#but goddamn it would have been nice to be in bed earlier than that! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

m1ckeyb3rry · 6 months ago

Text

Synopsis: Years after you leave Japan, Rin Itoshi finally wins the World Cup. As he promised he would, he comes to find you afterwards. (part one here!)

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Rin x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.1k

Content Warnings: rin is lowkey nice and therefore ooc because he’s implied to have matured (considering he’s like in his twenties atp), one reference to another fic of mine, almost as cheesy as part one, reader and her bff have to interact w a misogynist, nagi and barou mentions because they are my goats

A/N: @why2277 requested a part two for cherry tree so yk i had to deliver!! hehe this isn’t super romantic or anything because it’s rin and he’s allergic to emotions lowkey but i hope it’s fun anyways 🥹

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

From the window of the apartment you were renting for your final year of university, you could see a weeping willow tree. It was lovely and old, its leaves swaying in the slightest wind, and in the sunlight, it was too benevolent to be anything but ethereal. During the warmer months, you used to spread out a blanket in the grass beneath its shade and work on your homework, but now that there was a chill creeping into the air, you could only gaze longingly at it whenever you passed and imagine what it would be like in spring, when the temperature outside was once again tolerable.

Sometimes, on particularly stormy nights, the shapes of the leaves would coalesce into something resembling a man or monster. In those times, you would wish there was a room you could run to, albeit not out of any fear — you weren’t as easy to frighten as you had once been. It was nostalgia, horrible and sickening, which made your stomach turn and your heart palpitate, longing for a particular bed, a familiar embrace, though both were on the other side of the world and had been far out of your reach for years upon years now.

“Jeez,” your best friend said as the two of you elbowed your way into getting seats at the bar. Her university’s break had started earlier than yours, so instead of going directly to your hometown, she had come to visit you first, and of course in celebration of your reunion, you both had decided to visit the most popular bar in the area. “What’s going on? Hey, dude, what’s everyone watching?”

The man she was talking about spun around in surprise, his eyes enormous at her question, like he found it impossible that she was asking such a thing. She scowled at him, waiting for him to answer; when he realized she was being serious, he scoffed.

“It’s the World Cup final,” he said, before adding, under his breath, “Fucking girls.”

“The World Cup?” you said, your interest piqued despite his less than savory addition. “Who’s playing?”

Your best friend gave you a surprised look. “Since when have you cared about soccer?”

The man gave you a measured look, his face still pinched with distaste, and then he shrugged. “Japan and Germany. Craziest shit I’ve seen in a while. Never thought the Japanese team would get so far, but they’re goddamn monsters. Germany’s in the lead for the moment, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Japan turns it around and makes a comeback victory.“

“I see,” you said, craning your neck so you could see the small TV in the corner. Your best friend nudged you in the side, and when you glanced at her out of the corner of your eye, her brow was furrowed in confusion.

“What’s the big deal?” she said. “I didn’t realize you were into sports.”

“I’m not,” you said. “I was just reminded of something when he mentioned the World Cup, that’s all.”

You wondered if he was playing, and if so, whether he, too, remembered that half-awake promise he had made you. You wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t. If you were any smarter, any less stubborn, you would’ve forgotten as well.

“Holy fucking shit!” the man shouted as the screen flashed in celebration of a goal.

“What?” your best friend said, enthralled, though her expression soured every time she glanced at the rude man, who the two of you were sadly dependent on for explanations.

“That was such a clean shot,” he said, eyes sparkling. “Rin Itoshi…he’s an amazing player. True, sometimes people forget that, because half of his teammates are the biggest peacocks known to mankind and hog all of the attention with their showboating, but I’d take him over Seishiro Nagi or Shoei Barou any day. Maybe he doesn’t have that flair or power, but he’s technically perfect, and that’s something none of the others can claim — not even that genius playmaker, Isagi!”

You didn’t know enough about soccer or the Japanese team to have an opinion on the rest of his claims, but you did know about Rin Itoshi, so you smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah, Rin’s pretty cool.”

Your best friend, who had finally caught up to what you were talking about, snickered. “That’s not what you used to say. I recall you hating him quite a bit.”

The man fully spun around in his barstool, glaring at you with his arms folded over his chest, his left hand gripping a beer. “On what grounds could one possibly hate Rin Itoshi? Name any player, and I’ll explain why he’s clear of them. Seriously, aren’t females supposed to like Rin? For his looks and all?”

You and your best friend exchanged glances before slowly inching away. There was no point in entertaining the man further; he was just inclined to see the worst in you two no matter what, and you would probably be better off trying to find another bar or just heading to your house for the night.

“Ah, I don’t really know any other players,” you admitted, grabbing your purse and slinging it on your shoulder. “I just happened to live with the Itoshis for a while during my first year of college.”

“What?” the man shrieked, though thankfully the music and chattering was so loud that only a couple of heads turned. “You lived in a house with Rin Itoshi?”

“Uh…” you trailed off, looking around and spotting the door at the same time as your best friend. Without even a signal, both of you took off for the exit at once, leaving the now-sputtering man behind and not slowing down until you were well down the street.

“I hate guys like that,” your best friend gasped out, leaning against the wall of a bagel shop, which was closed due to the late hour. “What a jerk.”

“Honestly,” you agreed. “At least he was kind of helpful, even if he did repeatedly insult our gender and treat us like children.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Rin Itoshi, huh? That’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. Feeling nostalgic?”

“A bit,” you said. “I told you he had a crush on me, didn’t I? Or at least, I think he did. I’m not sure if he realized it himself.”

“Yup, I remember. It explained a lot more of his actions than it really should’ve,” she said.

“Well, the truth is that the night I asked him about his feelings, he told me he didn’t have a crush on me or anything, but that after he retired from soccer for good, things might be different,” you said. This was something you hadn’t told anyone, not even her. For some reason, there had been a seriousness to the way he spoke, and at the time it had felt like a betrayal to share it with another person. Then, when you had moved back home at the end of the semester and the two of you had stopped speaking entirely, it had faded from the forefront of your mind, locked away alongside the rest of your memories from those strange few months.

“No way,” she said with a chuckle. “Did he think you’d wait for that long? Soccer players don’t retire until they’re in their thirties, right? That’s a long time to expect someone to keep you in their mind.”

“I told him as much, but as you know, I was apparently a huge distraction to his soccer career, so he couldn’t have me ruining that or whatever. Anyways, uh, he promised that once he won the World Cup, he’d come and find me,” you said. “So. I was just reminiscing a bit over that, I guess.”

“Do you think he will?” she said. You shook your head.

“Of course not,” you said. “He’s famous now. I mean, random men in bars praise him, so he must be a celebrity, right? There’s a lot of girls he could have, and anyways, I myself wouldn’t have even thought of it if that guy hadn’t brought him and the World Cup up. Why would it be any different for Rin?”

“That’s fair,” your best friend said. “Fame changes people.”

“Right,” you said. “It’s just a cool story that I can tell at parties now. Like, did you know that famous footballer Rin Itoshi once told me I was the most annoying person he had ever met? I bet it’ll be a real winner.”

“Fascinating tale,” she said.

“Thanks,” you said. “Like I said, it’ll be popular with the crowds for sure. Ah, provided that they believe me, of course.”

“That’s true,” she said, snorting in amusement. “It does kinda sound like you’re making it up. You were too busy arguing with him constantly, too, so you never even took any photos with him.”

“I know,” you said. “Oh, well. They can believe me or not. It did happen, so who cares what anyone else thinks?”

“Very mature,” your best friend said with a nod. “Moving on, what should we do next? That bar’s kinda out of the question.”

“Technically, I do still have class tomorrow,” you reminded her. “So maybe sleeping is a good idea?”

“Ugh, I forgot about that,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “Sorry. Yeah, let’s get back. We can do more stuff once we’re home and off for the week.”

“Sounds good to me,” you said. “It looks like it’s going to rain soon, anyways, so that’s probably for the best.”

You were right — almost as soon as you entered your apartment, the earlier breezes turned to gales, and one of those storms which was not quite wintry but gray and gloomy regardless churned into existence. You and your best friend were quick to get ready, both surprisingly exhausted, and then she made herself comfortable on your couch while you settled in your bed, pulling the blankets up over your shoulders and staring out of your window, watching the bare branches of the willow thrash about desperately, like they were searching for something that they could never have.

The break was short but relaxing, and before you knew it, you were back at your apartment in school, although you didn’t have your best friend’s company this time. You settled back into your typical routine, and within a few days, your life was once again mundane and usual. Any thoughts of the past or of excitement vanished in the haze of working and studying, and indeed it sometimes felt like you were more of a zombie trudging through life until the winter next became alive instead of dull.

Two weeks after you returned to university, you were walking home in the evening after a study group meeting in the library, humming to yourself and texting one of your friends about a homework assignment, when you became acutely aware of footsteps mirroring your own. You tested it out, first slowing and then speeding up your pace, but no matter what you did, they matched you so eerily that you became genuinely worried.

Swallowing, you sped up again, hoping you could, in some way, outrun this pursuer which you had picked up. When the pat-pat of sneakers on concrete behind you sped up as well, you gasped and then broke into a run. This wasn’t just the beginning of every horror movie but also of many true-crime documentaries. A girl. A dark evening. A mysterious stalker. Were you going to be murdered or something?

“You’re painfully slow,” your would-be assailant said, keeping up with your full sprint and not even sounding winded. “Anyways, why are we running? Did you take up jogging once you left Japan or something?”

You skidded to a stop, turning to see a familiar figure a few steps behind you. When he noticed you had stopped, he did as well, and though he tried to fight it, a tiny smile threatened to bloom on his face when he noticed your awed expression.

He was wearing a pair of loose joggers and an oversized sweatshirt, which wasn’t his typical sense of style but suited him, as everything did; additionally, despite the late hour, there was a pair of sunglasses pushed up into his hair, which shone in the light of the street lamp you both stood under. His hands were shoved in his pockets, though he raised his right to wave at you shyly, the bridge of his nose and the apples of his cheeks pink — whether from the biting cold or something else, you could not tell.

“Rin?” you said. He nodded. “Rin, what are you—?”

You broke off in disbelief, unable to even move. In your wildest dreams, when you pictured reuniting with him, you had imagined something more romantic. Perhaps one of you would pick the other up from the airport, and you’d dash towards him and leap into his arms and he’d spin you about and — well, now that you thought about it more, that was a little unrealistic. Rin had never been that kind of person. The distance between you two had made your heart grow fonder, and time had formed a rosy film over your memories, but Rin as you had truly known him had always been standoffish and awkward.

“We won the World Cup,” he said. “No. I won it.”

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, I — I saw you score.”

His stare was arresting, his eyes the same brilliant shade as a writhing sea, framed by dark lashes which fluttered as nervously as a wasp’s wings. For a second, you thought he must be waiting for you to say something else, but you dismissed the thought in turn. What else would you even say?

After a second, he exhaled, his breath forming crystals in the air. “Yeah. Well, uh, I’m sure you’ve forgotten by now, but I told you, didn’t I? That once I won the World Cup, I’d find you?”

“I didn’t forget,” you said, swallowing. “I thought you might’ve, though.”

“I wouldn’t,” he said. “I’m mad at you, so of course I needed to see you again.”

“Mad at me?” you said.

“Yes,” he said. “I was so sure it would be better once you left, but it got worse. I thought of you even more. It was awful.”

“Didn’t seem to impact your soccer career any,” you pointed out.

“Maybe it did. Maybe I’d be even better if it weren’t for you,” he said. You waited for him to laugh. He didn’t, but there was mirth shimmering in his irises, which was close enough, so you allowed yourself to shake your head in amusement.

“I guess we’ll never know,” you said.

“Guess not,” he said.

“How did you even do it?” you said. “Find me, I mean.”

“I knew which university you went to,” he said.

“That’s it?” you said. “It’s not like this is a small school.”

“Believe me, I know,” he said. “I’ve been here since last Thursday.”

“Seriously?” you said.

“Seriously,” he affirmed. “I’ve been spending every day on campus looking for you. It took me a while, but I didn’t want to give up until I saw you again.”

“You did all of that and nobody recognized you?” you said.

“One of my teammates hates the media so much that he’s perfected the art of disguising himself in public. I figured that if it works for him, despite him being built like a white-haired telephone pole, it would probably do fine for my purposes,” he said.

“I see,” you said. “I guess that’s what’s the deal with the clothes.”

“Exactly,” he said.

“Well,” you said. “I don’t…I mean, I don’t really know what to say. I never thought I’d actually see you again, so this is kind of a lot. I’m sorry.”

“Did you want to?” he said.

“Huh?” you said.

“Did you want to see me again?” he said, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Did you ever think about me?”

“Let’s walk back to my apartment,” you said instead of answering the question. “I want to show you something.”

“Okay,” he said, walking at your side obligingly, though he kept a careful distance between you both. You did not try to close it, not yet. It didn’t feel right.

“By the way, why did you follow me like a creep?” you said as you changed course towards your apartment complex. “You should’ve just said hi like a normal person instead of scaring me.”

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. I just didn’t want to say anything.”

“Didn’t want to?” you said.

“Couldn’t,” he amended. “I didn’t realize how hard it would be until I saw you again. I had so many things I needed to tell you, and as soon as you were in front of me, I forgot them all.”

“That’s a shame,” you said. “If you remember any, let me know.”

He mulled this over for a moment before clearing his throat. “My brother’s getting married soon.”

“Really? How exciting,” you said. You had never met Sae Itoshi, so the news didn’t strike you one way or another, but you were just glad to hear Rin’s voice again, so you would’ve listened to him talking about anything and been happy about it.

“Yeah, it’s this girl he met while they were both on vacation by the beach in Spain,” he said. “She accidentally tackled him while trying to get her sandwich back from a seagull.”

“That’s a fun story,” you said. “Imagine your kids ask you how you met their mother and you get to tell them that.”

“There’s more to it, surprisingly,” he said. “But anyways, yeah, she’s nice. I don’t mind her that much.”

“Given that she’s going to be a part of your family, it’s good that you get along with her,” you said.

“Mhm,” he said. “Can you come?”

“To the wedding? Er, I don’t think I’m invited,” you said.

“I’m inviting you,” he said, his throat bobbing as he averted his gaze. “I want you to come. With me.”

“Oh,” you said. His eyes widened slightly.

“Am I — are you — um, Y/N. You don’t have a boyfriend or anything, right?” he said.

The two of you had reached the willow tree. You paused, gazing up at it. The branches no longer had their leaves, and it seemed more depressing and spindly instead of lush and inviting, as it did in the summer months. Rin stopped next to you, and you shifted so that there was only a hair’s breadth between your arm and his.

“When it rains really hard, this tree looks like a creature from one of those horror movies you used to watch,” you said. “It doesn’t scare me, not hardly, but I always wish I could run to you anyways. I guess there’s your answer. Every time there was a storm, I thought of you. Every time I saw this tree, I thought of you. Every time someone mentioned owls or soccer or scary films, I thought of you. So, yes. Sometimes, occasionally — or perhaps frequently, depending on how you see it — I did think of you. I did want to see you again.”

“What about the second question?” he said.

“A lot of people have tried,” you said. “Guys have asked me out. Friends have set me up and convinced me to go on blind dates. It never really works out, though. In the back of my mind, I’ve always been waiting for someone else. For a major jerk, in fact. The biggest jerk on the planet. Everyone probably thinks I’m crazy. It’s a ridiculous thing to say aloud, and even more ridiculous to actually do it, but here I am.”

“How long will you keep waiting for him?” he said.

“A while,” you said. “At least until I can meet someone as annoying as he is. I’ve been bored without him, and I don’t take well to boredom.”

Rin’s features were settled in a contemplative mask, his brows drawn together and his head tilted slightly. It was your chance to watch him; you had nothing more to say, so you opted for silence. Things like confessions and feelings weren’t really your style, nor were they his, but you hoped that he would understand what you had meant regardless. Just this once. Even if he never did again, this once, you wanted him to understand you.

“Thank you,” he said, and then: “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” you said.

“For making you wait. For letting you be bored,” he said. “Although it’s not my fault. I could’ve won the World Cup the year you left if it had happened then, and then we would’ve met again way sooner.”

“It’s okay. Listen, Rin, I want to — no, I have to ask you something,” you said, and then you took a deep breath to steady yourself. “Come summer, will I still be able to see you? Can I show you this tree once it has its leaves, or is this the last time?”

The last time. Was this reunion like a fleeting dream? Would it be better or worse when you were split apart from him anew? How much longer could you bear to keep waiting for him? You had no idea, but it seemed impossible, the thought of being apart from him once more.

“If you come home with me, you can always see me,” he said. “There’s another tree there. One that you’ll remember. Is that close enough?”

“What about my job and my life here?” you said, taken aback at the bold offer, which felt a little out of the blue, although maybe it shouldn’t have. “I’ll graduate this year, and then I’ll start working. How can I leave all of that behind?”

“You don’t have to leave it behind forever. Not if you don’t want to,” he said. “I’d never make you do that. But Sae’s — the wedding, it’s in the spring. The cherry tree will have flowers then. I can show it to you. You never saw it like that, I don’t think, but you’ll like it. I’m sure you will.”

A ghostly wind whistled through the willow tree’s branches, and the street lamp illuminating Rin’s face flickered. Part of you had never really believed you’d look upon that face again, no matter how much you had wanted to. His features were different from the last time you had seen him, a little sharper, more weathered, the once-permanent scowl replaced with a blank, neutral expression as he waited for you to respond, but it was still his face before you.

“It’ll be warm there, won’t it?” you said. “I’m always cold here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “It’ll be warm. Are you cold right now?”

You nodded. He made to shrug off his sweatshirt, but you shook your head, catching his arm and then placing it around your shoulders. He cocked his head at you, and then, all at once, recognition flashed in his eyes. Wrapping the other arm around you of his own volition, he pulled you into his chest carefully, unsurely, his heart pounding — you knew because you could hear it, could feel it, the way it beat against his sternum like a battle-cry.

“I miss it,” you said. “I was only there for one semester, but I still miss it.”

It, or him? Maybe both. Definitely both.

“You don’t have to anymore,” he said. You wondered if he meant his home, which in a way was also your home, or if he was talking about himself. “It’s yours. It’ll always be yours. Our roles are reversed now, I guess.”

“Reversed?” you said. You must’ve sounded like an idiot or an echo, dumbly repeating everything he said without comprehension.

“I’ll be the one waiting,” he said. “And if you want…you can come and find me. I won’t make it hard. I’ll be where I always have been.”

“Do you think you can wait as long as I did?” you said.

“If I have to,” he said. “Will you make me?”

“No,” you said. “No, I won’t. You only have to wait until the spring. Then I’ll be there, and I don’t think — to tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ll be able to leave once I am.”

“Is it wrong if I say good?” he said.

“Maybe,” you said. His body was likely akin to a furnace or something, you thought, for curiously, in his embrace, you no longer felt frigid, though it had only gotten cooler and cooler out. “But even if it is, I won’t be the one to judge you for it.”

“Good,” he muttered breathlessly. “Good.”

You smiled broadly this time, broadly and fully, though he couldn’t see you do it — or maybe it was because of that fact that you could beam like this, as brightly as if you had won the lottery. Then again, you supposed that to you if no one else, you had. After all, somehow, despite all odds, Rin had found you again, and this time, he wouldn’t leave. Never again would he leave, not entirely, and if he did ever go, it would only be to a place where he could wait for you longer.

“Yes,” you said. “Yes, Rin. It’s good.”

#rin x reader #rin x y/n #rin x you #itoshi rin #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #canon au #m1ckeyb3rry requests #m1ckeyb3rry writes

163 notes · View notes

dragon-kazansky · 1 year ago

Text

Veil of the dreamless

Morpheus x Reader

A cursed Morpheus holds your father prisoner when he enters The Dreaming without permission. You, also able to enter the realm, take his place. Now a prionser to the Dream Lord, you do all you can to learn about the curse and hopefully break it.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Two - Curse of the Dreaming

☆☆☆

The figure steps out of the shadows, and you feel yourself unable to breathe. He is unlike anything you have ever seen before. He is unnatural.

From head to toe, he is covered in feathers. Two large wings sprout from his back. They are large and make him even scarier to look at. His eyes are the most piercing blue, however.

"You dare make demands of me in my own castle?" He growls through his teeth.

"Let my father go."

"Never!"

"Then I'll take his place!"

"No!" Your father yells. He begs and pleads over and over.

"You would take his place?" The creature asks.

"Yes... send him home, and I will stay as your prisoner... Punish me instead." You look him in the eye.

"Foolish mortal. You would take his place for his freedom? You're a lot more stupid than I thought."

"I don't care. Insult me all you like. Just let my father go..."

Your father tries to plead again, but the creature ignores him. He holds up his claw like hand and blows what looks like sand toward your father. You turn and gasp as he vanishes from the cell. You turn to ask where he went, but you find yourself pushed into the cell. It locks behind you.

"You made your choice. Live with it."

The "King of Nightmares" vanishes back into the shadows. The candle nearby distinguishes. You're left with only the dark for company.

You sigh as you sit in the cell. You curl up into a ball and think of your father. You think of Hob.

The Dreaming is real, but it is nothing like you read about. This place... was a nightmare.

Some time passes. You're not sure how much of it, though. The darkness seems to stretch on for ages. You're about to nod off when you hear a sound.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

You slowly rise from where you lay on the ground. You can't see through the dark, but you can hear the tapping and the sound of wings flapping.

"Goddamn it, open." Someone grunts.

"Hello?" You call out.

"Just... just hold on!" He says.

"Who's there?"

The tapping continues, and within moments, light floods the hallway. You blink to adjust to the sudden brightness and then find yourself looking at a woman, who had just lit the candles, and.... a bird?

"Are you alright?" The woman asks.

"Yes..." You stand up. "Who are you?"

"My name is Lucienne. This is Matthew." You look at the bird as she gestures to it.

"The crow?"

"Raven," he corrects.

"You talk?"

"Yeah. Get used to it." He caws.

You look back at Lucienne, who smiles slightly. She can tell by looking at you that you have questions. She reaches over and pulls the lever near by, the gate to the cell opens. Matthew had been trying to pull it himself, but couldn't.

"Come with me."

You cautiously step out of the cell. "Who are you? What are you?"

Lucienne smiles. "I am the librarian. Or was."

You tilt your head as you try and piece everything together.

"Should you be letting me out?"

Lucienne goes silent for a moment before speaking. "Not exactly, but I can not sit by and let you stay in that cell. You leave Lord Morpheus to us."

"Lord Morpheus?"

"The man you met earlier."

"Man?"

Lucienne sighs softly. "I'll explain later."

The librarian leads you up the dark stairs and into a dimly lit hall. Matthew flies over your head and goes on ahead. You continue to follow Lucienne as she leads you through the palace.

There is no sign of that creature you saw earlier. The whole building is eerily quiet.

You are led up a set of stairs and down the Eastern hall. Lucienne brings you to a nicely decorated room. You step inside and look around. A nestly made bed sits up against against wall, and a large wardrobe takes up one corner. There is a large window that has a view over the front of the palace.

"You can stay in here."

You turn and look at Lucienne. "In this room?"

"Yes. It's much more comfortable than sleeping in a cell." She smiles.

"Are you sure this will be okay?"

"You let me worry about Lord Morpheus. You just enjoy the room."

You walk in a little further. "I... I read a book about dreaming. A realm where dreams take place. The description of the palace in the book kind of matches this one, but everything feels so off here. It's all so much darker... emptier."

Lucienne glances down at her shoes before meeting your eyes again. A look of deep-rooted sadness crosses her expression. "The Dreaming was once such a place, yes. That was a long time ago."

"What happened?" You ask softly.

Matthew perches on the end of the bed and looks up at you. "The curse."

"Thr curse? Like... the kind in fairytales?"

"Yes, quite," Lucienne confirms.

"I want to know." You say, sitting down on the bed.

"It was almost a century ago."

"A century?"

"Yes. This is the Dreaming. We, that is, those of us who live here are immortal. Dream was visited by one of his siblings. Unfortunately, things did not end well. Desire decided to get back at Dream in the worst way they could. They made a deal. The result was a curse."

"So he didn't always look like that?" You ask, voice turning soft.

"No. He was human looking. I'd show you a painting if we had any, but he despised looking at himself after the curse." Lucienne explains.

"And I assume there were others here?"

"Yes. Many of us. Thousands. But ad the years went by, more and more of them left. Lord Morpheus became... difficult to deal with. I can't say I blame them for leaving."

"But you stayed. Matthew too."

"Yes. I'm very loyal to our King. I shall stay as long as possible."

"Me too!" Matthew chimes in.

You smile at the pair of them. "At least he's not completely alone."

Lucienne smiles, too. "Lonliness would only make him worse. He needs the company, even if he denies it."

"Isn't there a way to break the curse?" You ask curiously.

"Well..." Lucienne and Matthew glance at each other. "If there is, we're not sure what it is."

You don't pick up that she's lying.

"Oh..."

"I'll leave you to rest. I'll bring you up some dinner later."

You thank her and watch both Lucienne and Matthew leave. You sigh as you close the door behind them and turn back to the room. You decide to rest. There was a lot that had happened today and you needed to gather your thoughts.

Lucienne and Matthew headed down the hall.

"Do you think they're the one?" Matthew asks.

Lucienne sighs quietly. "Quite possibly."

"Are we going to meddle?"

Lucienne smiles. "A little meddling shouldn't hurt."

Matthew caws.

☆☆☆

@littleblackcatinwonderland - @kpopgirlbtssvt - @missdreamofendless -

#veil of the dreamless #morpheus x reader #the sandman #beauty and the beast au #dragon writes

106 notes · View notes

sgtbradfords · 2 years ago

Note

Chenford+ part 2 to love confessions 🥺🙏🏻

Read Part One, here!

Tim's knuckles rapped against the wooden door.

tap, tap, tap

Impatiently he rocked back on his heels, shoving either hand into the front pockets of his jeans as he breathed in deeply through his nose. He held the breath for a handful of seconds. One. Two... Five. Before slowly releasing it out the same way.

They had come close today. Had the barrel of the pistol been pointed another inch or two to the right, Lucy Chen would no longer be among the living.

The thought caused the ever present knot in his stomach, to twist. Earlier that morning, he had awoken in bed to the sound of his aggravating alarm, cold and alone, just like he had every morning for the last seventy-three days. Only this morning had been somewhat of an anomaly. There had been a feeling, something confined to the realms of his stomach and head, that had him immediately on edge. And Tim, he had long ago learned that not listening to that feeling, was apt to get you killed.

The metallic sound of a lock turning, dragged him out of the nightmare they'd almost lived.

Lucy stood before him with her hair in an errant mess, darkened strands that had become tangled from relentless tossing and turning, wearing a black shirt Tim recognizes as one of his own. He doesn't know what else he had been expecting, knowing that the hands on the clock were inching further and further away from the midnight hour, but it wasn't this.

"Don't you think you chewed my ass out enough for one evening, Sergeant Bradford?" Her voice rasped as she stood in the doorway, effectively blocking him from entering into her humble abode. "Or did you come here for round two?"

He glanced over her shoulder. The apartment Tim had once considered to be his second home, was casted only in the faint glow that came from kitchen. A part of him expected her to still be a awake, possibly sitting in front of the TV with a plate of comfort food and a glass of wine, decompressing in only ways that would work for Lucy. But the other part, the part that knows exactly how Lucy handles the tougher days of the job, knows that it was wishful thinking.

His gaze met the brown eyes that haunted both his dreams and his nightmares, finding a storm that raged behind them.

She was pissed.

And rightly so.

He had been more than a little harsh earlier as she sat alone along the running board of the ambulance. There was a sterile white bandage covering the graze along her neck, the only injury visible to the eyes but Tim knew that had sustained a hit to her vest and that a black and blue bruise would be marring her sking for days to come.

'You're fucking lucky to not be laying on the fucking concrete with a bullet in your head.'

'How could you have been so reckless?'

'Did you learn nothing as my goddamn boot, Officer Chen?'

Reflecting on his words as he sat in darkness of his office, unable to go home for reasons he knew all too well, harsh was too nice of a word to call his admonishing. He had been running off the adrenaline that came after the intense situation and had let his fear, his emotions, cloud every word that flowed freely off his tongue.

But that doesn't excuse his behavior.

He had been a complete asshole.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Tim hopes he can undo the damage he has caused. He had thought in the silence on the drive over to her apartment, about what he could say or what he could do to rectify the situation.

Obviously he could apologize, offer Lucy an 'i'm sorry', 'i'm an asshole', or a 'you didn't deserve that.', that could provide her an explanation for his actions. But this went so much deeper than that.

Seventy-three days ago, he broke up with the woman who had wormed her way into his heart, and become the most important person in his life.

Because you have to protect your heart before worse comes to worst, right?

Thirty-four days ago, he had shown up at the same door he stood in front of now, with the lame excuse of looking for one of his black Metro shirts and for some reason unbeknownst to him, she had let him in.

That next morning, as the sun rose in the eastern sky and the early morning traffic began their daily commute, the woman he loves had told him that he'd "Lost the right to show up here and fuck me when you broke up with me, Tim.".

Hearing those words come from her mouth with such venom, was worse than any gunshot, stab wound or broken bone.

And yet instead of fixing the situation then - instead of sitting down on the edge of her bed and explaining his fears, telling her just how afraid he is to once again lose someone he loves, someone he would lay his own life down for, he had briskly finished getting dressed and walked away.

But standing here now, Tim was determined to make things right.

Even if it was too late.

Lucy's gaze softened at his silence. "Tim?"

Surging forward, his hand framed her face before his lips roughly captured her own.

A quiet noise of surprise fell past her lips and for a split second did she freeze, long enough for Tim to realize what he was doing and contemplate pulling away, but then she responded. Her arms wrapped around the back of his neck while her nails scraped gently across his scalp.

He walked her backwards and in the direction of the kitchen island until her back touched the cool stone, causing her to gasp.

"I can't lose you." he whispered, closing his eyes as he rested his forehead against her own. Their breaths mingled, his lips brushing against hers. "I won't lose you, Lucy."

The push of his chest had him opening his eyes as she took the opportunity to escape. Something inside his chest fractured as he watched her move across the kitchen.

"I'm not doing this again, Tim." Lucy gasped, pulling open the refrigerator door without a second thought.

No longer were they open books and there were walls that had once been demolished, that had once again been built from the bottom up. But he was more than willing to take his walls down brick by brick, if she was willing to do the same.

"You hurt me."

"I know I did," He acknowledged softly, taking a seat behind the counter of the island as she closed the refrigerator door and turned around to face him. "But that was never my intentions, Lucy."

Lucy raised a brow, placing an unopened bottle of water onto the counter that stood in between them. She hadn't been expecting him to be so willing and open, but Tim was determined to right his wrongs.

"It wasn't a lie when I told you that you're good at what you do, Luce." he started off slowly, watching as her brow creased. "But I had already been down that road once before and when you started studying for the detective's exam, looking into moving to intelligence or narcotics in order to continue working undercover, it brought up some things from the past that I never dealt with."

"So instead of us talking about it, you thought the best course of action was to break up with me?"

He leaned back on the barstool, crossing his arms over his chest. "I wasn't going to stand in your way."

Her brown eyes searched his own, looking for a hint of fabrication as she worried her bottom lip in between her teeth.

"Why didn't you just tell me?"

Dryly he found himself releasing a noisy breath, shaking his head. "Lucy, we never talked."

"That's not true," she exclaimed defensively. "We talked all the time."

"We either talked about work or we didn't talk at all. But besides that night where you told me how much you love working undercover, we never sat down and had a conversation about the things that would affect our relationship." Taking a steadying breath, he continued to rip off the Band-Aid. "I went to Grey about the Court Liaison position without talking to you about it first, and you made moves behind my back to get me out of that position and into Metro. You kept the fact that you were studying for the detectives exam and I didn't tell you that I was talking to Isabel until the morning she showed up here.

Those were things we should have discussed with one another, instead of making decisions that we thought were in the other's best interests."

A silence fell over the conversation as he watches Lucy glance away. He doesn't think he knows she's doing it, but her hand raises to absentmindedly play with the pendant of the necklace he had given her all those months ago. He didn't realize she still had it. With good reason, she never wore it anymore.

"You're right," her gaze returned to his own. "Communication is key in any relationship and somehow, we both managed to let one of our greatest qualities, become our biggest flaw."

Tim pursed his lips, nodding along in agreement. They had always excelled at communicating, even before they took that extra step to further their relationship. But just like many aspects of any relationship, correspondence was something that you had to continuously maintain.

"I never meant to keep anything from you." he licked his lips, finding his mouth suddenly parched as he reached across the counter for the unopened bottle of water. "I let my past get in the way of what matters most and for that, I'm sorry Lucy. You deserve better."

He watched as she gave him a brief nod, her gaze softening with every passing second, and Tim thinks that for the first time in almost four months, they're finally on the right track.

"Well if we're going to talk about it, then think I should apologize too." Tim found himself opening his mouth to interject. Just because he was apologizing, didn't mean she had to, but then she made her way around the island. "Being with you was the most important relationship I've ever been in, and while I tried to treat it as such, repeatedly I failed."

Tim twisted his body on the barstool, turning to face Lucy as she took the seat beside him.

"Tim?" she tilted her head slightly to the side, her voice soft as she clasped her hands together in her lap. "Where do we go from here?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand over the five o'clock shadow that was sprinkled along his jaw.

Colleagues. Acquaintances. Friends. Wherever they decided to go, the term that defined who they were to one another, would never be enough. But a relationship... Were either of them ready to dive right back in?

"Come over," Lucy's brow raised as he blurted out the first semblance of a thought that came to his mind, before quickly backtracking. "For- for dinner. A meal. Food. Between two..."

Awkwardly he chortled, drumming his fingers where they rested on top of his thigh.

"Between two...?" She repeated with the hint of a smile pulling at either corner of her lip.

"Between us."

"Us." Lucy stated softly and Tim wonders if the word rolled off the tip of her tongue as easily as it did his own. Her gaze searched his own, her teeth digging into her bottom lip. He clinched his fist in his lap in an attempt to prevent himself from reaching out like he used to.

"We can talk," About anything, everything, nothing. Tim wanted to know where her head was at when it came to her working undercover, but he also wanted to know how her day went, he wanted to know how she stepped in gum while chasing down a suspect or how she had slept the night before. The good, the bad, the ugly. He wanted it all. "Whenever you're ready."

"I-"

"No rush." he told her tenderly as he stood. "Just think about it, ok?"

The ball was officially in her court and whatever she decided to do with it, it would be ok. Because having Lucy Chen in his life in any capacity, even if it is nothing more than just being friends, is what he wants.

Giving her one last parting glance, he made his way towards the door feeling much lighter than he had in months.

Tim wasn't sure where things were headed, but somehow he knew, it was all going to be ok.

#fanfic #chenford fanfic #Chenford fic #thanks for the ask!#em answers #the rookie fic

37 notes · View notes

hotforharrison · 1 year ago

Text

Void, we meet again.

It's her birthday tomorrow, and he's going out early to get her a surprise cookie cake from the mall that she casually remarked looked good a while back when they were there.

He didn't do anything special for me on my birthday.

My birthday is New Year's Eve, and we shared every New Year's kiss that he wasn't deployed overseas from 2007 to 2022. He somehow didn't notice that and promised it to her without asking me first, even though it was my birthday, just casually told me that was the case the day before.

I shouldn't have made a fuss about it, but I did, and it turned into my own personal hell that lasted almost a week before I was ultimately forced to apologize to her for my wrongdoing.

(Although she left a hateful and bitchy comment on one of my Facebook posts a few weeks ago, instead of just scrolling on by something she didn't agree with, like a mature adult, which she doesn't have to apologize for. I find that rather ironic -- like how all of her behavior is excused. Next time she is loud enough while they have sex that I can hear her through two closed doors and a pair of headphones, when she has a whole goddamn house of her own all to herself where they can easily go and be as loud as their hearts desire, I am going to blast Taylor Swift as loud as I fucking can. She hates Taylor Swift. But she can just "shake it off.")

Anyway, after my birthday, I set peace and acceptance as goals for 2024, in addition to being present and not having my face buried in my phone. I've been doing a pretty good job of all of those things. (Other than the Taylor Swift thing. I have calmly voiced on multiple occasions that I feel disrespected and suggested the solution of loud sex at her house. Yet it keeps happening.)

For her birthday, she gets a surprise cookie cake and a dinner with her friends, coworkers, and him and whatever else he has planned tomorrow and Thursday that they're spending together as well.

I got crying and yelling and residual bitterness that I've been trying to shake for over two months now.

I pointed out earlier today that he doesn't think of me the way he used to, the way he thinks of her now.

He rather quickly had to grab his phone from the nightstand to say good morning to her when he woke up while I was there in bed with him, and he always tells her good night every single night with a phone call.

I stayed at my parents' house for over two weeks to visit family and go to my high school reunion last fall. He never said good morning or good night to me, not once. I was lucky to get a reply on Discord when I sent him messages. I could count the times we talked on the phone during that two week trip on a single hand.

At least he didn't try to deny it when I pointed it out, and he said he'd try to do better.

I told him I didn't want it if it was forced.

He says he wants to have the both of us, but I find myself questioning what that would mean for me.

When I've brought up dating again, he's always asked if that was me ending things between us.

I told him that it's not, and I mean that sincerely, but feeling like an afterthought --or, really, not even a thought at all-- breaks my heart a little more every single day.

He's on vacation this week from work, and we went on a lunch date today. I dressed up and felt pretty. He noticed and told me I looked nice.

The date went better than the last ones have. He didn't get upset with me, not even a little bit. I was honestly surprised, with how things have been lately.

The restaurant we originally intended to go to was closed due to a lease violation according to a letter on the door, but there were other options in the same parking lot.

We had a really terrible waiter at the one we chose, but the food was good, and the conversation was nice.

What's happened since then was that he went over to spend time with her before their weekly online Dungeons & Dragons session.

After that ended, he immediately headed back over there to see her again and told me he wouldn't be long. It's been over an hour and a half now.

This is a pretty regular occurrence, and I shouldn't be surprised.

I slept for all of 90 minutes last night, less time than he's been there now, and I was hoping to maybe spend some time with him before bed. Not sure if that's going to happen.

He's very much an introvert so he needs to have alone time for his mental health. I would never deny him that. It's important to take care of yourself.

And she's an extrovert, which is additionally taxing for him a lot of the time.

It feels like it's usually alone time, or her time, and I just get whatever scraps are left.

3 notes · View notes

whoredmode · 2 years ago

Text

i have a meeting i have to get to in like less than 30 minutes but first i’m gonna talk about the sr2 christmas story idea i had on my morning run

it’s several months after the end of sr2. dane vogel is dead, dex escaped, and eric gryphon is trying to piece things back together within ultor. the story opens at night on christmas eve. everyone’s kinda free to do whatever; obviously some saints are celebrating at the bases, some went home, others are just out and about. pierce is with his family, shaundi decided to spend this christmas with laura and tobias and their family, and anteros is spending the holiday at troy’s place. their relationship is kinda(?) more official atp. who knows. anyway so anteros and troy are making out on the couch, having had a lot to drink (spiked eggnog so it’s festive) and they were watching christmas specials but lost interest pretty fast. suddenly troy’s phone rings and he goes to answer despite anteros telling him to ignore it. he looks back at anteros, concerned after hearing what the call was about.

cut to johnny in the stilwater pd holding cell. a few hours earlier johnny had been in a bar by himself, trying to ignore all the christmas shit, drowning his sorrows in some cheap beer. several drinks in and some drunk guy started bothering him, recognizing him as johnny gat. the guy keeps harassing him, and even though johnny thought he was doing fine just ignoring him, finally the drunk remarks that johnny looks pathetic, drinking alone in a bar for the holidays since he doesn’t have a wife to spend it with—not anymore. johnny sees red. he breaks his bottle over the guy’s head and begins to smash his head into the bar repeatedly, finally pinning him down and punching him, beating him to death. an off duty cop smashes a bottle across johnny’s head, knocking him unconscious and taking him to the station.

cut back to johnny in the holding cell. he’s asleep on the bench. anteros and troy are just staring at him for a minute before anteros goes in to try to wake him up/carry him out. troy, using his authority, told the department to just let him go. they hesitantly do. anteros wakes up johnny telling him they gotta go (“johnny, get up, c’mon man let’s go home.” “they’re letting me out already?” “yeah, you’re lucky i’m sleeping with the chief.” “heh, that’s pretty funny.” “…..yeah. hilarious. now let’s go.”)

anteros takes him back to his apartment. they briefly consider just going back to troy’s place bc it was closer but….probably better if they didn’t. anteros lays johnny on his bed and waits a minute before asking what happened. johnny doesn’t feel like talking about it, but anteros can tell something’s very wrong.

this is the first christmas johnny’s had to spend without aisha. he’d never been huge on the holidays, but aisha loved it. and she made him learn to love it. he can’t bring himself to go back to their house. it’s empty and undecorated (what would she think?). in fact, he can’t bring himself to do anything that reminds him of her. not since she died. he believes if he just keeps his mind off her, that things will get better, but lately he fears that he’s just ignoring her. and that makes him feel worse. he’s stuck between two worlds; he wants to think about her, and he does, but sooner or later her death flashes in his mind and he’s in a cold sweat and doesn’t know what to do. he misses her. he misses her so goddamn much. he should’ve saved her. why couldn’t he have saved her?

it’s the first time anteros has seen johnny cry. he never thought he was capable of it, in all honesty. he seemed larger than life, a man of legend, but here he was, lying on his bed desperately rubbing the tears out of his eyes.

he just never thought this first christmas would be so hard. he thought he was doing well, but that guy in the bar sent him over the edge. his knuckles are still covered in dried blood. anteros tells him that maybe the first step is to just try to have a nice christmas. if it was her favorite holiday, maybe the least they can do is try to enjoy themselves. the holiday isn’t over yet, they still have an hour or so. she wouldn’t want to see him get shitfaced at some bar; she’d want to see him have fun with people he cared about. if he’s up for it, they just lit up a big tree outside the phillips building a few hours ago. should be pretty. johnny asks if they can set the tree on fire. anteros smiles.

#yeah troy and anteros’ relationship isn’t actually revealed to others until my srtt rewrite. once troy rejoins the saints and all that #like a ‘‘oh by the way…..’’#tho they are broken up by then but Regardless.#anyway. i think johnny deserves some actual space for grieving and introspection. even if they games don’t want it. i want it.#tho i mean ideally i just wouldn’t kill aisha but what do i know!🙄#but the holidays are a good time for reflection. and i think keeping in line with shit in sr2. it’d be good for this

7 notes · View notes

haedia · 2 months ago

Text

Yeah. Looks like tonight is an In Bed Before 9 kind of night. I'm just hoping I don't wake up at like 1am unable to get sleep more. >:C

Goddamn I hate it when this kind of disruption happens thanks to chronic health shit.

More frustrated grumbles below the cut.

The predictable ups and downs of chronic fatigue are annoying but overall tolerable (tolerable being a very load-bearing word there). It's the sudden, unexpected crashes that can happen that make it extra miserable.

I can predict with reasonable accuracy if certain levels of activity will contribute to a fatigue crash or the sparking of Post Exertional Malaise. I'm not always correct on the severity of the reaction or how much of the activity may trigger it but I can usually have a rough idea.

That mental math, unfortunately, uses precious energy to do, and when the brain fog is bad enough, I'm liable to be off enough to be caught out by symptoms. But generally, i can glean enough information to be able to make, well, informed decisions about how to expend energy on a given day.

This means basically everything I want to do has to be penciled in with the lightest of touches because everything is subject to change.

And of course, there's the unexpected crashes. Like today.

I was expecting a bit of a crash at some point today or tomorrow. I've been using a lot of mental energy on art and some physical and social energy lately but I figured I was in for a "normal" crash as a result. One where I'd feel like garbage and my brain would be mush but I could still do at least some things.

And, on the grand scale, today's crash wasn't horrible. Like I said earlier, I wasn't nauseated by it nor did my joints and skin start hurting. That's something for which to be thankful and I am.

But it did put me down for many hours and left me with barely enough energy to put a sandwich together for dinner.

I'm also thankful that I don't need to take a shower today or do any other major chores 'cause I could not. Anything more than I already did would absolutely tip me over into a much worse crash.

And it's still entirely possible that something will push me into one by tomorrow. I hope not. But I can't be certain.

So here's hoping tonight's sleep will be even slightly restorative. That would be nice. Not likely but nice.

#haedia does life #haedia is always tired #chronic illness #chronic fatigue #me/cfs #I would do obscene things to feel rested again #I honestly do not remember what it feels like #this all started back in like 2013 #so #eleven years (it'll be twelve in autumn of this year) since I last felt not tired #my hope is for some kind of mitigation development before it kills me #but it's a weak hope #sorry to get bleak there #sometimes the weight of chronic illness crushes and bleak is all you have for a few minutes #(I'm not implying self-harm there either)#(my condition has just steadily — but thankfully slowly — worsened every year)

0 notes

what-else-is-new-420 · 4 months ago

Text

[TW: mentions of suicide]

no one wants me at night

thank god

it's nice on the bed with my laptop hot to the touch on my lap in booty shorts

I said good night to you & yours & you don't need me anymore

I can shut up & go blind like I do every night

under the light my phone sheds

a dull blue & suffocating light

the light which I imagine Heaven sheds

momentary relief

I think it is what it is and it's what I need it's always been

thank God no one is looking at me

the proportions on my face are off I think my forehead looks bigger today

but I am not looking at my own face under the screen light cause if I was

if I did

I don't even want to imagine myself from that angle haha

that would be less than ideal

anyway I'd watch porn if I wasn't so uncomfortable & sweating thighs sticking to the sheets stuck to the scorching bottom of my laptop

waves of heat run across my back & front & side

I type with sweaty palms thinking things I know I will not recognise in the morning

wait no are my fingers shorter than usual the space under my mouth above my chin

it looked weird in the mirror earlier

I need to avoid it better &

the morning skinny was insane today until I had that vile fucking burger

I don't even know what I look like

but in the dark I don't have to know

& no one does or can & that's why it's so great

this is so great

but it's hot goddamn this weather we're having tonight I don't want tomorrow to come

I want to sit in the dark until I get lonely and crawl back out

that's why I'm awake but it's not why I'm alive

but I am so powerless because tomorrow always comes

it will come & I'll kill myself or fuck someone again

& I will still feel nothing

but I feel so good

I feel it all

I feel the best only when I imagine it

when I am too tired not to entertain the thought

of two pistols

one on each side

the barrels of which press hard against each of my temples

& I feel the comfort of the cool metal heavy against my skin

that feeling

it's the only thing that matters

& if I want to indulge myself

& if I want to get the fuck out of here

I close my eyes & watch them fire at the same time

I see the triggers pull back magically

& as the two bullets collide in slow motion right in the center of my brain

there's a mess made I'd rather not see

so please

don't you even dare fade to black

cut to it. you cut to it

you find me the quickest way to go

that way I can't question it for I don't want to back down

cause I will write my own fucking obituary if it

takes that burden off you

if it makes me feel less guilty for leaving anyone behind.

-paris 2022

#gay vent #vent #original poem #poems on tumblr #poem #poetry #depressing shit

1 note · View note

garden-with-squid · 8 months ago

Text

6/21/24 - Summer Solstice Review

The longest day has come and gone. Happy summer! Long review of the year so far under the cut.

Here’s how the crops are doing so far:

Carrots: pretty decent harvest!

Onions: matured too early - small like pearl onions, but they’re tasty and store well. More fertilizer next time.

Berries: didn’t plant them again this year

Broccoli: so tasty! Can squeeze in a second harvest midway through spring.

Potatoes: small June harvest, more compost and more consistent water. Still tasty.

Marigold/calendula: growing well in the edges of the beds.

Mizuna: great winter/spring green

Edamame: set back by squirrel damage. Now setting pods.

Okra: so teeny tiny. Maybe I sowed them too early, or squirrel/heat damage early on?

Watermelon: also slow to start. Had to resow once or twice.

Tomatillo: poor things. One dead, two sick and nearly dying. Harvested about a dozen fruits. Squirrels LOVE eating the fruit. Perhaps planted too close together in one pot.

Tomatoes: 3 transplanted in the grow bags, could’ve been bigger if I potted up earlier. One big volunteer in bed 4.

Green beans: also lots of squirrel damage. Still cooked up a handful and they were delicious.

Cucumber: failed several times, but finally got a strong one alive in bed 1, hoping it takes off soon.

Peppers: some overwintered plants lived. Squirrels like eating the jalapeño leaves. No harvests so far.

Eggplant: spider mite pressure. Japanese eggplant doing ok though and several fruits on the way.

Wow despite how empty the beds are right now, I have grown and harvested many different things.

Not as much rain as last year, but still a good amount. The ollas really helped with keeping consistent moisture. There are some dry spots, but I like it more than irrigation for now.

Lots of bunnies, birds, and bugs in the yard. The dill plants are ladybug nurseries.

I’m also so happy about my flowers this year - I always have fresh cosmos and zinnias for my dad, and two dahlia plants are coming up.

Improvements for next season/year:

These goddamn squirrels. Protect plants by sowing indoors, caging, netting, or sprinkling chili powder.

Use WAY more compost. Still waiting for the local landfill to launch their compost program so I don’t have to drive so far.

Sow more. Just plant more things everywhere, minimize bare soil.

Sow earlier so that plants are mature by summer.

Keep track of fertilizer schedule and fertilize more.

There’s so much room for improvement, but it’s nice to remember how much I’ve learned over the past two years. Life’s been hard the past 6 months so I didn’t work in the garden as much as I would have liked; however, it’s still the best I’ve ever done and I’m grateful for each delicious bite gifted to me.

#garden logbook #gardening #yearly garden review

1 note · View note

deeisace · 2 years ago

Text

Written at about 2am and then not posted, kept cs it's sleep-deprived stream-of-consciousness weirdness

---

Aw man I should not have stayed up to watch Deadloch

It is fuckin insane tho

And I'm having Thoughts that need to be Solved by Ao3

And also I have to leave for work in. 4 hours.

And also I really need the loo again but I'm scared of waking up the guy downstairs

The uh the plan is. To leave a bit earlier for work. And then go at the train station. Is the plan. :/

It's a bad plan and I acknowledge that. But it's where we're at today huh

(6am edit: you'll be pleased to know "the plan" did not go ahead, I have been brave enough to use my own goddamn lavatory. Fuckin insane behaviour)

I'm gonna need so many energy drinks to get through tomorrow. But at least I can go the loo at work I guess.

I'm fully aware I've constructed a bonkers situation for myself. Or like. Built my own on the guy downstairs' bonkersness. At least I'm aware of it?

Anyway I'm gonna uhhhhh go to Ao3 now. And suffer for a few more hours. Y'know. And not move an inch cs my bed is really creaky cs it's fuckin broken cs the one fella came to fix my window before I had a chair to stand on so he stood on my bed instead? Cs the windows are really fuckin high in this house

I miss sash windows. Like sometimes the rope inside will snap cs no-one's replaced it since at latest 1926, but at least you can still like reach to open the fuckers anyway, and all you need is a proppy uppy thing. I can't reach to open these windows without climbing on my bed/desk/toilet and there's no fuckin breeze comes through even you do get them open cs they're too high, and they're what's the word for cold drafty draugy fuckin english they don't work in winter either and they have wobbly handles but that's a good thing cs it's the only way I can reach enough to close them again

Anyway that should be okay soon cs they're getting replaced next month or when, but also that doesn't solve the problems I'm currently experiencing which is I'm not asleep and I really fuckin badly need a piss

I hope the fella downstairs only has a six-month contract an he fucks off after, cs even tho the windows are shitty and I live in one room I really fuckin love this house I don't want to move to another house

I've never lived in more than one room my own what do people do with space? Fill it with sofas, or something? Fuckin kitchen islands idk

I don't have the spends anyway like I could deffo go into my savings but I'd still have to work more and I don't want to do that I'm fuckin tired

I mean currently that is cs I've been awake for 21 hours apart from the standing up nod off on the train home, but that is not the point

Fuckin pay me more so I can be like alive and have a nice time and and and fuckin And at work they said if we got a certain amount of reviews this quarter then all the store staff would get a bonus each?

A few years ago it was just the management would, and then they changed it to say all staff, but the targets were still bullshit nonsense so no-one's ever got one, even our store manager who's got a funny little glass award on his desk for working at this company longer than I've been alive right, But! then they changed it to be an achievable thing, 100 reviews in 3 months and keep the average stars thing good, which we can do cs we've done it before it was a bonus thing but now it is, right

And then like two weeks ago, right when we were nearly got it like celebrating whooo ten left to get, the fuckers turned and said actually every single store in the area has to get the same thing for anyone to qualify for the bonus, which includes isle of mann which gets like one review every month or smth cs obviously reviews don't matter when you know the whole town and are just catching up with Joanie who's buying a new tarp or whatever, why would you ask Joanie to give you a review, it doesn't make sense, there's no point in it obviously, and it shouldn't effect anybody else on a whole different fuckin landmass. Explain to me the fuckin logic there. Fuckin head office fuckers

Give me the money you fuckin owe me for smiling at cunts as call me "darling" and misgender me to high fuckin heaven and back or I will find a new job

I mean. I won't, cs nowhere that's not fuckin dire as shit is hiring and also I don't know how to do business things myself and fuck going back to uni either

What's that post of I just want to have 17 hobbies or whatever like that

Or like. Make more shit and learn how to sell whatever fuckin weird shit I make

Also I miss the woods, cities are shit

Like phone reception is nice and you can buy more stuff I guess but everything is grey and shitty and I miss sitting in trees

I'll be better once I've slept at all I imagine, it's just when I'm tired I'm a grumpy fuck and I hate like all the stuff cs all the stuff is bullshit fuckin not really rat race or whatever you say cs my job is the lowest pressure you can get except when four different people want seven different pairs of shoes and there's a parcel needs getting and some fucker stops you on the stairs to ask inane questions about tent pegs and now you've forgotten a shoe you were sposed to get and actually now you're back with the non-waterproof kids shoes I asked for can I borrow some socks and what sandals would you recommend for Everest and one of the people who asked for leather boots has fully disappeared in a puff of smoke and will wander back from fuck-knows-where in five minutes while you're serving a family of ten at the till to demand why you didn't tell them you'd got the leather boots for them and actually I can feel my toes reaching the end of the boot I'm gonna need you to get me three sizes down from this and then I'll blame you for why I got blisters just from standing up somehow and there's an incredibly old man here to ask you to get some trousers down from the high shelf but the ASM's hidden the footstool again in a brand new place cs it's untidy to leave it where you can find it ever apparently and oh oh lovely some guy got bored waiting for the fitting room and is now trying tshirts on just stood around and someone's helpfully wrecked a display or two and half the sunglasses have been spirited out the door while you blinked and someone came to ask if a camping store sells pajamas and another twenty people have stormed out cs of the membership thing and and and

Tho tbf it's usually only like that at Xmas really, the rest of the time it's mostly dead

Well I'm gonna see if I can get 3 hours steep

1 note · View note

dzpenumbra · 2 years ago

Text

4/25/23

Wow, actually writing this at 2AM again. Take a wild guess why... If you guessed "sleep deprivation", you get a goddamn cookie.

4 hours last night. And the nap didn't work this time, so I just stayed up. Now I've got the sleep deprivation sweats, ever get those? Where it almost feels like a fever, and you get kinda numb and tingly. Fun.

I got to bed 2 hours earlier than normal, but couldn't fall asleep. It's actually been a while since I've had that problem. That used to be my primary life problem, it would take me like... at least an hour to fall asleep every night. I'd just lay there, and my mind would race and I'd toss and turn until I eventually fell asleep. I had a night like that last night, and then again when I tried for my "second-sleep" and failed.

I had more dreams including my mom, I'm sure that's part of it. I don't know. I think it's the Mother's Day ads that are doing it, because it's right around the corner... <eyeroll> I didn't feel emotionally upset when I woke up, it didn't feel like a nightmare. It didn't feel like my neighbors woke me up, I just... woke up. And I was up. And I did not want to go back to sleep for some reason. And I hopped on Instagram and... had the same fucking problem. 3-4 posts to cleanse the palate, then an ad to ruffle my feathers, rinse/repeat. After a bit of scrolling, I started to notice that nothing I was seeing was something I'm actually following. Like... okay, if you're just going to spam my feed with paid advertisements and "suggested" shit, why the fuck do I bother following people? Just fucking say "hey, this is the end of your feed, would you like us to suggest something more?"

Motherfuckers act like curating content for you without you asking is like... a favor. Let me tell you how utterly atrocious this system is, and why it should be opt in, not opt out. I am subbed to the PTSD subreddit. And I got suggested "r/OopsThatsDeadly", which is all visual content of life-threatening situations. Explain to me how that happened. Explain to me how or why that should ever happen. That shit upset me, man. Like... no one asked you to add these features, half the sites won't even let you turn them off, and I really can't think of how these features could work worse.

I tried to do music today. I didn't really work. I'm overthinking shit, or it's just not flowing right, I don't know. So I gave that a whirl for a good chunk of the day, but just tapped out after a while and switched over to art. I decided to hand-draw an abstract ink piece today. I have an empty blank sketchbook that I've been meaning to put shit in, and today was the day, I decided. I went with a sorta bubble-based organic pattern and over the course of the evening filled up the entire page. I can tell I haven't been drawing as much as I used to, my hand's all sore and shit. It just has some fill work to do and then it's done. It was a nice change of pace after this last concept piece, which did not have a lot of drawing, despite the animation work.

And that was basically the day, honestly. Super low-key. I decided to pull the trigger on reserving the shared car last night, so it's reserved for Wednesday afternoon. People from the building are supposed to come and inspect my floor's apartments on Wednesday, no clue what time of day, likely morning, knowing normal humans. So... my plan is to... get to sleep early tonight, then hopefully even earlier tomorrow... Get woken up by a knock on my door. Awkwardly walk them around my apartment half-awake. Then pound an energy drink, and head up to the car around 1PM, drive over to the National Park for the first time and film some trail walking footage for the desire path project. That's pretty much the last missing piece, short of an outro thing... which I'm still back and forth about. I mean... it can't hurt to plug my Patreon, it's just... it just sucks to remember that I have one... and to see how much metaphoric dust has accumulated there.

I started writing about my career for a minute there and then got super depressed, so... I'm just gonna clip that and save it for another time. Let's just say... "it's complicated". I remember the days I used to be really confident and proud to share my work on social media and shit... actually... do I? Actually... now that I think about it... I have never really been one to like... flaunt anything on social media. Like.. if people are interested in my shit - like genuinely interested - I'll tell them anything they ever wanted to know. I just... I don't commoditize my work. Which is so fucking foreign in this country, in this culture. To be a worker... who runs their own business... who produces a product, and the product is technically for sale, but is not explicitly advertised or marketed. Because it's an art piece, not a fucking postcard. And there's an insane amount of pressure to convert all of your art into marketable commodities nowadays. Stickers, prints, merch, you name it. And if that's what you want to do, fucking go for it! I even have a print shop (that I was pressured by my parents into setting up...) for my pieces that were kinda more catered to that... style, I guess. That intention. But the past few years, I found that mentality so fucking restrictive, and I found myself throwing away dozens of amazing ideas because I didn't think they were going to... work. I didn't think they fit my "business model". Good lord, talk about corporatizing art... Ugh.

My past year and a half was breaking from that mold. I have some things I can commoditize if I choose... but my Holy Grail quest has been searching for a good, supportive community that can get me linked up with people who genuinely want to fund my projects. And, on paper, I feel like Patreon could do that. And then I can just get that nasty "how can I hock mass-produced copies" mentality off of my fucking back. Because my work has always been about sentimentality, hand-craft, personal touch. Every piece different, every piece unique. Even before the tattooing, that was there.

I literally cut myself off from talking about my career to... talk about my career. ... Meh.

I just want to say... because it's floating around my mind over and over... it sucks to work very hard on projects day in and day out, from beginning to completion, and have it mean nothing to others. My mom would always give me shit, "you need to create more value for others." Not even kidding, direct quote, can't even count how many times I've heard that. Talk about seeds for a self-esteem complex, "you need to create more value". Bitch, my shit is priceless. Try putting a price on a series of stones I hand-polished over the course of the last few weeks of my cat's life, and the first few weeks of mourning her death. A grief piece. Try to put a fucking price on that shit. Try to sell those.

It frustrates me so much that the arts get so little support nowadays. Like people are perfectly content to watch another regurgitated remake of something they remember from 20 years ago... Gah... I'm generalizing. Not everyone is like that. I'm just gonna nip that one.

So yeah, clearly talking about that stuff is tough for me still, I'm sure it shows in my writing how scattered and chaotic my thinking gets around it. HOWEVER... when I get inspiration? Like my hoodie backpiece - I had a really cool idea to do commissioned pieces where I do like... "clothing tattoos"... in permanent ink or fabric paint, so they last as long as I can possibly make them last. When my inspiration calls me, it will literally pull me out of sleep. And I will work my hands to the bone, regardless of whether I have a client, regardless of bodily needs. And I don't mind the process at all. It's like... it's encoded into who I am as a person. I would get shit in high school and college because I would be drawing in the margins and on my pants and arms and shit constantly.

When I developed this system of just... striking while the iron's hot, capturing inspiration as it comes and seeing where it leads... I started to just... overflow with creativity. I couldn't stop, I had to force myself to stop working to eat and sleep. Kinda like me writing here. Once I get in the zone, in the Flow, and it's all linked up and just... going... I typically have to like... consciously stop myself or else I will go for literal hours. And... I'm gonna be honest... I don't see a ton of people writing more than 144 characters nowadays who aren't being paid to do it. And the ones who are? A lot of them are trying to find AI to do the lion's share for them.

I feel like it's coded into who I am. And making it work for me? That has led to me making some of the coolest shit I've ever made in my life. Shit I never would've dreamed of making. So yeah, I'm really lucky I have the opportunity to pursue this, because if I wasn't? I'd be daydreaming at some job I didn't care about all day every day, and that kinda just feels like... waiting to live, or something. Like waiting for a life to start, but like... I'm sorry... I don't think anyone is gonna come walkin into a shop I'm working at and just hand me the job I'm describing here. I'm not even sure how to describe it to people myself!

I just really need to power through these anxieties and get linked up with an artist's community, like a collective or something. But the one near me? I... I'm gonna be honest... I'm not sure I'll fit there... Like... one of my upcoming pieces is going to be a carved goat skull dyed with homemade inks made from incense ash and coffee grounds. And they've got like... stylized drawings of cats and shit. No offense, it's good work, it's just... you know... I feel like I'm kinda doing a different thing. Like, if I go to the person who only draws cats... and I say "hey, I had this idea the other day, I want to go in the woods and transplant moss into carefully measured geometric designs outlined with stones. But I want it to be a pop-up thing. Something that isn't clearly announced, something that just... organically appears in nature. How do I get someone to help me with my bills while I work on that project entirely by myself?" I'm gonna level... I think they're gonna look at me like I just sprouted 40 heads.

So... until I can get that figured out? I'm just living off the cash I got from selling my car, and whatever charity I get from my family... who don't talk to me. Scary way to live. But it's just where things are for right now.

So yeah... I'm super tired. But... you know what? I'll share what I worked on today. It's not done, so... yeah.

I haven't finished filling in the connecting bits, and I was going to completely fill the left side, by the spine. So yeah, a little break from the mold. It's been a while since I've done patterns like this, especially consistent circles, usually I do more organic shapes. I was just watching this video on soil compositions the other day that made me think of these types of designs, and how you can look at them two different ways, like a stretched membrane with holes in it, or like bubbles or particles suspended in a medium or something. Or maybe both? Idk, it's very meditative, very relaxing work.

As for future projects, there's the hoodie that I have to finish, my horoscope chart on the back of it and mandalas all down the right sleeve... there's the goat skull... I have a wood carving that's been sitting in my mind lately that I'd like to attempt at some point this summer, we'll see if I get around to it... I have my helmet and my grip tape on my new skateboard to customize... I still don't know what to do with either of them right now... I was thinking maybe a really detailed phoenix on the griptape? I don't know, I'm giving it time to come to me. And... I wanted to do a painting of the Egyptian god Thoth on my cargo shorts. Maybe some ornamentation to go with it. Not sure.

Ya think I've got enough work backlogged?! I love this desire path project, it's a really cool concept and the whole thing is turning out well, I'm just... I'm kinda ready to be done with it. XD Just to start working on something new, you know? And this, this ink drawing today? That was very refreshing, it felt great.

That's a really good vibe, so I'm cool ending there. :)

#diary #journal #online journal #stream of consciousness #stream of thoughts

1 note · View note

scawch · 2 years ago

Text

I wake up at an untimely time that I really don’t wanna be awake at, because my brother is a fucking buffoon who can’t hear our dad knocking on the door so I’m just hear I’m so asleep it’s so nice and boom KNOCK a and I’m like WOW well there’s TWO other people in this house right now SURELY SOMEONE ELSE CAN GET THE DAMN DOOR. TWO KNOCK. and I’m more conscious now and thinking about what I heard last night, specifically that dad said he come by around 8 to pick my brother up and I’m thinking hee these knocks sure sound like my dad. SURELY MY BROTHER, WHO KNOWS DAD IS COMING TO PICK HIM UP, AND SLEEPS IN THE LIVING ROOM, WHERE THE FRONT DOOR THAT IS CURRENTLY BEING KNOCKED ON IS, CAN HEAR AND WILL ANSWER THE DOOR SHORTLY.

that however would be an incorrect assumption. it’s been less than a minute since the first knock, and I am waiting for the third. alas, no third knock, but general meddling can be heard instead because curse this godforsaken house and it’s thin walls because I can. hear. everything. so I, who went to bed at 5am, and has no obligations to do anything ever and therefore has absolutely no reason to be up at 8:30 in the goddamn mornin if I don’t wanna be, am getting up out of my warm comfy bed to let my fuckin dad in the house to wake my fuckin brother up to go to fuckin school despiTE THE FACT IT IS SPRING BREAK AND SURRREEEEELY HE DIDNT HAVE TO GO.

and then I return to my warm comfy bed to HOPEFULLY drift peacefully back to sleep, HOWEVER THAT WAS NOT TO HAPPEN…. because I can hear the waking up of my brother and the why aren’t you awake and then oh shit I know we were supposed to go like ten minutes ago but I’m gonna take a shower.

so now my dad is gonna be waiting around for like ten minutes for no damn reason and I can hear him fiddling with the ducking door again and at this point I know I ain’t goin back to bed so I get up again and I’m like what the heck are you doing idr what he said anymore but I’m just fuckin awake now so I go check on my sweet precious popsicles I bought like two weeks ago, lookin to store some away secretly SO NO ONE STEALS TYEM…. HOWEVER… when I check the fuckibg fridge. it’s broken. the light isn’t on and I’m like well that’s weird and I reach for the popsicles and they. are. melted.

and I’m furious because I’ve already been woken up at LEAST two hours earlier than I wanna be and now my sweet precious popsicles that I can only get at one fuckin dollar tree and are annoying to get are melted. auaughdhskojwkausoahskebwoajabkdsbkajwm

0 notes

joonberriess · 2 years ago

Text

·˚ ༘ 💌 IMAGINE┊forgetting all about the movie because jimin has other plans.

TAGS — bf!jimin, creampies, raw sex, cow girl style, dirty talk cause it’s jimin, pussy put his ass to sleep, movie night gone right, domesticity, fluff

WORD COUNT — 1.1 k

The sounds of skin smacking against skin filled the dimly lit room. Your soft huffs and Jimin's quiet groans mixed together to produce what people would think is the most nasty sex of all. You've both been at it for a while now, this was supposed to be a movie night with your boyfriend but it obviously didn't turn out that way.

The bed creaks in protest to the rough bouncing and grinding, shifting against the wall as the headboard slams into it. Jimin bites his lip and admires the way your pretty tits jiggle inside your lacy bralette. He leans forward and eyes you with mischief as he buries his face against your tits.

You bite your lip and move your hands from his shoulders to the back of his hair as you run your hands through the soft black locks. He laughs huskily and begins to leave open mouthed kisses on the soft flesh of your tits. He picks a spot and sucks on it with the intention of marking you up. Jimin runs his tongue over a specific spot and then sucks hard enough to bruise.

"Jimin," you softly moan and run your hands through his hair, "that's enough." You quietly laugh and bite your lip as you gently tug his head back.

Jimin stares up at you with a grin as he bites his lip, "Thought you wanted me to mark you baby." He rasps out, hands tightening around your ass and giving each cheek a plump squeeze and a small slap.

You moan at the pleasant sting and roll your hips in figure of eights, "Mmm, my neck." You point out knowingly because he absolutely marked you up there.

Jimin closes his eyes as a low moan escapes his lips, "Shit right there baby." He moans out as his cock throbs weakly inside of you.

You repeat your movements on his cock and find that he's enjoying more than he lets on. Slowly you manage to swivel your hips and roll them sensually, a lot more calmer than the rough riding from earlier. His cock rubs up deliciously against your walls, you feel so full and stretched out nicely. You feel the head occasionally brush up against your g-spot.

"Fuckin' love the way you ride me baby, look so goddamn sexy sitting my cock like that and riding me like it's nobodies business." Jimin pants softly, "God I could just cum from the sight of you.” He hisses and slowly slides down from the headboard so he’s lying on his back now.

You eagerly roll your hips faster, taking it as a sign to go back to riding him like before. “Feel so big inside of me,” you moan out, “fills me up just the way I like it.” You lick your lips and grin.

Jimin grunts, “Fucking minx.” He slaps your ass, clearly turned on by you feeding his ego.

“ ‘s true Min,” you whimper and bounce in place, “you fill me up so good I can still feel the shape of your cock inside of me even after we finish.” You run your hands down his chest and settle them on his abdomen, “Gonna fill my pussy up with your cum baby? Gonna leave me dripping?”

He bites his lip and nods eagerly, “I’m going to leave your pussy dripping with my cum so everyone knows who you belong to.” He whispers out and flips the two of you over.

You moan unabashedly as he begins rolling his hips in ways that have you seeing stars. You reach down shakily to rub your clit in fast circles. “Jimin–” you whimper.

His cock drives in so deep you can feel it poking at your cervix or something. Jimin’s pumping into you at a languid pace, smacking his pelvis against yours repeatedly. You rock a little from the force, watching as his bangs cover his face, lips only visible.

His necklace dangles in your face as he slowly slides his hands upward and grips the headboard with one hand. “Gonna cum for me like a good girl?” He rasps out.

You nod eagerly, “Y-Yeah,” you moan, “keep going baby, right there.”

Jimin fucks into your pussy faster and harder, the bed creaks and slams into the wall much louder now. If his roommates didn’t know what you were doing, they did now. He grunted from the force of his thrusts, his thighs smack into your ass every time he pressed down deep inside of you.

“Jimin..!” You breathily cry out, your toes curl from the intense pleasure you’re feeling.

“That’s it, cum for me baby.” He whispers out and keeps grinding into you.

Your back arches, lips parting as no sound leaves you. You feel like you’ve been hit with a ton of bricks as your orgasm quite literally leaves you breathless. Your pussy clenches down tightly and throbs around his cock as you basically drench his cock with your slick.

The slide is slippery, his cock glides in and out of you smoothly as he works his hips faster and faster. Jimin’s moans are louder now as he nears his own orgasm. He buries his face in your neck and shudders with each push of his hips. “God baby,” he grunts.

You can feel his balls slap against your ass every time he thrusts forward. He snaps his hips harshly repeatedly, jabbing into you with rough punishing thrusts. “y/n,” he moans and attacks your neck with a series of harsh kisses and brutal love bites.

Jimin works his hips faster and faster until he finally seizes up and cums hard inside of you. He shudders and hugs your body tightly as he pumps his cum into your awaiting pussy. His cock throbs pitifully from inside of you.

“Ohh fuck.” Jimin whispers and turns his head, panting harshly as he smothers you in kisses.

You hum softly and lazily reach up to stroke his hair as he finally stops rocking inside of you. “Mm.” Your eyes flutter open and you stare at his blissed out face.

“Gonna knock out.” Jimin smiles sleepily, eyes still shut as he holds you tenderly in a warm hug.

You giggle tiredly, “Are you really that tired?”

He chuckles softly and adjusts his head on your chest, “No, pussy put me to sleep.” He softly says and ends up falling asleep a few seconds after saying that.

You smile fondly and kiss his forehead as you curl around him, “I love you Mimi.” You softly coo in his ear.

“Love you too…” He smiles in his sleep.

#bts #bts smut #bts fanfction #bts fanfic #bts jimin #park jimin #reader x jimin #jimin smut

1K notes · View notes

sunflowersteves · 3 years ago

Text

camping ; the fruity four

author’s note ; requested by my lovely fire heart anon for some spicy camping time ;)

warnings ; smut, praise kink, oral, p in v, fem!reader, 18+ only

Eddie would huff and puff—and tease—with the fact that he was going to be alone with you in a tent. he would act like his heart wasn’t about to burst and is thumping across his chest.

Once you’re both in the tent though, he seems to relax. he watched you get ready for bed, eyes never wavering as you wipe a cloth across your face. “Goodnight, Eddie.”

“Goodnight, sweet girl.” You try and focus on going to sleep, but that little nickname he gave you had you squirming about in your sleeping bag.

“What’s the matter?” You almost whine from the sound of his sultry voice, not so far from your ears. His eyes are glowing with sweet innocent concern—it almost makes you tear up.

His eyes go wide as everything finally clicked, “did that nickname turn you on?” You look up at hun shyly, if the world would swallow you whole—that would be nice.

But before you could say or do anything, Eddie is right on top of you. He’s pressing open mouth kisses to your lips—licking and sucking his way through your mouth. He ever so slowly moves his fingers down to your clit and rubs small, sweet circles to the sensitive area.

It makes you whimper. “You like that, sweet girl? Fuck—you’re so wet. I can feel—fuck—I can feel what I do to you. Gonna need you to be quiet okay? can you do that, pretty girl? could you be quiet for me?”

Nancy would honestly be trying to get you alone all goddamn day. She practically begged you to just do a quick trip to a grocery store near by and not actually go to the grocery store.

But things kept interrupting you two. So, once you’re both alone in the small tent with one another, she’s ripping your panties apart. “Look at the sweet cunt. F-fuck, I’ve been waiting for this all day—”

Her last word drags out into a whine as she pushes her finger through your juicy folds. You moan, loudly, and she has to clamp your mouth shut. “Need you to be quiet for me, pretty, okay? We can’t have Steve and Eddie comin’ in here and seeing you soaked on my fingers, now can we?”

She’s teasing you, relentlessly, and never stops. Her tongue swirls against your sensitive nub as her fingers curl against your soft squishy walls. “nance, please—I just—please—”

She could only chuckle, your hips jerking at the vibration on your clit. “Oh, baby,” she pouts at you, poking her head up so you can see her, “you think I’m gonna let you finish so soon? the night is so young, pretty girl.”

Steve was a bit more sporadic than the others. One minute you’re complaining how cold you are and the next, he’s fucking you in your sleeping bag.

“F-fuck, your pussy is grippin’ me, baby—” You moaned into hand, trying to be as quiet as one possibly can. “Yeah, baby, my sweet girl, you doing so good for me, yeah? My—fuck—my good girl.”

You couldn’t even answer with anything but a whine. He’s pounding into you—over and over again. You can’t help but look down to watch your pussy swallow his thick, pulsating cock. “Fuck, baby—”

He’s grabbing you by your chin and forcing you to look into his eyes. His pupils are big, but there’s that shine right between them. “You think I didn’t see you earlier with Eddie, huh? Yeah, that’s right.”

Your mouth drops agape, not even realizing that he was jealous earlier that day. “You’re mine, s-sweet girl, you got that? Huh? I want you to say it. I want you—fuck—I want you to say how much you need me. I want you to say you’re mine. Say it.”

Robin can’t help but be super shy when she’s around you. For some reason, you make her heart flip flop and her stomach swirl.

So when Steve is partnering the two of you for a tent and then shoots a quick wink at robin, her stomach and chest are a jumbled mess.

In return, it was you to make the first move. You ever so closely moved your sleeping bag towards her. You were the one to ask if it was okay to kiss her.

Robin was super shy as she kissed down the plains and valleys of your stomach—savoring every bits and pieces of you. She’s asking you permission each step of kissing your clit and rubbing circles on your sensitive thighs.

“Shit, I’m—you’re so beautiful. I just—fuck me.” You giggle at her words but soon turn into a gasp as she’s swirling her tongue around your clit.

You grip her hair, whispering yelling, “fuck, robin!” Her senses seem to kick in and that shy flower blossoms into a confident bloom. She’s delving deep within your pussy, gathering your slick with her tongue.

Shes moving awfully fast, pressing a finger inside your walls—moaning against your clit. Her fast paced isn’t uncomfortable, no. You’re wanting more and more and more. Her eagerness only makes you wetter.

“Robin, please—I—Robie, I need you. Fuck, I love your tongue. Please, I need you so bad, please—” you don’t really know what you’re begging for, but she doesn’t seem to mind one bit.

#fruity four saturday˚ ༘♡#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #nancy wheeler x y/n #nancy wheeler x you #nancy wheeler x reader #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley x y/n #robin buckley x you #stranger things #stranger things fanfic #smut

780 notes · View notes

aamalaaa · 2 years ago

Text

sunrises & liquor (m)| myg

interlude: disconnected

pairing: min yoongi x reader

series: sunrises & liquor

rating: m; cursing, alcohol consumption, future smut

genre: bar workers au, barman yoongi au, (kinda) forbidden relationship, angst, future smut, fluff

summary: after a failed academic pursuit and a few meaningless and disappointing relationships, you decided to go back to what you never thought you would: the bar industry. There you find a family, friends, heartache, misunderstandings and one particular barman who just won’t get out of your head.

a/n: well hello lovelies, I welcome you to another chapter of s&l. I've absolutely broken my own heart writing this wtv. I hope you enjoy, I won't say more. My only request is for you to listen to Stan by 6LACK for the last scene. Let’s gooooo.

a/n2: shout out to my beta reader and great friend @lilredtot who read this before I published it, love you.

warnings: cursing, alcohol consumption (duh), misunderstandings, angst, they both angry and act like children, it gets a little heated but that's all

chapter word count: 5.7 k

previous | next

If you had to choose one word to describe how you’ve been feeling the past week, it would have to be nervous, so goddamn nervous.

When you woke up after the wedding you had stayed in bed for far too long, like maybe if you didn’t go out of the soft covers enveloping you in their warmth, you wouldn’t have to face reality. Alas, things don’t work that way and you can’t just go on with life, pretending that nothing happened and that everything is fine.

Because it’s not fine, and something did happen.

Nevermind you don’t really understand what it was. What you do know is that Min Yoongi had wanted to kiss you and probably would’ve if Namjoon hadn’t interrupted the both of you. And you would’ve let him, because as much as you tried to tell yourself time and time again that you wouldn’t fuck with the payroll anymore, you did grow attached to Yoongi.

If you’re being honest, you did notice it a lot earlier than at the wedding, you just chose to mostly ignore it and blame it on animalistic sexual attraction and what not.

I mean how could someone not be attracted to him? And it’s not only because of his physical features, his sharp cat-like eyes, heart shaped lips and broad shoulders. Or even his soft blond locks and porcelain like skin.

No, though they are very nice to look at, that’s not what draws people in and locks them up in a Yoongi-like daze. It’s the way he listens so intently when someone talks and pays attention to each and every detail, bringing it up in later conversations, his way of telling you he always listens.

It’s the way almost each and every time he speaks it’s to say something meaningful, though if you’re not quite hearing him the meaning could very well evade you. He’s subtle and sneaky like that, just like the way he crept up into your life, into your head.

Subtly and all-consumingly.

It’s also the way he might not always say a lot, but his presence can still be felt in each room he finds himself in, like he’s everywhere and nowhere at the same time, overwhelming and dizzying in the best possible way.

His quiet confidence takes up a lot of space, though you’re not sure he realizes just how much his presence affects people. Which is truly mind boggling to you.

You do know he realizes some of his effect on you though, with the way he smirks every time he makes you sweat or sends your heart rate into overdrive. And if you didn’t find him so fucking charming you might take offense. But you won’t, because you’re absolutely enthralled by the man, even if he annoys you at times (most times).

And it was easier, when you thought he was with Sam. Because you wouldn’t do that, not to Sam, not to anyone. You know what it’s like to be cheated on, wouldn’t wish it on even your worst enemy. It tears your soul apart, brings your confidence levels so low you don’t even know if you’ll ever be able to get them back up again. Leaves you broken and bruised, a shadow of the person you used to be, who you’ll never be again. It changes you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

But he isn’t with her, hasn’t been for a long time. Now you have no excuse, no reason to ignore the way your heart flutters every time he steps in the room. Or for a fraction of a second you let yourself think that.

Because reality comes crashing down onto you, he’s your coworker, a barman at that and you’d be a fool not to notice that people cannot stop flirting with the man, how could they not. So why would he be interested in you when there’s so many people waiting in line?

He was probably drunk and not in control of his actions when he had tried to kiss you. That’s the only possible explanation for all of this considering his cold attitude towards you after realizing what he had almost done.

And you had tried to come up with a less hurtful explanation, you really did. But nothing came up. You did want to talk about it with him, but once the night was done you couldn’t find the courage to bring it up again. Maybe you’re a coward, but it is what it is and you do the best you can with the baggage you have.

So when Yoongi had canceled on you on monday, at the last minute, for your last practice before the gig, you were devastated. Not because you needed the practice, you both had rehearsed enough in the last month to go through the sets without problems. Or you hoped so anyway.

It’s because you had hoped you maybe built it all up in your head. But the last shred of hope you held onto was ripped from your hands when he did so. Because Yoongi never canceled on you, or anyone. Because he never showed up late for his shifts and never called in sick. Yoongi was reliable, as sturdy as a rock.

Until he wasn’t anymore.

And that stings more than putting your hand on a hot stove or accidently plucking the skin under your eyebrow with a tweezer.

After the initial shock passed, sadness set in like a pile of rocks at the bottom of your stomach, weighing you down, every move you made becoming slow and demanding. But then soon enough sadness gave way to anger, on friday, when things were clearly very awkward between you two and Yoongi had declined the invitation to go to Jimin’s place after work, like the lot of you always did.

You watched the sunrise alone that night, and you’re not above lying about the fact that you did cry again that morning.

That’s when you decided that, enough is enough. He initiated the almost-kiss, he made the move. If someone should apologize and get over their damn selves, it’s him. Not you. So you won’t apologize, not when you did nothing wrong. And he has no right to act like an actual prick about it and avoid you like the plague.

But if he wants to act like that, then so be it. It may be very immature on your part, but two can play that game.

And you think you know how to play that game.

You strut to the bar’s entrance after spending exactly an hour and twenty-three minutes putting on your makeup and choosing an outfit. It never takes you this long to get ready but tonight is different. Tonight you’re singing in front of an audience, in front of your coworkers and a lot of clients you normally serve.

You’re also singing with Yoongi, but that has nothing to do with it or the fact that he completely rejected you. Nothing (You’re so fucking petty it’s embarrassing.)

Somehow tonight feels big, important. Your first actual paying gig, which sounds completely mad to you. Nevermind that you’re only doing this because Soobin and Yeonjun are on their honeymoon. You’re still doing it.

Namjoon’s standing at the entrance, bouncing from one foot to the other, gaze fixed on his shoes.

You clear your throat. “You better stop doing that if you don’t want to faceplant.”

Namjoon startles and looks up, almost losing balance in the process, to which you can’t help but chuckle.

He adjusts his suit’s collar before speaking. “Are you nervous about tonight?”

“Just a little,” You send him a shaky smile.

“Ahhh, so you’re bricking it,” He clicks his tongue. “Don’t worry too much, most people are gonna be drunk and you guys are great. You’ll do well.”

You close your eyes and exhale slowly. “Yeah I’m just-,” You ponder your next words carefully. “I guess I’m anxious because we didn’t rehearse this week like we were supposed to. But you’re right, it’s all good, thanks Joon.”

He furrows his brows, a confused expression replacing his gentle one.“You didn’t? What happened?”

“Yoongi had something come up and he couldn’t be there. It’s fine really though, don’t worry about it.” You anxiously chuckle, not wanting to let anything that had happened in the last week transpire.

Namjoon quirks his brow questioningly, but thankfully doesn’t push further. “That sucks, I’m sure you’ll both do great anyway. You didn’t even need practice at my place last month, I’m not worried.”

You feel relief flooding through you at his words. Namjoon always did know what to say to calm anybody’s nerves.

“I guess I’ll see you later, after the sets?” You smile warmly at him, which he reciprocates with a dimpled smile of his own.

“Yeah, I have to stay down here but I asked Kook to record you guys when he’s not busy. That way I can watch it later.”

You feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Cool, I’ll go hide now. Talk to you later.”

Namjoon laughs and holds the door open for you, only closing it when you’re already halfway up the staircase.

You greet Jimin, Sam and Jungkook as soon as you go behind the bar and quickly make your way to the employees room, laying your palms flat against the circular dining table in an attempt to ground yourself, head sagging between your shoulder blades as you take deep breaths.

You’re so focused on keeping your breathing steady that you don’t notice when someone enters the room, jumping as soon as you hear a deep voice breaking the silence hanging heavily around you.

“You nervous?” Yoongi croaks.

You snort in annoyance.“Nope, I’m feeling peachy.” You hear Yoongi stilling in his movements at the tone of your voice and immediately feel bad about your harshness.

Maybe you don’t know how to play this game after all.

Your hear footsteps coming closer, but keep your eyes fixed on the table. You can’t look at him, lest you want your resolve to crumble all around you in pitiful pieces.

“What’s going on?” He asks, concern lacing his every word.

And you almost break here and there. But you don’t, you can’t. Not now, maybe not ever.

So you look up, meeting his worried gaze and put on your best fake smile in order not to cause a scene.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it. You ready to go on?” You say, doing your best to keep a steady voice.

He observes you in confusion before lifting his shoulders in a nonchalant way. “I just set up the equipment, we just have to do a quick sound check and we’ll be ready to start.”

You force another smile past your lips before replying.

“Good, then let’s do this.”

You feel all tension leave your body after a few songs. Namjoon was right, as always, you didn’t particularly need to rehearse before this, you both know exactly what to do and when to do it. You’re in sync, working well together despite the circumstances.

Your first set comes to an end before you can even realize an hour has passed, you feel a bit shy at the loud feedback from the customers, though you let out a small chuckle when you hear Jimin screaming loudly, a shrill piercing sound that makes a few people look his way in surprise.

“Thank you! We’ll take a quick break and be back in fifteen,” Yoongi announces in the black microphone that is perched on a stand right in front of him.

The crowd applauds again as you step off stage and head towards the bar where you both sit down and order a beer. As soon as you do, you’re both swarmed by your very enthusiastic friends.

“Amazing job guys,” Hoseok slams his palm against Yoongi’s shoulder, the older man winces.

“Did you hear how loud the crowd was?” Jungkook says, an astonished look adorning his face.

“I can’t believe that you never told me you could sing,” Jimin mutters in fake annoyance.

You sheepishly laugh, feeling a bit overwhelmed by all the positive feedback. Of course it’s all very heartwarming and you feel so grateful to have all this support from people who genuinely care and you do very much appreciate it. It’s just that no one ever told you how to accept compliments, you never learned. Or maybe it’s the fact that you’re not really used to receiving them.

“Thanks guys,” You mutter under your breath, an awkward smile plastered over your face, which is all you can do considering your social inadequacy. It’s a wonder you’re as good a waitress as you are, really, all things considered. Or that you have friends at all, for that matter.

You’re too busy taking a sip to register in time a wild Taehyung heading straight towards you in hurried steps, like a man on a mission. You have just enough time to swallow and set down your beer on the counter before he crashes into you, bringing your face straight onto his chest in a protective manner. You let out a muffled groan of protest, much to your friends amusement.

“I knew I shouldn’t have gone to the restroom, now I missed the end of the set,” He sorrowfully says, stroking your hair and disheveling you while he does so.

“Tae, it’s all good,” You declare as you manage to push him away a bit, freeing you from the restraint of his strong arms.

You all chat for a bit, your friends not missing a single chance to praise the both of you. Yoongi looks absolutely pained by the attention, if his small groans and the constant roll of his eyes are anything to go by. And well, to be honest, it amuses you to no end.

You’re about to go back on stage when you hear a smooth voice address you, startling you in the process.

“Try to tone down the awesomeness will you? I don’t want to lose my job.”. You swirl your head around to greet the newcomer who’s busy giving Yoongi a friendly handshake.

It’s Taehyun.

“As if I could ever replace you,” You grin bashfully at him, feeling oddly invigorated by his comment.

Taehyun winks at you. “I’m pretty sure if you tried to, you could, love.”

And you don’t quite understand why it affects you so much, but the fact that someone else uses the same nickname for you as a certain blond barman, that you found yourself way too enthralled by, leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

“Ridiculous,” You sputter, suddenly feeling very embarrassed. He’s gotta be joking, ain’t no way.

Yoongi eyes the both of you, an annoyed glint in his eyes, and suddenly gets up, grabbing his beer. You quirk a brow at him.

He stares into your eyes for a few seconds before declaring in a seemingly bored tone. “We have to get back up on stage.”

“Alright then,” You send him a dumbfounded look and follow him towards the stage area, waving at your friends as you do so.

The second set goes pretty well but you can’t escape the looks Yoongi sends you from time to time, like he’s ready to smash his guitar and leave the stage or something. You expect it any moment, though thankfully, it doesn’t happen.

What does happen is the man strums his guitar so harshly that he breaks a string and so, you announce your second break almost ten minutes before you were actually supposed to. Which isn’t a catastrophe per say, you just feel very nervous, his bad mood rubbing off on you and all that.

The thing is, he’s very clearly mad or bothered by something. And yes you were a bit dry and aloof towards him, you can definitely admit that, even apologize if necessary. You don’t think it could warrant such a reaction though.

Maybe you two need to talk, maybe.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you almost miss the last step down the stage, which is why you’re very grateful for the strong hold that saves you at the last moment, supporting your arm so you can regain your balance.

“Woah, be careful there love.” A sweet yet pretty deep timbre utters close to your ear.

“Thanks Taehyun, I can be so clumsy sometimes I swear to god,” You timidly say, still clinging to his arm like it’s a lifeline.

“I can see that” He airily chuckles, his voice ascending a few octaves higher. Damn, even his laugh sounds good. Yours sounds more like a pig/dolphin hybrid on a good day.

No, you’re not jealous, not at all.

“Did something happen? You were mesmerizing up there,” He continues, smiling from ear to ear.

Your cheeks heat up at his compliment. “Yoongi just broke a string, we’ll get back later. Thank you.”

You hear a throat being cleared behind you and you drop Taehyun’s arm before swirling around, almost colliding into Yoongi’s chest as you do. You take a few steps back, eyes widening in surprise.

And if he looked annoyed earlier, now he looks downright pissed off. You open your mouth to speak but Yoongi beats you to it.

“Can we talk?” He slowly says through gritted teeth.

“I um-,” You peek at Taehyun for help, only for him to smile and nod.

“Let’s talk later, yeah?” He gives your shoulder a soft squeeze before heading towards the bar, leaving you and Yoongi alone next to the stage.

“What do you want to talk about?” You ask, irritated and completely lost.

“Not here, let’s go somewhere else.”

Before you can even answer he takes your hand and leads you behind the bar, earning you both confused stares from your friends as you pass them by, through the back door and into the employees lounge.

Yoongi lets go of your hand as soon as you both step into the lounge, he closes the door behind you. There's music and chatter coming from behind it, but the loudest thing of all is the silence between you both. Full of unspoken words and emotions too tumultuous to decipher and analyze. It’s all too confusing, overwhelming, stupidly loud.

Yoongi slowly turns his body towards yours, staying a few feet away, one hand flat against the wall while he pinches the bridge of his nose with the other. And god, you’re nervous, so fucking nervous. You hate confrontation, all stemming from bad communication in your previous relationships. You don’t know how to have a talk without all hell breaking loose and both parties ending up crying and emotionally bruised.

You don’t want that to happen, not with Yoongi.

He exhales slowly before speaking. “What are you doing?”

You stare at him, at a complete loss.

“What do you mean, what am I doing? I don’t know, I’m singing, talking to people, drinking beer?” You summarize quickly, unsure of what he actually wants to hear from you.

“What’s going on with you and Terri?” He drops his gaze to the floor, seemingly embarrassed. His body is still tense, like he’s ready to burst at any moment.

“Uh? Who’s Terri?” You question.

“Taehyun,” He keeps his gaze low.

“What do you mean? He’s our colleague and he’s here to see us play? There’s nothing going on.” The pieces of the puzzle don’t add up, and you really wish he would stop being so fucking cryptic, you’re getting very annoyed.

He lifts his head, looking you right in the eye, making you shudder.

“He was literally flirting with you, and you didn’t seem to mind, which is like, totally fine I guess. But if you weren’t interested in me because of him you could’ve just told me instead of letting me almost kiss you,” He blurts out, carding a hand through his hair in a self-soothing motion.

Oh. So you’re really going there, right now. And you have absolutely no idea what to say because what in the actual fuck. No but, what in the fuck is going on. He’s avoided you all week only to say this now? How much more confusing can he actually be? Is he mad at you for being nice to the guy?

“What,” Is all you manage to respond.

Minus one point for your communication skills.

There’s silence between the both of you for a short period of time, not the kind of silence you grew used to with Yoongi. No, it’s uncomfortable and charged, you absolutely hate it. You want things to go back to what they were before, you don’t want this.

“Maybe I misread the situation and thought we were on the same page, but then you pushed me off and now this? You could’ve just told me, now I feel like a whole ass fool,” He discloses, anger seeping out of his every word.

Hold the fuck up now.

“Oh this is fucking unbelievable,” You angrily start. “Maybe if you asked me instead of avoiding me we wouldn’t be here in the first place Yoongi.”

He stares back at you in shock, probably not expecting an outburst from you. Tough luck, you’re not about to let this slide.

“I pushed you off because Namjoon appeared out of fucking nowhere and maybe you forgot, but I thought you were with Sam until recently, so I reacted on instinct when he interupted us.”

“And by the way,” You continue. “I’m not letting Terri or Taehyun, or whatever, flirt with me. I’m being polite and nice. There’s no flirting going on. But you had to assume things without asking, again.” You furiously spit out, shaking in anger.

“I didn’t-” Yoongi starts, coming a bit closer to you.

“You didn’t think right? Well I’m done, now you can think.” You snarl through gritted teeth.

And just like that you storm off, opening the backdoor and closing it shut with a force you didn’t even know you had in you.

You breathe in the cool autumn air, shivering as you realize you came outside without a coat on. Yoongi always makes sure you have a coat on when it’s cold outside. Fuck him and his stupid conclusions and stupid caring ways.

“Shit!!” You screech loudly, the anger and hurt proving to be too much to handle.

You kick the stone wall in the alley, wincing in pain as soon as your foot hits the wall.

Yeah, not your brightest idea. It seems like you keep making bad decisions lately, one more shouldn’t really make a difference at this point.

You push your back against the wall and lay your head on it, closing your eyes. A single stray tear escapes, sliding against your cheek treacherously. Ten minutes, that’s all you have to get your shit together and get back on the floor like nothing happened.

You take deep breaths, counting to ten while inhaling, then to five before exhaling.

You repeat the pattern a few times before you hear the backdoor swinging open, making you jump in the process. You turn your head to see who decided to take a fucking break while you were gone.

It’s Yoongi. Of course it’s him. Always appearing out of nowhere. In your dreams, in your inbox, in your fucking heart. The man knows no boundaries apparently. He quickly approaches you, walking decisively fast. You sigh.

“What do you want Yoongi?” You yelp loudly, you really can’t be bothered about being heard right now.

He stops two or three feet away from you, looking straight into your eyes, gaze sharp and focused.

“We weren’t done talking. I want to talk, can we fucking talk?” He grits his teeth, trying to contain his emotions.

“About what? How you lashed out at me out of fucking nowhere?” You spit angrily. Yoongi steps closer, you stiffen at the proximity.

“How about how you were flirting with him right in front of me? At work?” He spits out just as angrily. You roll your eyes, throwing your hands in the air.

“How many times do I have to say it, Yoongi? I wasn’t! Plus, why do you fucking care? Because if you did, you wouldn’t have jumped to conclusions without talking to me first,” You stare him in the eye, unmoving. The both of you are wrestling in a staring contest, neither of you ready to back down.

He groans furiously and you stop shivering in anger, your mind completely frozen.

Then, he takes a step towards you, and another one, pressing his hands flat against the wall, caging you between his arms. Your heartbeat goes haywire, his eyes are dark and hungry and pinned on yours. You shudder, feeling oh so small between Yoongi and the wall, so damn small. He tilts his head to the side, slowly closing the distance between both your faces, stopping a few breaths away.

He licks his lips swiftly, gaze lingering on your mouth before coming back up to your eyes and you gulp, unable to do anything. Not that you would, given the chance. You’re captured, at his mercy. You always were, you just never realized it.

Then he closes the distance between the both of you, pressing his lips hungrily on yours, a spark ignites in your veins, spreading throughout your body like wildfire.

It’s not soft, not sweet and comforting. It’s harsh, hard, irrational, all of his and your emotions mixed up together, tangled messily in a complicated web. It’s fiery, painful and healing simultaneously. You barely register his right hand coming to cradle the side of your face forcefully. It hurts, it hurts good. Your lips move in unison, battling for dominance, both losing and winning at the same time. It’s a losing game. Sometimes losing is all there’s left to do after all other options have failed.

You feel Yoongi’s body flush against yours, grip his shoulder as hard as you can, aiming to leave bruises. Your hand print, no one else’s, yours. He grasps your hip with his left hand, pulling you even closer, never letting go of your face. You unwillingly let out a moan, quickly swallowed by Yoongi’s unrelenting mouth. He squeezes your hip even harder, surely leaving marks in the process.

You slowly drag your teeth over his bottom lip before latching onto it, biting forcefully, painfully. Yoongi hisses and rolls his hips against you, letting you know how much he’s enjoying this. It’s sick, twisted, it’s good.

You whimper in pure need, and he uses exactly that moment to slide his tongue against yours, his movements harsh and bruising. You don’t care, it’s exactly what you need right now. Your tongues fight for dominance, intertwining together in an harmonious and sloppy mess. You slide your fingers through his hair, tugging and relishing in the gruff moan it elicits from the man.

You get lost in the moment, feel his left hand crawling up under your shirt, up your ribs, cradling the side of your breast, gripping forcefully. You shiver, your heart beating a thousand miles an hour. You feel completely lost, your mind fogged up, hazy, the only decipherable thing is Yoongi, only Yoongi. Always Yoongi.

“Hey guys-“

You both freeze, detaching yourselves as fast as you possibly can, almost falling face first on the concrete as you do.

Jungkook is staring at the ground, visibly embarrassed. You feel heat all over your body, most prominently in your cheeks. Fuck.

“Yeah um.. we need you inside.” The younger one says, clearly wanting to be anywhere but here. Your legs are quivering, barely holding you into place.

Yoongi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. You stare at him, his lips are puffy and reddened by what you both just did. You swallow harshly, unable to stop staring, lust still coursing through you in an unrestrained manner.

“Alright, I’ll be there in a minute.” Is all he says. Jungkook nods before closing the door.

Yoongi turns to you, an apologetic look in his eyes. You smile weakly.

“Go, I’ll be there in a few” You gently say, voice shaky and uneven. He looks conflicted, but ultimately decides to step closer, tenderly pecking your cheek before pulling away, the gesture making you positively melt. A puddle, that’s what you are.

“We’ll talk later, yeah? Just…” He says, half whispering. You nod.

“Yeah, we’ll talk later..” And with that, he heads inside, leaving you outside, alone and confused, trying to make sense of what just happened.

Yoongi kissed you. Not just any kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had. When writers talk about a kiss like the one you just shared, they talk about fireworks, they talk about everything falling into place.

That’s not what it felt like. It was like ambers, all consuming, being trapped in a cage you couldn’t get out of. It was like falling apart, the pieces of your soul scattered to the wind. The only thing holding you into place being a strong hand, soft lips. It wasn’t fireworks, it was a ticking bomb.

You both finish your last set, a heavy feeling sitting at the bottom of your stomach. Funnily enough, that’s when you give the best performance of the night, when you feel so overwhelmed by all the contradictory emotions that inhabit you that you have no choice but to let them pour out uncontrollably into the microphone.

You let yourself get lost in the music, forgetting your worries. And for a moment there’s only you and music, and that’s comforting. Music’s always been a safe space to you, a place to retreat when things go completely out of track.

You leave the stage to the sound of eager applause. You can’t bring yourself to enjoy it as much as you probably should. There’s just too much weighing you down right now.

The kiss you both shared was enough to communicate what you both feel, hurt and affection tangled together in such an intricate way that you don’t even know how to untangle it without causing damage.

But it’s not enough to resolve the issue at hand, that takes words. You’re not good with them, you always let your emotions dictate the words you speak. Sometimes that’s good, most times you need a bit of time to sort through your feelings before externalizing them.

You get to the bar before Yoongi, who’s busy packing up his guitar. As soon as you get there, Jimin hurriedly bounces towards you, concern etched upon his beautiful face.

He takes your hand in his, you smile at how similar in size they both are.

“What happened?” He inquires, his tone so gentle you almost cry right on the spot.

You manage to keep the tears at bay, thankfully, because that would be way too fucking embarrassing. “I’ll call you later, I just need to go home right now.”

“Are you okay?” He squeezes your hand in support.

“I will be, I just need to go,” Your bottom lip quivers as you let the words out. You’re so tired.

He doesn’t let go of your hand for a few seconds, like you’re too fragile to bear it. You’ll be okay, you just need sleep.

“Text me when you get home, please?”

“I will,” You shoot him a weak smile before you head into the employees lounge and quickly grab your things. You wave your friends goodbye as you walk towards the stairs and out the door, promising to call Taehyung tomorrow to tell him what happened. You’re not sure you’ll be able to, but you can still try.

You explain to Namjoon how tired you are and he swiftly lets you go, though he looks concerned. You’re halfway down the street to your car when you hear your name being called by a deep voice you’d recognize anywhere, in any setting. You stop in your tracks and slowly turn around to face the man who’s the root of all your conflicting feelings.

There’s a pained look in his eyes, you just want to erase it, take it away so he can never feel this way again. But you can’t, there’s no magical solution to this, it’s all too fresh and too confusing to be tackled right now. And you don’t want to hurt him, you’d never forgive yourself if you did.

“Can we talk? Please?” He asks pleadingly, his voice higher pitched than usual.

God this is hard.

“We can and we should I just-” You stop to take a deep breath, trying to stop your tears from falling. You fail anyway, one warm tear rolling down your cheek in contrast with the cold air. “I need to think.. I’ll go home tonight, we can talk next time yeah? I just need time, Yoongi.”

The latter nods understandingly, though he still looks in pain, but there’s nothing you can do to help.

“I’m sorry.. I shouldn’t have let myself come up with all this stupid shit,” He murmurs, the sound almost getting lost in the quiet of the night.

“I know,” You smile hesitantly, though it does nothing to tame the rumble in your mind, or the deep ache in your heart.

You just need time.

“Have I fucked this up already?” He seems so small, so different from usual.

You take a moment to think carefully before responding. But you don’t really know what to say and it certainly wouldn’t be something he’d want to hear.

“I don’t know..” You shift your gaze to the ground, not willing to see the look in his eyes. Though you can imagine it just fine, which may be worse.

He audibly gulps, overcome by emotions. “Okay.. Get home safe, yeah?”

“Thanks, I will,” You whisper.

You turn around to leave, but find yourself overcome with the desire to be close to him. If this is to be the last time you get the opportunity to do this, then you won’t waste it.

So you turn on your heels and cross the distance between you as quickly as your legs permit it. You hold out your hands, cradling his cheeks as you plant a long, sorrowful kiss on his soft lips. The salty taste of your tears mix with the taste of beer on both your breaths, it’s bittersweet, just like this exact moment.

You don’t say a word when you detach yourself, or when you turn around leaving him to his thoughts on the side of the street, cold and bruised.

It’s exactly what you didn’t want.

Sometimes there’s no other way.

a/n: :’D see you next timeeee, love you

a/n2: if you read this story and liked it but don’t want to like or comment, my inbox is always open and feedback is what gets me going<33

// to be added to the sunrises & liquor tag list click right here and interact with the taglist post, thank you for reading <3

taglist: @vesperbells @tarahardcore @tea4sykes

@bonitaangel @kthstrawberryshortcake-main

@princesspiineapple @funkylittlebisexuall

@kikaninchen-2 @diorjgguk @purplelo

@lil6nmrll @bwormie @fragmentof-indifference

75 notes · View notes