#the dash dilemma

[coldresolve]

The Dash Dilemma, pt.i // The Accident

AO3 / Masterlist / Next (coming soon)

Patrons of the small town bar are huddled among trash cans, hedges, and benches. Their good-natured jeers and laughter echo far down into the dark parking lot, rolling off the still cars before the sound is flung back to them.

Dash stands on the curb, shoulders hunched against the surprisingly chill April air, swaying a little as he fumbles with a set of keys. Pressing the remote unlock button, his flickering eyes scan the lot until he sees the yellow blinking lights of his black Chevy Corsica and heads in that direction, careful not to let his dizziness show in how he walks.

In all honesty, he hadn’t intended to get drunk tonight, but the bar had been so alive, the company, the music, even the odd dancers clearing out a small floor among the tables to let themselves be strung along. Dash’s lips still tingle with the kiss he stole from another patron, a woman he spent forty odd minutes blatantly flirting with before she so much as let him touch her.

His head is still buzzing with the chase as he gets into his car, a smile tugging on the corner of his mouth, and shifts into gear. He immediately turns on the radio, humming along to the tune of the same shitty pop country song they’ve played for months now. Tonight, the repetition doesn’t bother him. He’s in a giddy mood, self-satisfied and terribly, terribly complacent.

He should’ve called a cab.

Dash drives down the town’s main road, streetlights illuminating the long-since sleeping town in a faintly yellow glow. He drives past the sleeping suburbs, past the large aluminum factory that keeps the town afloat; past the small stadium, which really isn’t more than a relatively unkept football field and some sparse, decrepit stands; past the trailer park and the airstrip. A sad song comes on the radio, and he huffs, shutting it off. He’s pretty sure he isn’t swerving too badly, but still, just to be on the safe side, he decides to alter his route home to avoid having to drive on the highway.

So his trip takes him along small country roads devoid of other drivers, past brown fields and forests that have yet to truly start budding light green. The steady hum of the engine would’ve lulled Dash into sleepiness, if he hadn’t been there already, in his drunken state. As it is, he’s already intermittently yawning, thoughts circling the warm bed at his destination, just waiting for him to sink in.

He pulls up to the side of the road to piss at one point, wholly allowing himself to be swallowed up by the sheer silence of the countryside. Miles away, a flock of deer moan, or the howl of a fox pierces the night, or grasshoppers and other critters sing and click away; but apart from the wind, these are the only ambient sounds. No cars, no honking, no bustling of traffic, no chaotic murmur of a crowd, no sirens in the distance. Shaking off the last few drops, Dash zips his pants back up with a satisfied sigh and heads back to his car to resume his venture. His movements are a little bit sluggish, and his gaze tends to drift, but other than that, he feels relatively sober.

Back on the road, Dash carefully maneuvers his way past potholes and sharp turns in the hilly terrain. Insects illuminated by the headlights fly by the windshield like large specks of dust floating in the air. The tall grass on the side of the road swaying in the wind elicit the thought of waves cascading on the surface of the ocean.

The funny thing about it is that Dash actually very clearly sees the man walking on the side of the road. He sees the brown leather jacket and the blue jeans, he sees the reflective patches on the back of the man’s running shoes. He sees the brown hair.

He just doesn’t react. As if the signal from sight to action takes a little too long to register.

And so the man is swept off his feet by the Chevy’s front bumper, and his upper body slams into the hood, head cracking the windshield before he tumbles over the roof.

It’s only then that Dash slams the brakes as hard as he possibly can, tires screeching as rubber is wound down on the asphalt. The car finally comes to a grinding halt that nearly sends Dash’s head smashing into the steering wheel, and he sits there, panting for breath, staring out his cracked windshield. His heart is galloping away in his chest, blood roaring in his ears from the sudden flood of adrenaline through his system. Somewhere in his motor, metal clicks as it rapidly cools down.

Swallowing down nausea, Dash looks in the rear view mirror, and sees the unmistakable form of the man lying crumpled in the middle of the road. The heap of a person doesn’t disappear no matter how many times Dash blinks. He shudders, biting off a curse and turning around fully in his seat to look out the rear windshield for himself. This isn’t happening. But the body is still there. It’s form is outlined by the cool moonlight, casting a pitch black shadow on the asphalt. It’s still there, and it isn’t moving.

“God no,” Dash mutters, clicking off his seatbelt with one hand as he shifts the car into park with the other. He exits the car quickly, but comes to a halt just outside, clutching the driver’s side door hard with both hands as he looks at the crumpled stranger.

Debris litters the street, shards of glass which crack under Dash’s shoes. Not far from the body, he sees the shattered remnants of a phone, and then a shoe that must’ve fallen off in the crash. He approaches the stranger slowly, with careful footsteps. There’s a twinge of a metallic smell in the air, and Dash is pretty sure it’s the smell of blood.

“Hello?” he tries.

No response.

The body is facing away from him, one arm sprawled out behind the back, hand lax. Brown hair is stained with red, glistening slightly in the moonlight. The leather jacket shows signs of tearing in places, it’s skin scratched up by stones in the road. It’s hard to tell in the dark, but he’s pretty damn sure the stranger isn’t breathing.

Dash gently pushes at his back with the tip of his shoe.

No reaction.

He bites back a scream, walking away from the body, grasping both hands in his hair, gritting his teeth against the sob that threatens to tear through his chest. “This can’t be happening,” he hisses out loud, tears springing in his eyes, “I did not just kill somebody. Fucking God…”

Desperately trying to get his roaring emotions back under control, Dash crouches down in the middle of the road, breathing ragged, whining intermittently as another wave of horror tears through him.

There’s a low moan. Barely audible.

Dash freezes, a new wave of ice running down his back. He stares at the body with wide eyes, barely breathing, waiting for the sound to reappear.

And then, after a while, there it is again. A breath that hitches in a dry throat, followed by a pained sort of sound, low in the chest.

Dash stares at the moonlit silhouette for a long time, until he carefully makes his way over to it. Steeling himself for what he might be about to see, he takes a deep breath, gritting his teeth, and turns the stranger over onto his back.

The guy isn’t dead, but he looks well on his way there. His face is relatively intact, although there’s clear road rash on the side of his jaw and along one cheekbone. Trailing from his temple and down behind one ear, there is a large gash deep enough to expose the man’s skull in places. Where tears in the man’s clothing have revealed bare skin, Dash can see more road rash as well as intermittent, deep gashes in the flesh were larger bits of gravel have cut through. The man’s right arm bends strangely, Dash notices with a squeamish lurch of his stomach, and likewise, one foot faces the wrong way.

Dash looks away, swallowing down the urge to vomit.

What’s he supposed to do?

Is he supposed to take the stranger to the hospital? He’s dying, isn’t he? The speed with which Dash hit him is sure to have caused internal bleeding, brain swelling, all sorts of fatal injuries beyond the scope of what Dash can see. He would be charged with manslaughter and they’d call up witnesses from the bar and prove he drove under the influence. Isn’t that a life sentence?

And he can’t just flee the scene. Once they found the body, investigators would find Dash by the damage to his car. That’s still a life sentence.

Eyes wild, Dash looks at the stranger for a long, long time.

The decision doesn’t come to him quickly, but once the idea has found purchase in his mind, it settles, like a heavy stone in his gut. It comes reluctantly, like a dog fighting the leash, and it does not fill him with pride.  

He has to steel himself for the unpleasant task. Jaw set, he takes a deep breath and walks back towards his car. Settling in the driver’s seat and throwing the gear into reverse, he drives back until the trunk is no more than a few feet away from the body. He gets out, takes a deep breath, opens the trunk. Spies down either side of the country road, but as long as he can see, he’s alone for miles.

Dash walks up to the guy, then hesitates.

“You’ll come with me,” he mutters solemnly. He’s not sure why, it’s not like the guy is conscious to hear him. It just feels right. “I’ll, ah, I’ll set you up nice and cozy in my garage, so you don’t have to die on the road. And then, when you’re dead, I’ll bury you somewhere nice.” It sounds so, so wrong. “I’m really sorry about all this,” he adds, wincing at himself.

With nothing further to say, Dash gets to work hauling the body up, hooking his arms under the arms of the stranger. Dead weight is heavy, and the stench of blood is nearly enough to make Dash gag, but he manages to maneuver the broken man into the trunk of his car torso first, pulling up the legs afterwards.

He gathers up the most incriminating pieces of debris – the shattered phone and the shoe – and throws them into the trunk, too, before he shuts it. He can’t help but feel relieved that that part of the ordeal is over, and that the stranger’s broken body is out of sight.

At least for now.

Masterlist / Next (coming soon)

[echotunes]

(under breath) i need to watch ordem i need to watch ordem i need to watch ordem

[storiecraft]

i am so jealous of muns who can happily write a single-muse blog and not feel the urge to write 5,617 characters

[oldcardigan-n]

[divinasratione]

𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇?

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 .ㅤㅤㅤㅤSometimes it seems like you’re immeasurably wise beyond your years, and then something happens to remind you just how young you are. When you were little, people might have called you “an old soul”, and you took it as a compliment until you were old enough to realize that you were chasing adulthood before you had the chance to live as a child. You’re very friendly and kind to everyone, even if they don’t necessarily deserve it. The thought of assimilating makes you sick, even if it seemed like a good idea a couple years back. You like to see the good in people which can sometimes be at your expense, but you think you’d like for someone to see the good in you. You want to know what they’d see. It’s okay to fail, and it’s okay to fuck up. People will still love you. There is still good to be seen.

Tagged by: @hatefueled (THANK U RHYSSSSS) / Tagging: y o u.

[thordis-red]

It’s so tumblr mobile coded that for every 5 boops the app fully freezes and crashes

Really most webed site of all time

[xo8ball]

i got in here after being chronically offline for so long that some posts on here leave me ...😰

[wawek]

:( so sad how shared hatered fosters such tight communities for lonely people. Well, a lot of the time i think id like to believe that its mainly that people are hurt and lonely and thats why they turn to hate. But I mean theres also just the fact that if you fuck someome over you get their stuff. Idk very difficult world we live in

[coldresolve]

Drama/suspense. Read on AO3 If you're not comfortable going in blind, read the series on AO3, as that's where I put content warnings on each chapter. I don't do taglists, so if you want to follow along here on tumblr, remember to check in every once in a while.

Masterlist: The Dash Dilemma

pt.i // The Accident pt.ii // (coming soon)

[kawaiicryptid]

Inspired by Zero Escape: Time Dilemma.

[sonicprim3d]

Does he mess with his sister by filling out her bingo, or does he leave well enough alone?

[madeimpact]

Mun vs muse

[thebananwithaplan]

. "...They're old timey toons; Putting random objects into the mouth shouldn't hurt anyone unless the plot called for it back in the day. It's just how things were...

On the other hand, my single uncle senses are going nuts in making sure nobody's about to do anything real stupid..."

He's talking to himself, here.

[ofdraiocht]

[ventique18]

🐉🌸 where Yuu happens to summon the faerie king Malleus out of desperation to get with the dashing knight Sir Silver, who happens to be his adoptive human brother. Malleus agrees just to get this over with, but keeps failing because he's exceptionally great in literally everything except the workings of the heart.

Along the way of them working together like a pair of utter dumbasses though, of course they end up falling for each other. But now comes the dilemma: he wants to stop but can't because he's duty-bound to see this through, while they can't bring it to themselves to admit they lost interest in a well-mannered, respectable, capable knight and instead wants to bring home a fickle, overbearing, boyfailure of a dark fae of all people who just happened to have the prettiest laughter in all the lands.

[number1mingyustan]

can you write a virgin fem reader x mingyu, established rs au like that wonwoo’s one 🥺🙏🏻🤲🏻

bf!mingyu x fem!reader

warnings: explicit smut, kissing, cursing, fingering (f)., grinding, cumming untouched, multiple orgasms, mentions of oral (m.)

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"How long do I have to keep this on?" Mingyu asks with a pout.

You're seated on his lap, straddling him as you press the sheet mask down on his face. He's sitting on the toilet seat with his eyes closed.

"15 minutes," You tell him, smoothing the mask over his face. You pop up off his lap. "All done!"

He stands up and looks at himself in the bathroom. You stand there next to him, looking just like his twin. Both of you have your hair up in a messy bun, wearing matching pajamas and sheet masks.

Even with the mask, he can see you smiling.

Cute, He thinks to himself.

Looking at you warms his heart. He'd be lying if he said he wasn't enjoying this, the domesticity. It's your first actual sleepover as a couple and he's already looking forward to making this a regular thing in his life.

He won't admit it out loud though, can't give you the satisfaction of knowing he he enjoys the cheesy slumber party activities you have planned.

You then insist on taking mirror pictures with him, to which he pretends he doesn't enjoy. Once you're finally satisfied, you're running off to the kitchen, yelling about how the cookies should be ready to bake.

He follows behind you and you're already raking through his cabinets for a baking sheet. You pull the pan out and place it on the counter.

"Be a dear and grab the cookie dough out the fridge?" You ask as you line the sheet with parchment paper.

He agrees silently, smiling to himself as you take control of his living space. It brings him joy to see you so comfortable here.

He grabs the wrapped-up cookie dough you two made (you made it and he washed the dishes and stayed out of your way) and hands it to you. You form the dough into balls while he preheats the oven and washes up the last of the dishes.

You pop the pan into the oven and allow the cookies to bake before dashing into the living room and scrolling through to find something to watch to end your night.

...

A few hours later, you're cuddled up in bed, bellies full from the cookies and comfortable. His arms are wrapped around your frame as you've designated yourself little spoon.

You've already fallen into a state of slumber, chest rising and falling as small snores evade your lips. He holds you in his arms, front side pressed against your back and he tries to will himself to sleep.

This night has been nothing short of perfect and wholesome and he fears he's about to ruin that.

Mingyu has found himself in a bit of a... hard place.

Since it if your first night together, Mingyu is still learning a lot about you. And tonight he's learned that you move around in your sleep, a lot.

The material of your matching pajama pants is thin and with you practically grinding against him for the past 10 minutes, Mingyu finds himself struggling.

He can't help it, it's completely normal. But he feels like such a pervert. He tries to think about something else, anything else. But then you start moving and he's screwed.

He feels so bad. He knows you're a virgin, and it's still early in your relationship. This was supposed to be a wholesome night, but now he's got a raging hard-on and it's aching uncomfortably in his pants for relief.

You shift in your sleep again, pressing your ass up against him more and he fucking moans.

His heart drops, he hopes you didn't hear that.

"Gyu?"

Fuck, you totally heard that.

"Yeah, baby?" He asks.

"You okay? Sounds like you're in pain." He shifts again.

You reach over, turning on the lamp.

"-And something poking–oh."

His heart drops and silence fills the atmosphere.

Okay so he's in a little bit of a pickle. A dilemma if you will. He doesn't want to make you uncomfortable, but he's also really fucking uncomfortable right now.

If it wasn't dark in here and you were to turn around you would see how red his face flushes in embarrassment.

"Sorry," He apologizes sincerely. "You were moving a lot and it just kind of... happened."

You shift again, turning to face him. "It's okay." You say in just above a whisper.

"I don't wanna make you uncomfortable. I'll just sleep it off, ignore it honestly."

"Was already getting uncomfortable Gyu," You whisper.

Before he can question you, you're guiding his hand between your thighs, slipping below the waistband of your pajama pants and underwear.

"Oh shit-" He whispers.

"What do you want baby? I'll take it slow." He breathes out.

"Your fingers–" You moan out. "Wanna cum on your fingers–fuck–please."

"Are you sure?"

You nod. "Please."

He's quick to oblige, applying more pressure to your clit as he draws circles around your sensitive bud. You let out a sob, pushing your hips against his fingers.

He knows you need more than this.

Who knew you could be so needy?

He stops his movements to strip you of the layers covering your lower half. He lays you on your back, hovering his body over yours as he slips a finger into you.

He starts slow, pumping at a steady pace before slipping in a second finger.

"Ngh–" You moan.

He curls his fingers, pressing his digits against your inner walls to satisfaction. His hard cock is straining against the fabric of his pajama paints.

His length throbs, aching as he leaks precum, wetting the front of his pants. As distracting as it may be, he keeps his focus on you. His own pleasure is far out of his mind as his pace increases.

He pumps his fingers into you, harder and faster. You writhe beneath him, bucking your hips up to meet the rhythm of his fingers.

Oh fuck– this is so good. You've never experienced this kind of pleasure before. His fingers are much better than your own. Longer, thicker, and much more skilled. You can't help but be curious about how it would feel to have more.

The image flashes across your brain. Having all of him inside of you, filling you up inch by inch as his body weight crushes you. The rhythm of his hips, the sounds he would make, the feeling of his cock...

But you shake the thought and decide not to be greedy. Mingyu is doing a great job right now, drawing you toward the brink of an orgasm much faster than your own fingers ever have.

You squeeze your eyes shut, small hand gripping his forearm as he works his fingers inside of you. You feel your lower tummy tighten, and you moan out.

"Close–hah fuck, 'M close," You warn him.

He draws circles around your clit with his thumb as his fingers work inside of you. The sudden shock of pleasure causes you to instinctively shut your legs closed.

He sucks his teeth in disapproval, prying your legs back open with his other hand and forcing them to stay that way. You let out a sob as he continues his ministrations and elicits a proper orgasm out of you.

Your hips grind against his fingers as the pleasure courses through your body. You cry out his name, tightening your grip on his arm as he draws out your pleasure.

He hums in approval, eyes glued on you as he watches you ride out your orgasm. He wants this image forever etched in his mind and he has every intention of making it happen again.

His hand slows as you come down before he pulls out of you completely. He licks his fingers with a grin and sits you up on the bed.

"How do you feel?" he asks, pushing your hair out of your face.

"Fuck Gyu.." You breathe out with a grin. "incredible."

He smiles. "Glad I could help."

He plants a kiss on your forehead and you feel his body weight leave the bed. "I'm gonna get you something to drink."

You groan, holding onto his arm and pulling his body back. "Don't go."

"I'll be right back," He chuckles. "I swear."

You pout, eyes shifting between his face and the obvious tent sprouting in his pants. "Don't go, wanna suck your dick."

You pull at him, again, but this time his body falls onto the bed. You completely caught him off guard with that. You climb on top of him, straddling him as you pull up his wifebeater and your palms rub against his chest. "Please?"

"Shit baby–I don’t know if you should–"

You frown. "But I wanna."

"I don't think you can handle it yet, baby," He breathes out.

Mindlessly, you begin grinding down on him. The feeling of his hard cock against your already sensitive clit is exhilarating. "I think I can."

He lets out a groan, tilting his head back and showing off his adam's apple. He rests his body weight on his elbows, licking his lips as his throat dries up. He's so sensitive right now and having you on top of him is not helping. He's afraid he'll cum as soon as you take him in your mouth.

"Fuck–uh..." He groans. "What are you doing?"

Now the wet spot on his pants has grown. You're leaking as you grind down on him and it's driving him crazy. Your clit throbs against him, aching for more and building up to another orgasm.

You're still sensitive and the craving you have only grows.

"I'm not–hah–doing anything–fuck!" You moan as you grind down on him.

Your hips pick up in pace and you've long forgotten about your original objective. It just feels so good, too good."

You grip the bed sheets as you continue to grind against him. Both of you let out a string of breathy moans and groans. It's pathetic almost, the way you're humping each other like horny teens, but fuck–it's getting the job done.

His hands grip your waist and he guides your body as you grind against him. His eyes fall shut and his hips begin to match the set rhythm.

"Shit..." He whispers.

It doesn't take long before you're cumming again, this time leaking against his clothed cock as you moan out with your plans pressed flat against his chest. Your head falls back and you ride out your orgasm, driving him into his.

He lets out a long groan as the stain on his pants grows again.

You both breathe heavily as you come down, staring at each other with half-lidded and hazy eyes. He sits up, pushing your hair out of your face once again, and kisses you softly. The kiss lasts longer than anticipated as you lose yourselves in one another. You don't let it escalate again however, pulling away, and pressing your foreheads together.

You poke out your bottom lip and pout. "Wanted to suck you off."

"Shit Y/n," he lifts you off his lap. "You're crazy."

You giggle. "Sorry, you bring out a different side of me."

He sucks in his breath. "Here I was trying to be all respectful and you're acting all freaky."

You grin, planting another kiss on his lips as you lay side by side. He changes into a fresh pair of sweats and hands you one of his t-shirts before venturing into the kitchen to get the drink he promised.

He grins when he sees you wearing his shirt and hands you a glass of water. He kisses your forehead again nd climbs into bed with you for the night.

This time, you both fall asleep peacefully through the night undisturbed.

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© number1mingyustan - Do not repost without permission.