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byuljoonie · 8 months

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Never Goodbye // myg

It’s never goodbye, I’ll always see you again…

pairing: yoongi x reader

genre: one shot, angst, fluff, quick smut, rash decisions

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of mental health, mentions of past SH/scars, sad-ish smut, d-day tour, swearing, almost oral (m4f), dom!suga sub!reader, unsafe sẽx, creampie, fluff if you hate fluff.

note: My depression has been hitting so hard lately. I will re-edit tomorrow, I’m exhausted and can’t double check tonight. I love Min Yoongi, I will backflip for him. In all honesty, when Yoongi did his first live since being gone for a while, I ugly sobbed over my iPad. I missed him so much and the thought of him leaving shook me to my core lmao. Though I’m overdramatic, I am a proud military wife for 3 so far of 7 husbands. Enjoy the one shot and feel free to submit requests to the link in my bio, and listen to some of my playlists also in the bio. I will post Ramo Buchón and this story on Ao3 next week. -dubu

I stood in the dimly lit record store, surrounded by rows upon rows of vinyl records, each a portal to a different musical era. I held in my hand the debit card my thoughtful boyfriend, Yoongi, had given me to use this afternoon. He had gifted me a beautiful scarlet record player, and now I was on a mission to fill it with music.

The store was a treasure trove of musical history. Rows of records stretched out in every direction, organized meticulously by genre and artist. I traced my fingers along the spines, feeling the nostalgia emanating from each one. Rock, jazz, classical, pop – it was all there, waiting to be explored.

My indecisiveness was palpable as I contemplated my choices. I would pick up one vinyl, then another, carefully examining the album artwork and reading the tracklist. Yoongi had given me complete freedom to choose, and I wanted to make sure every selection was perfect.

In the midst of my contemplation, my thoughts drifted to Yoongi. I couldn't help but smile as I remembered the way he had surprised me with the record player earlier. It was clear that he knew just how much I loved music like him, and he wanted to share that passion with me.

As I continued browsing, my eyes suddenly lit up when I spotted the records I had been searching for. There, among the vast collection, were albums by Queen, Mac Miller, Lee Moonsae, and Diana Ross – artists whose music had shaped my life. I felt a rush of excitement as I reached for each of them, holding them close as if they were precious treasures.

With a heart full of gratitude for Yoongi's thoughtful gift and a bag full of vinyl records, I headed to the checkout counter. I knew that each record I had chosen would be a soundtrack to special moments shared with Yoongi, and that made the indecisiveness and the joy of discovery all the more worthwhile.

My collection is finally growing again and I’m so grateful to him. I checked out quickly, holding a brief conversation with the nice blue-haired woman at the counter. Thanking god for the half empty store, I stepped out into the cold air. I called a taxi on my phone and waited the everlasting 10 minutes as I nearly froze in place.

The sleek navy-blue car pulled in front of the little store, a middle aged man stepping out of the drivers side to open the door for me. I thanked him as he grabbed my bag and set it in the trunk for me. The short drive back to our apartment was quiet, the hum of NPR coming from the radio piercing the silence. The heater blowing directly at me.

We pulled up to the tall building hurrying so I can escape the cold air. I grabbed my bag from the man and tipped him extra for his generosity and service. I scanned into the building making my way to the elevators past the front desk. After I exited the elevators I grew more excited to see Yoongi. I skipped happily to our door, putting in the key code.

I’m greeted by the smell of air freshener and our puppy running up to me. Excitedly licking my hand and wagging his tail. I closed the door setting my bag on the small table near it and then taking off my shoes.

“Hi baby!” I said cheerfully looking at Yoongi as he walked over to me. He grabbed my waist and placed a kiss on my check, making his way down to my neck. Resting his head on my shoulder as he held me. I felt like putty in his palm, moving to grab his face and plant a kiss on his lips.

He hummed into the kiss, letting his hands sneak around my waist to my ass. I giggled and pushed him away immediately, missing the feeling of his hands on me already. He pained a hurt expression and I gave him a knowing look. He was supposed to be packing but the laundry basket I left him to sort through seemed to be almost untouched as it sat idle by our sofa.

“Min Yoongi why is your laundry still folded neatly in that basket?” I questioned pointing to his clothes and resting a hand on my hip. “I needed a break,” he said nonchalantly, walking to go sit back on the sofa. He was precious but we have things to do and I can’t let his cuteness distract me. I grabbed my shopping bag from the table and walked over to Yoongi, sitting on his lap so I could show him the merchandise.

“Let me show you what I bought and then I’ll go start on dinner while you actually pack,” I said smiling at the way he rested his hands on my thighs. I took the vinyls out of the bag, setting the first two on the sofa cushion next to us.

“First I got this classic Diana Ross record, but I can’t hold in my excitement anymore!” I said grabbing the Mac Miller record and handing it to Yoongi. I watched as his eyes light up in excitement. “I know I was supposed to be shopping for me but I couldn’t help myself.” I said starting to tear up. I didn’t want to cry but the emotions are hitting hard, Yoongi leaves in a few days.

“Thank you so much baby I love it,” he said setting the record aside to kiss me softly. Yoongi sighed as he stared down at me on his lap. I noticed the worry in his eyes and sat up placing a hand on his cheek. “Are you okay my love?” I probed gently.

“It’s just…I can’t help but worry about leaving you alone again while I go on tour. Your depression and anxiety, I’m afraid they might worsen, and I won’t be there to help you when you need me the most,” Yoongi said staring deeply into my glossy eyes.

I smiled warmly at his confession, cupping his face in my hands. “Min Yoongi, it’s so easy to see why your parents named you light. You’ve helped me through so much already, you are my light. I’ve learned so much from you about handling my emotions, and even on my worst days, just a phone call with you can calm me down. I’ll be okay baby, I promise,” I choked out.

Yoongi looked at me for a second, seemingly analyzing me. He nodded slowly pulling me into a tight hug. “I know you’ve grown stronger, but I can’t help but worry. You mean the world to me Y/N,” he said as I buried my face in his neck.

“And you mean the world to me too, Yoongi. We’ll get through this together, just like we always do.” I said hugging him tighter. We stayed in our embrace for a while, finding comfort in each others presence. Eventually I break the hug and get up to go make dinner, while Yoongi starts to sort through his laundry basket.

“I guess I’ll actually start getting my things in order,” he mumbled to himself with a huff. He stood up flinging open his suitcases, and throwing in a few items he eyeballed. I giggled at how unenthusiastic he was being.

“I’ll help you pack after dinner Yoongs, you know I have to double check and make sure you have everything you’ll need.” I said busying myself at the stove. After I mixed the pasta, I told Yoongi to set the table while I change and I’d be right back.

I retreated to our bedroom, eager to change into my comfortable pajamas. As I shed my days attire and donned my soft, oversized pjs, my eyes involuntarily drifted to the prominent scars that crisscrossed my body, momentos of a harrowing time that altered my life.

A wave of sadness washed over me, recalling the challenges in my journey to recovery. Moments of doubt crept in, but just as I was about to get lost in my melancholic thoughts, I heard Yoongi’s voice gently calling me from the dining area.

“Babe come on I’m hungry and your food smells too good,” he whined cutely as I walked into the dining room. I placed some pasta in his plate and sat in the chair across from him, unconsciously tugging at the short sleeves on my shirt, hoping he wouldn’t notice.

Yoongi hummed in delight at the taste of the cream pasta, and I quietly chewed along. It didn’t take long for us to finish our meal, I stood up making my way to the sink, grabbing the dishes from the table. I started washing dishes, mindlessly humming one of Yoongi’s songs.

“Why’re you so quiet tonight sweetheart?” Yoongi questioned as he walked up behind me. I felt his hands wrap around my waist, he then pulled me flush against him. “Talk to me Y/N,” he said in my ear, leaving a soft lingering kiss behind.

“I’m sorry I just don’t feel the best, honestly, I feel like a burden. All these ugly scars already make me feel less than, but the thought of me holding you back from doing what you love pains me the most, Yoongi,” I said nervously, melting into his embrace.

Suddenly Yoongi unraveled his arms, reaching around me to turn the faucet off. I turned around to face him, confusion flooding my features. He gently placed his hands on my face, searching my eyes for an unknown answer.

“Will you let me show you how much I love you Y/N?” He asked. I nodded slowly, bringing my hand up to touch his that rested on my cheek. He leaned down to place a kiss on my lips, hovering close after he pulled apart.

We walked hand in hand to the bedroom, closing the door behind us. Yoongi guided me over to our bed, helping me up onto the tall mattress. He climbed onto the bed, gently pushing me to lay down flat on my back.

“With every piece of clothing I remove from your body, I’ll leave a trace of me behind. You deserve to know how gorgeous you are Y/N, how utterly irresistible and perfect you are. Every piece of you that you view as an imperfection, I view as another reason to love you.” Yoongi said removing his black shirt from his toned figure.

He removed his shorts, carelessly tossing them to some shadow realm. He looped his fingers under my, formally his, oversized shirt, pulling it over my head in one swift motion.

He stared at my exposed chest for a second, eyes flickering back to mine every so often. He then leaned down, placing a trail of kisses down my neck, and stopping when he reached my collar bone.

He started leaving behind love bites, sucking and licking at the quick forming bruises. I hissed in pleasure as his tongue felt like pure ecstasy, sighing at the way he took my nipple into his mouth.

He looked up at me through hooded eyes, staring at me intensely as he massaged and sucked my breasts. I moaned his name quietly, wrapping my legs around his torso as he moved his attention to the other side.

He made his way down my exposed front, leaving no inch of skin without a trace of his love, or tongue. He moved further down the bed, hooking his fingers under the band of my flower covered panties.

His eyes never left my face, he smirked as I watch him in anticipation. Stomach quickly rising and falling with every nervous breath. He pulled them down my legs painfully slow, I shivered as the cold air hit my exposed clit. He’s barely touched me and I’m already a soaking mess.

He placed a kiss on my left hip bone, massaging the right one with a free hand. He kissed his way down until he hovered over my center, watching the way my eyes drank in his sinful appearance. I could feel the warmth of his breath hitting my core, causing an accidental whine to escape my pouty lips.

He let out a breathy chuckle before placing a kiss on my clit. That earned another moan from me as well as a tight grip on the rappers long hair. He sat up suddenly, receiving a look of disappointment from me. “I can’t wait any longer pumpkin, I need to fill you up like the good girl you are. Gonna make you cry for a much better reason than before.” Yoongi said tossing his boxers to the side and rubbing his length against my pussy, I squirmed in anticipation.

I felt his tip probe at my entrance, his length slowly being engulfed into the hot, soft cavern. I gasped at the intrusion, squeezing Yoongi’s arm as he began to move slowly. With every thrust I clenched harder, scratching down his back as he loving fucked me into oblivion.

“I can never get enough of you princess,” Yoongi grunted out as he sped up his rhythmic movements. “This is my pussy baby you’re mine, all mine, and no one else’s.” He growled eyes darkening with pleasure.

“hmfp I…I’m all yours Yoongi all yours please please fuck me just like that,” I stuttered out, crying as my body grew sore with the force of Yoongi’s hips slamming into mine. I enjoyed every second of this painful pleasure, yanking him by the neck down to my mouth. Lewd noises echoed through our apartment, a melody of wet sounds and heavy breathing reverberating off the walls of our bedroom.

I screamed in pleasure as Yoongi reached down and started furiously rubbing my swollen clit. “Fuck down on me Y/N, let the neighbors hear all those pretty noises you make. Tell me how much you love this dick baby it’s all yours,” he said hotly leaving a trail of wet kisses down my neck.

“It’s mine oh f…fuck Yoongi I can’t take it, I want you to cum inside me please. N…need you to fill me up so I can fully be yours,” I choked out in between sobs. Before I could react the bed shook with extreme force, Yoongi unbelievably fucking me deeper, lifting my hips off the bed and squeezing my bruised hips.

I felt his dick pulsate inside me, indicating he was just as close as I was. “Fuck…cum with me baby,” he grunted out head rolling back in pleasure as his pace slowed. I felt his warm cum shoot inside me, I shook furiously hips spazzing as Yoongi gently set me down. He wiped my tears as I exhaustedly went limp, too tired to get another word out.

“I hope you know I’m going to think about this all the time while I’m gone,” Yoongi said grabbing some water from his bedside table to give to me. I mustered the courage to sit up and graciously take the water, passing him the rest after I finished. He leaned over and placed another kiss on my lips, holding me in his arms as he quietly talked me into a restful sleep.

Yoongi stood by the door, his bags packed and ready for the waiting vehicle outside. I watched him, my eyes brimming with emotions as he turned to face me.

“Y/N, I wish I didn’t have to leave without you, but I know how important your work is to you. I promise I’ll try to call you everyday, no matter the time difference,” he said softly.

“I know Yoongs, but I’m going to miss you so so much,” I said voice quivering as I struggled to keep my composure. My body shook with sadness, shoulders slouching in defeat. Yoongi cupped my face in his hands and gently wiped away my tears.

“Hey look at me, beautiful. I want you to know that no matter where I am, my heart is always with you. If you ever need anything, if you’re feeling down, just call me and I’ll answer in a heartbeat. I would fly across the country in seconds to get to you my love. I might not say it enough, but you mean everything to me Y/N there is no me without you. You’re my inspiration, my strength, and my love.” He confessed, his eyes holding a depth of emotion he often struggled to express.

“I love you too Yoongi, more than words can say,” I said while sniffling. Yoongi smiled at me through glossy eyes, clearly trying to hold it together for me. “Actions speak volumes, right? I’ll prove it to you everyday I’m away. This tour won’t change how I feel about you, and it damn sure won’t change us.” He said pulling me into another tight embrace. A car horn could be heard impatiently honking in the background.

“Goodbye my love,” I said smiling through my tears.

“It’s never goodbye, I’ll always see you again darling.”

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copperbadge · 6 months

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Hey Sam, I remember reading a post or response from you about how to give to charities anonymously, but now that I’m searching, I’m finding a few different responses but still have questions. Any chance you could do a round up post? Wondering about the following:

1. How to give cash

2. How to give small amounts anonymously (e.g., if you can’t set up a DAF)

3. How to opt out of being sent branded junk if you can’t give anonymously, because it will end up in the garbage (seriously, no more pens, stickers or magnets please)

4. In giving anonymously, how important is the tax receipt? I only take the standard deduction on my taxes… is there a reason to bother with tracking the receipts?

Appreciate your help!

Ah yeah, it's rough knowing how to do some of these things. I've written about some of them, probably most of them, but disparately over several posts, so let me see if I can answer succinctly and all in one place.

How to give cash: You are pretty much confined to two options, giving cash to a staffer in person or mailing cash in an envelope. If you have access to the office of the nonprofit you may be able to swing by and drop the cash off, but it's not super convenient and often not possible. If you're at an event you can hand it in an envelope to a staffer, and that's really the only way my organization gets cash donations, but that requires you to be at the event. And technically I can't recommend mailing cash since the risk of theft is a real one. Giving cash is fine legally, but nonprofits often aren't thrilled with it because it can put their staff at risk and also there's, well, there's no way to track that donation to a person. But yeah, throw them dollars between two thick sheets of paper and mail that in with a note saying "This is for the XYZ organization" so they know they can accept it.

2. Giving small amounts anonymously: It depends on how you're defining 'small'; I have a DAF (for the readers: a Donor Advised Fund -- I talk a little about them here but I've never gone indepth) which has no minimum deposit or minimum monthly contribution, but they do have a minimum donation amount of $20. To me that's not especially large, but I know to many people it can be. Pretty much the only way to give an amount smaller than $20 anonymously is to give online through the nonprofit's website using a cash giftcard (like a Visa gift debit card), and just not give an address. If you custom-order checks you can sometimes order checks without a home address, or with the bank's address, and pay with one of those, but I've never tried that.

If you do use a DAF (and I can recommend Charityvest, they've been mine for several years now) you can always set up to pay small amounts into it and just have them send all that money in a lump sum once or twice a year. I pay in $75/mo and from that they pay out three $20 donations a month, and at the end of the year the extra $180 that has just sat there becomes a nice extra donation. Always bearing in mind of course that once you pay into a DAF that money is gone, you can't claw it back even if you haven't "donated" it yet -- just putting money in a DAF is considered a donation. Readers, if you're curious about DAFs I recommend googling, lots of banks have "what is a DAF" pages, but if you're not finding what you want to know do feel free to come ask me.

3. Opting out of swag when not giving anonymously: I'm tempted to just say "Ya can't" because it's hard, especially with larger orgs. Even if you opt out, often you'll still get mailings that are considered "stewardship" (maintaining a relationship) rather than "solicitation" (asking for giving) and swag counts as stewardship. You can always start with sending the org a letter saying "Please put me on a Do Not Contact list, I will continue to give but don't want to get your swag". If that doesn't work, start returning mailings -- if you get something from the org don't even open it, just write "return to sender -- no longer resident" and drop it in the mail. This is not guaranteed effective; some places will either just change the name to 'resident' or retry every so often just in case. You can call the org and ask to speak to "records" or "data", and then just be super up front: "I want to keep supporting you but I really don't want the swag, how do I get that turned off?" They can help, but if you give to another similar org, a lot of times orgs will do "list exchanges" where they swap mailing lists, and if the org does that and you're on the other org's list, you get put right back on the "ok to mail" list for the first org.

I will say, swag is very, very cheap and gets results, so you can also look at this as "well, it was wasted on me, but the five cents this pen cost will get them $1 from someone, so in accepting it, I am still helping them to gain donations." This depends on your tolerance for waste, of course, which I'll talk more about in a minute.

(I personally like getting magnets, because I put stickers over top of whatever's printed on the magnet, cut it out to the shape of the sticker, and behold! I have a cool magnet!)

4. Tax receipting: I'm not a CPA or a tax lawyer and I fucked this up the last time I talked about it, so take this with a grain of salt, but there is an "above and beyond" deduction -- after the standard deduction I believe you can deduct an additional up-to-$300 for charitable giving, and if you were to be audited you'd need receipts to prove that. (As I said, if you're planning on this, fact-check first, I am not a strong source for this information.) (Edited to add: comments informed me this is no longer the case, so I'm glad I added in the disclaimer :D) If you give via a DAF, no problem; the DAF tracks where and when and how much you gave, so I could use my DAF's records as "receipts". You can also, if you lost or didn't get a receipt, contact the org and ask them for your giving record for the year. Here's the problem -- if you are giving in a way that allows you to avoid giving your address, there may be no way to get those receipts, since you can't prove their record with your name on it is you. So if you want receipts but want to give semi-anonymously definitely make sure they have your email address. If you're giving $300 a year, you probably want to take that deduction; if you're giving $20 a year, probably it isn't worth it. But yeah, to get a receipt you generally have to give them enough information for them to identify you, but you don't need giving receipts if all you take is the standard deduction.

All in all, the options are -- give cash and get no receipt, give via DAF or using a giftcard and get receipts to your email, give with your address attached and just hope they honor your request to be removed from swag mailing, or give however you want, put up with the swag, and bear in mind that them sending you the pen or magnet or keychain wasn't much of a problem or cost for them and will get them money from someone.

Honestly, option four isn't the least irritating, but it's probably the least labor-intensive for you. But it really is a question of what you want from your relationship to the nonprofits you support, and how passionately you feel about the "waste" status of swag they send. Only you can determine where your tolerance point is between "having to put in so much effort not to get this stuff" and "having to throw this stuff in a landfill". It's a regrettable part of being a donor and building a relationship with a nonprofit, but we in the nonprofit field do appreciate your giving and your tolerance :) While there are some outlier bad-actors in the space, trust me, for most nonprofits, nothing we do is gratuitous. Almost all of us are on such a thin wire that if something costs us money and doesn't get us more money, it gets binned very quickly.

#nonprofits #charitable giving #donation

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happysadyoyo · 7 months

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this is another one of @pillowspace's au. may be taking some of my own spin on things but shhh

don't look at me

tw for mugging with a knife

It's well past dark when you leave work, waving goodbye to the security officer as you steel yourself for leaving the building. It's cold out, so you pull your hood up against the wind, tucking it tight around your throat. Yes, generally it's bad to cut down your visibility when you're walking alone at night, but also you're all but legally blind (mostly because you've not gone to the doctor since your last prescription stopped working). The hood makes the world seem a little less big while you march from work to home.

It's not a long walk, and it's one you're very familiar with, so it takes you a minute to realize when you're no longer alone. There's footsteps behind you, and as you slow down, you hear them slow down too. Odd. There's sometimes homeless people that hang around, but it's been getting colder and the cops swept the streets a couple nights ago anyway. Other than you, there's not many people hanging out in the business district. You want to reason this all away, but you fumble for that little can of pepper spray on your keychain anyway.

You'd barely pulled your hand free from your pocket before there's a tight grip on your shoulder, shoving you forward. You stumble and fall when the grip doesn't let up, crying out in dismay when your keys skip across the pavement. "No!"

"Shut up and give me your wallet. Now!" The mugger barks his orders at you, even as you try to feel for your keys. It had a reflector on it, just in case of a situation like this, but it's too dark here, the buildings hiding the moon overhead. You keep fumbling until a boot stomps on your fingers. "Are you fucking stupid? Wallet, now!"

"Sorry! I'm sorry. I don't have anything though, I swear." It's hard to find your wallet. Your hands are shaking, and the one that just got stomped is throbbing in time with your racing heart. You barely manage to pull the threadbare plastic leather bifold from your coat before it's snatched from your hand, your mugger ripping the rubberband holding it together off with a sharp snap.

"Bitch, what the hell is all this? There's no cash!"

"I told you! I don't have anythi---ng!" There's something very sharp pressed against your cheek all at once, and you freeze, jaw snapping shut. It's a knife, duh, sharp and cold from the night air. Your eyes feel hot in conrast, itchy, and you realize you're starting to cry.

"Hands up. And no funny business, or I'll use this." The knife digs into your skin, and you shakily lift your hands, flinching when he starts patting you down, clearly searching for any valuables. There's nothing, because of course there's not! You're smart enough to know not to lie if someone is threatening you like this! But when his hand slips inside your coat, you let out a choked up sob.

"Jesus, chill, no one would want to do anything with you. Fucking loser." He's frustrated, shoving you to the ground with his foot. You stay there, biting your lip so hard you can taste blood. But at least he seems to be done with you. "You tell anyone what just happened and I'll kill you." You don't reply, don't think you can. But it's enough. After an eternity, you hear him leave.

The breath you let out is a wretched thing, somewhere between a sob and a gasp, snot and phlegm caught in your throat turning it into a rattling sound. You roll onto your knees, burying your face in the arms of your coat as you let out a series of deep, dry sobs. It takes an eternity to calm down enough to move, your body stiff as you feel for your things. Your wallet was, to put it mildly, destroyed, and the tears continue unabated as you realize your cards are gone -- the gift card from work, the snap access card, and your debit card. You'll have to cancel the latter two, but there's no cash at home. No food either. You were going to grocery shop after your shift at the library.

Your keys had somehow made it to the curb, and your curl your fingers around the pepper spray like it's a talisman. Standing takes more effort, and you use the curb to sort of propel yourself up. Your balance remains shaky, and your nose hurts now from crying in the cold, and you definitely still taste blood. You try to tell yourself you're lucky you didn't get hurt (worse, you add, as your fingers and cheek throb), but that falls flat.

You force yourself forward, to get home. To your little apartment with your little brother, to let the sitter finally go home.

Fuck, you hope she'll let you pay through paypal tonight.

#human disguise au #uhhh #this one has no dca in it rn #but there will be #I just #um #things are really hard right now and it's easier to write for someone else's au than it is to think #about my own shit #anyway my big thoughts for this au include #y/n has custody of their little brother after some shit went down with their parents #they work as a janitor downtown but it means they work overnights a lot #they also keep their job as a library clerk and are shockingly good at it despite being legally blind #there's more but I should probably sleep #if the anxiety will let me

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sirfrogsworth · 9 months

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I've had a PayPal debit card for many years. It will use anything in my PayPal first, and when that is gone, it will take it out of my bank account.

It's very convenient. And I use this for all of my autopay bills. I also like places not having my regular bank card information if I can help it. And there is a delay, so if I make any financial mistakes, I have a little extra time to fix it.

PayPal just announced they are discontinuing the bank account link.

Which makes the debit card pretty much useless. I'd have to manually send money from my bank account to my PayPal before any bill gets paid.

So now I have to change the autopay on every single bill to my bank card.

Thanks, PayPal.

You suck.

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elekid · 5 months

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Tomorrow i am going to donate plasma for the first time and also pick up my new debit card, I however have not had much to eat the past few days due to sickness/cat is a handful/no $$$

I have to be gone all day tomorrow, so I won't have time to go to the food bank either. Can we please perhaps raise $20-30 so we can all eat tonight?

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danosrosegarden · 11 months

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Angel (Part One) - Edward Nashton x GN!Reader

Contains: mentions/descriptions of sex work (reader is a sex worker), toxic relationships, and smoking. Also, reader's gender is never mentioned, but they are bisexual (it is a very minor detail).

Note: this is my big series I've had planned out for a long time, and I'm so excited to finally release chapter one! A disclaimer: I do not intend to disrespect sex work with the reader's situation here. They are unhappy with their work and have had negative experiences in the past. This is not the experience of all sex workers, simply just one fictional story. I also want to make it clear: Angel Eddie is based off Paul Dano's 2022 interpretation of The Riddler, but will have minor differences.

It was the sort of bleak, frosty rain that splashed through your skin and absorbed into your bones, the bitterly icy water leaking drop by drop into your marrow. Your skin was prickled with goosebumps as you shivered through the cloud-soaked night.

He was just another client. God, how you tried to convince yourself Marshall was just another client. It broiled in your brain and screamed in your blood...he was just another client. But what other client had you lived with for five months? What other client held you ever so gently when the dark void of night fell and you felt the festering handprints of the past gripping your hips? There would never be another one like him.

You forgot how long you had been wandering the streets after Marshall kicked you out. There were times before when he would come home drunk and angry, yelling at you to get the fuck out of his sight. He would remember how used you were and want you gone. But there was a feeling burning inside of your gut, the flames licking the flesh of your stomach. The burning feeling this was the final time. He wouldn't have you back. You weren't sure what you expected, exactly...tears? A screaming match? Shattered glass? Tearing through his apartment and your shared memories, eyes scorching red with searing hot acrimony? You weren't sure. What ended up being was the rain-slicked streets of Gotham and the air around you soaked with a thick sheet of silence.

You searched the roads for an awning...any swath of dryness would do. You just wanted a cigarette, that's all. You adjusted your bag's strap on your shoulder and thought about the contents as the frigid rain continued to slice into your skin. Three packs of menthol cigarettes, your ID and debit card, and a couple hundred dollars in twenties. You couldn't remember if the money was yours or Marshall's. You couldn't be asked to give a fuck. You had grabbed it off the kitchen counter as Marshall screamed and tore the place apart. So what, you had seen a different client while staying with him? You didn't know things were so official that he would get so upset. You needed the money. You had to pay half the bills somehow, after all. Who cared now? You were out and on your own. That's all that mattered.

You spotted the car from across the street in the empty parking lot of Josephine's. God, you hadn't been to Josephine's in years. You wondered if she still had a special original pastry of the month. You wondered how disappointed she would be if she saw how far you had fallen away from yourself.

You felt as if you were morphing back into yourself when you had first started as you made your way across the street. Back when you would approach men in cars, girls at clubs, people anywhere, any time. You were hungry for experience, determined to scratch an abundance of notches on your bedpost. Maybe through taking on more and more clients, you could find something resembling self-worth if you held it in a certain light. It never did work, but that wouldn't stop you from trying again.

You knocked on the car window and waited.

It didn't roll down. You tried again.

The man sitting inside was startled by the noise, jumping in his seat and staring at you with wide, bloodshot eyes. His hair reached past his ears and was frazzled at the ends. He stared at you for a few more seconds before a gravelly bark came from him.

"What."

"Roll your window down."

Reluctantly, the man rolled down his window, continuing to peer deep into your eyes as you bent down to his window's height.

"Can I get in?" you tried. You knew you were being stupid, but you were past the point of caring about much of anything anymore.

"I'm not letting you in," the man said curtly.

For God's sake, could you catch any kind of break tonight?

"Please. It's raining hard, and I was just kicked out of my apartment. I have nowhere to go," you begged.

The man rolled his window up, and you felt the stitches of your heart tear apart. You felt as though you had run out of chances. A street cat who had run out of lives. With your heart split into two, your blood running rimy, and your bones shaking in your skin, you knelt down next to the strangers car and cried. You had never felt more lost in the wind than now, with even the sounds of your broken snivels drowned out by the pouring rain.

The sound of the car door opening and slamming shut made you jump. The man from inside the car popped the trunk and rifled through it for a moment before pulling out a clear umbrella. He shut the trunk and walked over to you, opening the umbrella and kneeling beside you.

"Here."

It was small enough to where only one person would fit under it. With a trembling hand, you took it from him. An instantaneous burst of laughter exploded from your chest as you felt the relief from the rain. The man jumped again at the sound of your laugh.

"What?"

You shook your head, coughing and strangling your laughter. "I'm very happy to not get rained on anymore, I guess. I've been out here for awhile."

The man nodded and ran a hand through his hair. You sat in silence for a moment before a wave of newfound warmth and confidence crashed over you.

"My name is Y/N."

The man looked down at his shoes.

"You don't have to tell me your name. But I wanted to say thank you for the umbrella. And for sitting here with me, I guess. Tonight has been...rough. It's nice to have a little bit of company."

"My name is Edward."

You peered at his features: the strong bump of his nose, the freckles dotting his cheeks, the violet bags tugging at the skin underneath his eyes, the pout of his thin lips. He was interesting to view.

"Hi, Edward."

He said nothing.

In the middle of this downcast, hopeless evening, something inside you was whispering that you had found peace. And maybe it was just for tonight. Maybe it was just for as long as Edward would stay with you beside his car in Josephine's parking lot. But it felt warmer than Marshall's touch. It felt safer than having to sit through his drunken outbursts. It was quiet, which you weren't used to in your life, but it was warm. Safe. Good.

You rested your chin on your knees and closed your eyes, letting the last drops of rain fall from your soaked clothes as Edward sat up and opened the car door for you.

"You can get in, if you'd like."

#Eli's writing #Danonation #Paul Dano #Edward Nashton #The Riddler #The Batman #Edward Nashton x reader #The Riddler x reader #Edward Nashton x you #The Riddler x you #Edward Nashton x Y/N #The Riddler x Y/N

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eruden-writes · 1 year

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Room & Board - Part 14 (Vampire x Reader)

Anon submitted this prompt: For the prompt submissions a vampire that feels guilty after feeding/attacking someone so they leave obscenely valuable ancient artifacts as payment/an apology?

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The dinner passed without further hitch, thankfully. Ewan, Tabaeus, and yourself managed to fall into an ebb and flow of mild conversation while eating. Talking of experiences - mostly you and Ewan - and interesting tidbits of information - this time, mostly Tabaeus and yourself - had stumbled across recently.

Near the end of dinner, after leaving out your debit card to split the bill with Ewan, you duck off to the restroom. On your return, a prickle of agitations crawls up your spine before a hand closes around your elbow. With a start, you yank from the touch and spin around. With heart pounding, you find yourself glaring up into the face of a stranger.

They stand tall, raven black hair cropped fashionably and clothes milquetoast in style, but expensive. A pair of round glasses - with transition lenses - perched on their nose. You can’t shake the notion their deep brown eyes are somehow distorted, but focusing on that makes your head hurt. Their smile takes on an amused curl the longer you stare up at them.

“My apologies, I didn’t mean to startle you,” they finally chuckle, holding their hands up with palms toward you, as if to show they mean no harm. Before you can ask them what they want, they nod to your table. Tension weaves through your muscles as they say, “I simply wish to tell you that your friend is very entrancing.”

“Why tell me?” You cross your arms, shifting a little on your feet. “Go tell them yourself.”

The atmosphere around the stranger feels off. It raises your hackles and makes goosebumps rise to your flesh. Something is wrong. Without thinking, you throw a glance in the direction of the table. Neither Ewan nor Tabaeus seem to have noticed you and this stranger.

You wonder if something would happen, if either should look in your direction.

“You are funny. I wouldn’t dare get closer with that dog there.” Their chuckle is one without humor, though they continue to smile as they shake their head.

That gets your attention. With a whip of your head, you turn to face the stranger again. However, they are gone. You stare at the spot they were, realizing the sounds of the diner are suddenly loud and obnoxious in your ears. Had it always been so loud? Or had speaking to that stranger made everything else go quiet?

Shaking your head, you return to the table. As you approach, both Ewan and Tabaeus smile up at you. A new sense of dread - not as serious as with the stranger - crawled over your thoughts.

They are planning something. With food in their stomachs, you had half-hoped they’d forgotten their little joint venture to tease you. “What are you two grinning about?”

“We have decided on a theater venue.” Tabaeus claps their hands together.

“Theater venue?” Ewan snorts and rolls his eyes. He stands from the table, handing you your card and receipt. “It’s not that fancy. Just a drive-in.”

“A drive-in,” you repeat deadpan, raising an eyebrow. As you put your debit card and receipt away, Tabaeus also slides from the table. They take up a position at your elbow, close enough for you to sense their presence.

“Ewan explained it’s like a theater you can drive your car into.” Well, at least Tabaeus sounded excited. Their red eyes are shining with delight behind their sunglasses. You wonder if they’ve ever seen or been to a drive-in before, but something subtle shifts in their expression. A lowering of their eyelids, a hint of teasing in their tone. “And the dog says he has a roomy vehicle.”

“A roomy vehicle. Right,” you snort, heat licks across your cheeks as the pieces fully fall into place. Ewan did indeed have a van, but you also remember he’d tell quite a few stories about such set-ups. Mostly in regards to a girl he was hoping to bed. “With the mattress and pillows in the back?”

“Ah, you remember.” Ewan shoots you a wink before offering you his arm. Beneath your hand, you realize how warm the man is and, suddenly, you recall you’re wearing his own jacket. His scent has sunk into you, enveloping you. Woodsy and warm and tickling at something in your chest.

As you accept Ewan’s offer, Tabaeus flanks your other side, coiling their own lanky arms around your free arm. Where their skin touches you, you can sense the somewhat cooler body temperature.

Stuck between the two, your thoughts shift to the contrast of their relative body heats. Which distracts your imagination with other imaginings. Knowing it was a better idea to avoid such thoughts - especially as you climbed into the enclosed van with your companions - you try to focus on other things.

Which is a bit difficult, you realize, as you’re squashed in the three-seat front of the van. Pressed close to Tabaeus on one side and only having the gear shift buffering the space between yourself and Ewan. You try to focus on anything but your quickly guttering thoughts.

Overhead, a full moon hung bright, spilling across the environment. The van rumbles around you and the radio is low enough to miss but just loud enough you occasionally catch static. Tabaeus and Ewan manage to hold a civil conversation as you input vague replies in turn.

It’s not until you’re near your destination you focus back in on the situation at hand. You cast a curious look to Ewan as he drove past their presumed destination. “We’re not going into the drive-in?”

“Nah, I know a better spot that can still tune into the drive-in’s FM station.” Just beyond the opening of the theater, the van pulls into an almost-unseen road that cleaved through a copse of trees.

Your lips curl with a wry grin, very much aware of Ewan’s unorthodox penny-pinching ways. Your words are sarcasm-laden as you say, “Oh no, this is a plot to get me out into the middle of nowhere to have your way with me, isn’t it?”

“I am more than capable of protecting you from him, amata.”

You’re not sure if Tabaeus caught your banter or is merely playing along with the game. Either way, you shift until your back leans against their form, tilting your head back to look up at them. With your eyelashes batting, you croon, “My hero.”

“I do not know about that.” As Tabaeus stares down at you, there’s a brief catch of conflict in their gaze. You’re about to say something when their cool hand presses to your throat, pulling you back further against them. Then their hand is cupping your jaw, tilting your head to the side. Tabaeus leans down, their breath ghosting over the side of your neck as their free hand traces the front zipper - not undoing it - of the bat pajamas you were swindled into.

A soft sound escapes you and you angle your head, stretching your neck to invite further touch. Their teeth scrape over your throat, pulling a sharp gasp from your lips. Just as Tabaeus’s hand delves between your thighs, making you arch, Ewan yelps and the van suddenly swerves and bounces.

“Keep your eyes on the road, fleabag.” The words tear out of Tabaeus so fast and guttural, you almost don’t believe they said them. A flush bleeds across your cheeks as you move to sit up straight. You find yourself unable to with the vampire’s strong hold on your shoulder and palm against your crotch.

“Then don’t be distracting, bloodsucker.” Ewan refuses to look at you two, his hands tight on the steering wheel. In the light of the moon, you think you see their eyes flash briefly. Narrowing your eyes, you think his usual five o’clock shadow seems a bit fuller, but that could be a trick of your mind.

Tabaeus only hissed at the excuse, to which a growl rumbled from Ewan. Neither sounded particularly ferocious, reminding you more of play-fighting theatrics than serious antagonism. Though Tabaeus does grumble and loosen their hold on you, the sensual moment passed.

Soon enough, the van pulled into a clearing that overlooked the drive-in. After some maneuvering so the back of the van faces the screen and relocating, you find yourself once more between the vampire and werewolf. Over the van’s speakers, the sound from the previews plays.

It turned out the mattress at the back of his van was really the second row of seats folded down with something like a tatami mat rolled atop. Blankets and pillows littered the back, making for a comfy lounging space. With a dividing curtain separating the front from the back and the curtains blocking out the view from the side windows, it felt relatively cozy.

You lounge back on a pile of pillows, staring at the flickering images on the distant screen. The van’s rear door thankfully doesn’t have bisected windows, but a singular pane. Tabaeus cuddles close to your side, head on your shoulder, as Ewan sits a little further from you two.

“Do you sleep in your van?” Tabaeus asks, their nose wrinkling a little. You jab them in the stomach with your elbow, but it doesn’t seem to faze the vampire.

Thankfully, Ewan doesn’t seem offended by the rather judgemental comment. From the hunch of his shoulders, you still think he’s a bit awkward when answering, “Sometimes I do, when I’m between housing situations. I have an apartment right now, though.”

Unable to read the room or your displeasure, Tabaeus continues, “Huh, won’t your little pack of hounds help you?”

“Don’t got one.” Ewan shrugs a shoulder, leaning back against the wall of the van and turning his attention to the movie screen on the other side of the window.

Well, that seems like a big deal, you think. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now you realize you thought Jemma might have been another lycan. Most likely part of Ewan’s pack. Why else would she tell him about Tabaeus?

But Ewan had no pack.

Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Why don’t you have a pack?”

His lips curl into a snarl more than a smile, though his tone is soft - if bitter - as he responds to you, “Well, the last one was my family pack and let’s just say I don’t get along with them.”

For a beat, you let that information sit with you. You knew Ewan couch hopped and changed apartments a lot. Hell, he also lived in his van on occasion, as he mentioned. Now you wonder how much of that was by choice or by necessity.

Likely by choice, you decide. Ewan had plenty of friends and positive acquaintances when you worked with him. Just as he was happy to help others, surely there were plenty willing to help him.

“Much like lone wolves in nature, a lone werewolf is a sad affair.” It seems Tabaeus’s thoughts traverse the same path as yours. Tilting your attention to them, you can’t help but feel the vampire is putting a little too much aloofness into their own words. “From what I recall - take that with a grain of salt considering my memory issues - most lone lycans are not the most stable.”

“No, you’re right.” Ewan still isn’t looking at either of you. With his face turned away and in the dimness of the van, you can’t quite tell what his expression conveys. Something in your chest knots at the sound of his voice. Resigned, quiet. “It gets difficult, but I find my ways.”

Tabaeus narrows their eyes. “How?”

“The stress of working to make ends meet, mainly.” Tilting his head toward you two now, a helpless grin tilts at Ewan’s lips.

“What about when your passions rise?”

Heat flares down your back and you push into a more upright position. You shove the vampire in their chest and hiss, “Tabaeus!”

Ewan snorts with good humor. “Come on, I’m a grown man that’s fully capable of controlling myself.”

“More than I can say for others in this van,” you sniff, crossing your arms and shifting your pillows to be a little more equidistant between the werewolf and vampire.

“No need to tell on yourself, dear,” purrs Tabaeus, leaning back on their hands with their long legs crossed at the knee and extended before them.

Another flare of embarrassed heat burns down your spine. Before you can control yourself, you’ve snatched up a pillow and whacked it into the vampire’s midsection.

Your strike takes Tabaeus off-guard and they squawk in surprise. Leaning close to them, you point in their face, mock anger making your voice lower as you frown. “I’ll remember that slander the next time you want a bite to eat.”

A pout puckers at Tabaeus’s lips, but before they say anything, Ewan’s laugh cuts them off. You both turn to the werewolf and something about him seems softer, wilted. “Sorry, it’s kind of surreal to hear you talk like that.”

“Like what?” You raise your eyebrows.

“I don’t know what it’s like for vampires, but I was always fed these stories of keeping my secret and not getting close to humans. We see it all the time in shows and books too.” Ewan rubs the back of his neck, a rueful smile coloring his lips. “It’s just nice, y’know? To not have to guard myself around you.”

Before you can even think to say something, something dark passes over you and the van shifts abruptly. Where Tabaeus once sat is their brown beret. In the blink of an eye, Tabaeus - through some ridiculous vampire super-speed, you think - has traversed the width of the van and is sitting astride Ewan. Something in the air shifts and the lycan tenses, eyes wide and a blush burning under his stubble. You can’t say your own expression is much better.

Once more, heat claws through you as you drink in the image of Tabaeus straddling Ewan, their skirt inched higher up their stocking-covered thigh. Ewan’s hands raise, fingers flexing, as if uncertain of what to do. Either to pull Tabaeus closer or push them away.

Tabaeus grasps Ewan by the collar, leaning close to the man’s face. “We came out for fun, not for further tense conversations.”

Ewan’s green gaze bounces from Tabaeus’s hands to their face. The flustered shock melts away when he meets the vampire’s gaze. You’re not sure if it’s bravado or not, but Ewan raises his eyebrows as a smirk curls at his lips, flashing sharp canines. His hands slide along Tabaeus’s thighs, until he grips their hips. “Oh, so you want to have some fun?”

“Perhaps. We did discuss some things at the diner involving our friend, did we not?”

“Oh, that’s right.”

Tabaeus turns back toward you, Ewan leaning to peer around the vampire. Their expressions are similar, but diametrically different in feel. Tabaeus peers over their round glasses with a soft cunning smile while Ewan’s roguish crooked smirk tilts at his lips. Both have a particular effect on you, bringing goosebumps to your skin and heat to your center.

Resisting the urge to fan yourself to bring the temperature down, you laugh weakly and nod toward the movie screen the three of you are supposed to be watching. “Hey now, what about the movie?”

As you speak, Tabaeus slides off Ewan and begins crawling toward you. Though you’re not against having the particular brand of fun they’re implying, you still can’t help but scoot back. Well, until your back hits the wall of the van.

“Yeah, see, I thought about that. Halflight is playing tonight.” Ewan laughs, also following Tabaeus’s lead.

When you finally register his words, your eyes widen. Halflight was a book series, followed by movie adaptations, that had a huge following nearly fifteen years earlier. The most notable thing about it was it entailed a human teenage girl stuck in a triangle between a vampire and werewolf. And the fans had been absolutely savage when it came to their ‘teams.’

The implications claw through you and you barely keep the laughter from your voice as you cry, “Why Halflight?”

As you’re trying to choke down amusement, Tabaeus’s cool touch brushes your cheek. Your gaze jumps up to them and they smile down at you. Amusement glitters in their eye as their thumb brushes your burning cheek again and you realize just how flushed you are.

“I figured we could roast the shit out of it.” Ewan’s voice tears your gaze back to him. In the dark of the van, your heart patters seeing his green eyes glow. With his shoulders hunched as he moves across the van and the way the muscles in his arms flex, Ewan appears much more animal. As he nears you, opposite of Tabaeus, you can feel just how hot his body heat is running. “Or we wouldn’t miss anything too engaging if we got, ah, distracted.”

In an instant, you recall your earlier thoughts concerning both companions’ body temperature. Hot and cool. The way it’d feel to be touched by both. Your breath catches in your throat, a tingle cresting over your flesh as you realize you might have some practical knowledge of that very musing very soon.

Ewan’s hand brushes against your leg, burning hot through the fabric of the damned bat pajamas. “So, what do you say? Wanna have some fun?”

A whimper bubbles out from you at Ewan’s touch - both of their touches - and you press your face into your hands. “You two are too much.”

The air in the van suddenly shifts. Tabaeus pulls away and you think the way the vehicle jostles, Ewan is sitting back on his knees. They’re both giving you space.

“Ah, my apologies, amata.”

“I’m sorry. Kinda much, I guess.”

Both of them speak at once, their tones synchronized with sincere apology. Slipping your hands a little down your face, you peer at them from just above your fingertips. Tabaeus appears uncertain of what to do, stricken even. Their hand is half-raised to touch you but not daring to close the final gap. Ewan has retreated some, a guilty expression on his face.

You let them hang for another beat or two, before piping up in a small, bashful voice, “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

Those words perk them up. Tabaeus’s hand finally bridges the last few inches, gingerly touching your shoulder as Ewan scoots closer, like a dog hoping for a treat. He grins, cocking his head to the side as he leans in closer. Your heart catches again, flicking down to his lips. “Sooo…?”

From Ewan to Tabaeus, your gaze swings. They, too, are leaning closer with anticipation. The way they smile makes you think they already know your answer. Part of you wonders just what sort of plans Ewan and Tabaeus could concoct to release the vampire of their jealousy.

They certainly had to be good plans, right? Can’t let good plans go to waste, temptation croons. Not quite believing your own actions - or maybe your good fortune - you let go of the breath you’ve been holding. Both of your hands reach out to the other two, hooking your fingers into the neckline of both their tops.

“Yeah, sure. Let’s have some fun.”

#exophilia #exo writing #vampire #werewolf #lycan #2nd pov #2nd person #vampire x reader #werewolf x reader #ot3 ot3 ot3 #tabaeus #ewan #amata #oh how attention from both a vampire and werewolf can make you forget about creeps #lol

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