut your thumb behind you. You’re almost unrecognizable from the first time you met, calmer, somehow.

“Yeah, sure.” The words come out, easier than he thinks, and slips through the door you hold open. You lock it behind him, turning back around to slide behind the counter.

You grab a muffin tin, beginning to fill each one with a scoop of the batter you had been mixing. You make quick work of it, pushing them into the small commercial oven, wiping your fingers on the towel that’s pulled through a loop in your jeans.

Leaning against the counter, you finally look at him, “Okay, Pick your poison.”

“What?”

“Coffee? Americano, latte, cappuccino?” It’s like you’re trying to read him, wanting to crack the spine of a book and see what’s inside.

“I don’t really do the…caffeine.”

You hum thoughtfully, tapping your fingers on the counter in some type of rhythm. “Can I make you something? Low-caffeinated, of course.” He nods. “Anything you hate?” A shake of his head.

You grab a cup and get to work. You’re singing under your breath - the song that’s playing from the headphones around your neck. With your eyes off of him, he takes a moment to actually observe the shop. Warm lighting, with dark wood bookshelves making it feel cozy without being too claustrophobic. There’s smaller tables, with different recommendations for certain genres. A sprinkling of string lights and hanging plants just adds to the homey feeling, one so different from the pristine, white kitchens he’s used to being in. So different from his own restaurant. The coffee shop portion is close to the front, dark marble countertops and a chalkboard menu - swirling letters describing monthly drink specials.

“Alright, order up,” you call out softly.

Carmy walks back up to the bar, eyeing the cup. Warmth presses into his skin as his fingers curl around it. You mention that it’s hot, to let it cool for a bit. Silence falls between the two of you - in a way he finds comforting. Your eyes flick between him and the counter you’re wiping down.

“Do you normally do this?” He asks.

“The making drinks thing, or the staying at the shop way too late thing?” You give a wry smile. “Could ask you the same.”

He scratches at his nose, “Noted.”

The minutes pass; you go about cleaning the shop, rinsing dishes and setting things up for the next day. It’s an art he’s well versed in. The muscle memory takes over for you, and Carmen becomes invisible. It feels nice, to just be in a place where nobody has anything to ask of him. He finally tries the drink. It’s good, milky, if a little sweet, but it eases the last of the sourness in his stomach away. A timer on your phone goes off, and you tug on a flowery oven mitt to pull the muffins out of the oven. Chocolate and spice invades his nostrils, soothing him even more. You grab one, hissing a bit since it’s hot, and put it on a plate, bringing it back over to him. Leaning over the bar, you reach for forks that are in a metal cup, right near Carmy. You’re close, with no care about being in his personal space. It’s only for a second, and then you’re back in your previous position.

“You can have some, as long as you promise not to be an ass about it.” You hold out a fork for him. The words cause him to cringe, but he takes the utensil from you.

He stares at the muffin, running his thumb on the underside of the fork. “How much trouble am I in?”

You shrink back a little, “W-what?”

He’s met you what - twice? Both times felt clunky, an awkwardness to the both of you. Here, it’s simpler. Under the cover of night, huh? A voice that sounds awfully like Mikey’s says in the back of his mind. His family won’t stop talking about you. Or drinking your coffee.

“The Bear,” he mutters. “They talk to you, right?”

You laugh, surprised. “Do you actually want to know?” You hold up a hand before he can reply, “Actually, no. They don’t talk to me. I see things, sure. But I’m not getting anyone in trouble with the boss.” You’re on the defensive, not even for yourself, but for his kitchen.

“They-They’re not in trouble.” One look from you and he deflates, sighing. “Okay, yeah. Just…just say something.”

“I haven’t even been to eat there.”

“You should come,” he says.

Another laugh - a scoff, more-like, “You think I could afford your place?” You bite your lip, pinching the bridge of your nose. After a moment, you continue, gently, “Do you have any fun?”

“Fun.” The word is like poison in his mouth.

“Yes, fun. I know that food service isn't the best, but it’s good to have fun, or to at least enjoy it.” You wave your hands around, “That family meal stuff you guys do? That’s so sweet, and you have a whole family unit going on in that kitchen, or whatever. If this restaurant is supposed to be the rest of your life, you should like it, at least a little bit, right?” Your torso melts into the counter, and you rest your head on your arm. “And like, maybe? Don’t change the menu every night, or something. It’s new, right? You gotta work out the kinks first before jumping in all-” you blow air out through your cheeks.

A beat of quiet, then, “The menu, huh?”

“Eleven thousand for butter?” You parrot back. At his frown, you hold up your hands, “I’m just a barista, what would I know?” You say it without heat, and yet he feels guilt crawl up his throat.

“That’s not-”

“I know, Carmen.” A sigh leaves your lips, “You asked, so I talked. Again, take everything with a grain of salt.” The words get softer, as if you’re talking more to yourself than to him, “Just remember who’s going down with you if it ends up crashing and burning.”

You stab your fork into the muffin, tearing it in half. He follows suit, lifting a bite of it to his lips. Spice floods his taste buds, and he grunts. You blink up at him, fork hanging from your mouth. He’s suddenly starving, and he eagerly gets himself another forkful. “S’good.” He mumbles through the food. Carmen watches as you process his words, pressing your lips together to hide a smile. You two finish the muffin, and there’s an ominous sense of peace that covers him like a blanket. “Thanks.”

“For yelling at you?”

Carmy lets the chuckle spill out, “If that’s what you call yelling…” He trails off, sobering, “Do you have fun?”

You hum, contemplating. “Yeah. I mean, it’s coffee, at the end of the day. It’s just nice to see people, to make their day a little better than it was. I like to try out new things, to create, to get recommendations.” You stop, seeing him staring at you, “What?”

“You’re different…from the other day, s’all.”

You’re perplexed, scrunching your nose, “Well I had a bad day, the first time. And I don’t do…well, with new people.”

“Unless you’re behind the counter.”

Your eyes widen, something flickering behind them, like he’s seen something you didn’t want him to. “Touche.” Checking your phone, you clear your throat, “Alright, we should probably get out of here if we want any semblance of sleep.” He follows your lead, as you flick off the lights, throwing you backpack over your shoulder. He waits while you lock the front door, small key dangling on a keychain. You turn, looking at him, before holding out a paper bag, “Muffin for the road?”

He grabs it, an odd feeling bubbling in his chest, “Oh - uh, thanks.”

You suddenly look sheepish, fiddling with the strap of your bag, “And if you’re out late again, feel free to stop by. If you need a break, or something.” A beat. “Oh, again, take what I said with a grain of salt, yeah? Just - maybe - try to take care of yourself a little.” You laugh nervously, and Carmy sees the truth of his earlier observation. You’re still more relaxed, but the nerves have crept in as you step outside your comfort zone. Something he knows all too well. “Anyways, have a good night - morning.” You shake your head, blowing a raspberry through your lips.

“Night. Get home safe.” He murmurs. You turn on your heel, walking down the street. He tightens his grip on the paper bag.

Take care of yourself.

At least enjoy it.

You should like it, at least a little bit, right?

Carmy doesn’t know if he truly remembers what liking cooking is like. He’s found little bits of it, in moving back home. In Marcus’ eyes as he creates something new. In Syd’s determination to make amazing food. There’s a passion there that he’s lost somewhere along the way.

He sees it in you, and it calls out to him - the tide being pushed and pulled by the moon. A curious feeling, gnawing at his stomach. A hunger for something he can’t make sense of, but he pulls the muffin out of the bag to eat on his walk home.

Carmy keeps showing up at Nan’s, usually late at night. You didn’t expect him to take you up on your offer, yet a smile graces your lips every time he does.

He was right, when he said you feel most comfortable behind the counter. You knew it, but having someone else acknowledge it felt…weird. Like you weren’t playing your part right. Yet it also felt good, to be seen.

Conversation between the two of you still feels stilted, occasionally, but you find comfort in the quiet moments. And the not-so quiet ones; with music playing at just above a reasonable level, you mouthing the words as you dance around behind the bar. The mask slowly slides off when he comes around, and it’s easier to be goofy.

You think it surprises him. He’s not quite sure what to do, when you’re cruising on the linoleum tile you call a dance floor. But he never tells you that you’re weird, or too much. You’ve maybe even seen him bite back a smile. You swear there’s dimples hiding somewhere — a fleeting thought that you let fly away before you linger on it too long.

“What do you think?” You’ve turned the music down, notepad on the counter, your favorite pen in hand. You click it a few times, sound satisfying the little itch in the back of your brain.

“Not sure if I’m a matcha fan,” Carmy murmurs. You nod, writing down his response onto the paper. It’s almost filled — you’ll have to turn to the next page soon — with different drinks you’ve had Carmy try, determined to find the right one. He’s harder to pin than others, something you’re not necessarily surprised by.

That's partially on you. You're unsure of how much to ask. How much could you poke the both metaphorical and literal Bear until it breaks? You've been enjoying your time, but you've yet to ask him how work is going. He doesn't ask you about your personal life, so why would you ask about his?

There's a curiosity there, though. To see what makes Carmen Berzatto tick. You fear the two of you might be a little too similar.

You turn to go back to cleaning your mess — the reason being a fresh tray of cookies cooling on the counter, when he says your name. “Did you get a new tattoo?”

Gaze flashing to the wrap you have on your arm, peeking out from the sleeve of your shirt, you turn bashful. “Oh,” you hum, “I did. It’s been on my list for awhile. I’m keeping it wrapped at work while it heals - god knows I spill everything all over myself.”

“Can I — What did you get?” He’s just as sheepish as you, a boyish glow about him. You’d never talked about tattoos before. His evidence is on his arms; yours are mostly concealed — easy to hide with the oversized button downs and jeans you wear.

You pull your phone from your back pocket, “Here, I’ll pull up a photo of it.” Placing your phone on the counter, Carmy grabs it, zooming in on the two-headed calf that’s found its home on your bicep. The tattoo is fresher in the photo, line work popping out against your skin. “The longest living two-headed calf lived 17 months. Her name was Gemini — a little on the nose, I think. There’s also this poem by Laura Gilpin, that just kinda struck me.” Your ramble tumbles off, a half smile pulling at your lips. “It’s sad, but the kind that makes you hurt in a nice way? If that even makes sense.” You wave a hand around, then reach to take a sip from his cup.

The matcha settles the nerves hiding under your skin, the earthy flavor dancing on your tongue. As you set the cup back on the counter, you point at his hand, “What’s that stand for?” Your own fingers twitch, fighting the urge to brush them across his own. “S.O.U?”

“Ah, sense of urgency.” He says, fiddling with your phone.

You laugh, quickly covering it with a hand, “Sorry, I — sorry, that just makes so much sense.” Before he can speak, you shake your head, “Not in a bad way, necessarily. It’s just so obvious how little work-life balance you have.”

“We’re literally at your shop in the middle of the night.” Carmen huffs exasperatedly, corner of his mouth curling up.

You hold your hands up, conceding, “Okay, I get it. Misery loves company - or whatever. God, we’re both crazy, aren’t we? We should get out more.”

He hums in response, tapping his phone twice to check the time. Anxiety swells up in your throat, and there’s something biting at your heels. The silence doesn’t feel comfortable anymore.

You said something wrong, the little voice in your head whispers. You lost the script and got too close and now he’s pulling back. How can you fix it? You have to fix it.

“What’s your favorite one?” His blue eyes glance up at you. Invisible hand squeezing your lungs, you stammer, “Tattoo. What’s the one you like most?”

His words come out softly, “A house boat. I, uh, got it before leaving Copenhagen. I stayed in one while I was over there, and put out water for an invisible cat.” Relief floods you as he talks. It’s the most he’s spoken about anything, and you see a glimmer behind his eyes.

It feels a little too close to home.

“You really loved it over there, huh?”

As if caught, he clears his throat, “It was cool…different.”

Different from Chicago, you don’t say. “I get that,” you murmur instead.

You knew what it was like, to run away. The need for escape pushing you into flight as the metaphorical dog chases the rabbit.

You wonder what Carmen’s dog was. Or is. If it’s even a dog at all.

“What about you? What’s your favorite?”

You’re pulled from your thoughts. “Oh! Um, it’s silly.” You worry at your bottom lip.

“You don’t—”

“No, hold on, it’s just,” you push yourself onto the counter with the palms of your hands. Carmen leans back as you swing your legs over the bar, letting your feet rest on the barstool next to him. You lean over, pulling up your pants leg to show the tattoo on the right side of your calf. He stares at it for a moment, confusion clear in his gaze. “See, I told you.”

“Is it a moth, or something?”

“Moth-man, Carmen. Mothman.”

“Am I supposed to know what that is?”

“He’s a cryptid. There’s literally stories of a Chicago Mothman.” He peers up at you in amusement, causing you to scrunch your face at him. “I swear on my life Carmen Berzatto, don’t be an asshole.”

“I’m not.” He laughs, and your chest loosens. You got Carmen Berzatto to laugh. “It looks good, the style is nice,” he gestures to your leg.

You smile, “Thanks.”

Nodding, he goes to sip from his cup. He makes a face, pulling it away from him, “Yeah, I don’t like this.”

He holds it out to you as you reach for it, laughter spilling from your lips, “More grass for me.” You drink, and let the cup rest on your thigh, fingers tapping on the plastic lid.

“I’m not…” Your head turns to look at him, watching as he runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not really good at this.”

“...at what?” You whisper, scared if you talk any louder you’ll scare him away.

“Talking? Not working? Who the fuck knows,” his hand leaves his hair and passes over his face.

“I’m not either, really.” You pick at your jeans, “But we’re trying, right? You come by more than I thought you would.”

“Really?”

You snort, “Dude, the first time I was surprised you even came in.” Gently, you add, “And you don’t have to be perfect at conversation to be friends with someone.” His eyes meet yours as you nudge his shoulder with your knee. “I’m weird, you’re weird, that’s okay.”

Carmen rolls his eyes good naturedly. His legs are bouncing, and you can almost see him chewing the word around before it finally leaves, “Friends?”

“Friends.” You affirm. Silence passes between you, until a growl comes from your stomach.

The man laughs, looking all the prettier for it, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you groan.

He gets up from his seat, grabbing his denim jacket that’s hung over the chair on his left, “C’mon.”

It takes a moment, but it clicks. “Oh my god,” you gasp out, hopping off the counter. With a speed you only have during a lunch rush, you run to the back. You untie your apron, hang it up on a hook, and grab your tote bag. “Wallet, keys, phone…phone!”

“Out here!” Carmen yells. You grin, rushing back out to the front, bouncing on your heels. “You good?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You shake your keys with enthusiasm. He laughs as you both leave, and you turn to lock up. There’s excitement buzzing through you, like caffeine would if your brain weren’t wired a bit funky. A thought cuts through the haze, “Oh shit, I forgot to–”

“I got the trash.” The street lights reflect off his blue eyes.

Your heart twinges a little, “Thanks.”

“No problem.” He gestures with his head, “Now let’s go before your stomach eats itself.”

“Hey Carm?!”

The man pokes his head into the office, one hand wrapped around the door, “Yeah, what?”

Natalie raises an eyebrow, “You busy?”

Carmy scoffs, “Yeah, Sugar, I’m busy.”

It’s lunch time. Marcus has pastries, Tina’s running prep. Syd is around…avoiding him. He tries not to think about it for too long. Richie is who knows where.

Fuck, don’t be an asshole, asshole.

Deflating, he asks, “What’s up? Everything okay?”

“I’m spending my hour of alone time figuring shit out here, while Pete watches the baby.” His sister sighs, glancing down at the paperwork on the desk, “I’m managing. Anyways, that’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

He wants to ask about the baby. His niece. But Natalie barrels over the topic to say, “Were you here late the other night?” He must have made a face because Natalie sighs, exasperated. “I know you stay later than everyone else, doing god knows what, but I got a notification on my phone the other night-“

“What notification?”

She rolls her eyes, “The alarm system, dummy. I get alerts.”

“No, yeah, I get that. But I turned it off.”

It could only be from the other night, when he brought you back to the restaurant. He’s not sure why he did — he almost had a panic attack in front of you while debating what to make. It's strange, how much an environment can affect someone. Nan's feels so comfortable to him now, like nothing can happen to him when he's in those four walls. Where was the last place he felt like that?

You don’t need to impress anyone, Carmen. It’s just me, you had said.

Simple words that cut through him like a knife. You asked for comfort food, so he made you grilled cheese with tomato soup. The little dance you did every time you took a bite relit a fire inside of him that had been burnt out by years of working in kitchens.

“I know. I’m asking because the alarm was set, and then you turned it off again a few hours later.” Natalie unlocks her phone, showing him her screen that has some app pulled up with timestamps on it. “Are you sleeping? Look, I know things aren’t great right now—" Natalie cuts herself off with another sigh.

“It’s fine. Things are fine.” At her pointed look, he holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m working on it, okay? Just…are you good? Do you need anything?”

“About 48 hours of interrupted sleep would be great.” Her gripe falls off into a laugh, which he returns.

Stepping into the room further, he pulls the door closer, just a slim crack of clean white light coming through. “I’ve been a shitty brother lately.”

“No…” Natalie snorts, “Okay yeah, a bit. I love you, though.”

He mumbles the words back, tapping out a rhythm on his thigh, “Maybe I could come by, sometime. See the baby.” It’s a blessing and curse how his chest aches when he sees the way her eyes light up.

“I’d love that, Bear.”

“Yo, delivery!” Marcus yells out, pulling the attention of the Berzatto siblings.

“The fuck?” There isn't supposed to be a delivery today.

Natalie gets out of her seat, “Oh thank god.” She ushers Carmy out of the office, pushing past him into the dining room. He follows after her, confused, only to stop in his tracks.

You’re here.

You stand next to Richie, talking animatedly, albeit shy. You’re wearing clothes he doesn’t regularly see you in, the worn denim jacket catching his eye in particular. It’s clear that you aren't working, yet you hold two cups from Nan’s in your hands, a few drink carriers littering a table.

“You’re literally my savior, thank you.” Natalie pulls you into a hug, and you look at Richie with wide eyes. Carmy has to hold back a snort at your expression.

“You should expect this reaction by now, kid.” Richie takes a sip from his drink when you gape at him in exaggerated outrage.

“Shut up, Richie,” Natalie is barely paying attention, saying the words more out of habit. Grabbing a cup from a drink holder, she says, “You’re coming home with me.”

Giggles bubble from your lips, and you go to cover them with the back of your arm. There’s a pull Carmy feels, instinctual, to urge your arm away from your face and hear your genuine laughter fill the room.

Your eyes meet his, finally noticing that he’s there. The smile you give him is earnest, a gentle hello without words. He forces his feet to move, closing the distance. Carmy blatantly ignores the looks both Richie and Natalie are making. You hold out the cup in your hand - the one you weren’t drinking from - and he takes it from you.

Condensation clings to the sides, his name hastily written on the side.

⋆⁺Carmy!⁺˚⋆

There’s a heart in place of the dot at the bottom of the exclamation point, little stars doodled around his name. His stomach flips.

“Iced?” He swirls the drink in hand, mixing it up.

You shrug, “Thought I’d try something different. It’s hot outside.”

“You off?” Bringing the straw to his lips, he hums at the taste. You’re watching him eagerly, head tilted to the side as you wait for his review. “This is nice.”

Squinting at him, you huff, “Not perfect, though.” You type something into your phone — most likely to add to your notebook later. “Had to run some more syrup by the shop. Saw Natalie’s car on the street so I texted her to see if she wanted something to drink. I have errands to run after this.”

“You a regular too now, Cousin?” Richie barks, and Carmy watches as you remember where you are. Who you’re with.

A protectiveness rises up in Carmen, hating the way you recoil into yourself. “Fuck off, Richie.” He looks over at you, “Hungry?”

“Dude, we got shit to do.”

“Richie!” Natalie hisses at the older man, shoving him back toward the kitchen. She calls back to you, “Thanks for the coffee! I promise I’ll come by when I feel more like a human again.”

The customer service clicks into place behind your eyes, “Take care of yourself! Hope the baby is doing well!” Once it's just the two of you, you sigh, knocking the heels of your boots together. “I should get going.”

Carmen nods, “Can I grab you a sandwich, first?”

“Grilled cheese?” You tease, stifling a smile.

He huffs, shaking his head, “Nah, but Ebra’s got window right now. I could throw something together real quick.”

“You don’t have to do that.” He glances down; you’re pressing your thumb into the middle of your hand. It's uncanny, the semblance of himself that is mirrored in you.

“I know.” He wants to, though. “Give me five minutes?”

A moment of hesitation, then, “Okay.”

“Cool.” And he’s off.

Chaos erupts the minute he’s back in the kitchen.

“Since when did the two of you become buddy-buddy?”

“Can we please get back to work? Richie, respectfully, what are you doing back here?” Syd is working on pasta, flour covering her work service.

“I got shoved outta my space, so here I am,” Richie waves his hands around.

The overlapping voices turn into white noise, and Carmy inhales sharply, “Fak!”

“Yes, chef!” Neil appears out of nowhere. Sometimes Carmen thinks there’s a series of underground passages that makes it so easy to get ahold of him. It’s not that crazy of a notion.

“Go and say hello to them, okay? I’m gonna throw together something, give it to them, and then I’ll be right back.” The last part is meant for everyone to hear, but is pointed more toward Richie. “Seriously, just leave it, alright?”

“I’m leaving it,” Richie snarks, but nudges Fak with his elbow. “Think there’s a drink out there with your name on it anyway. Snag me another one of those apple-donut-things too, eh?”

“Fritters!” Marcus calls out from his station.

Carmy sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s queasy; he’ll have to take some pepto later.

Inhale. Four seconds. Exhale.

Let it rip, Bear.

Neil barrels into you, wrapping you in a hug. He talks your ear off for the next couple minutes; you smile when you need to, laugh when you remember.

The yells from the kitchen are playing on repeat in your ears.

They’re talking about you.

The urge to flee tickles the back of your throat. You thought it would be nice to stop by and bring Natalie a coffee, but then you had felt bad about not bringing anything for everyone else, which turned into you jumping behind the bar to make ten drinks. It’s not like you were going to make Morgan, the barista on shift, make them all.

You always had a hard time not working on your days off.

“You should absolutely come!”

“Yeah, that’d be nice.” You reply, still not fully checked back into your conversation with Neil.

He smiles, “Great! I’ll send you the info!”

Before you can ask what you actually agreed to, Carmy pushes back into the room, to-go container in hand. “Hey, uh, Fak, can you go take a look at the toilet for me?” You barely notice Neil leave, focusing more on how your chest releases as Carmen walks closer to you.

He hands you the container, and you murmur a soft, “Thank you.”

“I’ll walk you out, yeah?”

The thought is nice. Glancing behind him, you see Natalie and Richie watching through the window. “It’s okay, you really don’t have to.” You take a step back just as Carmy reaches out to you. You can’t run, they’d see you. Ask questions. They probably see a caged animal.

“Hey,” he whispers your name, “it’s just me.” He’s repeating the words you said to him the night you were here. You tear your eyes away from the kitchen, looking at him. “Lemme walk you out?”

With a nod, you let him guide you out the front door. The warm summer air washes over your skin, and you take in a deep breath. You count the lines in the sidewalk as you pass them, sipping at your iced latte. “It was cool of you to come by,” Carmy says. “And your jacket’s dope.”

He’s trying to make you feel better.

“Did you just say dope?” You peek over in his direction, catching his shrug. “You’re so old.”

“Fuck off,” he laughs, and your smile widens.

You make it to your car, a little thing that has a new problem every other week. It’s been with you for years, moved with you to five different states. More of a sentimental object, than a real mode of transportation. You mostly used CTA these days if you were able, but it was nice to have a car for when you’re running errands all around the city.

“Sorry if they bothered you,” he apologizes, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“No, no, no,” you push out the words, throat tightening, arms hugging your middle. “I thought I was going to try to be a human today. May have jumped the gun on that one.” Fiddling with your keys, you continue, “It was nice to see you. Thought you might be a vampire or something, since I only ever see you at night.”

The joke causes Carmy to roll his eyes, “Is that considered a cryptid?”

You perk up at the word, “Oh, don’t get me started.”

He smiles big enough for his dimple to appear, “Oh, yeah?”

“Unless you want me to talk for hours on end. I’ll make a power-point presentation and everything.” You might already have one in the works, but he didn’t need to know that.

“You could - I mean, it wouldn’t bother me. If you did, you know?”

You blink a few times, frozen in shock. He looks shy, almost. Like the first time you met him, but there’s something between you now. A plant that will keep growing - might even bloom - if the two of you keep watering it. He keeps pecking away at your carefully crafted walls that let people see exactly how much you want them to.

Carmen Berzatto keeps seeing you. Whoever that is.

He coughs, scratching the side of his head. “I’ll see you later?”

“You know where I’ll be.”

“Yeah.”

You walk around to the driver’s side of your car, opening the door. You slide in, turning the key to let your car sputter to life. You roll the windows down, and music starts to blare from your speakers. “Kick ass tonight!” You yell the words as you pull away from the curb. You spare a glance in your rearview, watching Carmy wave before he starts walking back to his restaurant.

When you're parked outside your apartment, it hits you. You dig into your tote bag, pushing aside old receipts, chapstick tubes, and fidget toys. You cheer to yourself as you pull your notebook out, favorite pen hooked over the cover. Flipping to the back, you stare at the list of drinks you've had Carmy try.

You think you want to keep seeing him, too. Whoever that is.

You scribble at the bottom of the page, circling it twice.

Spiced Chai ~ HOT, xtra cinn

#carmy berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #the bear fanfic #neurodivergent!reader #— moth writes

722 notes · View notes

cowboylikeyouu · 3 months ago

Text

🦾 WINTERHAWK RECS 🏹

@bl0ssomized asked for some winterhawk fic recs & i took that as my sign to finally sit down, go through my 500+ bookmarks and provide y'all with my fav fics <3 if you end up reading/enjoying any of these, PLEASE make sure to leave a comment on ao3, the authors deserve all the nice words in the world!!

about this list:

most of these fics are pretty popular in the fandom, so this list is more directed at new fans just joining the winterhawk paradise!! (there's a lot on here tho, so maybe you find one you haven't read yet)

mika/bee asked for little to no smut, so i'm not gonna rec any pwp works here (with a few exceptions). if you want smut recs, hmu tho, i got y'all

there's obviously still smut in many of these fics, but i tried to tell you if it's important/skippable or not. if you don't mind smut i obviously recommend reading it bc GOD these authors just know their shit, but i think nobody should miss out on the amazing long fics just bc they don't like smut :)

i put a "notes" section for every fic where i just yap about it and/or my feelings towards it for a bit bc i literally can't shut up about these two guys.

alright, i think that's all, let's go!! pls tell me if i messed up the links somwhere :)

50k+ words

Lucky In Love by dr_girlfriend

words: ~60k

important tags: no powers AU, oh my god they were roommates!, friends to lovers, mutual pining

notes: every time i give winterhawk recs to a new fan i start with lucky in love, bc even tho it’s an AU, it has soo many of the typical winterhawk tropes i love so much. PLUS: roomates. and lucky. and every chapter is titled “aw, [something], no” and i find that way too funny to not mention. idk it’s just one of that fics that gives me the warmest & fuzziest of warm fuzzy feelings and i think everyone should read it.

smut: even tho it has the wonderful, wonderful tag “not gonna tag every sex act just trust me there’s plenty”, there’s actually not that many. in my opinion, the perfect amount for a 60k, 21 chapters winterhawk fic. it’s quite a slow-burn, so they’re only in the later chapters anyway, and the build up to it is soOoo good. this is one of the fics where i know exactly where to find the smut scenes so feel free to hmu.

Like Real People Do by Kangofu_CB

words: ~67k

important tags: “i actually just wanted to watch these two idiots fall in love in a secluded cabin ok”; civil war fix it

notes: no one, NO ONE gets me like this fic, it checks like every single one of my boxes. perfection. not lying when i say it’s my favorite fic of all time. it doesn’t have a special premise or anything, but that’s the good thing about it. it’s just so… cozy. comfy. feels like home. i can’t even remember if like real people do is my favorite hozier song because of this fic or if it’s my fav fic bc like real people do is my fav hozier song, but i know that i never cried as hard as i did when i heard lrpd live and could only think about this fic. nothing makes me feel as good as re-reading this story, i want to eat it.

smut: yes, but only like 2,5 scenes. hmu and i tell you the exact fucking paragraph number or smth, this fic is literally engraved in my soul. thank you CB. some day i’ll leave a 2k words comment on every single chapter.

The Other Man out of Time by sara_holmes

words: ~97k

important tags: time travel, falling in love, clint barton centric

notes: okay, objectively speaking: this is the best winterhawk fic in existence. not my absolute favorite bc it makes me cry too much, but definitely top 3. no other winterhawk fic made me sob this hard, no other winterhawk fic makes me wanna curl up on the floor and cry for an hour every time i think about it. that being said: IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING!!! and a lot of stuff in between is SO sweet as well. premise is basically: clint travels back in time and fights in wwii alongside bucky and they fall in love. and then bucky!canon happens. you get it? you get it. it’s- UGH it’s so good. jesus. i’m crying.

smut: a few short sexy scenes i think, but no SMUT smut, and it’s definitely definitely DEFINITELY not the focus of the story. can’t emphasise enough how much everyone should read this

Hipsters get Remembered, Legend’s Never Die by sara_holmes

words: ~90k

important tags: millennial bucky barnes, awesome clint barton, recovery

notes: millennial bucky is one of the most entertaining things fandom came up with, and this fic is the epitome of that trope. love love LOVE. plus, clint’s really fucking awesome in this.

smut: yes, but only like two or three times in 11 chapters, easily skippable

Puzzle Pieces (series) by sara_holmes

words: ~446k

important tags: steve/tony, kid fic, emotional hurt

notes: if you don’t like stony this one isn’t for you, just skip to next one :) if you like stony: GOD pls read puzzle pieces!! the first 200k words fic is stony focused and has only pre-slash winterhawk, but even tho they don’t get together in this one yet it’s literally one of my favorite clint/bucky portrayals of all time, no one gets them like sara, it’s perfect. the stony/kid fic storyline is SO amazing as well, so if that’s your cup of tea, check. it. out. after that they’re a few longer winterhawk instalments, and while some of them are really angsty and painful, there’s always a happy ending. god i need to re-read this entire thing. it makes me wanna cry and throw up in all the good ways.

smut: some, but you can definitely skip it.

I’ll keep you safe here with me by sara_holmes

words: ~110k

important tags: kidnapping, PTSD, mind control aftermath & recovery

notes: ngl i haven’t read this one in a long time, but everything by sara is perfect and this one’s one of the most kudo’d winterhawk fics, so it’s basically a must read. everyone needs to read a good clint & the winter soldier fic at least once

smut: it’s rated mature, so no really explicit smut. can’t remember if they don’t get a bit horny tho.

A Heart Worth Loving by Kangofu_CB

words: ~82k

important tages: soulmate AU, no powers AU, modern bucky barnes, forced cohabitation

notes: GOOD FUCKING SOUP. soulmate au AND they were roommates????? beat that. it takes them ages to figure out they’re soulmates, which makes this equally amazing and frustrating, but it’s all so so worth it

smut: yes, at the end of it. you CAN skip it, although i recommend skimming through it and read the dialogue parts and stuff.

if you were a mythical thing by Kangofu_CB

words: ~75k

important tags: teachers au, kid fic, werewolves

notes: quick story time for this one bc i remember it so so well lmao: winterhawk olympic bang 2022, most authors had started to post their fics except for CB and i KNEW she had written one, and i was literally checking my emails every hour for days. and then she finally posted it and i already started screaming when i saw the taylor lyrics as a title, and then i read those three tags and literally had to sit on my floor for 20 minutes to calm down bc i was so excited. i remember posting like 20 stories on my private insta that were just me keysmashing lmaoo. idk but teachers + kid fic + werewolves is just such a BONKERS combination, and i can promise you’re in for a treat, it’s so so fun. 15/10.

smut: yes, but it takes some time to get there and it’s skippable

Adventures in dogsitting by Call_Me_Kayyyyy

words: ~53k

important tags: friends to lovers, dogsitting, pining

notes: another olympic bang fic, thank you. cute, fun, lots of lucky content :) good soup

smut: NO SMUT

Under My skin (series) by finely honed

words: ~360k

important tags: Steve/Tony (the “main” instalment is stony focused), PTSD, Life after the army, AU - Tattoo Parlour

notes: the “first” instalment is a stony fic (one of my all time favs honestly) but with a lot of amazing side-winterhawk, and there’s a winterhawk spin-off, that’s a prequel to the stony arc, so you can just read that first if you want. it was one of the first english winterhawk fics i’ve ever read and it always makes me wanna cry when i think about it (in a good way).

smut: they’re quite horny in both big instalments, but i would say the smut is skippable. it’s not un-important for both the winterhawk and the stony dynamic tho, so i wouldn’t recommend doing that

This is Not a Date, it’s a Kidnapping by sara_holmes

words: ~50k

important tags: Fake Kidnapping, also real kidnapping, Bucky Barnes recovering, fake relationship

notes: all sara_holmes is good sara_holmes, but this one’s one of my favs, it’s just so fun. GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 2021, this was such a blast to read when it first came out!!

smut: NO SMUT

Freedom’s Reach by dr_girlfriend

words: ~68k

important tags: arranged marriage, western/historical AU, slow burn

notes: aaaand another winterhawk olympic bang 2021 fic! pretty sure this one was my fav during the bang, like i remember hitting up a friend of mine and screaming at each other for like an hour every time a new chapter dropped, we were SO invested. very good soup.

smut: yes, but it’s a sloooow build, so it’s only in the later chapters. pretty sure it’s easily skippable

ghost in the machine by squadrickchestopher

words: ~75k

important tags: fake character death, heavy angst, ghosts, loneliness

notes: UGHHHH clint “dies”, becomes a ghost and only bucky can see him. touch starved clint final boss basically. amazing shit. painful shit. (happy ending tho)

smut: it’s rated explicit and it’s by squaddy, so i’m like 99% sure there’s smut, i actually can’t remember tho lmao

Barton’s Halfway House for Ex-Brainwashed Assassins (series) by Kangofu_CB

words: ~90k

important tags: the slowest burn, the mcu reimagined completely, accidental baby acquisition, found family, kid fic

notes: this one’s an ongoing series, and it’s such an amazing one, you can feel all the love that’s been put into this. you have to go through like 60k of slow burn before winterhawk actually happens, but it’s soooo worth it. plus: kid fic. kid fic’s always good.

smut: yes, but only in the 3rd part and the short pwp oneshot. easily skippable

something magic, something tragic by squadrickchestopher

words: ~55k

important tags: supernatural elements, vampire bucky, enemies to lovers

notes: VAMPIRES!!! that should be enough to convince you to read this fic!! and it’s by squaddy, it literally can’t be bad if it’s by squaddy.

smut: ughhh not entirely sure, pretty sure the mature rating is mostly for violence, but, again, it’s squaddy, so it’s very possible there’s some sexy stuff hiding in there.

Sweet Home Was Home by there_must_be_a_lock

words: ~110k

important tags: “i sorta made my own franken-canon”, christmas fluff, soft feelings

notes: i found this one on accident once when i wasn’t really expecting to find another PERFECT long ass winterhawk fic i haven’t read yet, and then i binge-read it in one night, and it’s honestly one of the best i’ve ever read, it’s so so soft and… healing. for both bucky and clint and myself. it’s really not as popular as it should be imo, definitely worthy of a place on the first page of the ship tag!! highly HIGHLY recommend checking it out!!

smut: yes, but skippable

10k - 50k words

Starving for the Light by thepartyresponsible

words: ~45k

important tags: magic AU, soul bond

notes: jesus christ i wanna eat this fic so bad. definitely my favorite 2021 winterhawk olympic bang fic, it’s just THAT good. need to re-read it entirely to make sure, but i think it’s in my top 10 if not top 5 fav winterhawk fics of all time. clint’s just so… beautiful in this, idk how else to describe it. and idk, it has a such a unique premise and setting, i love everything about it.

smut: yes, but skippable.

Historic Features by flawedamythyst

words: ~19k

important tags: ghosts AU, homophobic violence

notes: oooohhh my god, don’t make me think about this fic i’m gonna cry. it’s actually pretty fun and cute and fucking awesome, but clint & bucky’s backstory in this?? i’m ugly crying, leave me alone. premise is basically: they’re ghosts and haunting the apartment they died in years ago, scaring everyone who tries to live there out of it. then steve and tony wanna move in. it’s fucking great.

smut: NO SMUT

Call It What You Want To by Kangofu_CB

words: ~48k

important tags: modern bucky barnes, sugar daddy

notes: clint becomes bucky’s sugar daddy on accident without realising and it’s the funniest fucking shit i’ve ever seen, god i love him so much. plus, again,,, millennial bucky barnes. gimme all the millennial bucky barnes.

smut: 3 or 4 scenes i think, starting as early as chapter… 2??? i think??? pretty skippable tho, as long as you read like the foreplay and everything.

A Thistle Cannot Grow by ccbytheseashore

words: ~12k

important tags: kid fic, developing relationship

notes: AHHHSDJGHSKJDHG. enough right?? i’m always a sucker for some good dad!clint & soft!bucky content. this one’s so so sweet it’s one of my main comfort fics, can’t recommend it enough if you love kid fics!

smut: yes, but it’s literally only like 500 words of frotting, you know when it’s coming and you know when it’s over :) (it’s amazing tho)

Attachments by Lissadiane

words: ~22k

important tags: high school au, mother hen bucky barnes, clint barton needs a hug

notes: i KNOW many people don’t like high school AUs and i don’t fucking care. teenage winterhawk has so much potential, i love them to death. which is exactly why you should read this ;)

smut: NO SMUT

Outnumbered by sara_holmes

words: ~18k

important tags: kid fic, triplets, no powers AU, bucky comes home to new york

notes: another single dad clint fic, but give him 3 boys this time!! —> chaos. amazing chaos. + amazing bucky. good soup.

smut: NO SMUT

Once Lost (now found) by Teeelsie

words: 40k

important tags: hurt clint barton, on the run, self sacrifice

notes: hurt clint barton final boss. this was written for whumptober, so you can imagine how bad it gets. SO worth it tho, even if you don’t really love that kind of stuff!

smut: NO SMUT (pretty sure clint’s too hurt to have any kind of sexual thoughts <3 stupid stupid stubborn man. i love him so much)

The Best Worst Thing (that hasn’t happened to you yet) by sara_holmes

words: ~48k

important tags: enemies to friends to lovers, rescue missions

notes: if you’re into comic winterhawk and read their tales of suspense run, you should definitely read this fic. if you haven’t read tales of suspense, go do that now and then come back to the fic, bc it’s basically a rewrite that gives us the bucky/clint & nat dynamic we fucking deserve

smut: don’t think so?

skylines and tan lines by flawedamythyst

words: ~33k

important tags: no powers AU, coronovirus lockdown, long distance flirting

notes: this was literally my fav fic during lockdown, i’m not lying when i say i read this at least 20 times in 2020/21 lmaoo. it’s just such a fun concept; bucky’s living with peggy/steve, and their dynamic is so enjoyable.

smut: there’s quite a bit of sexting & phone sex, plus a smut scene at the end. doesn’t take up the entire fic tho, and the rest is worth it as well.

Behind Bars by sara_holmes and Behind Bares (On The Other Side Remix) by flawedamythyst

words: ~32k (sara), ~25k (amy)

important tags: prison AU

notes: sara’s fic is the original, amy remixed it and wrote if from clint’s pov (with quite some changes). i love both fics, but i definitely read the remix more often and prefer it, but i highly recommend reading both, they’re amazing!! clint & bucky are cell mates!!! and it’s angsty!! a little bit!!

smut: can’t remember what it’s like in sara’s version, but it’s only rated mature soo... there’s definitely one or two smut scenes in amy’s fic, but easilyyy skippable, only like a few handjobs or smth i think.

What do you mean we left Clint on Mars? by sara_holmes

words: ~25k

important tags: outer space, falling in love, clint feels

notes: a classic. falling in love long-distance is soo fun, and i love it when author’s touch-starve clint, so there’s that <3

smut: NO SMUT

A Christmas Miracle: Getting Lucky by Lissadiane

words: ~11k

important tags: christams, hallmark fic

notes: LUCKY!!!! i read this every single christmas. you should too. you’re welcome.

smut: NO SMUT

Dear Super-Secret Diary by flawedamythyst

words: ~16k

important tags: christmas fluff

notes: clint is bored and gets a diary (and the guy). a christmas must-read, it’s fun and cute and fluffy!!! one of the few times i will accept first person narration bc, well, it’s a goddamn diary

smut: NO SMUT

winterhawk punks in love (series) by 1000_directions

words: ~19k words

important tags: punk au, amputee bucky, deaf clint, ptsd, emotional hurt/comfort, recovery

notes: punk!winterhawk is so important to me I NEED MORE OF IT!!! this one’s such a perfect mix of happiness and angst and comfort UGH it just hits that spot.

smut: yes, but the fic’s still amazing if u skip it

Apple Of My Eye by flawedamythyst

words: ~40k

important tags: clint barton’s farm, found family, domestic

notes: FARM FIC FARM FIC FARM FIC!!! bucky, clint and wanda basically start an apple business on his farm, and it’s just soo comfy and awesome.

smut: NO SMUT

Alone in the Bitterness by Lissadiane

words: ~16k

important tags: no pwers au, nurse bucky, disaster clint

notes: nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky nurse bucky!!! do i have to say more??

smut: NO SMUT

Team Spirit by Noxnthea

words: 17k

important tags: case fic, enemies to lovers lite

notes: noxnthea is such an underrated author it’s a literal crime. i normally don’t love case fics that much, but this is a ghost hunters case fic AND their banter is so fun that it really doesn’t matter for me this time

smut: NO SMUT

Reach Out by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k

important tags: 5+1, a lot of sex tags, porn with feelings, feelings realisation

notes: CB’s smut always hits different, and idk, the +1 of this is just sooo funny and adorable, i love it to death. read this more times than i’ll admit.

smut: basically pwp, big no no if you don’t like smut.

Storms Within (Bridges Rebuilt) by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k

important tags: star wars setting, force sensitive bucky & clint, crack treated seriously

notes: guys you can’t imagine my excitement when the notif for this fic popped up in my emails. luke skywalker is one of my top 10 all time fav fictional characters AND HERE HE IS INTERACTING W MY FAV BOYS IN THE ENTIRE WORLD!!!! it’s so so good, if you’re into star wars you’re gonna love it!! (even if not, it’s by CB, impossible to not enjoy)

smut: NO SMUT

Draw, Breathe, Fire by FestiveFerret

words: ~15k

important tags: falling in love, flirting, banter

notes: haven’t read this in a long time, but i’m pretty sure it was like a perfect little bucky-recovering-and-falling-in-love-with-clint-while-living-in-the-tower-fic. he learns archery!! pretty sure they also adopt a ferret or something???? good shit

smut: NO SMUT

Hoist a Black Flag by Kangofu_CB

words: ~11k

important tags: pirate au

notes: ITS BASICALLY AN OFMD AU OKAY HOW CAN U NOT LOVE IT???

smut: yes, but skippable

Cupid’s Arrows by flawedamythyst

words: ~14k

important tags: office AU, valentine’s day

notes: clint dressed up as cupid, bad pick up lines, shenanigans. haven’t read this in quite a while, but i remember i enjoyed it A LOT a few years ago and re-read it multiple times!!

smut: NO SMUT

The Best Thing since a Double-Shot Expresso by sara_holmes

words: ~11k

important tags: coffee shop AU, misunderstandings, getting together

notes: friends to lovers final boss. they’ve been best friends (husbands) for years and literally live together, and it takes them an insane amount of jealousy and steve’s ass to finally get together. such a fun read, highly HIGHLY recommend

smut: NO SMUT

Habits of My Heart by Kangofu_CB

words: ~18k

important tags: Fuckbuddies to Lovers, no powers AU, grindr

notes: fuckbuddies to lovers with loads of pining will always be THE most realistic winterhawk depiction for me, sorry not sorry. this one’s extra fun bc steve and nat have been trying to set them up for months, but they’ve been already hooking up for months. it’s great.

smut: yes, but easily skippable.

In Which Peter Is Everyone’s Favourite Avenger by DestroyedConscience

words: ~25k

important tags: Twitter, everyone is gay, gen z humor

notes: look, this is an unfinished, non-winterhawk-centric twitter fic, but as a fellow winterhawk twitter fic author i just HAVE to recommend it. if u like this kind of thing, go check it out, it’s so fun :)

smut: NO SMUT

Look What The Cat Dragged In by flawedamythyst

words: 22k

important tags: Bucky Barnes is a cat lover, domestic fluff

notes: i haven’t read this in years, but i KNOW it was great. at this point just go check out amy’s account and read all of her winterhawk fics, she has over a hundred and they’re all great!! but this one has them co-parenting alpine, so it’s extra great!!

smut: NO SMUT

My Heart Will Be Your Home by dr_girlfriend

words: ~49k

important tags: soulmates au, single parent clint barton

notes: soulmate au plus kid fic guys, i repeat, SOULMATE AU PLUS KID FIC GUYS!!! BY DR GIRLFRIEND!!!! GOD i miss winterhawk olympic bang 21/22 this one was such a blast to read when it first came out.

smut: yes, but skippable

Chrome Plated Heart by dr_girlfriend

words: ~20k

important tags: pacific rim fusion

notes: i’ve never seen pacific rim and i still had a blast reading this one!! (she put a basic explanation for it somewhere in the story notes, so dw about it!!). it was SO nice to read a fic where they’re not heavily traumatised and just have a chill, easy getting together. really sweet stuff

smut: NO SMUT!!

Know When To Hold ‘Em by flawedamythyst

words: ~11k

important tags: exes to lovers, no powers au, cambling

notes: UGHHH i need more fics like this one, it’s so so SO good!! flashes back and forth to the time when they were first together and when they meet again and skjdghlksdhg my heart just hurts so much for both of them. (happy ending tho dw, clint’s just so sad in the present and it hurts my soul)

smut: yeah, the part in the present is basically just one big smut scene but it’s soOoOoO emotional and i always love me some emotional smut

Christmas in Colour by mariana_oconnor

words: ~12k

important tags: soulmates see in colour, christmas fluff

notes: SOULMATES SEE IN COLOUR !!!!! *swoons so hard she falls to the floor* top 3 best soulmates tropes i dont make the rules i love it so much. ESPECIALLY when it’s with a character like clint who usually has a colour he loves SO SO much. a christmas must read :)

smut: NO SMUT

Chaos By Another Name by shatteredhourglass

words: ~13k

important tags: dimension travel, time travel, friends to lovers

notes: DIMENSION-HOPPING TIME-TRAVEL ADVENTURE GUYS!!! why wouldn’t you wanna read it???

smut: yes

I Still Choose You (The Public Domain Remix) by mariana_oconnor

words: ~14k

important tags: soulmates at first kiss, fake/pretend relationship

notes: have a fic with two of the best tropes ever, you’re so very welcome. plus plus PLUS: demisexual bucky. as a demisexual/asexual/still trying to figure it out lesbian, i’m always ALWAYS here for any kind of ace spectrum winterhawk, so yeah.

smut: NO SMUT

the road rising up to meet me by veryrach

words: ~24k

important tags: pining, sexual reawakening, chaotic slutty clint barton

notes: MORE DEMISEXUAL BUCKY!!! AND HOT CLINT!!! no other words needed. read it.

smut: i’m so sorry but i can’t remember if it gets SMUTTY smutty. but there’s definitely a lot of sexual themes i mean look at the tags lmao

Showdown by shatteredhourglass

words: ~14k

important tags: fake/pretend relationship; fluff

notes: breaking my silence: fake dating might me my fav trope of all time. in this one they’re pretending to date for the sole purpose of annoying steve and tony and i think that’s the best thing ever.

smut: NO SMUT

Light the Spark by dr_girlfriend

words: ~26k

important tags: fake/pretend relationship, mutual pining, enemies to friends to lovers

notes: aaaand the next fake dating fic >:) the enemies arc is like 0.2 seconds, blink and you miss it, but whoooo cares, we’re here for the fake dating & pining guys!!!

smut: yes, but you can skip it!

-10k words

Wine and Pine by feathers_and_cigarettes

words: 6k

Important tags: Touch-Starved, Fake Marriage, pining!clint

Notes: this is one of those fics i always come back to without realising and it always hits that spot. like i said, fake dating is my favorite trope, and MISSION fake dating???? i'm in heaven

smut: there’s quite a bit of smut, but it’s at the end and even if you stop reading after they kiss it’s really worth it.

Over Easy by Lissadiane

words: ~9k

important tags: hook up gone awry, awkwardly crashing the birth of a baby

notes: need y’all to know that this has one of my all time fav smut scenes, i kinda know it by heart. don’t quote me on that, this is our secret. this one’s just so so SO much fun, i’m having the time of my life every time i read it (which is at least like once a month)

smut: yes, and it’s kinda the best part, but everything else is so fun as well that i really wouldn’t wanna miss out on it

The Love You Deserve by flawedamythyst

words: ~8k

important tags: unhappy family holidays, homophobia, family issues, jewish bucky barnes

notes: another must-read christmas fic for me; clint goes home for christmas to an uncle of his or something but they all turn out to be homophobic assholes or something and then bucky shows up to save the day <3

smut: NO SMUT

what you really, really want by Noxnthea

words: ~8k

important tags: pining, misunderstandings

notes: *blurts out* THEYVE BEEN IN LOVE FOR AGES AND THEN WANDA HEXES THEM SO THEY THINK THEVE BEEN DATING FOR YEARS!!! this is SUCH an underrated fic, it doesn’t even have 200 kudos like wtf??? SHOW IT SOME LOVE!!!

smut: NO SMUT

The 300 Club by Noxnthea

words: ~10k

important tags: no powers au, scientist clint & bucky

notes: there aren’t enough scientist winterhawk AUs so HUGE THANKS noxnthea for feeding us. i will literally haunt you if you don’t read this one, ITS SO UNDERRATED!!! AND SO FUN!!

smut: NO SMUT

For Everything There is A Season by dr_girlfriend

words: ~9.7k

important tags: crack fic, secret service agent!bucky, small business owner!clint barton

notes: crack fics are always gold and this one especially, it’s such a ridiculous idea, how could you not love it? always a very fun read!

smut: NO SMUT

Background Noise by Reremouse

words: ~8k

important tags: modern au, deaf clint barton

notes: MILLENIAL BUCKY!!! clint is bucky’s upstairs neighbour and extremely loud bc he’s well… deaf. lol. and bucky’s a night shift worker which really isn’t a good combo on first thought. but on second thought, these are clint and bucky, so OBVIOUSLY they’re gonna make a great combo out of it. it’s fuckign amazing. plus bucky & sam friendship!! good shit guys, good shit.

smut: NO SMUT

you didn’t hear that by jedusaur

words: ~2.6k

important tags: roomates, eavesdropping

notes: super self-indulgent rec, i always read this one when i need some cheering up lmao it’s just so fun and they’re kinda nasty and UGH. love. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing. do with that what you want.

smut: yes. it explores the range of bucky’s super hearing in every way ;)

one more time by squadrickchestopher

words: ~4k

important tags: touch starved, hurt clint barton

notes: i don’t even know why i love this one so much, but it holds SUCH a special place in my heart. it might be my undying love for touch starved!clint who finally gets his well-needed hugs by bucky. there’s also an amazing podfic by flowerparrish for it, make sure to give kudso to them both!!!

smut: NO SMUT

the salt on your lips by veryrach

words: ~9k

important tags: kissing, an absolutely ridiculous lack of communication

notes: exactly what the tags say. it’s a 5+1 as well, WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED IN LIFE???? 10/10. i remember waiting for months for the last few chapters and it was SO worth it!!

smut: NO SMUT

Love Potion No. 10 by Kangofu_CB

words: ~8k

important tags: love potion/spell, not actually unrequited love

notes: i won’t say anything about the story bc i don’t wanna spoiler it, but i’ll say that i re-read the second half of it at least once a month, it’s just THAT sweet.

smut: NO SMUT

There’s No ‘I’ In Denial by flawedamythyst

words: ~5k

important tags: truth spells

notes: clint gets hit by a magic truth gun and can’t lie anymore. such a fun & cute read every single time.

smut: NO SMUT

The Name of the Game by squadrickchestopher

words: ~6k

important tags: competition, trash talking, feelings realization

notes: this one’s just so so fun, it has allllllll the winterhawk banter anyone could ask for. and i always love me some competitive idiots in love

smut: NO SMUT

Full Barton by aw_writing_no

words: ~6k

important tags: no powers au, cop!bucky, human disaster clint

notes: what the tags say. clint embarrassing himself in front of bucky who enjoys it a bit too much gotta be one of my fav tropes.

smut: NO SMUT

one more little mistake by shatteredhourglass

words: ~3k

important tags: clint barton wears glasses, bucky barnes is horny for clint barton

notes: these tags are basically the entire fic lmaooo. it’s great, i love nothing more than HOT HOT HOT clint barton and bucky realising how hot he is

smut: almost lmao (they get interrupted while making out)

my hands no longer an afterthought by shatteredhourglass

words: ~3k

important tags: getting back together

notes: i have a sweet sweet SWEET spot for winterhawk getting back togethers if handled well, and this one handles it soo well.

smut: NO SMUT

Five Lies People Believe About Clint and Bucky by EVVS

words: ~1.5k

important tags: established relationship

notes: this is one of those fics i always go back to if i have a few minutes and need some (bitter)sweet fluff. it’s exactly what the title says, some lies are fun, some are painful, and all of them just hit that spot

smut: NO SMUT

My Sausage Brings Alll the Boys To The Yard by flawedamythyst

words: ~1.7k

important tags: bad flirting

notes: this one’s so stupid it probably shouldn’t be on here but i remember how i was reading this in class for the first time when i was still in school and i was almost pissing myself bc it made me laugh so hard. very fun, go read it >:(

smut: NO SMUT

bonus for the freaks:

Filthy Porn Fridays by squadrickchestopher

there’s 18 works so far, it’s smut smut smut aaaand - you guessed it - smut. if you wanna see the boys fuck nastily, this is your place to be.

(delicate tension is the best fic of the series, it’s actually a roadtrip AU and not just smut, highly highly recommend)

alrightyyy, i think that's it for now :) this took me quite some time so i'd appreciate some reblogs or whatever!! we need to spread some winterhawk love guys!!

all my love goes out to every author i mentioned here, and every other author who's ever written winterhawk. you guys are my heroes, idk what i'd do without you. literally ripping my heart into a thousand pieces and giving every single one of you a tiny part 💜

231 notes · View notes

fxrmuladaydreams · 9 months ago

Text

i love you (po5)

pato x introverted!reader

summary: feelings begin to rise after the barber race

wc: 716

notes: this is just me trying this (writing for indycar) out! pls be nice, i’ve only watched a few races and am still learning what’s what. also i promise i’m working on the george story!!

You winced at the screen in front of you, watching as Pato’s car came in contact with Pietro’s, sending the Rahal into the barrier. You hold a hand in front of your mouth as you watch Pato continue driving, grateful that he was okay.

You know he’s going to be upset about the penalty, the radio message coming through your headphones confirms that. He sounds frustrated, angry even.

You know he wanted to do well. For his career obviously, but you knew a small part of him wanted to do well for you. You were still fairly new to Indycar, having watched races from home, sometimes yours, mostly his after he told you he liked having you there when he got home.

This was only the second race you’d attended in person, the first being the previous week in Long Beach. You and Pato had a private relationship. He knew you were more introverted and didn’t want to force you into the limelight before you were comfortable. He was ecstatic when you told him you were ready to attend a race with him. After spending almost a year together, slowly building your relationship, he was excited to finally be able to show you off and introduce you to his other love, racing.

He kept an arm around you during the race weekends, giving you his Arrow McLaren hat to wear while he was driving. He introduced you to the team and showed you his car, rambling on about different things while you smiled and nodded along.

You could tell he was disappointed to finish in the midfield in Long Beach, and seeing him angrily get out of his car after the Barber race you knew he was equally if not more upset.

You stand quietly to the side while he talks with his engineer, following behind him as he walks to the driver lounge.

He keeps quiet as he unzips his race suit, letting it fall to his waist. He searches through a cabinet, finally pulling out a snack, and another he tosses to you.

You don’t know what to say to him, afraid of how he’ll respond. He speaks first though.

“Sorry it was a shitty weekend.” His eyes don’t meet yours as he sits down.

You sigh, sitting next to him. “That penalty was bullshit.”

He looks up at you surprised. He could probably count the amount of times he’d heard you curse on one hand. “It happens.” He shrugs.

“No, it’s not like you wanted to hit him, because why the hell would you want that? And they made you drive through the pit, dropping you down so far you were driving by yourself!”

The scowl on his face slowly disappears, turning into a smile as you keep talking to him, angrily defending your boyfriend.

“They need to open their damn eyes and watch a replay-”

“I love you!” Pato laughs.

You freeze, your eyes widening at the man sitting next to you. “You… what?”

It’s then that Pato realizes what he’s said. He wonders if he should backtrack, attempt to take it back to make the terrified look on your face go away. But it’s as if someone plays a video of your relationship in his mind, showing him all the time you’ve spent together and how you’ve grown with one another.

“I love you.” He says quietly. A blush covers his cheeks as he looks down at his lap. “I wanted the first time I told you to be special, but it just kinda came out just now.” He looks back up at you and sheepishly smiles. “Look, you don’t have to say it back, I know we’re taking things slow, and even having you here was a big step so I understand if-”

It’s him who’s cut off this time as you press your lips to his. You gently hold his face in your hands, pulling away to look into his eyes.

“I love you too.” You murmur.

He grins before leaning in to kiss you again.

“I’m gonna win one soon. A real win, not because someone DQ’ed, and it’s gonna be for you.” He says when he pulls himself away from you, keeping an arm wrapped around you tightly, as if he’s not planning on letting you go.

#pato o’ward x reader #pato o'ward x reader #indycar x reader

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starcharmed · 1 year ago

Text

"Nothing's New"

In which your partner is never going to pay attention to you, because they’re too focused on their dead lover

Bell’s notes: “writer bell goes too far with this fic-” im /j no ones gonna say that, angst powers pls work tho, like im asdlkfjawel;fjsd;jf;lska, i cant write dude, let me like, plan this out in my head before writing nonsense, LIKE BRO, feral over angst LORD, 100k likes and you get part 2 /jjjj, growling i love angst, MWHAHAHA, sorry ely, yuka, mhie, snob, and zee if you read this 😔😔😔, i listened to “IT Girl” while writing this 😋, got carried away with Ayato’s part oopsies, i believe Guizhong for the ladies but whatever 😔😔😔, cut out Wanderer & Childe in the end because i’m TIRED, not proofread

Story details: Ayato lowkey a bitch, scratch that highkey, reader has self-doubt, Neuvilette doesn’t mean to be mean he just ISSS, GUIZHONG DID NOTHING STOP MAKING HER THE ONE IN BLAME IN THESE ZHONGLI SCENARIOS, oh and I couldn’t be bothered with Xiao’s part like a quarter through he’s such a flexible yet straight character, it’s the way you can tell when I got lazy with each part, chance Xiao & Zhongli are gonna be ooc as i’ve never written anything but short headcanons for them before

Characters & Triggers: Ayato, Neuvilette, Xiao, & Zhongli; reader has self-doubt, mention of death, mention of martial neglect

Reader details: female reader in Ayato’s part is explicit. female reader in Neuvilette’s part can be interpreted with the way you read it. the other parts, however, shouldn’t have a specified reader type. reader’s personality, race/ethnicity, height, physical descriptions, or anything of the sort is not mentioned. if anything is let me know and i’ll edit it.

Ayato: No surprise the Yashiro Commissioner doesn’t pay attention to his new wife, the one that he didn’t marry first. You knew that he didn’t love you, and most likely never would because you were, in fact, the second pick. Actually, it was probably in the hundreds based on the amount of marriage arrangement offers Ayato had gotten considering he was one of the biggest figures in Inazuma. It didn’t matter, but he most likely picked you because your clan was a small one to put it lightly, so he most likely chose it, and you, because it wouldn’t be a hassle with the press. But of course, he would choose the person and clan that seemed, “easy”. It hurt seeing some of the people’s sympathetic stares, such as Ayaka’s, Thoma’s, and a few of the older women working in the estate. You got used to the lack of greeting from Ayato when he got off work, the lack of warmth beside you at night. You found it hilarious, although you were hysteric at the time as you had just found out that Ayato was off that day and neglected to see you, that he never, ever laid down in the same bed as you. It doesn’t matter no matter how hard you work around the estate, how long you sit up doing his work, which you soon quit once he yelled at you like a homeless dog, or even the distinct flower you made out of one of Ayato’s favorite sweets that he ignored. Not even a glance at your general direction, either. After a while, you decided to do some digging on his past wife, only to find out that she was in fact near perfect. Perfect reputation, perfect everything, to put it shortly. Shortly after asking Ayaka what happened to her, by pulling the sad, guilty wife card, you found out she was a victim of an assassination attempt that turned into a success. Of course, Ayato and his perfect wife would only be torn apart by death. It was poetic, and it made you sick. So what were you to do but endure the slow torture that you and Ayato’s marriage was? After all, nothing you could do could change how he felt about you.

Neuvillette: The famous hydro dragon, at least to those who knew his ‘secret’. His past lover, unfortunately, died before him, no doubt to his immortality. Of course, you would soon die, maybe in a few decades but, hey, it wasn’t like he would miss you. You could only wait awake at night as Neuvillette went to fix himself his own meal, despite you staying up to cook him one and await for his return from work. It’s not that was the only time he never paid attention to you, after all the man had most likely been grieving his wife for centuries at this point in time. So what were you to do besides stay and watch this man be emotionally constipated around you? Why did he even marry you in the first place, then? It couldn’t be because his past wife resembled you, and it certainly wasn’t because you both acted the same. Was it because he needed someone to cling to? I mean, you weren’t exactly someone who seemed to not fit the criteria of a compassionate co-worker who would comfort Neuvillette in his times of distress. Did Neuvilette only come to you because you were his way of grieving? It would make partial sense, to cling to the nearest piece of comfort to help with the pain of loss. It made you feel like nothing but an object meant for his emotional wants, but in reality, that’s all you ever are and will ever be to him.

Xiao: The famous adeptus long ago, had someone close to him. Shame they fell to waste during the archon wars, along with the other adepti. It was no surprise that everyone familiar with Liyue stories knew about the two of them together, which unfortunately included you. It didn’t pain you that much until your oh-so-loveable boyfriend got distracted by two kids playing with a Xiao lantern and one of her. After that, it only devolved into more. The lack of visits to your room in the inn, the lack of responses whenever you left your little notes for him near your meet-up place, and the extreme lack of thank-you-notes whenever you left Xiao almond tofu. It didn’t matter that you started to skip and completely ignore doing all of these things just to see if he would notice because the adeptus failed to appear in your room just to check in to see if you were okay. This behavior was unlike him, at least in the sense of him completely ignoring you. The only answer you could think of, that logically made sense, of course, was that he was reminded of his past loved one because of the run-in with the lanterns you two had while out in Liyue. So in terms, he seemed to disconnect with you because of the memories of his past significant other? You knew the adepti didn’t die peacefully, you could tell that much from the stories, so it wouldn’t be surprising if that also applied to Xiao’s past lover. There was nothing you could do about it though, because if you knew Xiao, he wouldn’t talk about her to you nor push her aside for you.

Zhongli: Guizhong. Of course, you were familiar with the name, everyone in Liyue was. Everyone might be a stretch considering the visitors and children, but the point’s been made. Morax and Guizhong were close. Close in a sense of possibly having relationship affairs but that was only explicit to you because of the way your lover would glace at glaze lilies. You couldn’t call him your lover, could you? Not with the way he would hum to the glaze lilies, the way his eyes would also drift away from you whenever you talked as you took strolls through Guilu Plains, and the way he would opt to tell stories of specific tales of his time as Morax, ones that included Guizhong in some way. It got to the point where you had to make up tasks that you had to do daily just to get away from the walks you two took, not to hear the different-yet-similar stories of Morax and totally not Guizhong. It was childish of you to be doing so, you had yourself convinced, as you couldn’t blame Guizhong for any of it. She had no part of this besides well, besides being your number one stressor for the past few weeks. It was tiring yet somehow for the sake of not wanting a glare or side-eye from Zhongli about his stories, which you never thought you’d get that tired of hearing, you kept your mouth shut, despite how hard it was. You knew it would only take so much more, though, before you said something about it.

#astronetwrk #・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#genshin impact #genshin x reader #xiao x you #xiao x reader #neuvilette x reader #neuvilette x you #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #ayato x you #ayato x reader #genshin angst #genshin headcannons

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saintsir4n · 6 months ago

Note

Can you make a smutty 1shot that lead 2 the ‘drunkenly mistake’ pls

WASSUP BULLET

WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT, DRINKING

——

“I’m not talkin’ to you O’Conner . Matter of fact. How did you find me. Wait — I don’t wanna know,” Carson rolled her eyes, as she took another sip of her drink. “You’re a cop right? That’s just professional stalkin’.”

“I told you I quit,” Brian said, sitting down with a corona in hand.

They were currently at one of Tej’s cribs, everyone had vacated apart from them, something Brian manufactured. They were sitting on opposite ends of an L-shaped leather couch. The lights were dim and slow Jams played in the through the room.

“But you went back, workin’ undercover ‘cause they’re on your ass and now you’re stuck doin’ shit you don’t wanna do.” She pointed out, rolling her eyes at his shocked expression. “Your friend told me.”

“Dammit Roman,” he cursed, facing her with apprehension, “It’s not what you think.”

Carson shrugged, “You’re a cop O’Conner. You’re a liar, you lied to me, and I don’t even know why I’m sayin’ this to you. Leave, so I can get back to drinkin’”

He dismissed what she said, and leaned forward on his knees, “Why are you drinkin’? I thought Pink Gin was your favourite.”

Carson was drinking a Corona as well, something he never thought to see.

She tensed, “Things change people change.”

“You haven’t changed,” he shook his head.

“I had to. Repeatin’ mistakes is kinda my thing. Fall for bad men, liars, manipulators… I had to change so it doesn’t happen again. It can’t happen again.”

She wasn’t wearing her infamous pink clothes. She pulled off black effortlessly, but it wasn’t her. He knew that.

“You’re smart Carson, you have a big heart,” he said.

“Don’t pretend that you know me,” Carson scoffed.

“I love you.” That’s how I know you.

“Ewww, stop. Go. I don’t need to hear this bullshit,” she grimaced.

Brian sighed, “It’s not bullshit. I wouldn’t lie about that. Ever.”

“Sure,” she said wryly, side eying him when he seemed to shift closer.

“I’ll prove it to you.”

“No you won’t ‘cause I know you.”

“You do. All those shitty things I did, hurt you. But you know that I could take it back in a heartbeat.” He said, so sure of himself. “But I’ll prove it to you. This to you. Let’s play a game.”

“No,” she took a swig of her drink and averted her gaze.

“A drinkin’ game. You answer the question, I drink. You don’t answer, you take an item of clothin’ off.”

Her eyes widened, “You’re sick.”

“What do you have to lose?”

“Nothin’ thanks to you.” She retorted, his face stilled.

He cleared his throat, “Let me make it —“

“— up to me. I know.” She groaned, realising he wasn’t gonna leave her alone. She doubt he ever would. “Fine. Hearin’ your voice is more bearable when I’m drinkin’.” She mockingly gestured to him, “Ladies first, you start.”

His stupid grin made her roll her eyes again.

“Do you still love me?” He asked, gaze trained on her, waiting an answer.

“Really?”

“Yes really.”

Brian suppressed a sigh when she didn’t answer but let his eyes wonder as she peeled off her shirt. Red lace caught his attention, the detailed bra he couldn’t help but fixate on.

“My eyes are up here.”

His eyes flickered up, to see her slightly glare, “I know. Your turn.”

She clicked her tongue before asking, “Have you hooked up with anyone since me?”

“No,” he didn’t hesitate.

She laughed, “Liar.”

Brian rolled his shoulders back, adding on, “I’ve tried. To get over you. But all I could think about was you.”

Carson begrudgingly took a sip of her drink realising he was telling the truth. She wasn’t how to take it, sure, it was a compliment or at least she thought it was. But he also wanted to forget her, get over her with various women.

“Have you hooked up with anyone since me?” Brian asked, maintaining eye contact.

“Yes.”

He clenched his jaw at the blatant lie, “Don’t lie to me Carson.”

“Fine no.” Brian grinned against his drink as he took a sip. “Shut up.”

“Lyin’ should mean you should take somethin’ else off…”he trailed off.

She quirked a brow, “You just wanna get me naked.”

He would never say no to that, “I want you. I can’t deny that Sonny.”

“Don’t call me that. And fine. The games the game, I’ll take somethin’ off.” Her shoes came off. “And now that’s three. This is unfair.”

“The game is the game.”

She scoffed, “Ugh, I shouldn’t have agreed for this.”

“Fine look.” Brian stripped off his top, amused that her eyes flickered to his chest. “Come closer.”

“What? No,” her nose scrunched up.

“You scared?” He teased.

“No.” She reluctantly shifted closer, not wanting to give him any satisfaction, “now drink.”

Brian took an another swig, before taking off his converse sneakers.

“You didn’t have to…” she trailed off.

“I know,” He nodded.

Two more bottles were opened, their words started to slur and bodies relaxed. Carson preferred to strip than be honest, Brian just liked taking off his clothes.

“Do you want to go?” He asked, staring into her eyes.

“No.” It was the alcohol talking, she told me herself. “Do you want to stay?”

“No,” he answered cheekily.

“Liar.”

Brian stripped down to his boxers and socks.

“You did that on purpose,” Carson accused, taking an unnecessary sip.

Both of them ended up drinking more. One bottle turned to two.

“You miss me,” he said.

She took of her skirt and socks, leaving her in her red underwear.

He was practically drooling.

“You want me,” she stated.

Brian took off his socks as if he didn’t want to scream ‘yes’ at the top of his lungs.

“You love me.”

Carson stilled, before unclipping the back of her bra, letting it drop to her lap, before pushing it onto the floor.

Brian’s eyed her hungrily, senselessly shuffling closer.

“What was it that I did to you, that had you so horny?” She groaned at the question, despite the goosebumps rising all over her body. “Come on, tell me. Our secret.” He gestured between them, “Was it the neck kisses? I know how much you loved them.” His eyes were hungry with lust. “Or just me going down on you in public?”

“Brian.”

“You called me Brian,” he grinned. She had been calling him O’Conner all day, to prove a point and he was sick of it.

“That’s your name genius,” she sassed.

“Answer the question. You don’t. You still have a lot of clothes left to take off.” A thong was hardly anything, which is exactly why he wanted them gone. “Was it when I gripped your thigh when I was drivin’? Or stared at you and nothing else when I was speedin’?” Her breath hitched when she caught the veins in his hands. “Remember when you told me to pull over and just jumped on me.”

“I did not jump on you,” that caused him to lean closer, face contorting as he lifted a hand to lightly brush over her face, making her squirm in her seat.

“Rode me so hard, I forgot my own name.” He said lowly, “Come on tell me, baby.” He licked his lips, drawing her heated gaze. “What about me did you miss so much? That you couldn’t let someone else touch you ‘cause it wouldn’t be the same. I know what it was about you.”

“What was it?” She asked quietly.

“I’ll tell you when you sit on my lap.”

He thought he would be met with an argument, a fuss, but she slid across so easily, straddling his lap as he caressed her waist.

“You wanted this all along,” she tsked, playfully shaking her head.

“Never stopped,” he said, dipping his down to kiss each of her breasts, emitting a small ‘fuck’ from the Baker Driver. “That’s what I missed. The moans. No one sounds like you. No is better than you,” he groaned when she started to move against him, grazing his hardened state as she grinded against him. “That’s it, good girl.”

“We shouldn’t.” She said breathily.

He tugged her closer, “We should.”

“Suki’ll be back soon.”

“Then we’ll have to be quick.”

“You were never quick,” she whimpered.

“And you’re never quiet baby, just keep moving like that.” He guided her hips. He was painfully hard. “Shit. I’ve missed you. Just like that.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, “Just like that.”

“You just had to wear this red number didn’t you?” His fingers briefly trailed over her thong.

A small giggle escaped her, “Prefer it to pink?”

“Nothing will beat pink on you. But this, shit.”

Their lips finally met in a lustful frenzy. She gripped his hair, whilst pulling his boxers down, and the next they knew his dick was freed. He slid it under her, pulling her hips back down and moving her thong to the side. At the sensation of his dick rubbing her slit, she threw her head back with a whine. Desire roared through her like a bullet.

She was dripping against him.

Carson’s head tilted back as she rolled her hips.

His hands moved to grip her ass, encouraging her to keep riding him. All she could feel was him. All she wanted to feel was him. Gasps and moans slipped from her as she allowed herself to be overtaken and drawn into an ocean of pleasure. She could feel herself rising higher and higher, riding the wave. Her mind was becoming delirious from the fire in her veins and the motion of her hips rocking over his exposed dick.

“That’s it.” Brian grunted, he couldn’t look away, thrusting against her making her back arch. “And you wanted to lie and say you didn’t miss me, huh,” He licked a scalding line up her sternum, only to swirl his tongue around one of her nipples, making her cry out. "Come, baby."

She chanted. "Please."

He watched her unashamedly as her orgasm hit her. Her lips parted, eyes closed and head thrown back, mewing loudly. After her euphoric wave washed over, Brian’s thrust staggered, before he retracted his dick and spurting onto her stomach.

“Fuck.”

Ragged breaths escaped her as she stared at him, struggling for breath.

Seconds passed when Brian thought regret seeped through, but she instead, gently palmed his cheek, bashfully and drunkenly smiling at him before drawing him into a sweet kiss.

He whispered, “Let’s go to my place, we can continue this there.”

——

a/n:

thank you for the request, took me a while to figure out what I wanted to do. Alcohol and feelings shouldn’t mix!

159 notes · View notes

taintedcigs · 1 year ago

Text

GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader

CHAPTER SEVEN: SHE'S THUNDERSTORMS

← prev chapter // next chapter →

✦ summary: in which corroded coffin performs at the hideout (wc: 9.3k+)

✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FINALLY SOME DESERVED FLUFF, jealousy, jealous!menace!eddie, the kiddos make an appearance!!!, uhmm kissing,,, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed, uhm thats it i think.

✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader

✦ authors note — not proof-read i tried but i cant do it. pls ignore all mistakes. SO VERY SORRY FOR THE WAIT. hopefully this makes up for it. as usual the song is by arctic monkeys, and the other song mentioned is lover you should've come over by jeff buckley. but we'll pretend like its all by corroded coffin so shshsh.

anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗

series masterlist | series playlist

“Dude, I’m telling you it was not my fault.” Gareth exasperated desperately, hands up in the air in defeat.

But Eddie was quick to shake his head, “You drove her here, how is it not your fucking fault, Gareth?” He spat, bitter and angry.

“She insisted! She wants to apologize to Pinky!”

“What?” Confusion etched across Eddie’s face.

With an annoyed sigh, “Yeah, the whole fuckin’ world has to revolve around her,” Gareth muttered under his breath, knowing that saying anything about you would drive Eddie crazy.

“Watch it,” Eddie warned, mouth downturned in disgust almost immediately.

“What? It’s the truth.”

“Gareth, I’m not gonna tell you this a second fuckin’ time, okay? Don’t do that shit around me and never say one fucking word about her again, you got that?” He gritted through his teeth, his hand unintentionally clenching into a fist.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I mean it,” Eddie spat.

“Fine, fine!” Gareth threw his hands up in defeat, both of them downing their drink before scurrying away.

Shit.

You knew you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping, but it wasn’t your fault. You were just trying to get a drink for the group, surfing through the sea of people—which was unusual for The Hideout. Still, you guessed the only celebrity from Hawkins was enough to have people swarming in, and Gareth and Eddie happened to be chatting right behind you.

Even though it stung to hear Gareth talk of you like you were the fucking anti-christ, hearing Eddie defend you like that had that familiar warmth spread through your entire body. And you hated it, you hated the soft spot you’d always have for him, how it would take you back to five years ago when he would be there for you, every single time.

Fucking great, you had so many people to avoid tonight; Chrissy, Gareth, and Eddie.

With a sigh, you quickly disappeared into the crowd, carrying a tray of drinks for everyone. Plopping it on the booth with a slight sloosh.

Everyone reached for it and you were quick to slap away Max, Lucas, and Dustin’s curious hands. “Oh, come on!” Max protested with a groan.

“Not legal,” you hummed with a narrowed gaze. “Yeah, I’m sure you were legal when you were shotgunning beers and smoking joints like it was your lifeline during senior year,” Lucas mumbled under his breath, quick to get settled into his seat with a huff.

You gasped dramatically, “Lucas Sinclair!” Exclaiming as he gave you a simple shrug.

“So what’s new with you and Mr. Rockstar, now?” He teased, and you narrowed your gaze at Max who snickered underneath her hand.

“Nothing,” You mumbled, shying away from everyone’s gaze on you.

“Good thing, we can always ask the other party, too,” Dustin chimed in with a smirk, head pointing toward behind you.

There was a slow tap on your shoulder and you were quick to jerk your body around.

Of course.

Eddie.

His soft gaze was dumbly addicting, that boyish grin curled deliciously on his lips while amber eyes took you in wholly.

His gaze wandered to your figure, the midnight blue dress embracing your figure, accentuating your curves, its hem grazed against your mid-thigh, allowing him to get a glimpse of your sun-kissed legs, simple but exuding how breathtakingly pretty you were.

He couldn’t place why your brows were so tightly pinched together, or why your arms were crossed against your chest, plump lips downturned with a pout. Still, you looked so pretty, so alluring that he could barely form any sentence.

Mind captured entirely by you, almost feeling paralyzed while he took you in.

“H—hey!” He stammered, awkwardly putting his hands in the back pocket of his chained black jeans. He was just him, and oh, god, you were you.

Plush lips that curled into the prettiest smile, the most captivating eyes, even when you seemingly looked upset, brows pinched together, those glossy lips downturned, you were perfect.

You ignored Eddie’s greeting, your piercing glare was still not that noticeable to him, all he could think about was how beautiful you looked, and how he was glad that he saw you before his set. He wanted nothing more than to see you watching him perform the songs he wrote all about you.

“Wow… Uhh—you look… amazing,” He mumbled, breath getting hitched on his throat when he saw your unreadable expression.

And all you could do was give him a tight-lipped smile. Almost immediately wiping that glow off of his face, face going momentarily blank.

But he should’ve expected this, he knew you wouldn’t jump into his arms at any opportunity, he deserved this. He needed to do more, he needed to win you back.

He opened his mouth to speak, desperate, needing your approval, but you interrupted. “I—I’m going to get a drink,” you mumbled, face flushed with heat, you didn’t know how to act either.

Eddie glanced over at the tray of drinks on the booth, with his head tilted, “there’s a bunch of drinks over there,” he mumbled, he didn’t want you to leave.

“I can see that, but I still want my own,” you sassed with a narrowed gaze, not letting him talk back once you left to go to the bar.

Eddie watched your figure leave with a deep sigh, turning to the booth to take one of the drinks. “I really fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Yup,” Steve muttered with a nod, and Eddie was quick to give him a death glare.

“So, will you finally enlighten us on what happened with you and Mrs. Grumpy over there?” Dustin huffed impatiently, grabbing three drinks from the tray now that you were gone, handing the other two to Max and Lucas with a grin.

“She didn’t tell you guys?”

“No! Which is a shame because she usually can’t say no to my adorable face.” Dustin blinked quickly, batting his eyelashes while Eddie shook his head at him with a chuckle.

“Oh c’mon, Eddie, just tell us!” Max let out an impatient huff, her captivating icy blue gaze was pleading in a way that he could never say no to.

These doofuses would always be his weakness.

“Yeah, Eddie, pretty please?” Lucas added exaggeratedly, mocking Max as she hit him in the chest playfully.

“Fine, fine!” He sighed, running his hand over his forehead in frustration.

“But nothing really happened and I don’t think it’s—” When he felt everyone’s gaze piercing through him, he was quick to shut up. “Okay, okay!” He huffed.

“She came to my trailer guns ablaze and then just slammed the note against my chest, calling me a coward, and then I told her off—”

“Wait what?” Max was quick to interrupt him, brows pinching together.

“Yeah, I told her I wasn’t the one who left.”

“Uh, I’m sorry, didn’t you kiss Chrissy in front of her?” Max taunted.

“Yeah, and did you not bring her to Steve’s?” Dustin added.

With a huff, he turned back to Steve. “Jesus, Harrington, did you gang up all of them against me?” He just gave Eddie a shrug.

“That’s not even the point! Everything has just become too convoluted with us,” He spat, anger returning quicker than you intended to, while the rest of the gang sipped their drinks with an ‘oof’.

“It’s not convoluted, just tell her how you feel!” Max inquired, gently, almost like she was trying not to tip him off.

“I—” He took a deep breath. I will. He wished to say, but saying it out loud felt too real. And you were right, he was a coward.

“I’m gonna properly apologize and make things right by her,” he muttered, taking a big sip from his drink.

“You better hurry up, rockstar,” Steve taunted smugly, the weird face he pulled was making crinkles appear on Eddie’s forehead.

Eddie’s head cocked toward Steve, aggressively. “You better tell her how sorry you fucking are.”

With an all-knowing snort, Steve’s finger accusingly pointed towards something behind him. “Or someone else might swoop in.”

“Fuck off, Harrington,” Eddie mumbled, rolling his eyes before he turned around with a huff.

Oh, shit.

Everyone’s gaze turned toward Steve’s accusatory finger, a slight ‘shit’ escaping from Robin’s lips which Nancy elbowed gently to shut her up.

Eddie could barely move, his entire face feeling hot and jaw clenching involuntarily, jealousy shooting through him faster than the alcohol swimming in his system.

Because there you stood, in front of the bar, with your head tilted sideways, a pretty grin sitting on your lips, mellow gaze looking up at the guy in front of you—dirty blonde, hair cut shorter than Eddie’s but almost as long as Steve’s, wearing the most expensive and tidy outfit Eddie had ever seen—making him feel stupid for choosing to wear those black chained jeans.

His scowl was anything but pretty, brows furrowing in a way that made him look like a complex puzzle, eyeing the way this stranger was touching you.

“Oh, isn’t that—” Robin spoke up, and the entire table shushed her because they also realized exactly who that was.

James.

Your ex, not Billy, of course, the other douchebag before Billy.

He really wasn’t much of a douchebag, a genuine, nice guy, and to make matters worse he was a total gentleman; attributes Eddie would never call a typical high school Jock.

The relationship only ended because he went to college one too many states away, the distance getting between the two of you, but Eddie always referred to him as ‘the douchebag’ The jealous feeling sunk into his chest even then.

Rich kid, a jock in high school, older than both of you, someone who had his life together. Everything that Eddie never was. Everything Eddie always wished to be.

But now, seeing you with him made something almost click in Eddie’s head, like he was meant for you as he suited you much better than Eddie ever would.

He could treat you much better than Eddie would, sure Eddie had his name now, the riches he never had back in high school. But he was still just Eddie.

And he was certain James never kissed Chrissy, he’d never fuck up like Eddie did.

He watched the way your eyes lit up when he was animatedly talking, his gentle touch on your arm, the smile that curled on your lips.

What if he asked for your number? What if he wanted to reconnect? What if you said yes? Just because Eddie had been a total fucking idiot and couldn’t see what was right in front of him?

He tried so hard to push the idea of the two of you together back into his mind. To make sure it never left, to make sure it never manifested.

But the way his jaw clenched and the deadly glare burning through both of you showed that he couldn’t.

He was jealous, a type of jealousy that quickly translated into anger, one he could almost feel on his skin, hot and prickling rage stabbing into his body, agonizingly slow, making it harder for him to stay glued there and not do anything the more he eyed the hold James had on you. He was standing too close for Eddie’s liking.

Usually, he’d let this feeling sink back into his mind, take a breather, smoke a couple of cigarettes, and then act like nothing was wrong for the rest of the night while he spent it sulking. Keep that rage caged in his chest, so he could keep his feelings contained.

But he couldn’t do that this time, no. He wasn’t going to be stupid enough to let you slip through his fingers, not again. He was going to fight for you, he was going to show you that you belonged with him.

No matter what Mr. Fancy Pants could offer to you, he needed to tell you how he really felt, he needed to make sure you knew. Because even if he could feel the insecurities jabbing into his brain, he always knew, deep down that there was something there between the two of you. Something always left undiscovered because both of you were cowards.

He couldn’t let that happen again, he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

“Oh, I get the appeal now,” Max murmured, breaking the silence between everyone, and earning a hard glare from Eddie.

“What? He seems nice, has pretty hair, much better than Steve’s, and that outfit probably cost more than your wedding,” Max spoke bluntly, now earning more than just the hard glare of Eddie, mouth hung open Steve looked offended, Nancy and Jonathan narrowed their gaze, but Robin snickered behind her hand, almost giving Max her approval.

“Max!” Lucas reacted before them and Max furrowed her brows, a smirk earning her way to her lips. “You’re still my number one Lucas, don’t worry,” She hummed, pinching Lucas’ cheek and ignoring Dustin’s groan.

“Dude, why would you do that?” Dustin whispered, eyeing Eddie worriedly while nudging Steve by his jacket.

With a dramatic huff, Steve pulled his collar back, “Relax, I know what I’m doing.”

Eddie’s fingertips absentmindedly traced the rim of the glass in front of him, his eyes never leaving the two of you when he downed the drink, slamming it back on the booth, making everyone flinch.

“I’ll be right back,” Eddie muttered, a forced chuckle escaping his lips.

“What are you even going to do?” Robin inquired, almost mocking.

A smirk landed on Eddie’s face. “I’m not going down without a fight, Buckley.”

“Not this fucking time,” he hissed, almost all the brows of the gang raising at his determination.

“I’m gonna tell her how I feel, and I’m not letting another douchebag ruin this,” Eddie mumbled, and a dumb smirk was placed on everyone’s face almost too quickly.

He was going for it, and the soap opera was continuing, the gang watched in excitement.

“Was he ever really a doucheba—” Dustin’s worries were quick to die down when he threw him a deadly glare.

Without another word, he stormed off to the side of the bar. Quick, too fucking quickly that it almost gave him a whiplash. He didn’t know what had taken over him, eyes burning the back of their figures as everyone else at the table watched him with a proud look.

But the child-like jealousy he felt within his body was uncontainable, it felt like his face was almost too hot to touch, he was desperate, quite literally.

The tap on James’ shoulder was anything but gentle, making him turn to Eddie with his pair of brows furrowed, and Eddie’s muscles were quick to tense.

His dark gaze only softened when he looked back at you, muscles relaxing, and creased brows returning to their normal form.

The jealousy eased inside of him, not dissipating quite enough, but slowing with one gaze from you.

Back in the booth, with another sip from his drink, Lucas huffed, “Five bucks says they’ll confess by tonight.”

Robin was quick to snort at him, “You’re trusting them too much, kid, Steve’s ‘little push’ might help them,” She mumbled with a roll of her eyes. “But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at her face, she’s going to go off at him. The most they’ll probably do is have another fight, get just a little bit close to talking about their feelings, and then do it all over again.”

Steve, ignoring Robin’s theories, exclaimed with a smirk. “Ten bucks that Pinky will sleep with Eddie tonight!”

“I second that,” Max said with a grin.

“Steve!” Nancy warned with a disapproving tut.

“What?” He huffed.

“They’re kids!”

“We’re nineteen!” Max groaned.

“I turn twenty next month!” Dustin chimed in.

“Still!”

“Fine, fine!” Steve sighed with a glare at Nancy, “Then ten bucks that they’ll kiss tonight!”

“No fucking way.” Robin shook her head.

“Nah, they’ll at least kiss tonight,” Jonathan said with crossed arms.

“Are you guys seriously betting on our friends?” Nancy said with a furrowed brow.

They all nodded vigorously, “Fine,” Nancy muttered.

“Then I second Steve, ten bucks for them sle-kissing.” Nancy corrected herself, earning a wicked grin from Steve.

“Come on!” Robin groaned, dissatisfied by Nancy’s answer.

“I agree with Robin,” said Dustin with a shrug.

“Finally!” Robin exclaimed, hands rubbing together in victory. “Someone with common sense. There’s no way those idiots are going to do anything but fight, just watch her come back here, all fuming about how much she hates Eddie.”

They all shrugged, going back to continue watching the soap opera unravel in front of them.

“James!” Eddie greeted with faux excitement, a grin playing on his lips, amber gaze remaining on you. With your brows creased, ‘What the fuck are you doing?’ you mouthed behind their awkward hug.

He shrugged, and his hands clutched James’ shoulder harshly, making him chuckle awkwardly. “Munson, the man of the hour!” He greeted him with a beaming smile.

He really was too nice for his own good, wasn’t he?

“I’d ask what you were up to, but it seems you’ve been doing just fine, rockstar,” James exclaimed, returning a friendly slap to Eddie on his shoulder—in a much nicer way than Eddie intended with his.

You smiled uncomfortably, your gaze still throwing daggers at Eddie, who was actively avoiding it. “I have to say that last album? Fucking Christ, had it playing over and over again for days.” He beamed again, much to both of your dismay.

That all-knowing smirk on Eddie’s face disappeared, the unexpected compliment seemed to make him uncomfortable, conflicting with the defensive walls he had put up.

“Uhh—thanks man,” he chuckled awkwardly, casting a quick, scrutinizing glance at you, catching the small smirk on your lips.

“What have you been up to?” He asked, curiously, desperate to know what the two of you were talking about, nervous to see if the two of you would do anything more than this.

The confidence in the way James held himself, his slicked hair, his fancy outfits up close, Eddie’s insecurities washed him over once again. Now with that part of his brain convincing him that the two of you would somehow end up together again.

“Oh, you know, I was just in town, got a nice job here, thought I’d stop by to see Corroded Coffin play, been seeing the posters everywhere—great marketing by the way,” He hummed, flashing Eddie a smile.

And Eddie returned a forced one, lips pursed together in annoyance. “and then I thought I’d get a drink, but then I heard this familiar voice next to me, yelling to the guy next to her to fuck off for attempting to steal her drink, and I thought oh that’s Pinky.” Eddie couldn’t help but not keep his gaze on you, studying your features, almost gauging your reaction, trying to nitpick something to fuel his jealousy.

“Been a long time, but I’d never miss this one’s sassy voice and that pretty face,” He mumbled with a sly smirk, making Eddie’s face scrunch and almost making him scoff out loudly.

“Oh, stop it!” You mumbled with a smile, all flattered, and Eddie’s gaze narrowed, jealousy overtaking him again.

“So you two are… reconnecting for the old times' sake, huh?” Eddie asked through gritted teeth and you rolled your eyes at him.

“Eddie—”

With a smile, James turned to you, “I mean I’d love to grab a drink, are you free tomorrow?”

“Ah! I wish I could, but I need to help Nancy out with some wedding stuff.”

“How about next wee—”

“She’s busy,” Eddie interjected quickly.

“Eddie!” You warned with your brows raised, heat rising to your cheeks, what the fuck was he doing?

“Can I just—steal you away for a minute?” Eddie turned to you with his jealous gaze, hand gently having a hold on your arm.

“Oh, sure, man!”

“No!” You and James exclaimed in unison.

James stared at the two of you with his brows furrowed, both of you breathing heavily, an intense gaze connecting the two of you. With a sigh, you followed him out of the crowd, an apologetic smile thrown toward James.

“What the hell are you doing?”

You scoffed, “Me? What the hell are you doing, Eddie?” You snapped, naze garrowing.

“I’m not locking lips with James that’s for sure!”

“Jesus Christ I was not locking lips with—” You halted abruptly, the absurdity of the sentence hitting you like a wave. Taking a moment to breathe, “What are you a child?”

“Well, if pointing out the obvious means I’m a child then so fucking be it!” The words tumbled out of his mouth harshly, almost lost in the din of the bar.

“The obvious? Do I need to remind you that you were the one who kissed Chrissy?” You accused sharply, your anger returning and cutting through Eddie’s jealousy like a knife.

“Look, I—I’m genuinely sorry for that, Pinky, I am. I should’ve never done that, it was a mistake—” His voice strained, getting lost amidst the background clamor, their set was about to start and Eddie could careless.

He took a step closer, but you didn’t budge. “You don’t kiss someone as a mistake, Eddie! You don’t invite them to brunch as a fucking mistake!” You snapped, tone a poignant mix of bitterness, jealousy, and an equal amount of hurt. Teary yet ablaze gaze bored into Eddie's, breaking his heart more and more.

His shoulders sagged under the weight of your words, the realization of the irreparable damage sinking in.

He took a step closer, a desperate attempt to bridge the emotional gap.“Will you just listen to me?” Eddie's plea hung in the air, the room seemingly shrinking as you and Eddie’s gaze connected. Your breaths mingled, heavy with unspoken words that pulsed between you.

Only inches apart, and you couldn’t help it when your gaze drooped down to his lips, then back to his mellow eyes.

“Eddie, this is the fifth fucking time they’ve been calling you.” Gareth’s irritating voice snapped the conversation, loud enough to have you almost jump back, as you threw Gareth a daggering gaze.

“Just fucking wait for a second,” Eddie spat, trying to dismiss him, but the moment was gone.

And Gareth wasn’t having it. “No way, dude we go on in like five minutes,” He scoffed, momentarily dragging Eddie by his arm.

“Fine, fine!” Eddie scowled, shaking off the hold.

“You should uh— go.”

“Let me explain,” He almost begged, desperate.

But with another dismissal, you left.

Eddie wanted to drop everything and run to you, apologize, tell you what he felt, but somehow, some way he was always managing to fuck up the things between the two of you, now.

It was like he was fourteen again, his dad letting him know that he always managed to fuck up something good, that he was destined to the Munson name. Like he could never manage to do something right.

Wayne, Jonathan, Corroded Coffin, and Nancy all changed that belief.

But, you? Oh, god, you made him believe that he was good, you pulled him out of that darkness, you were the first one to believe in him, you were the one who encouraged him. You made him feel like he was on the right path, always.

And you were the one who mattered, if he didn’t have you believing that now, what else did he have?

With a hand on his shoulder, Jeff was dragging him back, he stared at your figure leaving, and with a sigh, he headed backstage.

Aurora was the fifth song they sang, and it should’ve gotten to you, the way his gaze didn’t leave yours, how vulnerable he sounded, the way he barely even made eye contact with the guitar he was supposed to be focusing on, that should’ve gotten to you.

But it didn’t.

Your glossy gaze and your crossed arms, as everyone else around you cheered for him, did nothing but upset you more and more.

Everything was so confusing that you couldn’t even make sense of yourself anymore. Yes, you were mad about everything with Chrissy, but you also knew he didn’t know everything that transpired between you and her.

Chrissy and Billy should’ve been enough for him to not want anything to do with her, yet you still believed him when he told you it was a mistake, that he would’ve never done it if he knew. And the pool… the things he said in the car. Hours ago when you went to his trailer.

Sure, he was sorry, and he said he’d prove himself to you.

But none of you ever out loud said anything, it had always been a cowardice dance around your feelings, and you were afraid that if this dance ended, then it would be all too real. It would all be over.

A heave of breath exited your lips, attempting to drown away the worries, but they were spiked up the second the song ended and Eddie spoke up again.

“This next song is for my friends over there, Nancy and Jonathan,” He exclaimed with a grin, finger excitedly pointing towards the two of them, it was the first time his gaze had left yours, involuntarily your head turned to your right.

“They’re getting married this weekend, and were kind enough to let me and my dipshit friends play,” He said with a sheepish grin, and Nancy and Jonathan shyly smiled at him, waving him off in a dismissive way,

“So this is for the soon-to-be newlywed couple, and for the special girl next to them, who’s mad at me for a lot of reasons, and she has every right to be, I was a total ass.” He earned chuckles and some cheering from the crowd, who unintentionally all faced you.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but hey, maybe this might help my case, huh?” He said with a grin, his gaze was dangerously addicting, full of promises, and you couldn’t help the way it made stupid butterflies appear in your stomach.

It was so easy for him to get you like this, you were starting to feel pathetic.

Speechless, and the heat quick to rise to your cheeks, you were trying to ignore the whispers and stares from the crowd, but it was basically impossible.

The opening chords were enough to rattle your memory, the dreamy guitar riffs from Eddie sweeping in echoing the space as if it was just the two of you.

You knew exactly which song he was playing.

And the vocals, added with Eddie’s smooth, sultry voice were enough to have your heartbeat raising making you almost feel small, haziness overtaking your mind.

And it only brought back one memory to your mind.

FIVE YEARS AGO.

LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA.

Another job interview, another opportunity you feel like you have missed.

It hadn’t been long since the two of you had arrived in Los Angeles, yet every passing minute felt like you had been wasting away your time, you needed a job, and no one in stupid LA was hiring you.

A groan escaped your lips when you plopped yourself onto the couch, right next to Eddie who was way too into scribbling something into a notebook.

Wait… was he using the…?

“Is that… the notebook?” Your eyes lit up happily. It was such a small, stupid thing.

But for you, it was important. That notebook was important. And you never actually thought he’d care about it, but it looked like he was carrying it in his back pocket.

“Is that a crime?” Eddie sassed.

With a scoff, you narrowed your gaze. “No, doofus! I just didn’t think you’d actually use it.”

Almost taken aback Eddie sat up straight on the couch, knees brushing against yours now. “Are you kidding? Half of this bad boy is filled with lyrics.”

“What is the other half made of?” You asked with a dangerous grin.��

“You’d have to kill me to find out.” Eddie enunciated dramatically, tone drooping lower to mimic mystery.

“Oh, come on!” You huffed, curiosity getting the best of you. Scooting closer to him, you pouted. “Can’t you at least give me something?” You asked, all doe-eyed, tone sticky sweet, in a way that always got to Eddie.

“Oh, sweetheart,” He groaned, almost melting into you, “You know I’ll give you anything if you ask that sweetly.”

You grinned happily, clapping your hands together in victory once he ripped up a page and handed it to you.

“That is the chorus of a song I’m working on,” He mumbled, eyes nervously following you, waiting to read your reaction.

She's thunderstorms

Lying on her front, up against the wall

She's thunderstorms

Your eyes blinked quickly to process everything. It had been not too long since the both of you had come to L.A., Eddie was desperately trying to send the band’s best material to any label who was willing to sign them.

And you had just gotten out of a horrible relationship, things had not been steady enough for the two of you to ever discuss anything about your feelings, always tip-toeing around it, but too scared to ever actually delve into it.

Yet, you could tell this was about you, something about being described as thunderstorms stuck to your mind, maybe he somehow meant it as good. But all it reminded you of was destruction. And he wasn’t wrong.

It was like everywhere you went, something horrible followed, exactly like a dark cloud looming over, waiting to strike anyone daring to be near you.

Your hand flew to your mouth, teeth grazing through your nails anxiously. “Who’s this thunderstorm girl?” You asked, masking your nervousness with a brittle smile.

He snatched the notebook back, ignoring your little huff. “Someone I went to school with,” He answered cooly and then leaned further into your face with a grin. “I was drivin’ around one day, then saw this girl’s car on the side of the road, to be nice I helped fix her car but then she became totally obsessed with me.” He recalled the first time he met you, animatedly.

“Oh, is that so?”

“Yeah, didn’t leave me alone for years.”

With a narrowed gaze, “Asshole,” you bantered.

“That’s so weird,” He hummed with a smirk “That was her favorite nickname for me,” quipped Eddie and you stuck your tongue at him childishly.

With a slight push on his elbow, he drew closer to you. “So… what did you think?” He coaxed nervously, you could tell it was important to him, yet being this close was making your mind spin.

“I like it,” you muttered, unable to face his beautiful features when he was so close, and your mind spinning with the fact that Eddie thought of you as destructive, too.

“That’s it? You… just like it?”

“No that’s not it, it’s just—” With a sigh you snatched back the notebook from his hands. “It’s just… isn’t this bad?”

“What?” His brows creased together in worry, “W-which one did you not like I can change it-” You shook your head, interrupting his anxious ramble.

“No! I love all of them! But describing… uh—this girl,” Tip-toeing around it, causing Eddie to smirk. “As thunderstorms? Isn’t that bad?”

“No, not at all. It’s a metaphor.” He shook his head, explaining gently.

“She embodies the essence of thunderstorms—unpredictable and explosive. She has the power to create chaos and destruction, and on the surface that might sound bad, yet within that destruction she sparks a new life. You know, making it so much better,” He hummed, licking his lips.

“And she also feels like a thunderstorm, intense and electrifying, shaking up your life, in the best way possible.”

“Oh. Wow,” You mumbled, gaze turning mellow with how well he explained everything, heart melting with how he saw you, not just from the surface, like he could peel the intricate layers of your existence, appreciating every part of it.

“Uhh, then I love that actually,” you concluded with a smile, attempting to mask the fluttering in your stomach. Did he really see you in that way?

Did he really see you as someone worth all of this? You tried to ignore the tears prickling in your eyes, begging to pour out, but you weren’t going to ruin this moment.

You didn’t deserve him. In the slightest. He didn’t deserve to get caught up in your bullshit. You shouldn’t have dragged him here. You were being selfish, but, god, did it feel good.

To finally feel safe, to finally have someone take care of you, to finally have someone you could rely on. After everything, didn’t you at least deserve to be a little selfish?

But that feeling ate away at you, even though you shook it off for the moment, it was eventually going to return. And it did.

“You do?” His brows raised in surprise, it made you want to fuck all and just grab his cheeks and kiss him, lips plush together until the two of you couldn’t breathe.

But you couldn’t afford that, you couldn’t afford the feelings, nor could you afford the fallout. You couldn’t lose him.

“Mhmm,” You answered with a broken smile, hoping he wouldn’t notice. He always did.

“She sounds special.”

“She is,” Eddie agreed, eyeing you with a worried look. “Very, very special,” He repeated, he could tell something was off.

But it was okay, because he was here for you now, and he wasn’t going to leave.

NOW:

Suddenly the room felt suffocating.

Eddie’s gaze on you felt mocking.

It was stupid, he had just dedicated the song to you, yet all your mind could focus on was everything bad that had happened. Ruining everything good that happened with him.

How were you even going to be with him if you couldn’t even handle this?

Fear, trust issues, being afraid of not knowing how things were going to go, if you would fuck this up too, then that was it for you. No one else could compare, and you knew that.

Maybe if you just knew that the same went for Eddie, if you just could see that the five years you spent apart had been just as hell-ish for him if not more. The constant thoughts in his mind reminded him that he could never be over you, truly. Sure, it hurt less now, but the scar was still there, scabbing the second someone mentioned you. The realization of knowing no one could ever be you etched onto his skin.

“Hey… you okay?” Steve’s concerned voice snapped you out of your thoughts, Eddie’s voice served as a background noise while his gaze was still stuck on you.

“Y-yeah, I just—” You faltered, face growing numb and anxiety increasing when you suddenly needed some air.

Too much, all of it was too much.

Eddie could almost sense it, he grew worried at your frowny brows and your tear-streaked gaze.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumbled, body jerking back scurrying out quickly when you ignored everyone calling out for your name.

Eddie’s vocals almost halted, missing a few notes on the guitar before Gareth was quick to snap him back to it.

His head cocked toward your direction, desperate, nearly begging to stop the show, but all of them shook their head quickly, and once Eddie turned back to see the look on Jonathan and Nancy’s face, he realized he couldn’t do this to them.

This was his friends' wedding, and he owed this to them. When the song ended, he was quick to mouth to the others, “After the next song, we’re taking a break.” It wasn’t a request, it was final.

And frankly, the rest of them were too tired out to even argue with a hot-headed Eddie.

“So how is your plan working, dingus?” Robin jeered at Steve.

“Shut up.”

There were a couple more people outside, all leaning against the wall, chuckling while talking over each other loudly, the smoke of their lit cigarettes quick to take over your senses.

With a cough, you leaned further away from them, mind still unraveling what had just happened. You didn’t even know what was happening anymore.

You wanted to smoke, hand itched to reach for the pocket of your jacket and light one to take away your stress, but you could barely breathe as it was right now.

A light tap on your shoulder snapped you away from your thoughts.

Who was it now?

You huffed loudly when your head cocked back.

Fucking great.

Chrissy.

“Oh, Jesus Christ!” You pinched the bridge of your nose in annoyance, this just had to be your luck, your feet picked up quickly, hand quick to reach for the door and go back inside.

“Please, please don’t leave,” She pleaded.

Your hold on the door remained, barely glancing back at her, “Just leave me alone!” You snapped.

“I just want to apologize, please, then I’ll leave you alone, forever.”

“Please, just five minutes.”

You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t.

Your hold on the door faltered, and with a deep sigh, you turned to her. “Fine.”

“Five minutes,” You warned, your patience already wearing thin.

Her face lit up, blinking a few times to make sure she heard you correctly. “O-oh, okay, good,” She cleared her throat.

“First of all, I’m sorry, for everything, for what I said five years ago, for what I did with Billy, for using what he did to you like a fucking joke. For w-what I said about your parents.” She stammered.

“It’s too late, I know, I fucked up, I shouldn’t have done any of those things, you didn’t deserve it. You deserved a better friend, someone like you.” She almost looked at you like she was waiting for your approval, gauging your reaction, your expressionless face encouraged her to continue.

“I was bitter, jealous. Which isn’t a fucking excuse, I know, I was just—” she took a deep breath. “You were everything I wanted to be, careless, had all the boys' attention, and you didn’t even have to try, you didn’t have to do anything, and they’d just fall at your feet. And I was stupid, bitter, and insecure enough to envy that.”

“That’s not my problem, Chrissy.” You spat out with your gaze narrowing, you couldn’t handle her pity party right now.

“And really, you wanted to be me? Chrissy I didn’t have parents, my boyfriend was a narcissistic asshole.I was broke.” You scoffed with an ironic chuckle, shaking your head in anger.

“I know, I know. It was stupid, and I was stupid, and you didn’t deserve any of that.” Sincerity. Something you haven’t seen from her in years.

“I just wanted to tell you that none of it was your fault.” Now your gaze narrowed, a chuckle rolling on your lips.

You opened your mouth to speak, to protest. “No, I know you’re going to say you didn’t think that but I know you do. Even though you hate me, which I don’t blame you, I know you like the back of my hand, you blame yourself, you always did it. And I’m telling you shouldn’t because it was all my fault. A-and I shouldn’t have done whatever I did with Eddie, I practically took advantage of him like he did to me and then got mad at him, oh god, I’m such a fucking bitch, aren’t I?”

Your eyes blinked quickly to process all of it. Her apology didn’t mean anything, her words didn’t mean anything. But deep down, you knew she was right, even if you wouldn’t admit it. Because you spent many nights blaming yourself, for even opening up to them in the first place.

“First of all, breathe,” you mumbled with annoyance.

“Second of all, yes you are,” you huffed.

“And, taking advantage? What do you mean?”

“Some fucked up part of me wanted him because I knew you wanted him back then, a-and he was right there and he was being nice to me and—” Chrissy took a deep sigh, big blue eyes staring into you knowing that you were not going to like what she was going to say.

“I should’ve known.”

With puckered brows, you crossed your arms against your chest. “Known what?”

“That he was still hung up on you,” she muttered.

You were quick to roll your eyes, “Chrissy—”

“No, no just listen.” But she wasn’t going to let you spiral.

“Look you were dumb enough then—” You threw her a glare, so daggeringly cold that she stopped.

“Sorry,” she muttered before continuing, “Look, the two of you wasted a lot of time. And I know it’s funny hearing this from me because I took part in it, but I’m only saying this because he’s a nice guy, even though I don’t particularly like him right now, he’s a nice guy, and you deserve someone like him.” She enunciated, azure hues embodying such sympathy that had you taken aback.

“You loved him back then, too. I could see it, and I could see it in him, too. That’s what I always wanted, and maybe that’s why he intrigued me so much. But I knew he never got over you.”

You could feel your heart skip a beat, it wasn’t anything new, but hearing this from her, it meant something.

You needed to take control of your feelings, and hearing Chrissy’s words was doing nothing but fuel them more. “Chrissy stop—”

“No, Pinky! He told me! He told me it was you! It had always been you!” She exclaimed, her face growing a nice pink color as you stood frozen.

Your brain felt mushy, rest of your body felt so warm, but still that anger lingered. Why couldn’t he just tell you this? Why couldn’t he just show you?

“What?” You mumbled, brows pinched together.

“Yes!” She exclaimed, sighing at your reaction.

“Look, I just wanted to tell you this, and tell you to get your head out of your ass. I know I’m the last person you wanted to hear this from, but I had to at least make one thing right for you because I know I fucked up every other thing.”

You wanted to tell her to stay the fuck out of it, you wanted to tell her it was all because of her. That she basically ruined your life. But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t all her, it was Billy, too. It wasn’t all her, Eddie played a part in it, too.

But you weren’t going to waste your breath, you didn’t need to blow up in her face for her to know she was wrong, she needed to let that feeling sink in. You weren’t going to forgive her, and you didn’t need to make a fuss about it to feel real.

This was it. A closure.

“I’m sorry, for everything. And I know that you won’t forgive me, but that’s okay. I’m sorry, but please listen to what I just said. Please don’t get in your head and try to ruin something this perfect, okay?”

A peaceful smile appeared on your lips, and you took a deep breath. “You’re right, I won’t forgive you.” You weren’t going to give her any satisfaction or approval, her words didn’t mean a thing.

“Goodbye, Chrissy.” You mumbled.

You could see her stammering, struggling to open her mouth, because she couldn’t say anything else, and this is what she promised, five minutes. It was over.

You backed yourself against the wall, fingers fishing out the pack of cigarettes sitting in the pocket of your jacket.

Without having anything else left to say, she left. And you heaved a sigh of breath, the tip of your cigarette smoldering when you lit it.

You inhaled with eyes squeezed shut, head swirling with much to think about. But at least you were alone. Finally, some space for you to think, and to lay out a little bit of your stress with the most unhealthy outlet.

And of course, that peace lasted for about a few minutes, just when you had finished your cigarette, squishing the remains on the nearest trashcan, Eddie appeared, lightly squeezing your arm to have your attention.

“What?” You snapped when you saw him, eyeing the way he looked taken aback.

His hands held up in front of his chest in defeat, clearly not understanding your sudden rage. The laughter around you had died, people who were smoking outside the bar were clearly more entertained by your drama.

With a huff, you dragged Eddie away from it all, still close to the bar but far away to not have any other distractions.

He sighed, brows etched with worry. “Why did you leave?”

Your hand flew to your forehead, trying to calm your nerves, trying to clear your mind. “Eddie, are you kidding me?” You scoffed, arms wrapped across your chest defensively. “You can’t just drag me away from James, dedicate songs to me and—”

His forehead puckered. “Why not? They’re all about you anyway,” he said with a sly smirk.

“Aurora, She’s Thunderstorms, Zero, Forget Her, Resolve, Fool, two fucking albums, all dedicated to you, you know that.”

“These notes? These stupid notes I’ve been carrying?” He huffed loudly, hand quick to fish inside of his back pocket, aggressively flipping through the pages. “Even if every nerve in my body were numb I’d still be able to feel her.” He turned the page toward you before flipping again.

“I have tried to forget you but I can’t, you invade my dreams, my mind, my whole fucking life. You’re stuck in me and I don’t have the heart to get you out.” He shook his head, reciting it all like it was nothing, but you felt all of it.

His notes making you dizzy. His words scrambling your mind like never before.

“She’s the tear that hangs inside my soul forever. That one is uh—in a song, too,” he mumbled, cheeks flushing with how passionate he was getting, and you held your breath, it’s like you were staring into his soul.

Stark naked. Laying bare, he really was doing this. And you didn’t want him to stop, even though your mouth suggested otherwise.

“And so much more embarrassing stuff that I don’t want to include to not ruin my chances,” he muttered with a lazy smile, and you hated that you could feel it in your skin, the flutters, stomach flipping in the best possible way.

“All fucking about you. Because it was you, from the moment we met.”

“S—stop,” your mouth betrayed you, it was the furthest thing from the truth, and you needed to hear more. You needed the reassurance, you needed him to convince you. More than anything in the world.

But it was all so scary, and he was so close to you that you could feel his passion integrated into your veins.

“Why, Pinky, why should I stop? Why do we have to tip-toe around each other, huh?” He was desperate, eyes flashing with a newfound of desire for you, he wasn’t going to let it go this time.

And it scared you, him being this determined, getting so close to what you actually felt was making your skin crawl, because the way you could feel your heart thumping against your ribcage wasn’t normal. What he was making you feel wasn’t normal. “Because w—we can’t!”

“We can’t what?” He complained, a deep sigh escaping his lips.

“W—we can’t do this, you can’t—”

He shook his head with his brows puckered. “Who are you to decide that? I want to, I so badly want to,” He spat, taking a step closer to you, face merely inches away from you.

His gaze was dangerously inviting, those alluring amber eyes melted into yours, making your pupils dilate, breath hitching as you struggled to keep him away. “Please, Eddie, d—don’t.”

You gulped, hand raising to put a space between the two of you, but it was impossible. He was in your veins now. “Too much has happened, you with Chrissy and—” You didn’t even know what you were blabbering about, just anything to stop your feelings from getting out.

“Chrissy was a mistake!” He retorted with a hiss. He hated that you saw Chrissy as a problem between the two of you. Yes, he fucked up, but it really was a mistake, he’d take it all back in a heartbeat if he could.

Your gaze narrowed, that pettiness returned when you scoffed. “Which time, when you kissed her or when you brought her to brunch?”

Eddie let out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head when he looked at you with a dumbfounded look. “Jesus fucking Christ…” He took a breather. “I can’t believe you’re doing that again,” he mumbled, realizing that it wasn’t going to be easy to get you out of this mindset.

It was going to be hard, to convince you of anything, and he understood that, he had trust issues himself, but he wasn’t going to back down. This was it.

You crossed your arms against your chest, gaze avoiding him momentarily. “Doing what?” You muttered.

“You just— you get scared when things get serious, running away when it gets just even a little bit too real,” He scoffed, angling closer to you, fingers ruffling through his curls in frustration.

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah! You call me a coward and fucking look at you!” He snapped, hands gesturingly pointing to you.

“Scrambling just at the thought of us being together.” He argued, some part of him feeling a bit insecure, that maybe you didn’t want this. But, no, he saw that glint in your eyes, he knew the little angry twitch on your lips. You felt the same. And all you needed was a little push.

You breathed, mind scrambled and trying so hard to convince yourself to leave. “T—that’s not it, you—uh you just don’t get it!” You complained with a huff.

Another step closer. One more step and his lips would be on yours, Eddie knew this, you knew this. His gaze momentarily drooped down to your lips, then back to your dilated pupils.

“Then make me understand, let me help you, don’t fucking run, not this time.” It was a little jab, but something needed to get you to spill, he was playing all the right cards and you were getting overwhelmed.

“J—just stop!”

“Why? Fucking why? Tell me one good fucking reason as to why we shouldn’t try it, we never even gave it a chance!” He ranted, veins in his forehead popping with how much he was trying to keep it all together. And you weren’t even trying.

“We wouldn’t work, okay?”

He shook his head. “Not good enough,” He argued.

“W—we’re on two different paths now, Eddie.” You didn’t have any good excuses, he was right.

“Not good enough.” Once again, that same arguing tone.

You huffed. “Too much time passed and—”

“Not fucking good enough!” He cursed, hands landing on your shoulder to keep you in place, and your cheeks flushed immediately, while still trying to deny it. You were pathetic.

“Stop being a fucking coward!” He seethed, eyes fiery and red.

Why were you insisting on being so fucking stubborn? You were driving him crazy, yet it wasn’t going to stop him.

Coward is what had you scrambling. Because you knew he was right. “Fuck you,” You spat, body jerking quickly to leave, feet picking up quickly as Eddie groaned loudly.

So. Fucking. Stubborn.

He was quick on his feet, letting curses slip past his lips before he yanked you to him, earning a small gasp from your lips before you finally faced him.

Gaze mellow, but just as fiery, your furrowed brows and dilated pupils only encouraging him more and more. Flutters in your stomach had never left, your skin was burning, everywhere, but specifically on the hold he had on you.

You didn’t manage to utter anything else, you couldn’t because he had you this time. There was no running away from it, your heart was hammering so hard inside of your chest that you were sure he could hear it.

His hold on your arm was firm but somehow gentle, letting you know that he wasn’t going to let you go.

You opened your mouth, wanting to speak, but he interrupted, his hands now firmly cupping your cheeks, squishing you with force, and you couldn’t help the contended sigh that left your parted lips. “I’m not letting you run away, not this time,” He mumbled, words sounding like silk falling from his lips, all you could do was gaze into him. He stood inches away from you, breath fanning against your face.

He licked his lips desperately, gaze drooping to your candy-glossed, needy lips. Face so close that you could feel the desperation radiating off of him. And you shared it. You managed to take a quick breath before his hand fisted your hair and his mouth crashed down to yours.

He pressed you harder against his chest, breathless, your lips molded together, a perfect fit. And he could taste the Cosmopolitan on your tongue, a tinge of alcohol mixed with your sweetness, making his head spin, a taste he realized he’d never have enough of.

Those little thumps your heart did were now out of control, possibly pounding a million beats a second. His small stubble scratched against your chin, rough, it should’ve made you uncomfortable yet all it did was make you kiss him harder, shutting up your brain as your mouth replied to him, kissing him back with just as much force, you melted into him, melted into his hold, and you let him engulf you, fully, completely.

Plushy lips slightly parted apart, his tongue slipped past between your teeth, your hand finding its way to his hair, feeling the curly strands between your fingers, it’s softer than you expected and your lips parted to let out a slight whine as you tugged at them.

All those years of wishing, all those years of wanting, yearning, and needing exploded into this. Kissing like your lives depended on it, chests pressed against each other, Eddie’s hand slipping to your waist, desperately tugging you closer to him as if that was even possible.

Your heart exploded into your chest, his tongue not wavering the chance to explore yours, sucking on it, greedily, desperately.

The background noises disappeared, the cackles of the girls, the booming music coming from inside of the bar, and the honks from the busy street. They ceased to exist and it was just you and him. Feeling each other, completely, fully.

You knew at some point one of you had to pull away, but none of you dared to, it was just pure desire, a hunger that couldn’t be sated.

All the years spent yearning and pining, acting like two fucking idiots.

He wanted to breathe you, drink you in, and he wasn’t intent on letting you go. Ever.

You from five minutes ago who wanted to refuse him, refuse this was an absolute fucking idiot. Gone. You tasted like the sweetest honey and he tasted like everything you wanted and more. It’s even needier than the first kiss, more sure, it’s like a promise.

This is it. Both of you can feel it. This finally changes everything.

final authors note — uhhhh so yeah... if yall wanna talk about that my asks r open LMAO.

#eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson series #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #getaway car series #getaway car

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thursdaygxrls · 1 year ago

Text

thin ice — one

part one | part two | part three

summary — she didn’t handle the sports section of the campus newspaper, but apparently, she did this week. interviewing hockey players was easy, though—unless one of those players happened to be peter parker.

pairing — uni hockey player!peter parker x fem!journalist!reader

disclaimers — i don’t own peter parker. and pls don't come for me with the accuracy of this situation i'm begging

warnings — reader is referred to as ‘kitty’ (there’s a reason, i promise), slight one sided enemies to lovers, sewer slide jokes (very briefly), possible maybe slightly ooc, and very unedited

“You’re joking. You’re pulling the biggest prank I’ve ever seen, you are the impractical joker,” she huffs out, her eyes wide as furiously clicks her mouse, “I’m gonna die. I’m writing the note tonight—farewell, my lovely!”

“Woah, okay,” MJ, her roommate, had only just entered the room when she was bombarded with a sudden rant. She didn’t even have time to take down her ponytail of thin, red braids before her eardrums were assaulted.

“I mean it.” Spinning her chair, she meets MJ’s eyes.

“I literally just got here,” MJ plops down on the bed in front of the desk, “Care to tell me why you’re writing that note?”

“I’m a dumb, dumb girl, that’s why,” she groans in response.

“We already knew that.” MJ’s words only cause the girl in front of her to shoot daggers with her gaze; “Sorry, sorry. Why are you a dumb, dumb girl?”

“God, okay, so,” she lets out a loud sigh, “Eli is gonna be gone for the rest of the month—Europe or something, good for him. Anyways, they needed someone to cover his assignments for him until he gets back, and I volunteered, but, like, only to be nice, y’know? I did it as an obligation. But…”

“But?” MJ pressed.

“I just got an email, and it’s me,” she grumbled, “They’re putting me on Eli’s assignments.”

“Hm, I see,” MJ’s lips curl into a frown as she gently rubs the girl’s arm, “Too much work?”

“Oh, no, my stuff’s easy,” she waved her off, “Just reading the poetry submissions. I mean, it can be exhausting, but it’s not too bad.”

“Then what is it?” MJ cocks her head.

“Eli…Eli does sports,” she shuddered. MJ couldn’t contain the loud laugh that slipped out, clamping a hand over her mouth to stifle it.

“You’re worried about sports?” She giggles, her eyes twinkling.

“It’s not funny!” She smacks MJ lightly, “Sports aren’t unbearable or anything, but, like, why me? I don’t know enough! I’ll screw it up, I’ll lose my spot, they’ll stick me back in—”

“Relax,” MJ grabs her shoulders, bringing her closer, “First off, no, you won’t lose your spot, we both know they’d be losing their minds without you. Second, they wouldn’t just throw it on you if they thought you’d give them bad work, right?” She eyes MJ almost suspiciously. There’s a momentary stare-down before she relents.

“I hate that you’re right,” she sighs, spinning her chair around. MJ stops the spin by putting her hands down on the arms of the chair.

“Thought you’d be used to it by now,” she giggles, “So, what do you have to do?”

“I don’t know.” Is the mumbled reply.

“You didn’t even look?” MJ laughs again, “You were losing your mind, and you didn’t even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m sorry that I’m sensitive,” she huffs. Her gaze moves back to the laptop before her. The email is open on the screen, so she begins scrolling through it, MJ reading the words over her shoulder. Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head when she gets to the end.

“Fuck this,” she almost slams her laptop shut, but is stopped short by MJ.

“Slow down!” The redhead slaps her hand out of the way to read the rest of the email.

The ESU hockey team had made it to the NCAA Division I Men's Ice Hockey tournament for the first time in six years—and they were doing damn good. Eli had been tasked with interviewing the team captain as well as a few other star players, but, of course, it was no longer Eli's job.

"Oh, come on,” MJ rolled her eyes, “They gave you a Google Doc with questions, all you have to do is ask them and write down their response."

“That's the problem, I have to ask,” she shivered.

"You've done interviews before!" MJ was ready to smack her.

"With professors! And cool artsy people! Not hockey guys," she cringed, “I bet half of them are in a frat. They're probably gonna be assholes and tell me I have cooties."

“Are you twelve?” MJ groaned, “You sort of lucked out with this—half the work is already done for you! You don’t need to write up any questions!” A sigh left her lips as she took on a more comforting tone: “If it makes you feel any better, Harry is on the team.”

Ah, Harry. MJ had been seeing him for a little over a month by now. He wasn’t a bad guy at all. A little full of himself, but nice enough to talk to. Her eyes roved over the list of players she was set to interview. Sure enough, Harry Osborn was there. So was Miles Morales, who was described as an extremely promising freshman. Zack Coleson, who had the highest number of goals for the season. Last on the list was the team captain: Peter Parker.

“I can talk to Harry,” MJ offered, “I can let him know that it’s you doing the interviews. I’ll make sure he tells them to go easy on you—”

“No, no,” she shook her head, “That might make it worse. And they already know that it’s not Eli coming. Or they should, at least”

“You sure?” MJ quirked a brow, her features crinkling in a way that was only intelligible as concern.

“They’ll be walking on eggshells around me if they know I’m chickenshit, I won’t get a good interview,” she sighed. Even if the interview wasn’t what she wanted to do, she was going to have to. And she would do a good job—a great job.

“You got this, Kitty,” MJ squeezed her shoulders. The nickname pulled a smile from her, and she gave into MJ’s touch.

“We’ll see about that,” she relented. Her eyes traveled back to the computer screen. The interviews were scheduled two days from now at the Stark Memorial Rink.

“Hey, MJ,” she hummed, “Could you grab me my noose?”

The rink was colder than she expected. The empty stands provided no body heat, not to mention there was a literal sheet of ice on the floor. Tugging at the strap of her messenger bag, she took slow, careful steps to the plexiglass.

Clink.

Her eyes widened. There were around ten to fifteen guys in full gear out on the ice, and another ten to fifteen more on a bench near the glass or flitting around the edge of the rink. She was nervous, so she got there early. Now, she was stuck watching them practice.

Leaving was so tempting. She could go back to her dorm, or better yet, leave college entirely. She could just give up and fall off the grid, cut her credit cards, throw her phone in the ocean, sail off to Greece—

“Hello?”

She cursed the muffled voice that pulled her back into reality. Blinking, she found that standing before her was one of the very hockey players she’d seen skating on the rink before her. He was tall, and gear under his black and purple jersey made him appear far more bulkier than she theorized he was. He slipped his helmet off to reveal brown, curly hair that was drenched in sweat.

“Hi,” she replied, trying not to sound as nervous as he would. He cocked his head at her as he popped out his mouth guard.

“This is a closed practice,” he said, though, he didn’t sound all too upset that she was here.

“Oh, yeah, I know,” she nodded quickly, her fingers toying with the strap of her bag again, “I’m a bit early, I’m supposed to be interviewing some people on the team. I’m—”

“Kitty?” She was interrupted by the sound of a voice as well as skates scraping across the ice. Glancing past the guy in front of her, she saw Harry slide off the ice and clomp to benches where they currently were.

“Hey, Harry.” Her lips were screwed up in a tight grin. He’d heard MJ call her Kitty once, and now it was the only thing he’d refer to her as.

“Kitty?” Mystery guy repeated the name with a hint of intrigue.

“It’s not my real name, my friends just call me that,” she shook her head.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry asked, swinging an arm around the shoulder of the guy in front of her.

“I’m Eli’s replacement,” she explained, trying to plaster a friendly smile to her lips, “I’m doing the interviews.”

“Aw, shit, why didn’t MJ tell me we got the cool Kitty-cat on the case?” Harry grinned.

“Could you try to never say those words again? Really hated it, thanks,” her nose crinkled.

“You got it.” He tried to point finger guns at her, but with the thick gloves on, it just looked like he was pointing his whole hand.

“Hey,” he started up again, “You’re a little early, so practice isn’t over yet, but we’re almost done. It’s just the four of us, right?”

“Right,” she nodded in response. It was a relief that they’d been briefed on the situation.

“Alright, well, I’m Harry, obviously, Miles and Zack are on the ice somewhere, and this right here—” Harry jostled the shoulders of the Mystery guy, “—is Peter. Oh captain, my captain!”

Peter chuckled as Harry clapped him on the back. The noise that emanated from the friendly hit was harsh, but Peter didn’t move a muscle.

“Right,” she nodded, “So, I figured we could do them individually? There’s some sort of specific questions for each of you.”

“Sounds good, Kitty,” Harry replied. She’d smack him if he said that name again.

“Sit tight for a bit,” Peter spoke up. Even with the stubble on his chin, his smile gave him a boyish appearance. He looked her up and down quickly, “We can try to wrap up practice early.”

'A bit' ended up feeling like forever. At first, she tried to distract herself with her phone, but it didn't work: she would open apps, scroll through them, then close them just to reopen them over and over again. So she organized her bag, which took about five minutes. Time seemed to tic by in a tauntingly slow manner. It was only when she saw a few of the players emerge from the locker room did she let out a breath of relief. She immediately sucked that breath back when she realized that she would actually have to talk to some of them.

Harry went first. It was easy enough to go through the questions with him. It was like talking to an over-eager relative at a family reunion, one who was just dying to talk about all the new things they're doing. Miles wasn't all that bad to interview, either. He was a lot more nervous than she was. His awkward pauses and constant strings of 'um' and 'uh' was almost comforting. Then came Peter.

"Kitty," he grinned as soon as he saw her seated on the bench next to the rink. He no longer wore his gear—just a hoodie and a pair of gray sweats. His hair, however, was still wet and tousled. She gave him a tight lipped smile in return.

"That's not my name," she replied. Before she had time to properly introduce herself, his raspy chuckle was already echoing through the open arena.

"You said that's what your friends call you, right?" He cocked his head as he sat down on the other edge of the bench.

"You're not—” If she could just make it through the interview without fuss, she'd be one person away from being free, "—right. That's what my friends call me."

"I'm going to be recording this, just so I can reference it later," she explained almost monotonously.

"This isn't my first time," he responded with another light laugh. She had to physically bite her tongue to fight off any comments. A soft click sounded from her phone as she started a new voice memo. Her eyes scanned the list of questions on the page before her. Some she'd already asked to Harry and Miles: How does it feel to make the tournament? What is the atmosphere of the team right now? She chose a fresh question to start with.

"What's it like to be the captain of this team? Are you proud? Overwhelmed?" She asked, her voice taking on a new tone closer to a news anchor than a regular person. Peter's lips curled up at the change.

"I'm proud, yeah," he nodded, his voice smooth, "This is a great group. But we all work our asses off, so I'm not surprised by how far we've come. Being their captain is really something."

"And—"

"Do you normally do sports? For the paper, I mean." Before she could even get her next sentence out, he interrupted her. Her grip on the papers in her hand tightened.

"No, not normally," she grit out, "And going along with your thoughts on being captain, what about making it to the tournament this year?"

"It's the best feeling in the world. It's something I've been chasing after for years now, finally getting to it is just...sort of indescribable." Even when his tone is nothing but sincere, he can't wipe the cocky grin from his lips.

"I can imagine," she smiled tautly in reply, "What was it like working your way up to captain? Was it a personal journey, or did you get support from the team?"

"I'd say it was an even mix of both," he hummed, "Do you like hockey?"

"What?" She furrowed her brows.

"Are you a hockey fan?" He reiterated, "Because our next game is home, and it's sort of packed, but I could get you some tickets assuming you don't have some already—"

"No—Peter," she let out a frustrated huff, tapping on her phone to momentarily pause the recording, "This is an interview, not social hour."

"Aren't interviews inherently social?" His smirk was infuriating.

"I mean that I ask the questions, you answer them," she grumbled, "Do you act like this with Eli? Are you not taking me serious because I'm a woman?"

"What?" His smirk fell immediately, "What? No—no. I'm taking you seriously, I take women very seriously. I'm all for women. They're great."

"Then can we just do this interview and get it over with?" She sighed, her finger hovering over the unpause button. He nodded, but before she could resume the interview, he quickly added: "But do you want tickets?"

Ignoring the question, she carried on. Peter seemed to mellow out after a while and didn't interrupt again. It was almost surprising how well he'd listened: he was giving her real, insightful answers to her questions without a hint of flirtation. The final interview with Zack flowed easily, and she fled Stark Memorial Rink as quick as she could.

Transcribing the interviews was the easiest part. Days later, she would be hunched over her computer in the darkness of her shared dorm, playing and replaying the recordings and typing out the words onto the screen. Her concentration was briefly interrupted, though, when the door opened and a stream of light threaded its way through the room and onto the back of her head.

"Light bad!" She slapped her hands over her eyes, "Light very bad!"

"You're gonna go blind if you keep staring at your computer in the dark," MJ spoke in a warning tone, but ultimately closed the door.

"Then blind I must go," she sighed, swiveling on her chair to look at her roommate, "How was class?"

"Normal," MJ shrugged, sliding her bag off her shoulders, "But I have a little something for you."

"Something for little ol' me?" She gasped in dramatized delight.

"Yes," MJ grinned widely as her hand reached for the zipper of her bag, "Close your eyes."

She obliged immediately, her nose scrunched in anticipation, "I hope it's a million dollars. Is it a million dollars? Am I close?"

"Almost," MJ giggled. After a moment of anticipation, MJ gently grabbed her hands and place something into them. It was thin and papery and rectangular. Opening her eyes, she looked down to see a white envelope with 'Kitty' written out on the front. Her brows furrowed at the unfamiliar handwriting.

"Is there a check for a million dollars inside?" She asked as she cocked her head.

"No clue, it's not from me," MJ shrugged.

"Then who's it from?" Her fingers slid under the lip of the envelope.

"Harry gave it to me to give to you," MJ grinned, "He said it's from Peter."

She should've sailed to Greece when she had the chance. Inside the envelope were two tickets—Empire State University versus Pennbrook University this Saturday at seven. A long groan left her lips before she finally met MJ's eyes.

"You never got me that noose I asked for."

a/n — not sure how i’m feeling abt this one guys. hockey peter has been causing me brain rot tho so i couldn’t help myself.

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wooziorgans · 3 months ago

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HELL BENT | KINKTOBER DAY 2

pairing: angel!jihoon x gn. demon!reader

main prompt: corruption kink

warnings: unprotected sex. cumming inside. dick riding. loss of innocence (technical virginity loss). slight dom reader. biblical themes. jihoon can stop/slow time with his angel powers. reader knows people’s desires. jihoon is not biblically accurate. this is not biblically accurate.

a/n: day two is here! again, if anyone wants to be added to the tag list pls lmk. i will just tag u in all of them, but read which ever ones you want.

The cold, black surface of the bar is smooth under your fingers. You tip the bottle of whiskey to pour yourself another drink. The amber liquid stops moving midair, and you exhale a sigh. “What do you want?” You huff. You know it’s him.

“I’m here to take you back to hell.” Jihoon, your favourite angel, sighs.

“Me? Back to hell? Funny.” Your grip on the bottle tightens and then loosens as you remove your hand from it completely. It stays floating as you remove your hand, and you swipe it out of the air to set it down on the counter.

“I’m serious. Your time here is up. You need to go home.” Jihoon sighs again. You turn to face him, a soft smirk on your lips.

“No thanks. Don’t feel like it.” You shrug. You turn around to face him. The time dilation makes his angled features look fuzzy. His beautiful white wings are on full display.

“You need to go back to hell, or it’s gonna end up causing me serious problems.” Jihoon tuts, clicking his tongue softly before something in his eyes shifts. His wings tucked themselves back into his shoulders, before the fuzz is gone.

The air outside whooshes softly as everything goes back to normal. “Why would I care? I’m a demon, after all. There’s no desire in hell. It’s all here.” Jihoon rolls his eyes at you.

“C’mon. What do I need to do to get you back to hell?” He sighs softly, hand running through his blond hair.

You smirk softly. “You know what I want.”

“No. Absolutely not.” Jihoon snaps.

“Well, then I’m not going.” You step towards him carefully, testing the rising tension. “Tell me, what do you desire?” Your irises flicker red, burning into his as you look at him. Jihoon swallows, before his mouth opens softly.

“I want what you want.” He whispers. Both of you stare, shocked at the other. You’re shocked because it worked. He’s shocked because you were never supposed to know about that. Your powers work on humans just fine, but another celestial being? That’s never happened before.

You have control over Jihoon, almost completely as you step towards him. Your hands roam over his shoulders carefully, and he shutters. “On the couch. Now.” You purr, voice low and sultry. Jihoon can’t even protest, his body moving on auto pilot as he takes a seat on the couch. Your legs straddle his as you sit yourself on his lap.

Jihoon whines softly, hands balled into fists at his sides. You laugh at the tension in his face. “You wanna touch me? It’s okay. Go ahead.” The angel rests a hand on your hip, unsure of what to do. You preen at the feeling of his hand on your waist. You lean down to kiss him.

It’s messy, needy, a little bit depraved. All tongue on your end, and a wide eyed Jihoon who lets you lap at his mouth. His other hand finds your ass, and he squeezes carefully. You smirk against his open mouth, hand raking over his chest before it travels down to his light jeans.

Jihoon whines softly as your hands start to toy with the button on his pants. You pop the button free, hand sliding into his pants. He’s not wearing boxers, and while you e taught him a lot about humanity and the need for human clothes, he still hasn’t grasped the need for underwear.

His cock, which you haven’t really been focused on since you were too busy making out with him, is hard and heavy as your hand wraps around it. Jihoon’s full body shutters as he moans at the feeling of your hand around him. You smirk, moving your attack down his jaw to his neck.

Your hand pushes against the zipper, undoing it. You pull Jihoon’s cock free as you suck a dark mark into his neck. “I’m gonna ruin you, angel.” You whisper against his skin. Jihoon moans, gripping at your ass with both hands.

He sounds completely fucked out already; voice high in his throat and whiny. You shift off his lap, releasing your hold on his cock briefly to shift out of your tight fitted leather pants. Jihoon watches you, mouth agape as you undress yourself completely.

You roll your eyes playfully at him, gesturing for him to do the same. Jihoon follows your instructions almost immediately. He pulls the over shirt off his arms, and then the weird mesh tank top over his head. Jihoon shifts his ass off the couch, pulling his jeans off the full muscle.

His cock lays over his stomach, pretty and pink as he struggles to kick his pants off. “Are- are we really doing this?” He gasps softly.

“You said you wanted this, and I can’t wait to ruin you. Make you commit man’s greatest sin.” You settle back on his thighs, and while foreplay does cross your mind, you’re much too eager at the opportunity in front of you.

You lift your hips up, gripping his cock again, positioning the head against your entrance. Jihoon whines at the arousal dripping from your core down his cock. In one quick motion, you sink as far as you can down onto him. He whines, hands flying to your ass as he exhaled deeply.

“Oh god.” He hisses. Another sin; check. Blasphemy. You start bouncing on his cock, pace brutal and fast. He mewls, head falling back into the couch as you ride him. He’s so far gone, but the slide of his cock against your velvety walls is so delicious. He’s thick and long, exactly how you like it.

Your eyes roll back, hands finding the sides of his neck. Jihoon whimpers when you pull his face back up to yours, kissing him feverishly. He kisses you back this time, tongue tangling with yours. His tip kisses all the right places, brushing against yours sweet spot with each bounce.

You sigh into the kiss, leaning into the way he’s gripping at your ass. Jihoon spreads you apart, unable to do anything else. After one too many brushes of his tip against your spot, you feel the tight, white coil begin to twist in your stomach.

You keep your pace steady, thighs clamping down on his as you feel a hot wave of pleasure wash over you. Your walls flutter around his cock as you cum, a strangled groan leaving your lips. The tightness of your walls around him sends him over the edge, and Jihoon thrusts upwards into you, desperate whine and whimpers slipping past his lips.

An unfamiliar feeling washes over him, so intense he can see stars as hot white cum spills into you. You pick up your pace, milking him for everything he has. Jihoon whines in overstimulation. “Too much, please.” He pants, and you pull off of him, settling back in his thighs. His cum drips out of you, as your hands finding his soft blond hair.

You smooth it down, chuckling to yourself softly. “Can’t believe that’s what it took. The whole millennia, and that’s what it took. You being hell bent on sending me home to finally get what I wanted.” Jihoon groans weakly.

“I might be joining you in hell.” He sighs.

“God might judge you, but humanity would never.” You kiss his lips, softer this time.

tag list: @thepoopdokyeomtouched @noiceoofed @tychebaby @aaniag @leezanetheofficial

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qlossytbh · 9 months ago

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𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨 - 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐨𝐧

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you get an unexpected visitor at headquarters after one of your old high school friends was murdered and rossi has ideas as to how to catch the killer.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 usual criminal minds content, mentions of killers, mentions of a phsycotic killer :D, mentions of murder, mentions of underage drinking (if i’m missing anything pls let me know)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 4.4k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 we’ve finally got our first flashback ;) i know it’s kinda slow but we will get more spencer x you content in the next chapter, pinky swear. also this is kinda wordy but whatever

𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

"Come on, it's not that bad!" You smiled, pushing at Spencer's shoulder as he took a sip of your coffee, face screwing in disgust. "You're such a baby."

"No," He disagreed, voice hoarse as he handed you your coffee back. "That is disgusting."

"Just because it doesn't have about 3 pounds of sugar," You taunted, looking down at his mug with disapproval. "All that sugars gonna' catch up to you one day you know."

"Actually," He started and you felt yourself beginning to groan. "White sugar is a type of carbohydrate that provides energy to the body so what happens is the body breaks down sugar into glucose that can be readily used for energy and to carry out various functions. It improves brain functioning—"

"Spence, it's eight in the morning," You said, resting your forehead on his arm. "As much as I care about you, you are not allowed to go wikipedia on me at this time."

He stifled a laugh, glancing down at you with a soft smile. He took no offense to what you were saying since he knew your favorite thing was to listen to him. You pulled away, taking a sip of your coffee. You looked up at him, opening your mouth to speak but being abruptly interrupted as the kitchen door burst open, causing you to jump and stain your white blouse with coffee.

You looked down at the shirt, hissing in complaint. "Are you fucking—"

You turned, face twisted with anger. Spencer shrank at your demeanor looking over at the door to see who was about to receive the latter end of your anger. He took a sip of his own coffee when he saw Derek standing by the door. The anger in you began bubbling even closer against the surface. "Really Derek?!"

Just as you were about to scold him even more for being such a brute at eight am, you noticed the features in his face laced with an all too familiar tensity. Realization dawned upon you. He started "Looks like we've got a visitor,"

You watched him, glancing briefly back at Spencer before setting your mug down. "And they're asking for you."

The case currently at hand, although pinching a little too close to your past then comfortable, wasn’t overwhelming you. It made you fidgety and a little more anxious than usual, sure, but you weren't overwhelmed by it. All it did was irritate you, how you always tried so hard to keep your past out of your present, and the present away form the past.

All you wanted, was to find the UnSub and move on. Still, you sighed heavily, popping out of the nice bubble Spencer and you had isolated yourselves in. You left your coffee mug long forgotten as you followed Morgan out of the room and across the hall, Spencer following very closely behind.

"A girl who barged in here, asking for you," Derek explained. You continued your stride across the hall, wondering who could possibly be asking for you. "She said she doesn't wanna' answer any questions until she's spoken to you,"

"Does it have to do with our recent case?" You asked, knowing otherwise but still hoping the answer was no. When Derek's lips pulled into a tight line, you sighed in disappointment letting your shoulders slump. Just as you rounded the main hall, you saw a familiar mop of red hair ranting at Hotch in a blazing fury. You froze in your tracks, almost causing Spencer to knock into you. You watched as she pointed her finger at Hotch, stress, and anxiety written all across her face.

"Claire..?" You said, voice barely above a whisper. All the anger in her face untwisted as she turned to you, her features suddenly soft and all too familiar. She hadn't changed a bit in the ten years you haven't seen her.

"Oh my god," She said, relief flooding her voice as she rushed over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. You remained still, not reciprocating the affectionate gesture as Hotch eyed you from behind her with a questioning look. You shrugged slightly at him, remaining completely neutral.

"I can't believe it," She said, voice soft as she pulled away, grabbing you by your shoulders. You noticed the eye bags and the panicky look in her eyes and suddenly things started clicking for you.

Back in high school, you, Easton, and Claire had been each other's rocks, always going everywhere together and relying on each other greatly. The three of you were best friends and you had been for all four years of high school. After what happened during and after your senior year, you fell out with the two of them and continued your advanced studies, not necessarily making any time to ever see both of them again.

Claire had always been the mediator in the trio. You always felt closer to her than you ever did to Easton. Claire always listened, and she gave the right advice when you needed it. You would've loved staying friends with her after highschool, but since she was so close to Easton, it remained impossible. You'd be lying if you said that seeing her again after all this time didn't tug at the strings of your heart in the slightest.

"You haven't changed a bit," You said, giving her a small smile. She did look the same, all of her sharp features still in tact the same way they were back then. There was a silence. She looked behind you momentarily and you turned, realization hitting you. "Shit, uhm—“

You turned, causing her hands to fall from your shoulders. "This is SSA Derek Morgan, SSA Aaron Hotchner and Dr. Spencer Reid,"

You introduced everyone, pointing at each of your co-workers referringly, to which each responded with a small nod or smile. Her gaze lingered on Spencer, who stood closely beside you. She smiled politely at them all, apprehension still laced in her gaze.

"It sucks that our reunion has to be under such shitty circumstances," She laughed, hugging herself protectively. The humor hadn't quite reached her eyes which caused you to shoot her an empathetic look.

"How are you holding up?" You asked. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She sighed heavily, reaching up to cover her face with her hands. She shook her head.

"I cant believe any of it," She sighed, looking like she hasn't had a single ounce of sleep in days. "It seems like just yesterday she was coming back from her honey moon and now, she just—“

You felt for her, you really did. Even if you and Easton had your own history, you knew her and Claire remained great friends after high school. You didn't know they had still been friends after all of these years though. "Were you at the wedding?"

"I was her maid of honor,"

Oh,

"We're very sorry for your loss," Spencer added. You looked over at him, smiling sadly and appreciating his efforts to be empathetic with her. You reached out, rubbing the side of her arm. She smiled at the two of you weakly. "I'm sure this is all extremely hard on you."

She reached up, rubbing her eyes rapidly, as if trying not to get sensitive in front of everyone. It was understandable, suddenly being surrounded by people she had no clue of, and losing someone close to you is not easy and it could be very overwhelming.

You looked over at Hotch before starting. "We're trying our hardest to figure out who could have done this to them,"

"Do you mind coming in for some questioning?" You asked. Claire looked over at Hotch apprehensively, clearly not approving of him.

"We think you can help us determine if there was anyone that may have wanted to intentionally hurt Easton and Michael—" You explained, trying to ease her up. "—And Sarah and Adam.."

She sighed heavily, nodding her head with acceptance "Yeah, that's fine.."

"I promise, we'll catch up afterward," You smiled as Hotch and Morgan guided her towards one of the interrogation rooms. You watched her intently as she walked away. With a beat, you looked down at your watch, huffing quickly and furrowing your brows.

"Must be hard for her," You stated. Spencer took notice of how unbothered you seemed, and he didn't skip out on calling you out.

"And what about you..?" Spencer asked curiously, shoving his hands into his pocket and staring you down from his spot next to you. You turned to him, tilting your head.

"What?" You asked.

He shrugged, looking to the side momentarily. "For a case hitting so close to home, it would be normal for this to affect you,"

You pursed your lips and responded truthfully. "It doesn't,"

Spencer looked you in the eye and did what he always tried doing when he suspected something was up with you. He tried profiling you, something that with time, you knew how to fight against, especially when it came from Spencer. His brows crinkled with a familiarity that was only present when he was worried about you. You reached up, rubbing your thumb against the furrowed skin of his brows and smoothing it out gently. "You worry too much."

"Haha." He shoved your hand away as you snickered to yourself. You were glad that with everything going on, you could still find the time to laugh. Spencer made that very easy.

"You," You reached up to link your arms with his as you began dragging him down the hall, all the way to Garcia's office. "Are going to accompany me to visit our lovely technical analyst,”

You watched as both Easton and Claire downed whatever drink it was they had in their hands, music blaring loud and people waltzing around intoxicated at every turn you made. Not completely sober, but not all that drunk either, you found yourself feeling as if yet another Friday night had gone to waste.

"Can you believe we're already seniors?" Easton cheered, throwing her hands around both you and Claire. You stifled a laugh at her slurred voice, knowing the hangover she was bound to have tomorrow was going to be brutal.

"This year is going to be absolutely insane," Claire said, excitement laced in every syllable of her voice. You rolled your eyes and cringed internally, swirling your drink in your hands and debating whether or not you should throw it out since you weren't really in the mood to drink anymore.

You knew you had to get a lot of studying done tomorrow because you were taking some advanced courses that would get you ahead of certain subjects, effectively allowing you to finish the school year earlier and begin your college studies ahead of time.

You had always been very different from Claire and Easton, but you had never seen a problem with it. Claire cheered you on whenever you decided to focus on school work rather than go out on a Friday night, claiming that she could never have your willpower, but Easton always teased you and pushed you to 'let loose'. Of course, you went out with them sometimes, but you also knew when to stay in and focus on yourself, and you never saw that as a crime. It was like enjoying the best of both worlds.

Although lately, going out with Easton felt more like a chore than something you genuinely enjoyed doing.

"Are we finally going to attempt to loosen Y/n up?" Easton shouted over the blasting music, pulling you into a side hug. You laughed awkwardly, a very small feeling of annoyance bubbling in your stomach.

"Oh shush Easton," Claire slapped the girl's arm, rolling her eyes indefinitely. "We know Y/n is going to rock it this year in her own special way."

"Shoving her face into a book isn't my definition of rocking your senior year," Easton added.

"Well shoving my face into someone else's twice a week isn't my definition of rocking my senior year, but you don't see me shaming you, huh?" You bit back, deciding to defend yourself rather than let her step on your toes for what felt like the fifth time this week. You and Easton worked like that. Sometimes it was complicated though, since it was hard to draw the line between teasing and passive-aggressive comments.

"Not my fault you're a prude," You sighed, crossing your arms as she let you go. That's the complicated line you were talking about. Claire shot a disapproving look towards Easton.

"I'm kidding!" She shrugged innocently, holding her hands up in defense. "But like seriously, isn't there anyone that sparks your attention? Not even a little bit?"

You sighed once again, knowing this conversation was popping up. Easton was a very 'out there' person, to say the least. She had a very bad habit of agreeing to hook up with any 'hot man' that breathed. And being part of a private school, everyone seemed to be connected to everyone, somehow. If someone didn't know your business, it was someone else's personal goal that they did, and so the story goes on. And for some peculiar reason, Easton was very vocal and passionate about the fact that you didn't throw yourself at anything that breathed.

"No Easton," You set your drink down on the small stool that was available right beside you, not in the mood to drink at all anymore. "Just like I said last time you asked me."

"What about Henry? He seems cool," She pursed her lip in thought. Claire's face twisted with disapproval.

"Henry's a total jerk," Claire warned. Easton sighed in defeat and began scanning the room attentively. You watched her, unamused and annoyed, up until her face popped with excitement.

"Wait a second," She said, reaching out for your arm and pulling you in closer to whisper. "What about the guy in white, over by the kitchen aisle that's practically drooling at the sight of you?"

You deadpanned at Easton but looked in the direction she pointed to anyway. As you looked over, your eyes suddenly fell on a man in a white-clad t-shirt, who was in fact, looking over at you with deep curiosity. You suddenly, for the first time in who knows how long, felt nervous under the gaze of a man. He smiled at you softly from the other point of the room, to which you uncontrollably returned and your heart flipped inside your chest. Just as you opened your mouth to protest, the man began making his way over to the three of you.

You had spent all afternoon skipping through file after file and picture after picture with Garcia and Spencer, while Hotch and Morgan interviewed Claire. Rossi, JJ, and Prentiss called you every few hours to dump more newly acquired information on the victimology report based on what they were seeing over at the crime scene. Your brain was practically about to melt out of your ears. The comfort of the conference room chair seemed overwhelming once you sat down, finally giving your back a break.

Claire had left headquarters just only a few hours ago which now left you all to lay out and create a new profile. Everyone sat at the table until Hotch and Morgan walked into the room.

"We've interviewed Claire Thomspon for more accurate victimology reports and further insight on our Unsub's possible motives for killing both pairs of victims," Morgan stated, rubbing his chin absentmindedly. "Claire declared that Easton had various romantic and sexual relations during high school and every relationship she started was as soon as she ended a previous one,"

"So enraged ex that most probably wanted revenge?" Prentiss said.

"But then what connection would Sarah and Adam have to the murders?" You asked, furrowing your brows in contemplation.

"His murdering methods reflect his psychological state and motivations. For example, if he meticulously plans and execute his killings with precision and calculation, which clearly isn't the case here, it could suggest a need for control and dominance, but since his methods are more frenzied and impulsive, it could indicate overwhelming emotions, and a lack of impulse control." Spencer explained, looking over at you. You nodded, glancing down at the file report and scribbling something across the side of it.

"Meaning Sarah and Adam could've just been collateral damage," You finished, looking back up at him from your seat across him. He nodded.

"If this is revenge, the Unsub may experience, intense feelings of powerlessness, and a need to exert control over others as a way to cope with his emotional pain. Slaughtering married couples could serve as a twisted form of retribution symbolizing the perceived betrayal and abandonment he experienced." Spencer continued, hands dancing around freely, something that always happened when Spencer talked on like this, he was very expressive with his hands.

"By targeting couples, he may be projecting his own feelings of envy and resentment towards those who have found happiness and stability in their relationships." You completed, giving Spencer a proud smile.

And this is exactly why Hotch thinks the two of you work best together, it’s as if your minds were synchronized and every blossoming thought was finished by the other.

"Do we have any leads?" JJ asked.

"We've asked Garcia to pull up some names of people who have a past with Easton." Morgan explained with ease, you looked down once again.

"That's gonna be a long list," You mumbled, low enough for anyone to hear.

It was true though. You weren't shaming her for sleeping around. It was simply a reality that she broke a lot of egotistical men and saw having sex with them as a way of feeling good about herself. You even heard her say once that 'men were just trophy's waiting to be collected by her'. It worked, she felt amazing about herself, and she truly had any man she ever wanted.

"So what would you say our profile is?" Rossi finally spoke up, being awfully quiet as he silently drew his own conclusions.

Hotch began. " We're looking for a 27-year-old male with an unremarkable, physical appearance, something that allows him to blend in with the general population."

You allowed yourself to think back on your past, dwelling if you remembered anyone that might fit the Unsub report.

"He maintains a fit or athletic build which helps him overpower his victims and he leads a relatively solitary existence, avoiding social interactions." He continued in a serious demeanor. "He exhibits narcissistic tendencies with a sense of entitlement, believing that he deserves attention or admiration. He's adept at manipulating others and his actions may be driven by impulsive, completely disregarding consequences, leading to reckless behavior."

"He also harbors a severe paranoia, showing irrational fears and suspicion leading to a heightened sense of vigilance and a tendency to see threats where non-existent." Morgan said, closing off as he sat back down into a chair. Rossi pursed his lips in thoughts.

That described about half of your class though— unfortunately. You rubbed your temples, lowering your head and processing the information, trying to rack your brain on anyone viable who gave you 'serial killer vibes' back in the day. You looked back up, and turned your gaze towards Hotch, opening your mouth to speak

"So wait, if our UnSub presents a lack of impulse control, couldn't that mean that he could strike again even if Easton is dead?" You asked. Hotch nodded and you felt your hands begin to grow clammy.

"We asked Garcia to pull out the names of the couples that have been married in the last year or so from the class of North Virginia High School,"

"How many married high school sweethearts are there in one graduating class?" Emily asked, looking over at you in disbelief. You leaned back in your chair and scoffed.

"Our class was compared to an orgy," You stated, an unamused stance settling your gaze. "That says enough,"

You couldn't even count all the people in your class that had either hooked up, had sex, got together or got married, with your two hands. You never understood what the desperation was at the time, apart from the raging hormones— and its not like your class was full of A-list celebrity lookalikes.

Easton had always wanted you to have your fair share of hookups with the guys in your class, but you had fortunately settled your low scale of bodies on a whooping number one.

"So, we just—" Emily's brows were furrowed deeply. "—wait until our Unsub shows signs of attacking one of our couples?"

Everyone waited for an order. You didnt believe that was the smartest idea, because yet another two people could possibly end up killed if you didnt play your cards right. You felt uneasy as you waited for Hotch to put together a plan that you could all follow, but he even he was struggling to decide how to love on. Suddenly, Rossi's voice cuted through the air.

"No, that would be stupid." He hummed, narrowing his eyes in deep contemplation. "We need someone from the inside."

You stopped, peering intently at Rossi as you gave Morgan a quizzical look, slightly stupefied by Rossi's sudden intervention. He shrugged his shoulders at you, clearly just as lost as you were. Sometimes, it was hard to follow along with Rossi's thought process, which was surprising to say the least, since you completely understood Spencers.

"We could use you, as a decoy," He said, cutting his gaze over to you and pointing a finger. You froze in your seat, shrinking at the sudden call out. You choked on your own breath, being completely taken off-guard by him. Not because you didn't have it in you to go undercover but because—

"Uh—" You cleared your throat, coughing once or twice. "Sir, I'm not married..."

"Yet." Was all Rossi said.

You tilted your head, truly not getting a single word coming from this man's mouth "Come again?"

Everyone shared dumbstruck looks. When you looked over at Spencer, he was just as confused as you were. You shared a silent conversation but all you could answer with were confused shrugs. Hotch looked ahead, suddenly seeming to grasp onto Rossis implications.

"You mentioned Claire was still in contact with many of your ex-classmates, right?" Hotch asked. You pursed your lips, blinking slowly and turning to him.

"Uh, yeah, she mentioned something like that earlier—"

"So then you lure the Unsub in," He stated, explaining what Rossi's brilliant mind was getting at. You closed your mouth and narrowed your eyes just ever so slightly. "You and Reid go undercover as a newly wed couple, and you lure the Unsub in, making yourself the next posible target."

Your mind screeched to a halt as you straightened up in your chair. Suddenly, Spencer was heard choking on his own breath in his seat in front of you. You felt your minds racing hit a brick wall, silence and stillness hitting every fiber of your body. "You want me to—Huh..?"

You weren't even quite sure how to process anything that had just been said. Questions began dawning at you, because one, why you? And why Spencer? And why together— as a married couple?

"It'd be a complex operation, that would include meticulous planning but," Rossi suddenly pulled out papers and began scribbling down. "Comprehensive security measures would be implicated, and with Claire in the mix, you two can find ways to get yourselves to interact with the high schools graduate community and it's very probable that the Unsub, is baited in, especially with Y/n being an ex-classmate."

"Actually," Emily started, looking between you and Spencer, who both shared the exact, red painted look on both your faces. "Thats not a bad idea."

"Wait, wait— You want me, to go undercover as a married couple, with Spencer..?" You asked again. It all started slowly falling, like dominos. You finally allowed your minds gears to rear back into movement as you shook your head slightly.

"Yes,"

Pretending to be a married couple implicated everything being a married couple was. And Rossi was implying, that you pretend to be a married, romantic, madly in-love, head-over heels about each other, couple with— Spencer? Which meant living in the same house, sharing the same things, going everywhere with each other, hugging, touching, kissing, sharing the same bed?—

Okay, now you were overthinking it.

You felt a sudden patter in your chest, that traveled all the way to your skull and through your ears, pressing against your throat. You felt heat rush to your cheeks at just the thought of all of that, and if you weren't mistaken, you could've sworn you felt your stomach flip in circles.

Spencer was your best friend yet why did this feel so incredibly exposing..?

"If you think about it, Reid and Y/l/n would be the only ones able to convincingly portray a married couple..." JJ shrugged. You glared over at JJ wondering what the hell she meant by that.

Suddenly, things were moving all too quickly and all too suddenly. You dared yourself to look over at Spencer who was surprisingly, in the same shaken up state that you were. His cheeks were glowing red, and something in his gaze was silently speaking to you. You looked back at him, feeling an unfamiliar uncertainty begin to nip at you. You were too scared to speak up, and for the first time, you truly couldn't read a single thought behind those hazel eyes you had grown to care about so deeply.

"I—uhm," You said, voice hoarse and weak. "You really think this is a good idea?"

"I think it's our closest shot at catching this guy without anyone else getting hurt." Rossi stated.

"But we only do it if the two of you are a hundred percent willing to do so," Hotch reminded. You looked back at Spencer, not knowing what to think, or what to say, or what to do. His gaze relaxed, in constrast to your panicky one, and he gave you a small nod of encouragement. You swallowed thickly.

He looked over at Rossi, nodding slowly. "Okay, we'll do it."

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 @yondiii @r-3dlips @moonchildohh @rubyirene @sp3ncelle @alisyacsa @pleasantwitchgarden @landooscurls @chonkybonky

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princessofgotham777 · 22 days ago

Text

Dating Jason Todd (Part One)

fanfic type: angst, fluff, comfort (ongoing)

If you liked the Titans show but wish they handled Jason’s story line differently you might like this fic!

Hey so this is in fact my first time writing fanfiction (idk what my life has come to). Sorry if it’s cringy but also I would eat this up cause I LOVE some good angsty comfort fanfiction. I won’t write smut. I don’t think I’m gonna do requests but if you have any ideas feel free to let me know. Also of course I don’t own any DC characters this is purely fanfiction. Although I’ve had tumblr for a bit I’m not really used to posting stuff so sorry if I don’t format everything well. Thank you and I hope you enjoy. (I hope you like run-on sentences💀) (if you don’t like it don’t be rude just move on dude😃🧍‍♀️) also pls excuse my grammar.

So story line, this doesn’t really take place in any specific universe but I’m gonna be pulling concepts from Titans, The Batman, Under the Red Hood, and whatever lore I remember from the CW shows cause I grew up watching those, then just my imagination of course. The beginning takes place when Jason is still Robin but he’s no longer apart of the titans. Reader is referred to as she/her btw.

Warnings: talking about death, suicide, depression, torture (it’s not graphic I hate gore it’s just sad)

Part One: Back To The Tower

“Babe? Babe!” You opened your eyes at the sound of Jason’s voice. His green eyes normally looked at you with gentleness but currently they were alarmed. Scared and scary are two things Jason normally does a good job at keeping separate, but when someone threatens his whole world the two merge to create someone dangerous to everyone, including himself.

“What’s going on? Are you okay?” You asked.

“We’ve got to go, Dick called… he thinks joker is after me for some reason…I’ll explain more on our way to the tower.” Jason quickly grabbed the go bags you two had made in case something like this were to happen. He used to think having go bags was you two being paranoid but you always knew dating a vigilante would have its ups and downs.

You knew he was serious when he walked straight past his bike and headed to your car instead “Jason, slow down,” you said as he swerved around cars. He knew you hated speeding and he so he never dared do it, also because he liked not dying in a car crash.

“I’m sorry, so you know how joker has been leaving notes around Gotham?” He asks as he drives a bit slower.

“Yeah why?” You answer quickly.

“Dick called me two hours ago and said they think they’re threatens to Robin, threats to me.”

“Shit, what does joker even want with you?”

“I have no idea maybe I’m a pawn in some game he’s got going with Bruce or Dick or the titans or maybe he’s just decided I’m the next victim in his reign of fucking torment,” Jason’s voice shook slightly. You could tell he was trying to keep it together while driving; trying to keep it together infront of you. You two had been through so much together: he’d been the one you turned to when you left home, you two had been apart of titans together, he’d rescued you from poison ivy once, you talked him off the roof of the tower. You two knew each other better than you knew yourselves. Even after everything he still had a hard time voicing his emotions and honestly you did too.

“Why’d you change the fucking password asshole,” Jason said to Dick through the security camera at titans tower.

“More importantly why’d he change it and not tell us?” You said. Jason’s arm was around you, his leather jacket was a familiar feeling against your skin.

The tower brought back many memories for both you and Jason. You remembered painting your nails with Rachel while Gar and Jason tried not to burn down the kitchen. Late nights when you’d find Kori or Donna and ask for their advice when you first noticed yourself falling for Jason. They thought you were crazy of course but it all worked out, so far anyway. You remembered the first time you’d been to the tower when Dick took you in. Dick introduced you to the titans but it was Jason, who you only knew as Robin at the time, who saved your life and called Dick. Another memory you unfortunately recalled was the time after you guys got Jason back from Deathstroke. You hadn’t known pain till you saw the way he winced at the slightest touch or loud noise. Then there was his fall…your mind refocused when you saw Dick.

“Hey lovebirds,” he said with a grin.

“So what do these messages say exactly,” you said.

“Always so serious,” Dick says. You simply glare at him and he stops messing around. “Right so over the past few days there have been notes around Gotham in seemingly random places, each one is just some nonsense about circuses and birds so naturally it’s about Robin. They talk about the flying boy and encounters him and I have had he then goes on to talk about me becoming nightwing. The rest is disturbing stuff about him “wanting to pick off the feathers of the new little bird to reveal the horror inside”,”.

“Right…so seemingly random places?” Jason says.

“Yeah so, the first was found spraypainted on the stage of a highschool in Gotham, the next was spray painted on a random wall in an alley and the third was on the door of this bar…” Dick said.

“Shit,” Jason said.

“The highschool and the alley,” you said softly to Jason.

“And the bar… it’s the one my uncle took me to,”

“Someone wanna explain the significance to me,” Dick said.

“They’re places from my past,” Jason said. “The highschool I lived in, the alley I boosted the Batmobile in and the bar my uncle took me to.” You all simply stared at eachother waiting for someone to break the silence when Rachel, Gar and Kori came rushing in.

“Oh my God what are you doing here?” Rachel asked pulling you in for a hug.

“Wish I could say just to see you,” you say.

“Hey man what’s the special occasion?” Gar asks Jason.

“Unfortunately the occasion is another psycho trying to kill me,” Jason replied.

“Wait is that true? Dick is this about the joker?” Rachel asks. Dick looks at Jason who nods.

“Yes, we think joker knows Jason is the new Robin and is threatening him,” Dick says.

“No offense but isn’t this more Batman’s territory?” Kori says.

“Normally yes but he’s off doing Justice League bullshit,” Dick says.

Everyone gets comfortable and Dick explains what we know.

“So we know the notes reference Dick, Bruce and Jason but I think there’s a fourth person here,” Kori says.

“Is joker just referencing himself?” Gar says.

“I don’t think so cause…” Jason stops himself.

“Cause what?” You ask him. He doesn’t answer.

“Jason what is it what’d you find” Dick asks. Jason simply gets up and starts to walk away. Naturally you get up and begin walking after him.

Dick grabs your arm, you glare at him and he lets go, “hey let me go see what’s up just keep picking apart the notes with the others.” It was the Dick you knew, loved, and were annoyed by. The camp counselor anything is possible with teamwork Dick Grayson, the version of him which would soon have to step aside.

“Jason!” Dick says when he finds Jason in his old room which looks exactly the same. Jason doesn’t reply he simply grabs a bag and starts packing. “Going somewhere?” Dick says. Jason still doesn’t reply. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“You aren’t stupid Dick you read the fucking note,” Jason says.

“Maybe I am stupid cause I have no fucking idea what you’re talking about.”

“Jokers not threatening me, he’s challenging me…telling me to meet him. And he’s threatening y/n saying what he’ll do if I don’t go find him.” Jason says.

“Shit,” Dick says. “Okay but all you’re going to accomplish by going by yourself is pissing me off, getting your shit rocked by joker, pissing Bruce off, and scaring your girlfriend to death all of which I’m gonna have to fix so could you not be impulsive for once!”

“You don’t think she’s already scared!” Jason says.

“Yeah I do but I think you’ll make it worse if you leave her here,”

“She’d be safer here far away from Gotham and far away from me,” Jason says.

“Hey dipshits,” Kori says as she turns the corner. “Yeah I can read too,” she also seemed to have figured out the note “So why don’t you I don’t know, include her in the conversation about what to do about the threats that are against her?”

The three of them return to see you, Gar and Rachel sitting in silence, it was clear you guys had also figured out the full message. Jason doesn’t get a chance to even fully enter the room before you get up and pull him back into his old room.

“What were you thinking not telling me?” You say.

“You didn’t sign up for this shit,” Jason says.

“I did, and I don’t just mean with you I joined titans before I even knew your name.”

Jason hesitates before saying, “you’re right, I’m sorry”

“Apology accepted so what the hell are we gonna do,” you say slipping out of your serious tone.

“First question, do you wanna go out there and work with everyone or just keep this between us,” Jason says.

“What do you wanna do?” You asked. It was clear you wanted to include the titans in the plan. You knew Jason has a complicated past with everyone in the other room but you also knew despite his own feelings he’d do whatever would keep you the safest. He hugs you softly, one last act of humanity before completely focusing on being Robin. You and Jason were fairly new to the world of having a secret identity. You both tried to keep the two personas completely separate but at the end of the day the person under the mask always has the final say when hard decisions need to be made.

The plan everyone agreed on was simple. You’d stay at the tower, with Gar and Rachel far away from Gotham and the joker. Tomorrow morning Jason, Dick and Kori would drive to Gotham and work with Barbra to catch joker. If only that were actually how it went.

You’d fallen asleep in your old room with Jason by your side, around three am you woke up and he was no where to be found. “Jason?” You said as you looked around the room. The light was already on so you could see perfectly that he was gone. Jason must’ve turned the light on when he left, he knows you hate being in the dark alone after what you went through with Poison Ivy. “Dick!” You yelled as you ran down the hall to Dick’s room. To your surprise Dick was wide awake busy on his computer.

“Y/N, what’s going on?” Dick said concerned.

“Jason’s gone.” You said.

“Fucking idiot,” Dick mumbled under his breath. He began typing quickly on his computer. “He got rid of his tracker didn’t he?”

“He cut it out ages ago,” you said frantically. Jason had vanished but both you and Dick knew exactly where he was going; he was going to face Joker alone in Gotham.

Please like if you enjoyed the fic I need to know people like it otherwise I’ll stop posting new parts (I have a whole storyline idea and backstory so like if you want to see more)🩷

Here’s my Masterlist so you can read the other parts.

Masterlist

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whimsyfinny · 11 months ago

Text

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: Nudity

Chapter Word Count: 2552

—-MDNI—-

A/N: sorry this one took a while! I’ve had so much going on, I’ve struggled to get time to myself. I wrote this over the course of several nights so pls let me know of any errors as it’s only proof read by me

——————————————————————

Please read the below first:

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 7

Dean and I stood side by side in the dimly lit parking lot, trying not to make eye contact with each other as Sam stood in front of us; arms folded across his chest with his foot tapping impatiently. He gnawed on his bottom lip, frowning and shaking his head. He was the spitting image of an angry mother.

“You did what?” He asked, disbelief in his voice.

“Look, Sammy,” Dean started and I was unable to tell if he was about to be boastful or apologetic.

“Don’t you ‘look Sammy’ me. We’re on a job Dean, couldn’t you have kept it in your pants a bit longer?”

“Sam I’m so sorry, we didn’t mean for it to happen, it just sort of…did,” I stepped in, embarrassment taking over as I caught sight of my reflection in the Impalas drivers side window. My hair was tousled and my lipstick was almost completely worn off save for a few streaks under my bottom lip. That, and also the fact that my shredded underwear was currently scrunched up in Deans pocket. I couldn’t tell if I was more horrified when I saw him pick them up off the study floor and ‘save them for later’, or the fact that I may have developed a new kink for having my panties sliced off my body with a hunting knife.

“(Y/n),” Sam’s eyes softened, “you have nothing to apologise for; Dean should know better.” His words made Dean scoff.

“She’s not all sunshine and rainbows Sam, she’s the one who started it.”

“I did not! I only told you to kiss me, not fuck me into that desk!”

Sam’s eyes widened and his ears went pink, Dean snapping back at me before the younger brother had a chance to think.

“Yes you did.”

“No I didn’t.”

“Did.”

“Didn’t.”

“Yes, you definitely did. Don’t lie,” he paused, his tone changing, “you can’t deny it sweetheart - you wanted me,” Dean smirked, gesturing to himself.

“Ok, prove it - what did I say?” I crossed my arms across my chest, remembering I wasn’t wearing a bra. His smirk grew, suddenly making me very aware that I was most likely wrong about this and he was going to be obnoxious about the fact that he was right.

“You said - and I quote - ‘are you gonna fuck me or what, Winchester?’ Now to me, that sounds like you instigating this.”

I scowled at him, wanting to slap that lipstick-smeared smirk right off his face.

“Fuck you,” I spat, rapidly having to cross my legs where I stood as I started to feel more ‘essence of Dean’ trickle down my thigh.

“You already did darlin’.”

“Ok ENOUGH!” Sam got between us, putting up his hands, “let’s just finish the job and go home. But just so you know,” he pointed at us, “you are BOTH in VERY big trouble.”

The ride back to the bunker was a little awkward. I sat in the back, not wanting to move too much for fear of making a mess on the impeccable upholstery and Sam sat in total silence, giving us both the cold shoulder. Dean however drove the whole way home with the biggest grin on his face, occasionally glancing at me in the rear view mirror. Sam had taken the liberty of packing everyone’s luggage into the Impala before we had even left the auction house, so I wasn’t even granted the simple pleasure of washing Deans intoxicating scent from my hair in the motel shower. I just had to sit there for the next three hours breathing him in and replaying every red hot second of our time together in that study.

Dean pulled into the underground garage to the bunker and before he’d even put it in park I’d thrown the door open and jumped out, racing back to my room. I heard Dean shout after me but I had sprinted too far to know what he’d said. I ran through the corridors like a princess in a castle; long dress bunched up in my fists so I didn’t trip, with the rest billowing behind me as I frantically searched for my destination in this labyrinth. Upon reaching my door I flung it open and raced inside, slamming it behind me. I paced into the bathroom, heels clicking on the tiles and flicked on the light before turning the shower on and wincing at the loud clanking still coming from the plumbing in here. As the water began to patter into the shower basin I hurriedly peeled off my shoes and my dress before sticking my toe into the water now pooling in the bottom. The moment it was the perfect temperature I stepped in, sighing as the liquid poured over me and washed away the electric tingle on my skin left behind by the older Winchesters hands. I felt normal again, and much less sticky too as I lathered soap over myself. I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief as I slid down the tiles and sat down, letting the shower soak my hair. I tried my best to steady my mind and be calm, but all that I could think about was Dean. The way he touched me, running his rough hands over my soft skin. The way said my name; moaning it in a deep breathless voice. And oh boy… the way his mouth felt on mine was like something out of this world, the taste of him alone made me dizzy. I wanted to run to wherever he was right now and press my lips to his - to get high off of him again. It’s a crying shame that he’s such a jackass, so naturally I’m reluctant to give him the satisfaction. He’d be smug for days - or weeks - if I even mentioned that this was how I was feeling, let alone if I was actually acting on the impulses.

I must’ve sat in the bottom of the shower for at least twenty minutes, my brain going over the events on a loop, replaying again and again. In the end I gave up trying to silence my thoughts and turned off the water, stepped out of the shower and wrapped a fuzzy white towel around myself. I grabbed a smaller second towel and dried my hair, leaving it damp but not dripping as I walked into the bedroom. I searched for my duffle for a few minutes before it dawned on me: it was still in the car. ALL of my clothes were in there.

“Shit shit shit shit,” I searched through the wardrobe and dresser in the room, hoping to find something, ANYTHING, that I could wear to go and retrieve my bag but there was nothing to be found. I sat on the edge of the bed contemplating my options as I started to shiver, my damp hair making me cold. I considered wearing the dress again, but the stains on it made me think otherwise as I was now clean and fresh from the shower. My eyes darted to the door. There’s only one option: theft. Deans room was right opposite mine and he didn’t spend much time in there so the chances of me running into him were slim. I stood up, determination coursing through me as I marched to my bedroom door, opened it and quietly stepped into the hallway. I looked left and right, sighing in relief at the emptiness. I quietly padded across to Deans door, incredibly aware of how cold the air was out here. I grasped the handle and twisted, the door opening with a small click.

“Yes!” I whispered to myself, grateful it was already unlocked. Ducking in I closed the door behind me and spun around, pressing my back to the cool wood to observe the room. Eyes widening, my blood ran cold and I dropped to the floor. Dean was asleep - or so he seemed to be - above the covers and still fully dressed in his suit, a nudie mag open and covering his face. He had one hand behind his head and the other rested on his stomach, rising and falling with each breath. FUCK. I looked around whilst on all fours, feeling the dust from the floor sticking to my damp skin. So much for the shower. I spotted Deans dresser off to the side of the room; if he was asleep, I should be able to sneak in, grab a T-shirt and sneak out again with no problem. I crawled over to the drawers and started sliding them open painfully slowly to inspect the contents. It wasn’t until I opened the fourth drawer that I struck gold. Silently cheering to myself I snatched the first T-shirt I saw and pushed the draw closed. As I turned around to leave I near enough jumped out of my skin, shrieking a little. Dean was now laying on his side, head propped up with one hand and he watched me in total silence, the corner of his lips turned up.

“You need any help down there?” His voice was low and gravelly.

“No thank you,” I stood up, clutching his T-shirt in one hand and trying not to let my towel fall with the other, the corner now refusing to tuck in. “I got what I came for.”

“And you need one of my T-shirts because…?”

“None of your business,” I taunted, inching my way towards the door. Dean raised an eyebrow.

“It is if you’re being a little thief.”

“I’m only borrowing it.”

“Sure you are sweetheart,” he grinned, turning to lay on his back again, this time propped up on his pillows against the headboard with his hands behind his head. There was silence for a few moments as he chewed on his bottom lip, eyeing me up and down. He made me feel totally exposed. Out of nowhere he jumped up, reaching me where I stood by the door in one swift movement.

“I tell you what - you can keep the T-shirt for life on one condition,” he stepped closer, those piercing green eyes keeping mine entranced. I swallowed.

“What condition…?” My voice suddenly felt very small and quiet as a result of his close proximity.

“Drop the towel and put it on.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

I wasn’t able to stop the heat rising to my cheeks and I couldn’t tell if it was from frustration at his arrogance or the fact that the low rumble of his voice was making my knees weak. The words bouncing off the walls in my mind failed to leave my lips, and in my silence he spoke up again.

“Or unless you’re happy walking all the way to the garage in nothing but a towel, you still have the option to refuse.” I scowled and smacked his chest.

“You knew?! If you knew I’d left my bag behind, why didn’t you bring it?”

“Because,” he put his hand on the wall beside my head and leaned in a little, “where’s the fun in that?” I tried my best to hold his gaze, fighting every urge to look away as my heart started to beat faster and faster. I’ve already fucked the man so what have I got to lose? I placed my hands firmly on Deans chest and pushed with enough force to knock him back, the backs of his knees hitting the edge of the bed, making him collapse onto it. Leaning back on his hands he looked at me expectantly as I took a step towards him and away from the door. I tried my best to keep a stern expression, refusing to let him know that any of this was affecting me - the last thing I wanted was for smug old Dean Winchester to know that everything he does makes my heart hammer in my chest. I threw the T-shirt at him, hard enough that he was taken aback as he clutched the dark fabric in his large hands. A look of disappointment started to cross his face before I reached up and untucked my towel letting it fall to the floor as I stood in front of him, fighting every urge not to cover myself up. At first I was unable to look him in the eye, scared of what that alluring evergreen stare would do to me if I did. Eventually I caved in, biting my lip as I saw how entranced he was; eyes flitting over every curve on my body, studying me like a work of art. I watched him swallow, throat bobbing as he licked his lips, jaw going slack and his pupils dilating. He was silent. I took another step forward so I was in reach of him and his hand immediately shot out to touch my thigh. Right as his fingers grazed my skin I smacked his hand away, pulling him from his trance.

“Please…” was all he managed to say, all cockiness gone from his attitude. I snatched the T-shirt from his loose grip, pulling it on over my head and down over my body, finally covering myself from his burning hot gaze. Dean was finally pulled from his trance when he could no longer see the curves of my figure, his eyes eventually meeting mine again. He looked a little flustered, his hands now crossed in his lap.

“My clothes look good on you,” he said, an unusual tone to his voice - something I couldn’t quite put my finger on. He eyed my chest, observing the way the loose black fabric fell over the soft curves of my breasts and did little to hide my perky nipples. His eyes travelled south, surveying the rest of me before stopping and lingering at my thighs right where his top ends, hinting at the shape of my ass cheeks hiding underneath. He probably would have sat there all evening and ogled at me, however I could feel the tiredness start to hang heavy in my body and weigh on my eyelids, getting worse as the minutes passed. I groaned internally, remembering I still needed to go and get my duffle. But there was something about the way that Dean was looking at me that was making it hard to leave. I took a few more steps towards him until I was standing between his knees, swatting his hands away as they skimmed the backs of my thighs, sending goosebumps over my skin. I grabbed his chin unexpectedly, making him flinch. However it was only a matter of seconds until he was like putty in my hands. His muscles relaxed and he looked up at me with hooded eyes, mouth agape as I tilted his chin up to face me. I leaned down, our lips millimetres apart as I felt his hot rapid breath fan over my cheeks. I watched his pupils blow wide at the close proximity, a shiver ghosting over his skin as he stared up at me.

“Goodnight Dean,” I hummed, before letting go and standing up straight, turning to leave the room. I picked up my towel and opened the door, looking over my shoulder one last time to witness the starstruck Winchester sitting in a daze right where I left him.

“Thanks for the T-shirt.”

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Up Next:

Chapter 8 part 1

#dean winchester #dean winchester smut #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester x you smut #dean winchester x reader smut #dean winchester enemies to lovers #enemies to lovers #supernatural smut #smut #eventual smut #spn #supernatural

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