#and its tough believe me i was so self conscious

[dambaepuff]

hey hi, could i make a request? Im happy to see another good author starting :) u also seem very nice. could i request a yoongi x preferably fem!reader? if you want you can make it a genderneutral fic. my idea was a scenario were one of them is jealous, i thought of it being her jealous of him, over something stupid, but not in a toxic way like yk just pure jealusy mixed with insecurities. And they have a little petty argument and like it ends with smut i mean they make up to eachother that way :P like smut mixed with fluff at its purest. also, i am really curious to see how u write yoongi, i see many authors making him cold and tough but i believe that he is a very caring softie haha, by the morning wood headcanons, i think you got him very well ;) thank u in advance

REGRETS (m)

Pairing: Idol!Yoongi x FEM!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, smut, one shot, request, established relationship

Warnings: jealousy, insecurities, a petty argument, depictions of sex, crying, emotional, oral sex (f receiving), vaginal fingering, bodily fluids, penetration (vaginal), a bit of praise, light biting, squirting

Word count: 5k

Summary: uhhh idk dude just read the request that’s pretty much it

A/N: UGH I LOVE THIS IDEA!! I don’t have much experience with writing angst so this was a really nice exercise. Thank you sooo so much for all the kind words, it’s what keeps me writing. I’m also a sucker for soft Yoongi so this is right up my alley. (Also this is not proofread so lmk if there’s any mistakes or anything)

Thursday night, it’s quiet outside. You’re trying to watch a movie with Yoongi. Key word trying. His hand has been gently rubbing your thigh for a few minutes now, whenever he tries sliding it up to tease you, you grab it and put it back onto his lap. He’s clearly trying to get you heated, but it’s having quite the opposite effect. Lately you’ve felt quite out of it, your lack of confidence causing you to avoid intimacy. With Yoongi being the gentleman he is, he always accepts it when he realizes you’re not in the mood and he moves on. However, you’re starting to doubt his ability to keep going like this. What if he realizes you aren’t satisfactory to him anymore? He could easily find someone else who would be all over him in seconds.

Replaceable. That’s how you’ve been feeling lately. He could have anyone he wants, so why you? “Are you not feeling it tonight?” Yoongi’s voice startles you out of your thoughts. “Huh? Oh. No I’m sorry.” You respond, your voice growing quieter with the end of the sentence. “That’s okay, c’mere.” He mumbles before pulling you into his chest, his hand soothing down your back.

‘Will he stay with me if I keep pushing him away like this?’ Is what you keep asking yourself. On one hand you’re afraid he’ll stop loving you if you stop showing him affection. And on the other hand, you’ve been so self conscious lately about your body and if you’re doing things right you don’t know if it’s worse to ruin the relationship by pushing him away or by not being good enough. ‘Do I even deserve to be with him at this point?’

Friday, 4:37PM. You got off work early today so you decided to stop by Yoongi’s studio. He’s still working so you’re lounging around on one of the couches inside of the room. The two of you had made plans to get dinner together when he finishes up for the day which you’re really looking forward to.

A short blurry figure appears at the studio door, they raise their hand up and place three quiet knocks onto the glass. Yoongi gets up with a huff and opens the door. In front of him stands a familiar woman, you can’t quite remember her name, but you’ve seen her around the company building before.

“Here’s your coffee Suga!” She says in a cheery tone. Her eyes land on you and her smile falls a bit. “Oh, I didn’t know you would be here. Sorry I didn’t get you anything.” She apologizes with a light bow of her head. You dismiss her with a wave of your hand before going back to fidgeting with the hem of your sweater. She turns her attention back to Yoongi who is setting his drink down onto his desk. “Hey Suga, a few of us are going to that barbecue place down the street for dinner and drinks tonight. Do you guys wanna come with?” She asks with a tilt of her head, her long black hair swaying with the movement.

“Uhh, yeah?” He looks at you quickly for confirmation to which you nod your head lightly. “Yeah. Sure we’ll come.”

Yoongi continues chatting with the girl. She casually leans against the door frame, the conversation between them flowing oh so easily. ‘It took me ages to be able to talk to him that smoothly. Why couldn’t I be like her?’ You think to yourself, trying your best to not let your irritation show.

He bids her farewell and sits back down at his desk. For the remaining time you spend in his studio all you can look at is him. Your gaze burns holes into his side profile, tracing each curve of his features over and over again. Why would a man whose heart only knows kindness, whose eyes and soul are so understanding of everything be with you? Your being is rotten with unforgiving bitterness, you seethe at every imperfection like a nun enraged by sin. Why would he want you?

He’s like a wild flower. He needs to be pollinated by the love and kindness of a bee to bloom, yet he stays with you, a caterpillar feeding off of him, biting off his flesh for your gain. Eating away at him and leaving nothing. Maybe you aren’t even a caterpillar. They can eventually turn into a beautiful creature with wings of eyeful colors, yet you can’t become anything more than what you are. You’re stuck in a vicious cycle, devouring every resource without paying any mind to the fact there will be nothing left when you’re done. What does he get for loving you if you can’t be of use? You can’t make him bloom.

“(Y/N)? (Y/N)!” You snap out of your thoughts, the reality around you giving you whiplash. Yoongi is kneeling in front of you, holding your jacket out. “Let’s go, we’ll be late.” You try to take it from his hands, but instead of giving it to you he holds it up so you can slip your arms inside. Once it’s on you he turns you around and zips it up for you. “Okay, let’s go.”

As you’re walking down the long hallways towards the elevators, Yoongi notices something odd. You usually grab onto his hand the moment you start walking somewhere together, but your hand is tucked away in your pocket now. He gently pulls it out and intertwines your fingers together. You can’t bring yourself to grip onto him like usual, instead you limply keep your hand at your side, letting him hold it. He’s a bit confused by this, but nevertheless he keeps holding you, his grasp only growing tighter in an effort to reassure you.

Yang Sunhee. Her name popped up in your head the moment she sat down across from you and Yoongi at the long wooden table. She’s been leading the conversation at your part of the table for a while now, mostly talking to Yoongi. To her credit she has tried to include you into the conversation a few times, but you didn’t really give her much to work with so she gave up.

You’ve been pushing your food around your plate for a while now. It’s mostly pieces of meat Yoongi placed down onto it for you, your favorite in fact. You just can’t get yourself to even place anything into your mouth, anxiety squeezing your throat so tightly you can barely even swallow your own saliva.

Sunhee is laughing at something, her eyes bright and her large smile hidden away behind a polite hand. Yoongi is laughing too, maybe not as hard as her, but he’s still laughing. ‘Why am I not the one making him laugh right now? Am I not funny anymore?’

As you’re glaring down at your food you feel a warm hand make contact with your shoulder. “You wanna go home?” Yoongi asks quietly, tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear. “Yes please.” You breathe out, barely audible. On the drive home Yoongi tries asking what’s wrong multiple times, but all he gets in response is a simple “I just don’t feel too well.”

It’s been a few days now since you had dinner with Yoongi’s coworkers. He realized something was wrong so he’s been giving you some space. To be quite honest you aren’t sure if the space is helping or making it worse. After spending the whole day quietly sobbing to yourself in bed you decide to see what he’s up to. You find him sitting in the living room watching some sort of documentary and looking like he’s about to fall asleep. One of his cheeks is squished against a pillow and his hair is going on all the wrong directions. He looks adorable, your heart almost breaks in two knowing this is who you’ve been pushing away lately.

Taking a seat next to him, he lifts up his blanket so you can use it too. Just as you’re getting sleepy as well his phone pings on the coffee table. Instinctively you reach down for it so you can hand it to him, but when you see the contact name annoyance squeezes at your chest.

Yang Sunhee

Sent a message

“Why is she texting you?” The question slips from your mouth before you can even think it through. “I don’t know, let me see.” He responds while extending his hand out for the phone. You peer over at the screen, shamelessly trying to see what she sent. “Ah it’s just the schedule for next week.” He says and likes the message before setting his phone back down. Now you feel a bit guilty. Why were you questioning the intentions of this woman? She’s his employee after all.

Yoongi’s large hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb gently gliding over your cheekbone. “I know that look, what’s wrong baby?” He asks, his dark eyes skimming your face in search for answers. “It’s nothing.” You respond a bit too quickly, your tone stiff. The corner of Yoongi’s lip quirks up. “You’re jealous, aren’t you?”

Your eyes shoot open, “N-no!” you sputter out a weak defense. His hand slides down to your chin, the grip tightening a bit. His smirk spreads into a smile which angers you. He thinks this is funny?

“Don’t fucking touch me right now.” You say in a way harsher manner than you intended, tearing his hand away from your face. A flash of hurt runs over Yoongi’s face, his smile instantly falling. “Don’t look at me like that! I just- I need a moment right now.” You say in an apologetic tone. “You need a moment? I’ve been giving you a moment for days now. What about me? I keep trying so hard and you don’t show an ounce of being grateful. What’s your problem?” His tone gets louder as he talks, anger evident in his facial expressions.

“Problem? Oh it’s a problem now that I can’t always feel one hundred percent happy? Go sleep with some happy drugged out whore then if that’s what you want!” Without realizing it your tone has risen to a yell, you’re standing now, no longer in the comfort of warm blankets on the couch. “Don’t yell at me!” He yells back, tears beginning to brim his eyes.

“You’re yelling too asshole! Oh you’re gonna cry? Go cry to Sunhee, maybe she can suck your dick to make it better if you can’t go a week without me sucking it!” The moment you finish the last sentence a silence falls over the apartment. Yoongi stares at you wide eyed, unable to form a single sentence.

He looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes watery and his hands trembling. Realizing you went to far the only thing that pops up in your head is leaving the apartment for a bit. You speed walk to the front door, tugging your shoes on quickly and pulling a random jacket on. “Hey, hey! Where are you going?” Yoongi follows you once he realizes what you’re doing. Unable to look at his face you grab your keys and walk out, slamming the door behind you.

Not knowing where to go you walk to the nearest park. Taking a seat on one of the benches you stare up at the moon. “Why did I say that?” You mumble to yourself, tears stinging at your eyes. Your throat contracts, guilt choking you. There’s no holding back now, you let your sobs loose, tears running down your face uncontrollably.

“(Y/N)? Is that you?” A soft voice calls out to your right. Your head shoots up, trying to find the source of the sound. There stands Sunhee, she seems to be in her pajamas with a puffer jacket thrown on top. Her hair is a mess and she’s holding a leash. A little white dog sniffs around near her legs, you assume it’s her’s.

“What’s wrong?” She asks as she sits down next to you. “Ah don’t worry about it.” You mumble, sniffling lightly. “You’re so pretty (Y/N), I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone look good while they cry before.” Sunhee says with a genuine smile. “I- uh what?” You tilt your head to the side in confusion. “If I didn’t have a girlfriend I’d be jealous of Suga for having a girlfriend as pretty as you.” She giggles lightly.

“WHAT?” The question comes out harsher than you intend, the whole situation confusing you. “Listen, if you ever leave Suga just give me a call.” She says with a playful wink. You laugh in disbelief, your tears completely gone now. “You’re funny Sunhee.” You say, still sniffling lightly. “I’m not joking, but thank you.” She giggles along with you.

“Now why are you outside so late?” She asks while pulling her dog up into her lap. “I had a fight with Yoongi, I didn’t really know where else to go. I’m kind of scared to face him right now.” You answer truthfully. “Girl, have you seen how he looks at you? That man is a goner, I’m sure whatever you argued about isn’t that bad. You should go home and apologize, you can talk it through.” She says while giving you an encouraging smile. “You think so?” You ask quietly. “I know so.”

Even with Sunhee’s encouragement you’re still unsure. Guilt wracks through your whole body, pressing down on your insides and making you nauseous. You try to be as quiet as possible when you enter the apartment, but the sound of the heavy front door closing and jingling of keys betrays you. Just as you’re taking your shoes off you hear shuffling down the hallway. Yoongi’s dark figure emerges, you’re ready to hear something nasty from him, but instead you’re met with two warm arms wrapped around you.

“Thank god you’re safe.” He mumbles before kissing the top of your head. “I’m sorry Yoongi, I’m so sorry baby. Please don’t leave me. I didn’t-“ you’re cut off by a hiccup, your tears returning. “I didn’t mean to say any of that. Please, please don’t leave me I’ll never do that again…” You sob into his chest. “Shhhhh, I know you didn’t mean it, I should’ve done some things differently too.” His hand softly pets your head.

“I’ve been trying to figure out why you’ve been acting so weird lately and I think I get it now. You look at her like she killed your dog. You know she’s a lesbian right?” You can’t help but laugh a bit at that. “Yeah I kind of found that out just now.” You mumble, your fingers tangling into the material of his shirt. “Why don’t you like her?” You can feel him softly smile against your hair as he asks the question.

“I don’t know I just-“ You try to form the right words, but they won’t come. “Ugh! She’s just so pretty and she’s really open, it feels like she’s perfect and has everything you could need and I’m just sort of me? I don’t know, it’s stupid. I’m just projecting.” Yoongi listens intently to everything you say while he takes your jacket off. “Lately I’ve felt like the shell of who I was when you met me, you know? I’m just sort of bleh- and every other woman around me seems to have her shit togehter.” A tear runs down your cheek and Yoongi chases it away with his thumb.

“It’s why I’ve been avoiding having sex lately. I just feel gross and ugly while you… you look like you were sculpted by the ancient Greeks. You need a Hera to your Zeus. I’m like a satyr or something!” You let out a bitter laugh, trying to mask your feelings. “Hmm I think we’re more like Orpheus and Eurydice. Except I don’t want to lose you the way he lost her. They were such perfect lovers, yet there was something tragic about them. What’s love without tragedy?” He softly spoke, continuing to wipe your tears. You let out a genuine laugh and hit his chest lightly. “You idiot! You don’t get it.”

“I think I at least partially get it. I mean hell you make my knees weak whenever you look me in the eye woman, and we’ve been dating for years! I’d go to the pits of hell for you a million times more than Orpheus if it meant having a bit more time to spend with you. There’s no other person that could fulfill your role in my life as well as you do. I love you for you, you’re my muse. My light.” He places a ginger peck onto your forehead.

Love and desire suddenly flood through you, grabbing the collar of his shirt you pull him into a rough kiss. A few more tears make their way past your eyelids, but these ones of relief and joy rather than sadness and frustration. Yoongi gladly accepts your advances, kissing you back firmly. He barely wastes any time trying to get his tongue intertwined with yours. Your interwoven muscles becoming a metaphor for your souls combining together, the act of physical intimacy projecting your consciousness into one being, content and whole.

One of your hands shoot up to grip his hair a bit tighter than necessary which makes him release a deep moan. He pants against your lips, trying to catch his breath, but unable to fully separate your bodies. As he had endured yearning for you such a torturous amount, how could he let you go now?

He presses you flat against the door, holding you down chest to chest. His cold hands slide up your shirt, the contrast of temperature making you shiver. Caressing the skin of your stomach so lightly it tickles, he snakes one of his hands behind your back, swiftly unclipping your bralette in one movement. You let it drop to the floor, the only thing on your mind right now being the feeling of his body on yours. With his hands lightly ghosting over your breasts now, you shudder each time one of his fingers brushed against your nipples. Slowly he pulls your shirt off, the cold night air bites at your skin making your nipples harden. Instinctively your arms shoot up to cover yourself, but Yoongi stops you. He firmly grips your wrists and pins them down above your head.

Now fully exposed to him, he looks you in the eyes before licking a fat stripe from the area between your breasts to your neck. Lightly blowing onto the wet part of your skin, you take in a deep breath from the sensation. He begins to trail kisses down to your chest, letting go of your hands so he can bring you as close to him as possible. You tug at his hair softly as he mouthes at ode of your breasts, his tongue lightly teasing the soft bud. He groans softly before kissing down lower so he can get onto his knees.

He kneels before you know, unashamed of the submissive position he’s in. His teeth occasionally graze your stomach between sloppy open mouthed kisses. Looking up at you through his lashes, Yoongi starts undoing your pants. He pushes them down as if they’re getting in the way and moves his kisses down to your thighs. His uncalculated mouth moves dangerously close to your clothed cunt. Hovering over it he purposefully breathes through his mouth so you can feel his warm breath on your skin. You gasp when he suddenly pressed his nose against your pussy and inhales deeply. You can peel the tips of your ears heating up from embarrassment, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to care in the slightest.

“Ugh, fuck how I missed this part of you.” He groans as he kisses over the thin fabric. Finding your clit almost immediately he starts to roll his tongue against it through your panties. Your arousal and his saliva mix together in the material causing an uncomfortable need for real contact.

“Yoongi, take it off already…” you whisper to him, brushing his bangs out of his face. Looking up at you with a cheeky smirk he grabs onto the hem of your underwear with his teeth, making sure to lightly graze your sensitive skin with them as he pulls down. Your panties don’t even have the chance to reach the floor and his mouth is already on you again. He runs his tongue through your folds, making you instinctively angle your hips to give him more access. Heedlessly circling your clit with his tongue, he occasionally sucks on it or flicks it. You’re unsure if his mouth is glistening from his own saliva or from your wetness, but the sloppy noises he’s making are causing you to involuntarily buck your hips into his mouth.

“You’re so beautiful like this, my sweet girl.” He mumbles as he pulls away, nuzzling his head into your thigh. Replacing his tongue with his fingers, you let out a quiet moan when he slips them inside of you. “I love having you like this, only for me to see. You know I’d never do this for anyone else, right?” He emphasizes the question by pressing his fingers down against your sweet spot. ”Shit, Yoongi. I love you so much, no one makes me cum like you do.” Your response comes out in a dragged out whine.

Satisfied with your reply his mouth returns to your clit while his fingers work you open. The combination of sensations makes an orgasm built up in your abdomen fast. “Yoon- Yoongi, I’m gonna ah- I’m gonna cum!” You moan out, trying to warn him. This only encourages him to go faster as an orgasm ripples through you in harsh waves, your head falling back against the door as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You spasm slightly as he continues to work your cunt, trying to pull him away so he doesn’t overstimulate you.

He licks off your juices from his fingers, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. As soon as he’s back on his feet you go in for a kiss, leaning on him for support while still coming down from your high. He refuses to let your lips part as he leads you to the bedroom, his shirt and pants getting lost along the way.

“Lay down baby.” He mumbled against your lips as he led you to the bed. Kneeling down between your legs he made sure you were comfortable on your pillow. No matter how basic, missionary was always the best when you needed to express your love sexually. Parting your lips he pulls you down a little so your thighs are pressed together. He grabs his erect cock out of his underwear, not even bothering to get rid of the boxers. Pumping it a few times he gives you a dopey look, a lazy smirk spreading on his face.

“You ready?” He rasps out, rubbing the tip of his cock against your swollen clit, mixing his precum together with the aftermath of your previous orgasm. “A little too ready.” You replied, running a hand through your hair. “Mmm I can tell.” He teases while spreading the natural lubricant over his cock. Slowly he pressed the tip in, “Fuck, it’s going in so easily, o barely had to prep you. You really want it, don’t you?” his brows crease together in pleasure as he slowly bottoms out. “Yes, fuck Yoongi I want your cock so bad.” Your hand shoots up to grab onto his shoulder, biting your lip at the fullness.

“Please, (Y/N). Can I move?” He murmured, holding onto your hips tightly. “Yes, fuck me Yoongi.” You replied, grabbing his face to place a wet kiss onto his lips. He let out a low moan as he started thrusting into you, the warmth and wetness of your cunt feeling better each time he fucked it. You lightly squeezed your walls on purpose knowing it drives him crazy. “Oh my- ah shit I won’t last long at all if you do that.” He said breathily, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. You hooked one of your legs onto his hips, pulling him forward so he’s pressed into your cunt as deeply as possible. The both of you groaned at that, as soon as you let go he started thrusting into you with a quicker pace. His movements rapidly increased with each slap of skin that echoed throughout the space, his head thrown back. That look on his face means he’s absolutely lost in please and that makes you proud. He molds so perfectly inside you it makes all of your doubts melt away, it’s like he was made for you.

Matching the pace of his thrust to his fingers flicking your clit, Yoongi can swear he can feel you pulsating around him. “Ah, fuck (Y/N) I think I’m gonna cum already. Shit I’m sorry it just feels too good.” He groans, the already pink tips of his ears darkening. “It’s okay, go ahead baby, cum inside me.” You breathily respond, continuing to moan with each of his thrusts. He speeds up before abruptly stopping, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up making you clench around his cock. “Wait, shit, shit run my pussy please I’m so close too.” His fingers immediately speed up on your clit, furiously flicking it as your abdomen tightens again. As the hot white pleasure rips through your whole body, making your muscles spasm you hear a wet noise. Looking down the moment you can open your eyes you see Yoongi’s lower stomach covered in a clear liquid.

“Did you just make me squirt?” You laugh in disbelief. “That’s a first.” He mumbles before pulling his cock out, various liquids gliding down your ass. “I’ll go get a towel. He quickly gets up, trying his best not to make any of his surroundings wet.

As the two of you are laying in bed, your warm baked bodies pressed together, you feel Yoongi’s chest vibrate as he speaks up. “From now on, you always have to tell me when something’s bothering you, okay?” He softly says, stroking your hair. “Okay.” You whisper back. “Promise?” He questions while raising his pinky finger up, you lock yours with his, pressing your thumbs together. “Promise.”

[einloukrativesangebot]

March 2024 Destiel Fic Recs

My favourite fics written in March 2024. Please leave kudos and comments for the authors.

Baker Six by komodobits

Summer, 1944. Dean doesn’t think about First Lieutenant Novak.

Feel It All Around by egravis

With Cas newly fallen, a lot of things have changed. Like, for one, Cas has never appeared so fragile before.

I hate you when Sam sees it (and love you when he doesn't) feat Bobby Singer by FreyaBlackthorn

Dean and Cas love each other in the dark. They hate each other in front of a freshly soul-supplied Sam. It's that easy.

Except it's not easy, because Sam may be a Winchester, but even his stupidness knows bounds. So how can you make your little brother believe you are totally not interested in your feathered best friend (who is totally your boyfriend, for the record)?

Bobby makes a guest appearance because he's the best, and because he cannot be fooled.

Never Let Me Go by K_A_Mindin

Found the place to rest my head

Personal Jesus by GreenEnthusiast

Dean has made a nasty habit of calling out to Castiel in the dead of night, when he’s all alone. Repressed feelings and a case of beer are quite the duo, one the Winchester is no stranger to. All he wants is to love and be loved, but he’s not sure if he knows how.

The Space Between The Trees by birdyedwards

The point was that Cas fell out of that barn and right into Dean’s life like he’d always belonged there. Like there was a Castiel-shaped spot missing somewhere and he’d slotted right into it. Over the past several months, the two of them haven’t been apart for more than a couple hours and Dean wonders how he ever went on without him. How it was even possible that Cas hadn’t been there the entire time.

- + -

The thing no one tells you about hunting is that it’s surprisingly boring. Having Cas around helps.

touch and go by stayawake

Cas comes equipped with enough angelic strength to fling demons against the wall with a flick of his wrist, but still lets himself get pushed and pulled around by Dean like it's nothing.

a happy ending in the palm of your hands by all_american_hips

It has been three months since the world was saved.

-------

Everything is finally in its place, and Dean tries to get his shit together.

An angel walks into a flower shop... by FreyaBlackthorn

This is literally a pinterest post turned into a silly fic. What would happen if an almighty angel walked into a flower shop to buy his serial killer of a boyfriend flowers? (feat Sam, because let's be honest, he would probably be there and be a little gremlin about it).

love in messages by DeanIsABottomDamnit

The relationship between cas and dean seen through texts, through the years

inhuman/human by Xxcxreyxx

Stuck in Purgatory, Castiel has time to think.

devastating, apocalyptic, & utterly catastrophic by aalienbluezz

And that was it. Cas was done. So done. Why on Earth would he read this ridiculously inaccurate folklore when he could just look at Dean’s adorable face. And eyes. And his pretty, pretty mouth. Cas was about two minutes in to remapping out each atom of Dean’s devastating cupid’s bow when Dean finally piped up with that same strange look and a self-conscious laugh: “Uh, I got crumbs on my mouth or somethin’?”

or,

Cas introduces Dean to the wonders of Chapstick.

the gone fishin' fic by the_oncoming_stormageddon

Dean and Cas have been dating for three months, but Dean isn’t sure that he’s ready to come out yet. Meanwhile, Bobby’s known they’ve been dating for six months.

A Tough Nut To Crack by ImYourHoneyBee

The cold is worse, bad enough that their comfortable moss insulation and leaf doorway don’t keep it out, and despite his thick winter coat, Dean is freezing. On the other side of the nest, Cas is curled into a tight ball, his tail flipped over his nose like a blanket. Dean wonders if he’s cold too.

It’s dark inside their nest, almost pitch black with how the maple leaves block out the starlight. Cas is nothing but a lump, but Dean bets that if they were lumps together, they’d be warmer. It’s not gay if they’re huddling for warmth, right? It should also be taken into account that they’re squirrels, and he’s pretty sure it’s not gay if they’re squirrels, either.

Dean is suffering because he’d insisted that they be two squirrels sleeping on opposite sides of the nest, five inches apart because they’re not gay.

Morning After by lizleenimbus

Dean wakes up after a one-night stand only to find something - or rather someone - he didn't expect.

It's the first month of @deancaspinefest posting, so check those fics out here if you want some long fics of Dean and Cas pining for each other. And please do read my fic "Not our kind of thing" here.

Check out the other posts:

January, February

[seattlesellie]

i rly hope u don’t let these ppl discourage u from writing (｡ •́︿•̀｡ ). there’s always going to be someone mad over something, especially when it comes to things that ppl believe r being made to cater to them specifically. in literally every fandom there r ppl writing their fav characters as basically the complete opposite of their canon presentations, whether it’s their personality or their physical appearances. just as there are writers who portray characters as their 100% canon selves. that’s the magic of fanfiction. i don’t understand the incessant need some ppl feel to try and act like there’s ever been rules to writing fanfic, and it rly sucks over the past couple of years seeing writers basically being run off this website just bc some ppl don’t understand the essence of fanfiction. critics r always gonna b the loudest and it’s easy to say don’t take it personal but i truly hope ur doing fine and that the hate doesn’t break ur spirit. (ෆ˙ᵕ˙ෆ)♡

u are honestly so kind and thank you so much for this message. it just makes me a lil self conscious because i’m already not that confident about my writing so seeing people nitpick it just makes me feel a little iffy about posting. i completely accept criticism when it’s warranted! just hard to not take it personally sometimes. sometimes i write random stuff about abby / ellie being goofy esp when i get asks about them. i know they’re both tough literal killers but when i get asks about modern world abby and ellie i usually write them as if they haven’t experienced the trauma they’ve endured in the actual game and just… i dunno, make their personalities softer. i completely understand if it’s not for everybody though :) i cant always write strict canon universe its simply too depressing and this is supposed to be fun !! although i say this and most of my oneshots are canon universe but still 😭

[onlinewealthcreater]

Why you should focus on gratitude during tough times

It may seem unconventional to begin this article with a series of thought-provoking questions, but I believe it is essential to set the tone for what lies ahead. So, let me ask you: What giants are you currently facing, and how do they make you feel? Do they fill you with anxiety, leaving you yearning for an escape?

During challenging times, it becomes increasingly difficult to recognize the blessings that still exist in our lives. We find ourselves lost in the storm of uncertainty, consumed by thoughts of survival. To make matters worse, our own minds play tricks on us, whispering that we are trapped and incapable of overcoming these formidable giants. These lies and negative emotions leave us feeling powerless, trapped within our self-made prison of negativity.

However, there is good news amidst the darkness. Even in the face of adversity, we still possess control over our minds and beliefs. The truth is that our difficult situations are temporary, and tomorrow holds the potential for a brighter day. By choosing to focus on the positive aspects of our lives, despite the challenges, we can uncover solutions to conquer our giants.

This is where gratitude plays a pivotal role. Cultivating a daily practice of gratitude allows us to gain perspective on our circumstances. It is possible that these giants have been placed on our path to open new and better avenues that we would have never discovered otherwise. They may compel us to develop hidden talents, uncover dormant skills, and lead a more conscious and healthy life. In turn, this newfound energy can help us mend and strengthen our relationships, which may be in desperate need of healing.

Gratitude possesses a healing power that can transform our outlook on life. By choosing to focus on the good that still exists, despite the challenges we face, we can find solace and strength. So, how can we cultivate gratitude in our lives?

By simply reminding yourself of at least five things you can be thankful for each day, you can experience a profound transformation. Imagine starting your morning by opening your eyes and immediately reflecting on the blessings in your life. This small act can have a magical effect on your overall well-being. Practicing gratitude on a daily basis has the power to rewire your mind, encouraging positive thoughts and emotions

.As a result, your body releases feel-good hormones that provide a much-needed boost to your physical and emotional health. Not only will this help you better cope with the stresses of everyday life, but it will also accelerate your recovery from illnesses.

The true beauty of gratitude lies in its ability to shift your perspective. Instead of viewing challenging situations as undefeatable obstacles, your mind begins to see them as temporary setbacks. This newfound optimism propels you forward, inspiring you to seek solutions and escape the clutches of negativity. So, what is holding you back from embracing the practice of gratitude? Take a moment to reflect on the incredible benefits it can bring to your life. Start each day with a grateful heart, and watch as the world around you transforms into a place of endless possibilities

[eddiehashands]

Another leaving party.

This one isn’t even a party. Just “Do you wanna hang out one last time before I -” - “Yeah. Yeah, sure. That’d be nice.”

One last time.

There was a real party, too - Steve wouldn’t have fit in, all those involved eight years younger than him at least. Besides, it wasn’t really Erica’s party, it was all of her friends, too, all of the ones going off to college like her, at least. 

Just another place he wouldn’t belong.

“You could’ve come, you know,” she says.

She’s wrong, but he doesn’t tell her that. It might hurt her, and he still has this weird need to protect her from stuff like that. Stuff that he’s glad isn’t about physical danger anymore. 

She doesn’t call him on not answering, just pushes open the squeaking wooden gate to the cemetery. Holds it open behind her.

It’s cold for August, but it suits today. Maybe the sky knew that this was where they were coming, that this was the place Erica wanted to spend her last day in Hawkins.

“You still come here every week?” she asks.

Steve hesitates for a minute before shaking his head. “Not that often,” he gives a self conscious laugh. “Robin told me Max would get sick of my stupid face.”

She had said that nearly a year ago, now. Despite how long it's been, it had sounded so much like something that Max would’ve said that he had felt sick, in the moment, and just breathed down the phone, each breath shaking and forced. Moments later, she had backtracked. “Shit, Steve, I didn’t mean -” - “Don’t worry about it, Rob.”

It’s not like they stopped speaking after that. Sometimes he feels as though he can barely breathe until he hears her voice. And it’s nothing to do with how she talks without thinking and says dumb shit. That’s why he loves her.

It’s just that he’s learning to breathe on his own now. It’s the worst thing he’s ever had to teach himself, and the only thing he wishes he’d learnt sooner.

It’s just that their phone calls have longer in between them now. The one they had had last night was the first in - nearly a month.

Erica snorts, oblivious to his internal whirlwind. “She’s got a point. Max would definitely say that.”

It doesn’t hurt to agree. “She would. Little shit.” 

Erica looks down at the ground, smiling. They’re getting close, now, and her grip tightens on the two white lilies she’s holding in one hand. “She’d hate the flowers, too. I mean, sometimes she would be over at mine and I thought she was crying ’cos her and Lucas were having another fight, but it was just her hayfever.”

Agreeing out loud seems unnecessary at this point. He simply nods, smiles. Lets himself remember.

“But tough shit,” Erica continues laying down a flower at Max’s grave. “She’s getting one.”

Steve digs a hand into the pocket of his jeans and carefully extracts the almost-not-crumpled origami bird.

“Robin taught me how to make it over the phone,” he explains to Erica. “You would not believe how long it took, that girl does not explain things well.”

“Oh, I’d believe it,” Erica says. “Hey, you’d better have one for Eddie, too.”

“What do you think of me?” Steve asks. “Although, that’s a point, hang on.”

He digs his hand back in his pocket for the other bird, and sits cross legged in front of Max’s grave to take back the one he had just placed. He holds one in each hand, scrutinising them carefully. They’re both just made of the same plain white paper, but the one in his left hand that he had put down first is just a little more crumpled, one of its wings having been folded the wrong way in his pocket. 

He saves that one for Eddie. Something about looking out for the outcasts.

He places Max’s down carefully beside the lily, and makes casual conversation as he does. Casual, like, I want Max to be able to hear this, just in case she can. 

“You heard from Lucas recently? How’s he doing?”

“You want the answer, maybe you should call him sometimes,” she retorts quickly, her eyes narrowed. 

He knows how she feels about this already, it’s not the first time he’s asked after Lucas to get that response. And she knows he hasn’t done anything about it since the last time he mentioned it.

She sighs dramatically, rolling her eyes. “He’s fine. He got that job that I was telling you about. At that sports centre.”

“The one for disadvantaged kids?”

“Yeah, that one. So annoying, I can’t even bully him for being a nerd for it, because he’s actually, like, helping people.”

Steve lets himself smile softly, fondly for a moment, then turns to look at Erica with the smile turned lopsided. 

“So you’ll just hope one of those kids will do it for you, right?”

“Obviously.”

Her laughter, when it comes a second later, is a sound that he realises he’s going to miss desperately. 

She’s the last one left, has been since Dustin left two years back. 

(He’d had to repeat senior year. Steve had found him in the middle of spring break after vanishing for two days - Claudia had been worried sick, Steve too. In the end, where else could he have found him but the abandoned trailer park, his clothes drenched from the rain and scuff marks from his boots hitting what was left of the trailer over and over again. Steve’s hands still hurt now at the memory of letting Dustin punch them so hard. He didn’t go back to school that year. Didn’t graduate. It wasn’t fair.)

“Hey,” Erica’s voice comes, petulant in a way she hasn't really been for seven years now. “Am I here to hang out with you or just to watch you think?”

“Thought you and Robin established I don’t have a high enough IQ to think?”

“Well, you do seem to be straining with the effort.”

He jumps to his feet and shoves her shoulder - not hard, though she’s strong enough now with all that boxing she did after - that he’d barely be able to budge her if he tried.

She shoves back, anyway, and soon enough she’s wiggling in underneath his arm to wrap her arms round his middle and her head on his shoulder. 

“You’ll come visit me, right?”

“What, when you’re a big shot lawyer?”

“Answer the question, Steve.”

He thinks of the others. Counts on one finger the amount of times he went to visit Nancy like he promised, counts on one hand the amount of times he’s visited Robin in six years. Hasn’t made it out to see Dustin, yet.

He knows it’s over, now, he knows nothing is coming back to Hawkins, but he knew it was over three times before, too, and if he leaves - 

Even though there’s going to be no one here he cares enough to save, after tomorrow. 

Nothing is coming back to Hawkins. No one is coming back, either. 

“Yeah,” he lies. “I’ll come visit.”

[hall0wedwyrm]

EVAAAANNNN

Evan is very introverted and shy, opting to do his own thing and hang around with his extended family (aka the majority of the UT cast). He feels most understood by Frisk, who he considers a cousin. They both talk a lot about what its like to be associated so closely to Monsters, and living in a Human-heavy society.

Despite being an incredibly successful experiment into how a Human Soul and a Monster Soul could be combined, Evan is still a tad unstable. There’s been a few incidents where he has had to be taken back into the labs and reassessed, but currently he’s doing much better. He’s also got his fair share of medical issues that come with the strong will of Determination, mixing in a Monster-based body; He’s got supports for this spine and back (his spine holding his ribs arms and head) along with medication for supporting his soul. He's very self-conscious about his bizarre appearance, and he's under the impression it'll freak people out.

Being not part of such a huge event of all Monster-kinds lives made him extremely curious about it all. No one had really talked to him about it, and he didn’t really know who to ask. He vaguely mentions something to Frisk about it, but they just say it was tough all around and everyone is trying to move on. Which just makes him more curious. At some point he plans to go into the Underground, but he's stopped by Sans, who just says "kid you could have asked me. i don't mind tellin ya"

….also…. people don’t know this…. but Steve is… very not human… they're basically a demi-god... and this amplified some of Sans’s powers… yeah. oopsies!

also gonna link my post about his dads here too. Its not long but i think they're funny (I should give them the same treatment i did for Exe and Hero and making them a fanfic mmmmmm)

Extra deets :))))

Evan takes so much after Sans and it scares everyone. One time, he made some kind of pun towards Papyrus, and he deadpan stared at him and said "Sans literally said the exact same thing." and Evan laughed.

I'm also a huge believer in 'Sans is a really good dad' and he would probably do anything for Evan. Steve is also a good dad, but more in the way of "this being is so small and im so terrified to hold him but my gods would i do anything for him. look at him this is my son,,,,"

Evan first met Toriel when he was younger and he was feeling a bit out of place for one of the first times. He had ran off and she scooped him up and gave him some Butterscotch Pie which made him feel a lot better. It became a bit of a tradition after this; whenever Evan was kind of feeling sad or worried, he'd visit Toriel to eat pie with her :)

Mettaton really REALLY wanted Evan to be on his show, but he's way too camera shy and full of anxiety that he kind of can't. Instead, MTT does a mock up version (no cameras and no crew) and they ended up talking for hours and he forgot he actually had a real show to do.

Though its not happened, but I had the thought anyway, but Evan can melt. and he could potentially reset the timeline, since he could probably have enough Determination to do it. It wouldn't be a major reset though, since Frisk saves everyday before they sleep and in the morning and they have the major control over the timelines

[tiffanylamps]

For ao3 wrapped: 18,28,29 :)

Hey!! Thank you so much for sending me this ask! 😊 (I only write Beyond Evil fics, so everything will be related to that fandom)

The ao3 ask game

18) The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? I would say probably... Lee Dong Sik. I always fear that I'm going to write him in a way that seems more like a caricature than an actual depiction of his character. I do really enjoy writing from his perspective, as I feel there's a lot of depth to the way he views the world, and some of my favourite things I have written have been told from his perspective. I just want to do it right, and as of right now, I don't believe I have.

28) Favorite work you wrote this year? oooh, this is a tough one. The one that first comes to mind is my self-indulgent karaoke fic, courage to make love known. I don't think it's necessarily the "best" thing I've ever written but I really enjoyed putting it together. Plus, it's just a bunch of silly nonsense and that's super fun to write sometimes (as I tend to focus more on angsty, more emotional stories). 29) Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? Oh no, another really tough one. Ahhhhh. I can't choose just one, so I'll give you a selection

The faraway melody of pitter-patter rain morphs lazily, changing in tone and tempo as the hazy sleep-conscious fog in Joo Won's mind dissipates. His body is a burdening mass of unnecessary weight: limbs mid-rigor mortis from a dreamless sleep that has left him disorientated and aching, stitched to the mattress with invisible red thread. But he knows where he is as soon as he stretches his muscles like a cat after a day-long nap: toes splayed and knees clicking. His head rolls back, allowing his cheek to find the all-too-soft fabric of a pillow that is too fluffy and too big to be his own. 

Ah. He knows this pillow. He knows the entire set. 

He twists, uncoordinated with eyes closed like a newborn pup seeking out the life-giving milk of its mother. His chest finds the bed sheet and before he has the clarity of mind to stop himself, he cradles the pillow with arms on the verge of pins and needles, burying his face amongst the polyester stuffing. He allows himself a lungful of peace. Just a lungful. A deep and steady intake of autumn air and whatever diffuser Dong Sik has been using as of late. Not unlike a bagpipe, it inflates him with life and song, and he traps it within his lungs in secret, succumbing to its wonder. He feels oddly full.

-

His eyes look off to the distance and his eyes fall far away. He is incandescent; his heart sending mystic messages to its other half, like children whispering secrets through a tin can telephone. It’s a shame that his other half is currently steaming drunk and unable to receive his messages. 

-

It started as the drips of melting ice and throughout the years it has swelled into streams, rivers and levees, crashing down like waterfalls, but only shown through tears and promises. She’s sure that if he doesn’t speak of it, one day, it’ll become a sea, overwhelming him with waves and tsunamis. 

-

Joo Won feels sick like a projector with a film reel twisted up and jammed, seconds away from catching alight. He tries to be strong, he really does but he can’t stop himself from crumbling down. His chest is a lonesome chasm of torment and guilt, putrid and rotting away. He clutches onto it: maybe if he tears away the filth, he can be good enough - less selfish - for his partner. How can he ever face himself again, when he pushed the best man he’s ever met to-?

-

After an awkward adjustment of limbs, the blanket barely covering them both, Joo Won lays with his head on his favourite chest, listening to his favourite heart drum the beat of their wedding song. Dong Sik kisses his forehead, wiping tears away and keeping him closer than ever. Joo Won knows they have a lot to discuss, and he knows they will. But right now, the sun is rising and he's in the arms of the man he loves, knowing for certain that he's loved in return. He's on the verge of sleep when he mumbles, “I’d take your name.” 

His chin is lifted by gentle fingers, and they comb through his hair as an invitation to explain. “In England and other countries, it’s customary for one spouse to take their partner’s surname. If I could, legally or illegally, I would take your family name.”

-

Fireflies only live during the summer; Dong Sik had once whispered against his shoulder when they were young and stupid, during a night that never seemed to end. He whispered it with a smile tugging at the corner of his swollen lips; lips Jung Je had made swollen with his own. He remembers how Dong Sik softened with a boyish laugh as Jung Je kissed him again instead of replying. He remembers the smile he captured, the laugh he felt against his tongue, a lie he captured with his teeth and kept chewing on for countless summers.

But summer has ended a long time ago, he knows that now, and winter is truly here. Jung Je wipes the moisture from his cheeks and turns on the ignition. He got Dong Sik’s summers, what a fool he has been for wanting his autumn years too. Someone beat him to it.

Or worse yet, perhaps they were never his, to begin with. Dong Sik was never his.

-

Love, I spent an evening outside your door, chipping away at the paint, wishing that this is just a nightmare. But the touch burns with that ice-cold death, knowing a part of me is forever empty without you.  I am always with you and without you. My memories are dried chrysanthemum petals wedged in between the pages of our yearbook. Twenty years is all you were given. Twenty years is all I took. 

-

Joo Won fixed his collar again. He’s been told numerous times that he’s vain, and it was probably true. He was meticulous: bleached teeth, designer socks, silk bed sheets, Egyptian cotton net curtains, and gold leaf eye cream. He is a fuck-off wristwatch, a share in stocks, a non-existent handshake; real platinum.

He has perfectly manicured nails, a selection of embroidered ties, and a beautiful face without a smile. The kid with a private university dorm room. A dedicated bar inside his studio flat overflowing with sophisticated wine and perfectly aged spirits accompanied by crystal drinking glasses. His class at university was asked: Who is most likely to succeed? Everyone agreed: Han Joo Won. Him, of course. You know who his father is. 

As a result of his sequestered life, he had become a fantasy: a façade, a prince at a masquerade ball with an empty dance card.

Once upon a time, he was the kid that memorised every word to foreign hymns. He studied sheet music until the ink bled. He shot awake at night from tainted memories of a begrudged second place in a spelling bee. He was a hangnail snagging on a Prada suit, a smudge on Muzik reading glasses. He was mascara tears running down painted cheeks. 

-

Dust dances and twirls between sunray and shadow. The afternoon heat has mellowed into a finer thing: a pleasant concoction of crickets and the early evening songbirds' tune. There are dishes on the counter and boxes by the door, a light is on in the bathroom, and it is quiet as if there is no one home at all. The still lake on the other side of the sliding doors perfectly mirrors the painted sky, like a bathtub of golden honey, waiting for a finger to take a dip.

-

Anyway, yeah, there's more but I won't bore you with it. Out of the selection, the last one is the only excerpt from an unpublished piece/wip, so you get a cheeky sneak peek haha. I hope this was of interest to you! Thank you again for sending me this ask 😊

[newchapterinmylife]

It’s often said that life is a book, and each new chapter is a chance to start fresh and write a new story. For me, that time is now. I am embarking on a new chapter in my life, one that is completely free of drama and toxic behavior.

Before, I used to think that drama was just a part of life. It seemed to follow me wherever I went, whether it was in my personal relationships or even in my workplace. I constantly found myself involved in toxic friendships and surrounded by people who brought nothing but negativity into my life.

But recently, I had an epiphany. I realized that I have the power to control my own narrative and choose what kind of people I allow into my life. I don’t have to accept drama as a part of my story.

So, I made the decision to cut ties with toxic individuals and make a conscious effort to surround myself with positive and supportive people. This may seem like a simple solution, but it takes courage and self-awareness to recognize toxic behavior and make the necessary changes.

I’ve learned that toxic behavior can come in many forms – from constant negativity and gossiping to manipulation and controlling behavior. These types of behaviors can be draining and toxic friendships can have a major impact on our mental and emotional well-being.

I’ve also realized that it’s not just about the people we choose to surround ourselves with, but also about the boundaries we set. In the past, I’ve often found myself being a people-pleaser, saying yes to things I didn’t want to do, and sacrificing my own well-being for the sake of maintaining toxic friendships. But now, I firmly believe that setting boundaries is essential for a drama-free life.

I’ve had to make some tough decisions and have difficult conversations, but I can already feel the positive effects of my choices. My life is more peaceful, and I feel like I have more control over my own happiness.

Starting this new chapter in my life has also made me reflect on the kind of person I want to be. I am determined to be someone who brings positivity and kindness into the world, rather than adding to the negativity and drama.

Of course, I know that life will always have its challenges and there may be situations that bring drama and toxicity into my life. But I am now equipped with the tools and mindset to handle them in a healthy and productive way. I no longer see them as inevitable or something that I have to accept.

I’m excited to see where this new chapter takes me. I know that it won’t be easy, but I am determined to stay true to my values and create a life that is drama-free and full of genuine, positive relationships. And I invite you to do the same. Let’s all write our own stories and make the conscious decision to fill our pages with love, kindness, and positivity.

[xtruss]

An Inhaler For The Administration of Chloroform or Ether, Circa 1848. Photograph: World History Archive/Alamy/Guardian Design

Revolution In The Air: How Laughing Gas Changed The World

Since Its Discovery in the 18th Century, Nitrous Oxide Has Gone From Vaudeville Gimmick to Pioneering Anaesthetic to Modern Party Drug

— By Mark Miodownik | Thursday 4 July 2024

1. Dancing Around The Pneumatic Institute

Playing rugby one day, I mistimed a tackle and dislocated one of my fingers. I felt a stab of pain and sat in the mud staring in disbelief at my hand. One of my fingers was now bent at an unnatural angle. My teammates gathered round, grinning. They made it clear that they expected me to snap my finger back into place. Several of them mimed the action and excitedly made the cracking sound they wanted to hear. This was a test of my toughness, one of many that I have failed in my life.

Instead, I took myself to hospital and sat for hours in a blaze of fluorescent lights in the A&E department, feeling self-conscious with my shorts, muddy legs and odd-looking finger. Later that evening, I was shown into a booth and blue paper curtains were drawn around me for privacy. A young male doctor came in. He seemed distracted, but asked a few questions while consulting a clipboard containing my patient info. “Dislocated finger?” he said. I nodded. He put the clipboard down, took the dislocated finger in his hand and then, with no warning, he yanked it violently. There is an absurd moment from this scene that is freeze-framed in my memory. I am screaming in pain and his face is very close to mine. He is red from the effort of trying to pull my finger back into its socket, but he has failed, and instead has managed to pull me out of my seat and right up close to him. We both fall back towards the wall, like two drunks fighting.

Afterwards, calming me down with a cup of tea, he explained that he was sorry, and that he had been trying to catch me off guard in order to snap the finger back into place – a manoeuvre that had always worked in the past, he said. He then fetched a canister of laughing gas, attached to which were a tube and a mask. He fitted the mask over my nose and mouth, and began fiddling with the valves on the canister. He then asked me to take a deep breath. I did so and felt nothing. The doctor fiddled with the valves some more and asked me to have another go. It felt good, very good. I took another deep breath and soon found myself out of my mind and on a golf course, unable to find my ball.

The story of how a gas that creates delusions became a method of standard pain relief begins in industrial Britain. The air in cities and towns was full of coal smoke and the foul smell of human and animal waste. It was widely believed that bad air could cause disease. This was the miasma theory. It seemed like common sense, because where bad smells were most concentrated, there was the most disease. Outbreaks of cholera, Black Death and other contagious diseases were thought to be caused by clouds of miasma carried in the stench. People died in their millions of respiratory diseases such as consumption (tuberculosis). For thousands of years, it affected rich and poor alike, although because it was an airborne infection, the poor – who lived in crowded conditions – contracted it more often.

If air could carry disease, then perhaps gas could cure them, too. So went the reasoning of Thomas Beddoes, who set up the Pneumatic Institution in 1799 in the city of Bristol. The idea was to find specific gases that could cure specific diseases. Beddoes hired a young chemist called Humphry Davy to carry out the research in gas therapy. Davy tried many gases, none of which seemed to be much help – in fact, quite the opposite: when he tried a new gas called carbon monoxide on himself, he almost died.

Undeterred in his zeal to make great discoveries and help humankind, Davy then inhaled another newly discovered gas, nitrous oxide. The gas tasted slightly sweet and had a very strange effect on him. He started dancing round his laboratory “like a madman”, as he noted later. He laughed. He giggled. It was highly inappropriate, given that he was working in a medical institute, but he couldn’t stop.

A Satirical Cartoon Showing a Royal Institution Demonstration of Laughing Gas with Humphry Davy, Circa 1830. Photograph: Alamy

The effects did wear off after an hour. But how miraculous, how strange, he reflected. He tried it again, sometimes with the same ludicrous effects, and sometimes he was taken out of his mind in a more transcendental way. After one session, he wrote “nothing exists but thoughts”. Davy described breathing nitrous oxide as a sublime experience, an experience that was beyond language, although he did try to capture the feeling in his poetry, describing his limbs as “clad with new-born mightiness”.

Davy thought he would try the gas out on the institute’s patients to assess if it had any therapeutic value for curing diseases such as consumption. It didn’t. But it did make them laugh. He himself found it so delightful that he could not resist carrying on experimenting with nitrous oxide at night. Davy found that breathing the gas heightened his senses – he felt he could see and hear more vividly. He invited friends, writers and poets, such as Samuel Taylor Coleridge, to his laboratory to inhale the gas. They breathed it in and fell into fits of laughter, too, singing and dancing. The poet Robert Southey grandly declared that Davy had invented a new type of pleasure, which gave “delightful sensation in every limb – in every part of the body – to the very teeth”. More and more people came to try this remarkable laughing gas, including the radical poet Anna Barbauld. These laughing gas gatherings gave the Pneumatic Institution a revolutionary air.

During all the partying and dancing, Humphry Davy still had the acumen to deduce something scientifically important about laughing gas: it was not just funny and distracting – it could eliminate pain.

2. Hysteria on Demand

Up until this point, surgery and dentistry had been largely carried out without anaesthetic. For most people, this meant living with the agony of toothache until they could stand the pain no more. They would then reluctantly go to a dentist or doctor, who would remove the tooth by kneeling on their chest and tugging it out with a pair of pliers. Similarly, those with the excruciating pain of gallstones often preferred to live with the pain rather than go for surgery to remove them. Alcohol and herbal concoctions containing opium and henbane (psychoactive substances derived from plants) were offered as sedatives, but patients still felt excruciating pain and writhed in agony because these substances didn’t effectively block pain receptors. To carry out surgery or amputations, the patients were tied down, with a piece of wood or leather in their mouth to stop them screaming.

There was also a belief among western surgeons that pain might be important to the success of the surgery. They thought it might be required for nature’s healing powers to be triggered. Thus there was no obvious demand from medical doctors for the development of anaesthetics. So although Davy discovered nitrous oxide to be a fast-acting anaesthetic, the medical profession wasn’t interested.

A self-taught engineer, Samuel Colt, spotted the potential of Davy’s laughing gas. He had an idea for a new type of gun, but needed money to develop it. In 1832, he decided to tour the US performing laughing gas demonstrations on stage. It wasn’t hard for Colt to learn how to make laughing gas. The formula is N₂O, which means it is made of two nitrogen atoms and one oxygen atom. Since the air we breathe is mostly made up of nitrogen (78%) and oxygen (21%) you might expect that laughing gas would occur naturally. But although the oxygen in the air is very reactive, the nitrogen is not. It occurs as a molecule, N2, which is to say two nitrogen atoms chemically bound together into a single molecule. This molecule is very stable and reacts with very few things – not even the oxygen in air.

The method Colt used to produce nitrous oxide was to heat up ammonium nitrate, which decomposes to produce N₂O gas. But he needed to be careful. Heating it too fast causes a different reaction, creating enormous amounts of nitrogen and nitrogen dioxide gas very quickly. When large amounts of gas are produced, it has to go somewhere, and so it expands outwards. This creates a pressure wave, destroying objects in its path and carrying the smashed pieces along with it. In other words, an explosion.

To avoid blowing himself up, Colt carefully heated ammonium nitrate, keeping the temperature below 300C, and collected the gas that was created in a fine silk bag, which gradually expanded into a balloon. In his stage shows, he would invite volunteers on to the stage to inhale the gas, whereupon they would fall into hysterics, sing and dance. The spectacle of a prim middle-aged nurse suddenly bursting into song, or a shy gentleman transforming into a comedian, provided entertainment to the paying audience.

Keeping the spectacle in the realms of good family entertainment was a priority given the dubious reputation of laughing gas, and so Colt pretended to be a doctor. He stopped doing the shows once he had raised enough cash for his real passion, the development of a hand held pistol with a rotating cylinder: the Colt revolver.

3. The Birth of Anaesthesia

In 1844, a dentist called Horace Wells attended a laughing gas show and wondered whether it might work as pain relief during teeth extraction. He tried it on himself while having a wisdom tooth extracted. He giggled while spitting blood, and realised laughing gas really did block pain.

After trying it on more than 10 other patients, he decided to go public, and performed a tooth extraction in Massachusetts general hospital, before a small audience. Unfortunately for Wells, the patient let out a small cry during the procedure, and although afterwards he said he felt very little pain, the conservative medical establishment who had been in attendance pounced on this as proof of frivolous fairground trickery. They dismissed nitrous oxide and ridiculed Wells. He would later fall into addiction, and killed himself in 1848, but he had ignited an interest in anaesthesia.

Two years after his demonstration, another dentist, William Morton, used a different substance to anaesthetise a patient in the same hospital. The gas was a vapour of a mysterious liquid called ether.

Ether is a clear but very powerful liquid. If you sniff a bottle of ether you will immediately feel woozy. Like ethanol, the alcohol in beer and wine, it is made of two carbon atoms, six hydrogen atoms and one oxygen. But the two molecules differ in the way the atoms are bonded together, which has a big impact on their properties. For instance, their boiling points, the temperatures at which they change from liquid into a gas, are very different. The boiling point of ether is 35C, while the boiling point of ethanol is 78C.

A painting symbolising the effects of chloroform on the human body. Photograph: R Cooper/Wellcome Library

Now, 35C is not a high temperature: a glass of ether will boil in front of you on a very hot summer’s day. Although a bottle of pure alcohol will not boil on that same summer’s day, you will be able to smell it, and that means it is still releasing some of its molecules into the air. In fact, as with all liquids, molecules jump into the air and become a gas even before they reach the boiling point: this is called the vapour of a liquid, and is why you can smell liquids – it is the bouquet of wine, the warming aroma from a bowl of soup, a waft of perfume. The lower the boiling point compared with room temperature, the more vapour you get from it, and generally the smellier it is. Ether is very smelly, and no one would describe it as having a pleasant bouquet. It is not dissimilar to the smell of diesel and petrol – to which it is chemically related – and it will knock you out.

If you breathe ether vapour, it goes straight to your lungs, where it infiltrates the bloodstream and causes rapid intoxication in a matter of minutes. As with alcohol, the effect can be pleasant, but there are differences that make the gas useful for anaesthesia. When surgeons gave alcohol to patients being cut open, patients still felt pain, often babbling incoherently and striking out, arms flailing around. Ether’s molecular structure means it affects different pathways in the brain, causing a patient to lose consciousness rapidly and become insensitive to the pain of being cut open. Crucially, they lie still.

Because the boiling point of ether is so low, it can be easily delivered by getting a patient to breathe in the vapour using a vial of the warmed liquid. The trick, of course, is to get the dose of vapour inhalation right. Too much and the patient is poisoned, causing severe side-effects such as breathing difficulties and heart rate abnormalities. Too little and the patient will wake up while being cut open.

Beyond this, the use of ether as an anaesthetic was effective, but not ideal. For a start, like alcohol, it is addictive. So once there was general acceptance of the idea that the benefits of anaesthetics might outweigh the risks, scientists started to explore the vapours of other substances.

4. A Royal Knockout

One of these experimenters was John Simpson, a Scottish obstetrician living in Edinburgh. Every evening, he and two assistants would gather in his sitting room and sniff chemicals to assess their anaesthetic effect. This was a risky thing to do, because the toxicity of these chemicals was completely unknown. On a dark November evening in 1847, they gathered to inhale a sweet-smelling, volatile liquid called chloroform. At first they found it pleasant and were put “into a good humour”, but then they all collapsed.

When they regained consciousness the next morning, Simpson was elated: had he found a new anaesthetic? Not realising he could have killed himself, he next tried it on his niece, who said she felt happy, began singing “I am an angel” and then dropped to the floor unconscious. She survived, and, deeming it safe, Simpson went on to use chloroform in his medical practice, successfully administering it to mothers in labour to ease their pain. It was a miracle he didn’t kill some of them, as getting the dose wrong, as with ether, can be lethal.

A woman in labour taking gas and air to relieve pain. Photograph: Jonathan Littlejohn/Alamy

Other doctors were outraged, but not about the safety issues. The mostly male medical establishment argued that alleviating the pain of childbirth was morally wrong, and that God had ordained that women should suffer while giving birth. The moral issues around pain relief became a hot public debate until Queen Victoria in 1853 was administered chloroform while giving birth to Prince Leopold, after which it received the royal stamp of approval. The queen later wrote to a friend who had also inhaled chloroform for pain relief: “Very glad to hear Minnie is going on so well & had the inestimable blessing of chloroform w. no one can ever be sufficiently grateful for.”

5. Laughing Gas Goes Legit

By the turn of the 20th century, chloroform’s use as a medical anaesthetic was being phased out. It was too toxic, damaging to the liver and kidneys in high doses, but also caused unexpected deaths in surgery by interfering with the rhythm of the heart – the so-called “sudden sniffing death” – which is a dangerous side-effect associated with inhaling many solvents.

This balance between effective pain relief and the risk of side-effects brought laughing gas back into the picture. No, it didn’t knock you out, but yes, it did allow you to experience less pain with fewer side-effects. However, it was unregulated, and the form of administration – a silk or rubber balloon – was not ideal for dentists or medics because balloons are bulky and leak gas over time into the room where they are stored, which, in the case of nitrous oxide, makes everyone giddy. One person who took up the challenge to solve this engineering problem was George Poe, a cousin of the poet and master of the macabre Edgar Allan Poe. He created a factory in New Jersey for the mass manufacturing of nitrous oxide in a liquid form, which he then sold in canisters.

This was a clever choice. Liquids are denser than gases, and so a lot of nitrous oxide could be crammed into a small cylinder. The boiling point of nitrous oxide is –88C, which means that liquid nitrous oxide immediately boils at room temperature. However, pressurising a gas increases its boiling point, allowing it to be kept as a liquid in a pressurised container (such as gas bottles used to store butane for camping). Opening the valve of the canister released the pressure, instantly transforming the liquid into vapour for use in dentists’ practices and hospitals. By 1883, George Poe was supplying 5,000 dentists with medical-grade anaesthetic nitrous oxide in canisters.

Poe was passionate about the power of gases to help people in pain. He patented a respirator as a safe and systematic way of administering gas to a patient. A canister fed gas into brass cylinders and then into a face mask placed over the patient’s nose and mouth. Using this procedure, he claimed it was possible, using pure oxygen, to bring people back from the dead.

Once gases could be compressed cheaply and put in convenient cylinders, they were put to all sorts of unexpected uses throughout the 20th century. For instance, if you add cream to a nitrous oxide gas cylinder, some of the compressed gas dissolves in the fat. If you then open the cylinder, the gas pressure squirts the cream out of the dispenser. As it does this, the gas inside the fat expands rapidly and blows trillions of little bubbles – this instantly whips the cream into a fluffy foam. This delicious messy process was discovered accidentally in the 1930s by a chemistry student who was studying the preservation of dairy cream using compressed gas. He tried other gases too, but nitrous oxide works best for cream because it doesn’t affect the taste. It is also easy and safe to compress into a convenient form called a nitrous oxide whippet, used in commercial kitchens. These look like little bullets that you might load a revolver with, but instead they are designed to fit into a whipped cream gun. Press the trigger and out comes instant and perfect whipped cream: it’s delightful, it’s delicious, it’s a kind of magic.

Discarded laughing gas canisters and balloons. Photograph: Corinne Poleij/Getty Images/iStockphoto

The nitrous oxide used in modern hospitals is stored in cylindrical steel bottles. It was one of those that was used by my doctor on the day I dislocated my finger. I breathed in the gas using a respirator mask, like those pioneered by George Poe. These days it is delivered as a mixture of oxygen and nitrous oxide called “gas and air”. If you give birth in hospital, you are very likely to be offered this mixture to relieve the pain. It is a simple and easy to use system, and a much milder painkiller than the epidurals that are the alternative when someone in labour is in extreme agony. This gas really is part of the life support system of modern hospitals.

Young people, in their endless quest for different ways to inhabit their own minds, have rediscovered laughing gas. They buy boxes of whippets online and use them to blow up balloons of nitrous oxide. They then inhale the gas through the necks of the balloons as a recreational drug. I sometimes find tangible evidence of their hilarious, mad, dangerous (illegal in the UK) and life-changing trips. These are clusters of bright silver whippets that shine in the green grass of our local park.

My own nitrous oxide trip occurred that day in hospital during my dislocated-finger episode. I floated completely out of my mind. Hearing a “clack” sound, I mistook it for the sound of a ball being hit, and became puzzled as to why someone was playing golf in the hospital. Returning to consciousness a few seconds (or minutes?) later, I saw the doctor standing in front of me, but there was no sign of his golf clubs. Instead, my finger was back where it should be. I had felt no pain this time. The doctor looked pleased.

On the way home from hospital, and despite my injury, I felt elated. I was sitting on the top deck of a bus. It was a dark night and London’s grimy streets raced by in the orange glow of the sodium street lamps. Every now and again the bus passed a room on the upper floor of a house in which the occupant had not closed their curtains. I saw snapshots of people in their rooms, some sitting in bed reading a book or working on a computer. Then I saw a woman staring out of her window and we locked stares for an instant. I felt as if I was inside her head, momentarily transported into her consciousness, looking out of her window and seeing a young man on the top deck of a doubledecker bus staring at me.

Later I rationally attributed this out-of-body experience to the residual effects of laughing gas inhalation. My subconscious mind hangs on to this memory, returning to it frequently, feeling its strangeness like a tongue exploring the hole left after dental extraction. Once you have experienced moments like this, and had the idea that you have accessed a different realm of consciousness, it is impossible to let go of them.

— This is an edited extract from It’s a Gas: The Magnificent and Elusive Elements That Expand Our World by Mark Miodownik, published by Viking and available at guardianbookshop.com

[human-psyche]

SHARP EDGES, Part I: To Have and To Hold

Falling in love is the three worded calamity they dare not pronounce. It can't exist between them, other than a push and pull polarity一 or so they tell themselves.  ( ... )

Life is unpredictable. It follows its course and flows like the water, eroding through the hardest of stones to continue on, stubborn, evasive and ever so unapologetic. Truely, never once forgiving to some. It doesn't warn before the wave crashes and the shore must endure its rage with every sliver of power left, rampaging all barriers down like blocks of dominoes: fallen, one by one, defeated into a tight chained circle of inescapable causes and effects.

Remy LaNoir should have known that but he was obsessed with control, with the notion that all there has ever been to him he could plan and manage carefully, as if destiny, whether existent or not, would allow a mere competitive, shrewd mortal such as himself to alter the course of the universe and how intricately complicated a simple encounter can turn out to be; to him, life is a game, not a process, a board on which he plays to win and stand his ground no matter what. He locks all the doors to his heart and builds constant, fortified walls around himself to hide his jagged edges, dressing in the skin of a rich fiend drunk on the finest pleasures he derives from women ready to sink deep to believe every word curling off his tongue一 in the vestiges of his well practiced rigor which has transformed over time into a very own version of reality, like a sophisticated, urban impersonator of what is and what is not, the most elegant formation of truth hiding exactly in the transparent lines of lies. That is the place where it should reside and dwell, leaving audiences wanting for more yet cruelly unaware… ( ... )

Life is also always fluctuating and ever changing, evolving, reshaping. Slow paced but tough, fast and yet rough, and sensibile all at once一 a masterful journey of trial and error, a self-taught talent one acquires not by taking short cuts but by battling its magnitude face on. Singularly, solely alone. It has a certain power to both weaken and strengthen people in the same round of failures it promotes, secretly measured not with an amount of victorie but rather with each unique, individually learned and recorded tally mark of standing up again.

That, is life for Ela Beaumont. ( ... )

"You don't know my family. Don't put me in the same box with the rest, because I did the same to you this morning and you're proving not to be the kind of girl I thought you are. Let's skip the basics." lifting her face to him, his nose almost touches hers, drinking in her beauty highlighted through the physical softness of her defiant personality. They're inhaling each other's breath with the limited gap between them. "And do you want me to tell you a secret?" He leans in to her ear and whispers, "Neither am I the kind of guy you think I am."

She doesn't move, unsure if the slight shiver climbing up her spine stems from the wall behind her or his doings. There's a shadow of anger and hurt bounding in his enigmatic gaze when he steps back. Ela tells herself it's just a trick of the eye. For a fraction, she peeks into his soul but Remy Lanoir's mastery at hiding his emotions digresses immediately, driving her to receive it as an illusion, even if her intuition nags at her conscious ignorance. She prepares to leave quickly before he can stop her. "…It was a mistake coming here." ( ... )

Hello! My first full novel, SHARP EDGES, Part I: To Have and To Hold, an action / romance mafia story, is now available for PRE-ORDER! Please do check it out! https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CKQ5LKHS

[lizardmonet]

loving support from mom today as she told me my friends will think i’m weird and gross if they see hair on my legs lmaooo

[sublimecatgalaxy]

Daryl feeling insecure about how he looks because he thinks he’s too old for the reader

I actually wanted to cry writing this.

My hands soothe over his shoulders as I lean over the bed, my chest pressing against his back as he pets Dog, his eyes trained out the window, watching the people pass by.

"Hi pretty girl." He whispers, kissing the inside of my wrist as my hands venture down the front of his chest. "How's your day?" He asks, his head leaning back to rest against me as I smile, pressing a simple kiss to his temple.

"Boring without you watching me garden." He laughs sheepishly at my joke, loving how much I make fun of him for taking advantage of his watch duties just because he could always enjoy the view. As his laughter dies down, I catch a glimpse of his tired face, his eyes shining with a sense of insincerity and his shoulders unbelievably tight and tense. "You alright?"

"Yeah." He mutters, but it feels like more of a deflection than an honest answer, his chest deflating as I swing my legs around him, moving to sit myself firmly on his lap. His hands find their place on my hips as his eyes avoid mine, solidifying that something is wrong.

"Talk to me." I whisper, dragging my fingers through his shaggy hair as he clears his throat.

"Ya ever get, uh, made fun of?" He asks, but his question doesn't seem complete as he hesitates, his lashes fluttering as he looks up at me. "For bein' with me?" My jaw drops at his question, brows pulling together as I immediately shake my head.

"Daryl no, never. Did someone say something to you? Who was it?" My heart pounds as fury runs through my veins, worrying that someone said something to upset him. He's tough on the outside but he's truly self conscious and over-aware on the inside. He takes everything people say to him to heart and it runs through his mind on a constant loop. So the thought of someone bad mouthing our relationship makes me want to go absolute berserk.

"No one said nothin'." He mumbles, running his hands over his face as I sigh, my hands massaging circles into his biceps as I wait patiently for him to open up. "Ya know that shit you talk 'bout all the time? Just start questionin' shit and it gets ya all messed up in the head-"

"Daryl, are you overthinking?" I ask quietly, my hands reaching up to cup his cheeks as he pauses, his head slowly nodding with a hint of embarrassment behind his eyes. "Why are you overthinking?" My eyes flicker back and forth between his as he huffs, his shoulders rising and falling in a curt shrug.

"Jus' a case of the old man with the beautiful girl. Hard to believe it sometimes." He whispers, a laugh erupting from my lips as he looks up at me incredulously, wondering why on earth I'm laughing.

"Old man? Seriously?" I snort, watching as he scoffs, pinching my thighs playfully. "Yeah okay-"

"Don't make fun of me." He whispers, tucking his face in the crook of my neck as I laugh, shaking my head as I clutch him to me, fingers running up and down his back.

"First of all, we're in the apocalypse, I don't think age matters in this type of situation." His back rumbles in quiet laughter as he relaxes into my hold, arms wrapping around my back to pull me tightly against him. "And the lack of little blue pill every single night also tells its own story-"

"Oh, piss off."

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Taglist: @bubblebuttwade @rafelover2405 @leslienjazzy @sorceresss @grxnde-dwt @alex–awesome–22 @bunnietoof @niyamar1e @serialghost @plantlungs @geniusohn @akaliltimmytim @lilaalouuxx @xshariex @elliotsbeigeguitar @elle4404 @lelieja @srhxpc i@joselyn001 @taysirene @spinkspanther @thedivineuphoria @peter-maximoffs @tsukishimawhore @poohkie90@szlaco @distantsighs @nstyles4299 @wolflover384 @givemefoodandlovesstuff @vane28282 @yeswhatever33 @amirrahfranson @vvaalleennttiinna@f-mu @yaspillz @jeyramarie @skylievin @abbybarnes17 @jointherebellion215 @visiondaddy @steezysimfinds @its-ya-gay-boi-luigi @crunchytoenailsyum @glizzymcguirex @beth123lg @melovesmut @rafecameronswhore @ariianelle @write-from-the-heart @vampviolets @haylee-e@popehaywardssecretgf @honee-chai-tea @lokiandbuckywife @smoke-and-fire @officiallyunofficialperson @heyaitsklaudia @rosepetalsparks @bluetreecloud20 @scenesofobx @double-shot-of-tequila @1dluver13xx @colbysbrocks @iamasimpingh0e @smoke-and-fire386 @chiyongberry @id-3-kbro @diorsitgirl @errorfound101-allideasburnedout @neverwillknowme18 @ellyskey @taylors-folk @loversjoy

[thewalkingdeadimaginings]

Twist of Fate

HEY GUYS! I know, I know, I’ve been away forever. Admittedly, I haven’t had much motivation to write. Perhaps the show ending soon makes me blue haha! Anyways, I’m gonna try to be more active and start posting more again! Hope you enjoy this as my comeback!

 Reader x Daryl where Daryl and the reader dated before the apocalypse like they were super in love. And then one day ( maybe a year or two later) when Rick and Daryl are out looking for food or supplies they find a woman unconscious. Daryl recognizes her, like maybe she had a drunk tattoo of his name on her hip or something. Then, Daryl convinces Rick and the others to take her in. She wakes up and sees Daryl and its just so fluffy. Please and thank you!!

             Looking at Daryl Dixon, no one would’ve ever thought of him as anything but a rough, angry brute who couldn’t love anyone. He didn’t exactly have a welcoming presence, nor did he offer polite smiles. Maybe the occasional nod of his head as a sign of acknowledgement but one would believe he fades so easily into the background.

             But no one knew him like you did. And a part of you liked that all the kind gestures were saved just for you. He was tough on anyone else but no one else had given you the gentle touches that he did. But the other part of you wanted the world to see the heart of gold he had. He just needed time and love and patience. It had taken time but even so, it was the best two years of your life with him.

             Daryl, being a man of few words, found it difficult to admit but he loved sharing his life with you. He’d tried a few times to express that but he would choke at the last second and change the subject. But he appreciated that he could just enjoy the silence with you. He just hoped that you were happy with that too.

             You were home waiting for him when he let himself into your apartment. He’d been away for a few days so you were instantly on your feet running to greet him. Daryl let out a chuckle, gently patting your back, “Didn’t think you’d miss me that much, Y/N.”

             “Of course I did,” you replied, quickly closing your mouth before you could admit that you always missed him when he was gone no matter how long it was. It would sound weird and pathetic if you said it out loud. Even after two years, you still felt a little self conscious, like anything would send Daryl running, “We should go out tonight. Date night? If you’re not too tired that is. We can stay in if you want.”

             “Nah, we can go out,” Daryl said, “What’d you have in mind?”

             You knew the typical dinner and a movie date night wasn’t Daryl’s style but he did it anyway to make you happy. It was one of the many gestures that showed you how much he cared. It would be nice to hear it put into words sometimes but he never failed to let you see it. You could do the same for him, “Well, we could go out for some drinks. I know a bar we can go to. Shower and change up. Let’s go!”

             Once the both of you were clean and dressed, you got into Daryl’s truck and headed for the bar. He drove quietly and you tried to look at him to take him all in without him noticing. If he did notice, he didn’t show it. He always wondered what you could see in someone like him but he wasn’t going to argue. He’d let you steal all the glances you wanted.

             It had been a long time since either of you had such strong drinks. You’d lost count how many drinks you’d had or how many shots Daryl had tossed back but in just a few hours, he had his arms wrapped around your waist to keep you steady. Without him, you’d be stumbling around aimlessly. There may have been a small part of you that would feel embarrassed having people see you be such a mess. But the rest of you couldn’t care less. Daryl made you feel free.

             Daryl tossed back one last shot while you had your arms wrapped around him, kissing his neck. He groaned at the liquor burning his throat and slammed the empty shot glass on the bar. His head was swimming but he was the navigator between the two of you. He threw his arm around your shoulder, “We should get outta here. We’ll leave the truck, come back for it in the morning. No way I can drive.”

             “Come onnnnn,” you whined, leaning against him as you walked out clumsily, “Do we have to call it a night?”

             “What else is there to do, Y/N?” Daryl said. You walked along for a bit, looking around at all the shops, some starting to close as it was getting late. Finally, you stopped in front of a tattoo shop, staring up at the giant neon TATTOO sign above your heads. It took Daryl’s clouded mind to register the idea stirring around in your head but once he did, he started trying to pull you away, “Y/N…no, no. Don’t even think about it.”

             “Daryl, we can get something together,” you replied, “A cute little matching tattoo. Ooh, I have a better idea! Come on, let’s go!”

             “Y/N!” Daryl exclaimed, surprised by your strength as you pulled him inside the shop, “Y/N, stop! Even I think this is crazy!”

             “I was thinking of doing something crazy,” you said, “Something wild. Come on, you’ve lived. I wanna live too.”

             “What’re you planning on getting?” Daryl asked, “Seriously, Y/N, this isn’t a good idea. Let’s go home.”

             “You worry too much,” you said with a giggle, “You’re gonna like it. Trust me!”

             Daryl still didn’t like the sound of this but he knew better than to fight you on this. You were so stubborn and he couldn’t help but love that about you. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain it to you tomorrow morning but you had to know nothing could stop you when you put your mind to something. That’s how you ended up breaking down his walls in the first place. You were the one person to never give up on him.

             What he didn’t love was his name being carved into your hip. He knew you would wake up in the morning and freak out about seeing his name on your body. At this point, all he could do was just enjoy how happy this was making you. Watching you look in the mirror at his name, you were grinning. It was a smile that reached your eyes. He couldn’t argue any further when you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him sweetly, telling him how much you loved him and you would never regret this no matter what. He would worry about the panic and the frustration tomorrow. All he wanted now was to take in this very moment with you.

             He never thought for one second that moments like that wouldn’t last. He never imagined that the last time he saw you would truly be the last. The moment he was starting to become human, you were ripped away from him and replaced by death and blood and pain. Instead of getting to wake up in a warm bed next to you, he was waking up in a tent, grateful to have woken up at all, to have woken up in one piece. He was fighting to stay alive and to protect the new group he was running with from the dead that were reaching for them with grimy, bloody fingers to tear them all apart. The same fingers that had to have torn you apart. He’d almost gotten himself killed looking for you. Where could you have ended up?

             The group had adjusted to the prison. And being focused on the governor had led him to tucking your memory away in the back of his mind. He could never completely forget you but if he kept his mind busy, it could protect his heart. The only thing left to do now was hope that you were still alive and able to protect yourself. Was it foolish to still have hope? Daryl asked himself that question constantly but then stopped himself as he knew you would be the one to always answer yes.

             Daryl was just waking up, sitting up in his bed and rubbing his eyes when the early morning sunlight was blocked by Rick Grimes, the cell darkened instantly by his shadow, “I was thinking of going on a run. Would you wanna come with me?”

             “Sure,” Daryl mumbled as he slowly stood and stretched, “Only need a few minutes to get ready to go.”

             Once Daryl was up and ready, they were off. Rick was driving while Daryl sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window and biting his thumbnail. He was always relatively quiet but his silence today was far more awkward than usual. Rick was going to just let it go for a while, knowing he most likely wouldn’t get an answer. But this particular silence was too much to handle.

             “So, we got a list from everyone,” Rick said, pulling the piece of paper from his pocket and holding it out for Daryl to take. Daryl grabbed it and stared at it but said nothing in response. Rick continued, “Most important thing would probably be the medicine and first aid for the infirmary. Hershel tells me we’re running low on some supplies.”

             “We’ll see what we can find,” Daryl finally muttered before turning back to the window.

             “Is there something on your mind?” Rick inquired, “You seem…different today. You alright?”

             “Nothing, I’m good,” Daryl replied. Despite how close the group had become over the last few months, Daryl still couldn’t bring you up. He’d thought about at least talking to Rick but he wasn’t prepared for the inevitable questions that would be fired at him. How did you get split up? Is Y/N dead? Was Y/N bit? Why did he stop looking? All questions he couldn’t answer himself, “Just slept bad I guess.”

             “You could’ve said no if you’re tired,” Rick said, “You sure you’re up for this?”

             “It’s fine, I would’ve found something to do with my day anyway,” Daryl said, shifting nervously in his seat, “We there yet?”

             “Shouldn’t be too long now,” Rick said. He suddenly leaned forward in his seat, the car starting to slow down. He tapped Daryl’s arm to get his attention on a moving shape a few yards ahead on the side of the road, “What is that?”

             As they got closer, the shape became clearer, revealing a young woman covered in blood and dirt, her face concealed by a grey bandana. She was waving her arms weakly above her head before dropping to the ground. Daryl sat up in his seat, “What the hell?”

             Rick pulled the car over and the two of them rushed out to tend to the woman. She had a large gash along her hairline and some dark blue bruises showed underneath all the blood but they couldn’t find any bites.

             “She was attacked,” Rick remarked, “You think it was…”

             “The governor?” Daryl said, “Not sure. Doubt it. What should we do?”

             Rick sighed, “This head wound looks pretty bad. What chance do you think she has of survival? We barely have any supplies as it is.”

             Daryl didn’t answer right away, still looking over the woman. She was still breathing so he carefully considered Rick’s suggestion. As he turned her body to check for bites or other injuries, her shirt rode up a little, enough to catch a glimpse of black ink near her hip.

             “Wait,” Daryl whispered to himself. He lightly tugged on the woman’s waistband to reveal a familiar tattoo. That stupid drunken tattoo of his name. He ripped the bandana away from the woman’s face and there you were. It was you. He’d found you. He sucked in his breath to suppress the lump in his throat, “Y/N.”

             “Y/N?” Rick said, “You know her?”

             “I know her,” Daryl said. He tucked your bandana away in his pocket, pulling out his own to tie around your head. His hands were shaking as he carefully scooped you up, “We’re not leaving her.”

             “Wait, wait, wait, slow down,” Rick said, “How do you know her?”

             “I’ll explain later!” Daryl exclaimed as he ran back to the car. You let out an uncomfortable groan as he laid you down in the backseat but it didn’t seem like you were otherwise aware of what was going on. Rick was hesitant to follow and Daryl huffed, “If it was anyone else, you would trust them.”

             Rick nodded and ran for the car, “You’re right, Daryl. I trust you. Can you at least tell me who Y/N is?”

             Daryl sat in the front, his body twisted around to look at you, “She…we uh, we were…”

             “Oh!” Rick said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. We’ll get her fixed up, Daryl. Don’t worry.”

             You were bleeding on the seat. Maybe Rick was right before and your chances of survival weren’t great. But what were the chances of reuniting here at this very moment? You’d talked to him about fate quite a lot before. He wasn’t sure he believed in it then but somehow, it felt so real. You getting that tattoo somehow led to this very moment.

             “Daryl,” Rick said, staring up at the rearview mirror. As they were driving away, three figures emerged from the woods. They were far away but he could tell they were watching the car, “They must be who attacked Y/N.”

             “I see ‘em,” Daryl said, “Looks like they’re on foot. They won’t know where we’re headed.”

             If those people had shown up just a few seconds earlier, it would’ve been a slaughter. Daryl would’ve torn them apart with his bare hands. Maybe that was fate too. He could focus on you now and get you to safety. None of this felt real. He didn’t even want to blink, afraid that if he shut his eyes for even a second, he’d open them and be back in his cell and this entire day was a dream. He needed you to be real.

             Being with the group was supposed to be temporary. Those men had told you a thousand times it was stupid and a waste of time to keep searching for Daryl but you refused to stop. You wouldn’t stop until you found him or found a body. Either way, you wouldn’t leave anything open ended. The chaos had separated you in the beginning. Was he safe? Was he with good people? You refused to accept the possibility that he could be dead. Daryl could easily survive something like this. No one could do it like Daryl Dixon.

             You were the only woman in the group while trying to learn how to survive this new world without relying on these dogs. They were always mean and rude, working you like crazy, occasionally getting you in harm’s way. But they had never been violent until the day you planned on leaving them. God, why did they get so angry? Suddenly, you were getting kicked around and a big rock was thrown at your head. They were fully prepared to kill you. You could barely navigate, the blood from your head wound getting into your eyes. You were tripping over everything, feeling woozy from the blood loss and your body aching from the beating you’d taken. Last thing you remember was reaching a desolate road and one car in the distance. You had just enough strength to wave your arms over your head before your legs gave out and you were gone.

             When you opened your eyes, you weren’t expecting to be in a bed. Was this a prison cell? Anywhere was better than the side of the road but who had you gotten help from?

             An old man entered the cell, a warm smile obscured by a full beard. He spoke softly, “Finally awake. How do you feel?”

             You reached up to touch the soft bandages wrapped around your head. Your head was throbbing and every muscle in your body was tight and sore. You slowly sat up in bed, sucking in your teeth, “I feel like I got hit by a car. Thank you for saving me.”

             “We were worried you wouldn’t make it through the night but you’re tough, Y/N,” the old man said, “My name is Hershel Greene, by the way.”

             You paused, looking past him at a few stragglers acting like they weren’t trying to listen in. You returned your attention to Hershel, “How the hell do you know my name?”

             What if your group had gotten a hold of you? That car you tried waving over must’ve kept driving and left you to those dogs. If you didn’t get out now, they were going to kill you.

             “It’s not what you think,” Hershel said, “If you’d just let me explain.”

             “No,” you snapped. Getting out of bed made you dizzy but you forced yourself to walk forward, swinging you arm at Hershel when he tried to reach out for you, “Stay away from me!”

             The people in the prison parted and made space for you to walk by. Of all the faces you were seeing as you passed, none of them were familiar. Where were the guys of your group? They had to be close by. You cursed under your breath as you struggled down the stairs.

             “Someone find Da…” Hershel’s voice faded as you finally found the door that led to the yard. The yard was impressive. There were crops being grown in the grass. There were pigs and horses, even a barbecue set up for cooking meat. The people here were well fed and clean. This group had really made this place a home. As you admired the scenery, a strong pair of hands grabbed you by the arms.

             “No!” you started screaming, trying to wiggle out of the stranger’s grip. The thrashing made everything hurt worse but you were too desperate to care. If you were going to die, you’d go out fighting, “Let me go!”

             “Y/N, stop,” a familiar voice made you instantly freeze. No…it couldn’t be. You couldn’t believe it. As if reading your mind, he continued, “It’s me, Y/N. It’s Daryl. You’re safe.”

             Your body slowly relaxed and Daryl let you go. You turned to face him, still not entirely convinced this wasn’t some hallucination. You reached out and touched his face, your fingers brushing up against his stubble. Your lip trembled as you became blinded by your tears. Daryl took your hands in his and pulled them off his face, “It really is me. This is my group, Y/N. You’re safe here.”

             “I…I can’t…” you mumbled. The adrenaline was wearing off and you were feeling weak and lightheaded, gripping onto Daryl to keep your balance. Daryl was wrapping his arms around you as your vision began to fade so you could fall into him when you lost consciousness once more.

             You regained consciousness back in the same bed in the same cell. Hershel and Daryl were standing just outside the cell talking quietly. There was a thin curtain blocking your view but somehow, you could recognize Daryl by his shadow. You sat up, the bed creaking as you did. It caught their attention and they hurried into the cell.

             “Stay in bed,” Hershel said, “You overdid it earlier.”

             “I’m so sorry,” you said, “I didn’t know. I should’ve. Bad groups aren’t usually so…put together.”

             “No, I should’ve told you from the start that Daryl found you,” Hershel explained, “Daryl was actually here the whole time. He’d left to see if we had any bandages and medicine left for you. It was just bad timing.”

             “No one blames you for being cautious,” Daryl added, “We’re just glad you’re okay. You did what any of us would’ve done.”

             Hershel nodded in agreement, “Yes. Since you’re doing alright, I’ll leave you two alone to talk and I’ll check on you later, Y/N. if you need anything, just let me know.”

             “Thank you,” you replied. Hershel gave you a smile before walking out and leaving the two of you in a surprisingly awkward silence. What does one say after this much time apart? Especially given these unique circumstances? You’d been on such different journeys. What if he didn’t feel the same anymore? He seemed a little harder to read now, “How did you know it was me?”

             Daryl pulled out the grey bandana from his pocket and set it down on your bed, “Had that covering your face and the blood and the dirt. You know what it was? That fucking tattoo you got of my name when we were drunk.”

             You instantly started laughing, your laughter bringing a smile to Daryl’s face and he couldn’t help but laugh with you. It made your head hurt but you just couldn’t stop, “Who knew that would come in handy one day.”

             “I never would’ve thought,” Daryl chuckled. The laughter faded and he sat down at the end of the bed by your feet, “When we were bringing you back here, we saw some guys…I’m assuming looking for you. Did you know them?”

             “I did,” you said, “I spent all this time looking for you. But you know as well as I do that surviving on your own is damn near impossible. I never had any intention of staying with those guys forever. They attacked me because I was gonna leave. I thought I was gonna die. Did they follow you?”

             “No, they were on foot and we were already driving away,” Daryl said as he shook his head, “They won’t find us.”

             “Good,” you said, shuddering, “I always knew they were assholes. I just didn’t think they’d be so violent and dangerous.”

             Daryl scooted closer to you and reached for you, wrapping his fingers around the back of your neck. His thumb gently pressed into your skin, making slow and deep circles. He was trying to find the words. Saying the right thing never came easy to him, at least that hadn’t changed. But now he was surrounded by better people than he used to be.

             “I just…” he murmured, “I can’t believe it. You’re here.”

             “I know what you mean,” you replied, “I never thought I’d get to see you again. I’m just more grateful than I can ever express, Daryl. Honestly, my head is spinning.”

             Daryl nodded, “A little overwhelming if I’m honest. And you’ll stay with us? We can leave if you don’t. I’ll go anywhere you wanna go.”

             “No, of course I’ll stay,” you said, “This is a good group of people you found. It’s safe here. Where you go, I go. I don’t wanna lose you again.”

             “Never gonna happen,” Daryl said. He pulled you in, pausing just before your lips could meet. You hid your impatience as he held you there, “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you again, Y/N. I won’t let it happen again.”

             “It won’t,” you said. You pulled Daryl in and kissed him as deeply as you could. Daryl’s grasp on the back of your neck tightened a little, his other hand on your hip, trying to pull you even closer. His kisses were desperate and frantic, like he never wanted to stop. He finally broke away, and slid into bed beside you, wrapping his arms around you. He was like a furnace but you didn’t care, “We’re together again. Nothing will separate us again. Right?”

             “Of course,” Daryl said as he stroked your hair, “I missed you, Y/N. I haven’t let myself think about how much. But fuck, I missed you.”

             You lifted your head to kiss his cheek, “I missed you too. I’m relieved that nothing has changed.”

             Daryl grunted, squeezing you tighter against him without saying another word. He did seem to have found a little more confidence. These people had clearly brought him out of his shell. Some of the group that stopped by to say hello obviously had so much love and respect for Daryl. He’d really found his place here. Finally, people were seeing what you had always seen.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

L.O.V.E

Pairing: Mob!Bucky x Plus size!Fem!Reader (no mention of ethnicity)

Summary: Bucky wants to offer you more than love

Warnings: underage drinking (reader is 20), a little low self esteem, self image issues, smutty (foreplay, implied oral and smut), tiny amount of angst, shitty father (not the reader’s), mention of a gun.

Wc: 4k

a/n: a little late buuut, Happy valentines everyone! I have very mixed feelings about this one lol, also,this was supossed to be pure fluff lmao, oh well… I hope you enjoy <3 And I would like to specify that the reader had a tough time figuring out what she wanted to do after high school so that’s why she JUST applied for collage (it’s ok to not know what you want for your life, there’s no rush, you get to choose your own path).

likes, comments, and reblogs are deeply encouraged <3

L is for the way you look at me

“Look at those damn eyes” you whispered to your best friend, clutching her forearm but never breaking eye contact with the handsome stranger across the poorly lit room, “It’s like they have a life of its own and they want to consume me” you whisper almost out of breath, heart thumping as if you just ran a marathon, the woman next to you chuckled “alright, no more beer for you”, she says as she takes your drink away but you don’t even notice; you’d seen him before back in high school, he always picked up his sister. Whether it was the alcohol or your corny romantic side, you’d swear those cerulean blue eyes were your home, shining with adoration along with a stupid-hot cocky smirk, at this point you’re starting to doubt he’s even looking at you, no one has ever seen you the way he is right now, it’s unsettling in the best way possible.

Too self-conscious to let yourself think that a tatted 6’3 adonis would be interested in you, after an internal debate, you willed yourself to look away, maybe he’s way too drunk to see you clearly, maybe he’s a jerk that wants to get his dick wet, you wouldn’t be surprised at this point. 3 annoying songs later as you were about to finish your last beer, a hand came up from behind you, stealing your drink, about to complain, words lost all meaning, blue eyes took a big sip and made an exaggerated refreshing sigh, putting down the bottle you feel like his eyes bore into your very being, tongue licking his pink lips he clears his throat, “Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” he says with the biggest grin.

O is for the only one I see

Walking down to the beach with Bucky hand in hand, you find some of your former classmates staring and pointing at you with shock and subtle disgust, dread makes your stomach drop, already regretting letting Bucky convince you to wear a bikini instead of an oversized shirt and shorts.

As if he sensed your distress, blue eyes stops and drops the bags in the sand so he can cradle your face and kiss you breathless in front of everyone, stating that you’re his and he’s proud of it, head light and dizzy you pull away with a giggle to breathe, not being finished with you, he pulls you closer by the neck and pecks your lips, giving you a wink that sends butterflies to your stomach.

Once you were able to find a spot to put a blanket and settle all of your stuff, laying down facing each other, Bucky reached for your face to move a stray hair behind your ear, then with a frown on his features he cupped your cheek “Sorry I couldn’t rent a nicer spot with an umbrella, hammocks and all that… is just my Ma needed me to help her out and I-“, you inmediatelly schooched closer to him with a smile on your face “Buck, it’s ok, I don’t mind, really, besides, it’s pretty expensive, I don’t-“, cupping your face with both hands, with an exasperated look he rests his forehead against yours “I want to treat my girl”, rolling your eyes at him you place your hand on top of his “Jamie this is perfect… so we’ll get a little sunburned” you shrug “no biggie, now would you please drop that frown?” you whisper as you tenderly nudge your nose against his, hand gently caressing the tatoo on his shoulder. At the use of his first name, he relaxes, but still not convinced, the man sighs and gives you a small smirk, whispering in your ear “only if you let me put sunscreen on you”, his warm breath, despite the heat sends a shiver down your spine, noticing your reaction Bucky starts placing soft kisses from your jaw down you neck, making whimper.

Still in your little paradise with Bucky, you failed to notice that a group of girls in bikinis that barely covered their goods was approaching, a shrill voice cut through, making you wince “hey handsome, wanna play?”, swallowing down a bitter “fuck off” you sighed, your body tensed and you kept your head down, of course they assumed he would ditch the fatty for them, and for a second you wouldn’t blame him… Not even sparing them a look, Bucky tilted your chin up and gave you a quick kiss on your cheek, a small smile on his lips, and a look in his eyes that said everything you needed to know.

Hoping they would get the message, a yellow and blue ball rolled up between you, “C’mon we won’t keep you long from your friend” one of the girls from the back whined “she doesn’t mind, don’t you sweetie?” said the blonde in a condescending tone, before you could fire back, Bucky threw the ball at them, hard, it would’ve definitely hit them in the face but they managed to dodge it, with a stone-cold face he seethed “not interested”, color draining from their faces, with a few scoffs, what the hell man? and whatevers, they walked away.

Turning to face him you couldn’t help but laugh “you were so mean” you teased as you poked his chest, grabbing you by the waist, blue eyes tackled you and got on top of you, almost making your heart jump out of your chest “They don’t matter sweetheart, I only see one person” he murmured with pure honesty, hands wandering every curve and roll with the utmost tenderness and adoration, you were so enthralled by his eyes that you couldn’t even care enough to freak out that he was touching the parts of your body you wouldn’t even acknowledge some days, you felt safe in his arms, completely seen and still worthy.

V is very very extraordinary

When Bucky got the call that he was gonna have to work on a Sunday night he was about to hang up but then his boss specified the car he was gonna work on, an Aston Martin DB5… he thought it was a fucking joke until he saw it in person, how this beauty of a car ended up in in a shitty auto-repair shop in a nowhere town was a mystery to him, but the pay was decent and that’s all he needed to know.

Shop empty, he was burning the midnight oil with you next to him, sitting on a pouf chair just a few feet away, The Smiths playing in the background as you rambled on about how disappointing Game of Thrones final season was “they did my Khaleesi so dirty” you huff out, Bucky chuckles as you take a deep breath to compose yourself “You know better than to bring up Game of Thrones” you whine, feeling a little embarrassed over your rant, Bucky knew exactly what he was doing, he loved hearing your voice, especially when you talked about things you were passionate about.

2:00 in the morning, you walk up to your disheveled and greasy boyfriend, handing him a cup of coffee “black with three sugars” you wink, Bucky takes a sip and places the drink down, “C’mere baby, I wanna thank you” he puckers his lips, waiting for yours, with a whine you stay put “but you’re so dirtyyy, I just got this shirt” you muster your best puppy eyes, with a clenched jaw he signals you with his finger to move, “I said c’mere”, his eyes shone with mischief, the sound of his stern voice echoed through the room, making your body react before your mind, walking up to him and placing your arms around his shoulders, gently gripping your jaw with his hand while the other slid down your bottom, his lips crashed with yours, a gentle kiss that slowly grew needy, like he couldn’t believe he’s been away from you this long, your soft lips are now a comfort he’s grown used to over the last months. With a content sigh, he hesitantly lets go of you, shit-eating grin as he sees your face, shirt, and jeans covered in grease, “happy now?” you ask with a laugh.

“Can’t believe I let you do this” you whisper as you tapped your foot nervously, nails digging into your forearms, the smell of leather and his scent barely soothing you, “relax doll, I’m being careful, it’s my ass on the line anyways” he chuckles as he drives through the highway with one hand on the leather wheel and his other hand rubbing your thigh “both hands on the wheel BUDDY, we’re not crashing a priceless classic on my watch”, with a playful eye roll he takes his hand off your thigh, you immediately miss the warmth but decide to stay quiet, enjoying the comfortable silence.

Reaching your destination, Bucky pulls over and pulls down the windows, the warm breeze and sound of waves crashing overwhelm your senses, reaching for his hand you interlace your fingers, turning to face him you notice that he was already looking at you, a serious look on his face, with the tiniest hint of a smile, “what?” you ask with a grin as you feel your cheeks heat up “you’re fucking beautiful” he says, thumb rubbing your palm, and in that very moment, as if he was in cahoots with the universe, the moonlight hits his eyes, making them bluer than ever before, your breath hitches, “you’re one to talk” you murmur, leaning in to hover over his lips, relishing in the warmth he radiates and his intoxicating smell.

“Don’t you just love how each time the waves crash it rumbles through your body? It’s like a giant is walking right next to you”, you wonder out loud, laying down, head on his lap, legs in the sand, with a sweet smile Bucky kisses your forehead, “don’t change the subject sweetheart”, with a defeated sigh you avoid his stare, “fine… what I meant was, I think I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m nothin’ special, I’m gonna live an ordinary life, and that’s ok, I mean, I’ll go to college, pay for the rest of my life for a degree that I probably won’t even use, get a crappy job that’s gonna drain me so much that I’ll only want to be a couch potato at home… it’s fine, there’s nothing wrong with that”.

After a few minutes of silence, blue eyes helps you sit up, assuming he silently agreed, you were about to change the subject but as you turned to see him, a knot formed in your throat, he was on his knees, hands cupping the back of your neck, fingers between your hair, gripping you tightly as if begging you for something, glassy eyes full of emotion making your whole world turn to a stop, “I don’t think you grasp just how fucking amazing you are doll” he pleads, “your heart… is so kind, even to those that don’t deserve it, and you’re so sweet and so frigging strong baby” he laughs which makes you laugh, “and your mind works in a way that amazes me, nothin’ special my ass” he mimmicks your voice with an eye roll, thumbs caressing your temples he smiles “you’re extraordinary, and… I love you” he murmurs, all you can do in response is tackle him to the ground and smother him in kisses.

E is even more than anyone that you adore

Gerry Rafferty’s Right Down the Line is blasting through the speakers, your mint-green dress and hair flowing as you’re being twirled by your blue-eyed man. Bucky thought you looked heavenly… breathless, you were always beautiful but seeing you free of inhibitions, hair on the wind, contagious laughter, wearing a dress that accentuated your body, it was a sight to behold. He could barely keep his hands off of you, he was always handsy, it was his love language, but when under the influence, he became a 6’3 needy, clingy, hungry koala bear.

Because you almost crashed into the bride and groom, between giggles and laughs you tried pulling Bucky out of the dance floor “c’mon Jamie, we’re way too drunk to dance” you said as you pulled him by the collar, making him trip a little, with a grimace he scoffs “you can NEVER bee too drunk to dance baby”, almost turning his back on you and going back dancing, you reach his arm and get on your toes, whispering in his ear, moments later he dramatically gasps “YOU DIRTY DOG! Buy me dinner first” he yells, making a few heads turn, which makes your face turn red, before you could jab him he wrapped his arms around you and dragged you out of there wheezing and laughing. Thankfully your whole family was drunk and too and focused on your cousin and his bride to notice that Bucky stole two champagne bottles and a hotel key, “Buckyyy you’re gonna get us in trouble” you hissed, probably making more fuss than you should’ve, laughing his ass off, Bucky just takes your hand while holding two bottles in the other, failing miserably at leaving the room quietly and unnoticed.

Dress and tux discarded long ago, you two were in bed, both bottles of champagne downed, you in a set of black lingerie and Bucky in red trunks. After an intense make-out session, you were straddling his lap, his hardened bulge beneath your clothed core, hands in his hair, lips on his neck as you recovered your breath. “You’re always so soft” he murmurs against your neck as his hands stroke your back and arms, making you chuckle, you move your head to look at him, admiring the tattoos on his shoulder your mouth starts to salivate, but once your eyes connect you sigh in content “I love you, you big ol’ softie”.

Biting his lip, he grips your big thighs and flips you down, a yelp escaping your lips, once he’s on top of you, he starts peppering you with kisses starting with your face, “love was made for me and you doll” he says with a dopey smile, “Romeo and Juliet would be fucking jealous of us” he growls into your skin, the smell of your perfume driving him crazy, his words make you giggle “someone’s drunk” you tease but then you’re cut off, each sound he made as he worshiped your body was intoxicating, you couldn’t focus.

Nipping the crevice of your breasts he marks you, each gentle bite a declaration of his devotion to you, as his warm tongue laps up each mark, your back arches, he wants people to know that you let him own you, you want to be his, he’s completely ruined you for anyone and you’re happy about it. A particular harsh bite makes you gasp, making him preen. Moving down to your stomach, your breath starts to pick up, his kisses are more teeth and tongue, and he knows exactly where to kiss you, he knows your body better than you at this point, he knows how to get you begging for him.

Grabbing you by the ankles he pulls you towards him and takes off your panties before placing your legs on his broad tattooed shoulders, kneading your thick thighs, his fingers dig into your soft skin, Bucky starts leaving a trail of hot open kisses on your legs. Closing in on your core you start to squirm more “stay still sweetheart, I want to make you feel good”, taking a deep breath you grip the sheets, trying not to move too much, “you deserve to feel good baby, you deserve everything good in this world” he moans against your inner thigh “I’m going to give you the world, I promise” he whispers thinking you didn’t hear because of the state of your contorted face, chuckling he dives in.

Multiple orgasms and a two-hour nap later, both of you laid naked, Bucky on his back and your head on his chest with one leg over his waist, sheets crumpled and tossed aside, tracing your back with his finger Bucky stared at the ceiling, there was so much he wanted to say, but you just looked so damn peaceful in your sleep, and as if you read his thoughts, your voice interrupted his train of thought “You have something on your mind” you mumble with a sleepy voice and your eyes closed, in shock, Bucky laughs “how did you know?”, moving up your head to see him, you throw him your best smile “I’m not spilling my secrets just yet”.

You move away from his chest and lean your head on your hand, after he does the same he scrunches his nose “what did I do to deserve you?” he wonders out loud, biting the inside of your cheek you refrain from saying something corny, after a moment of silence “I meant what I said, you deserve the world, and I’m going to give it to you” he claims with a determined look you’ve never seen before, he really means it…

“Our wedding is gonna kick this wedding’s ass” he smirks, which makes you giggle, “you’re gonna get your college degree and be a hot-shot artist… I’ll get my act together, we’re gonna see the world, maybe get you knocked up” he whispers that last part with a wicked grin, your eyes widen, you can’t even picture yourself pregnant right now, but you’re not closed to the possibility. Hearing him talk about the future made you smile from ear to ear, holding his hand you bite your lip “I like the sound of that… but what made you think of all this?”, jumping on top of you he starts attacking you with kisses “I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I saw you sweetheart”, he says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, arching your eyebrow, knowing he’s holding back makes him sigh “and also… I got a job offer”.

Love is all that I can give to you

It’d been 10 minutes since you parked outside of the bus station, neither of you spoke… you couldn’t, you’ve been dreading this day since the moment he told you he got a job (which he hasn’t been able to explain what it is exactly) in New York. Those last few months you spent every day together, barely being apart for more than two days, and of course you wanted to beg him to stay but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it, deeply afraid of the answer you remained quiet.

Interrupting your train of thought you felt his hand nuzzle in your neck, but you immediately moved away from his touch, making his face drop, shaking your head you bit your lip trying to suppress a sob, with glassy eyes Bucky bit the inside of his cheek, and without even asking he cupped your face tightly, and kissed your forehead, a tear sliding down his face, “I’ll come back for you” he whispered and got out of the car.

You watched him leave you behind, your pride was begging you to start the car and go, but the ache in your heart wouldn’t allow it. Getting out of the car you shouted for him, following him inside you were able to reach him, both of you had red eyes and tear-stained cheeks, and you couldn’t stand the thought of him being sad, even if it was his own doing. Taking a deep breath you took a step closer but still kept arm's length distance… like a stranger, as if you didn’t love him with everything you are, “why are you doing this to us?” you say with a shaky voice, willing yourself not to scream at him, lower lip trembling he tries to take a step closer but you back away, “I’m doing this for us!”, you shake your head, refusing to believe him, “ if you go there won’t be an us” you cry, at that Bucky storms towards you and grips your waist “no matter where we are I’ll always be yours, and you’ll always be mine” he declares, those blue eyes piercing your soul, you knew he was right.

“Every moment we spent together, every touch, every conversation, they.still.matter, whether I’m a bus ride away or in fucking China, no matter how much time passes… there’s no me without you”, searching in his eyes for any lie or doubt you find none, so your hands fly to the back of his neck and you pull him for a passionate kiss.

As your tongues dance with each other, you grip his long hair and his fingers dig into your skin, definetely leaving a bruise for later, you don’t even mind, all you want is for him to stay… “please don’t leave me” you whisper against his lips in a last attempt to convince him, sniffling, he cups your face and musters a small smile, “if I stay, love is all I can give to you… and that’s not enough sweetheart” he pleads, almost letting his voice break, and before you could say anything back he rubs your temples, begging you to listen to him “right before my dad walked out on us, the last thing he said to me was provide, not even take care of your Ma, or look out for your sister, provide… being a shitty mechanic earning minimum wage ain’t gonna cut it anymore, my family deserves better than that, and you ARE my family doll, I need to do this and I need you to trust me”. He takes your hand and kissed your knuckles before placing it in his heart “will you?” he mouths, looking at you like you hold his entire world, and without a second thought you nod.

There’s so much more you want to say but as you checked the clock you knew his bus would leave soon, so you wrapped your arms around him and clung to him, finally letting out a propper sob as you felt him kiss your temple and neck. Staying like that for as long as you could… you being the first to let go, he cups your face like he’s done a million times before and kisses you, noses nudging each other you whisper “I love you Bucky”, nodding with glassy eyes, “I love you” he whispers back and finally walks away.

Two in love can make it

It wasn’t easy, being apart from him… no one really understood why you were so heartbroken “you were barely one year together” they all would say, you couldn’t blame them, saying it out loud, it did sound crazy, maybe it really was a fling, ‘young love’. As the time passed you learned it wasn’t just a fling, four years of college passed and you still had no desire to start a new relationship or even a simple hook up, not that you had many suitors but still, your love for your blue-eyed man never wavered. You stayed in contact, messaging as much as you could, a call at least once a month, they were bread crumbs but they kept you from starving.

Today had been a particularly hard day, you argued with your mom over the dirty dishes, ran out of money so you had to take the bus to work, ran late so you got yelled by your shitty boss, only to get yelled by a shitty customer, spilled hot coffee on yourself and to top it all, you forgot to bring your lunch… so it was safe to say that at the end of your shift you were more than done.

Shop empty, after cleaning everything spotless you went to the back to get your stuff and the sound of someone coming in made your stomach drop “rushing back front to tell them you were closed, your body froze and all words died on your tongue “You believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” the bastard said with a knowing smirk, your bad mood disappeared and without thinking twice, you ran towards his open arms, and oomph leaving his mouth as you crashed into him, arms immediately wrapping around his middle and his cradling your head.

Pulling away to get a better look at you he bites his lips “you haven’t aged a bit doll, still just as beautiful as the day I met ya” he says with a hand over his heart, swooning. He hadn’t aged as well, he was still an adonis but he did look different, he looked more buff (if that was even possible), he was wearing a perfectly tailored wide-lapel suit, his hair was cut short, a well-groomed beard around his face (you absolutely loved that) and even more tattoos, the ones on his hands and neck stood out the most for you, he looked impossibly good, he carried the same confidence but power oozed out of him.

Noticing you staring, blue eyes chuckled and took a step forward, the smell of mint- chocolate overwhelmed you, making your knees tremble, and as his face slowly approached yours, you realized that his hands were roaming your frame… “tell me you’re still mine” he breathed out, taking a gulp your hands slid up to his chest, “always Jamie” you desperately nodded, praying he would believe you, “are you?” you timidly asked, “taking a hold of your jaw, face impossibly close and yet not enough he nods “there is no me without you” and before your lips could touch, a man with a gun in hand walks into the shop, you inmediatelly grip Bucky’s arm “Sir we need to get going”, after dismissing him, Bucky turns to you with a pleading look “ready to come home?”, there were so many questions you wanted to ask, and you weren’t really sure if he meant your home, New York or somewhere else, but you went with your gut. Once you closed the shop, you followed him to the limo that was waiting outside, sitting next to him you took his hand and looked into his beautiful cerulean blue eyes, they were the same, you knew they were home, you knew it from the moment you saw him.

[jewwyfeesh]

Audition - 2

Writer: Mitsuki

Character(s): Sena Izumi, Narukami Arashi

Translated by: jewwyfeesh

EN proof by: ciel @ fortunebanquet (tumblr)

Special thanks: moricchiichan for the extra help ♪

Note: This tl uses gender neutral pronouns for Arashi (they/them).

Cough, cough… This… Naru-kun, why are you still wasting your time? Shouldn’t you hurry up and go change? Don’t let everyone else wait on you.

Location: Classroom

Izumi: This is where the shoot is located?

Okay, as long as you’ve confirmed there won’t be any problems.

Me? I’ve already gotten ready, I don’t need you to worry about me.

Heh~? Speaking of which, you haven’t seen what I’m like at work yet, right?

…And yet, you still claim to have faith in me.

We aren’t close enough for that, and our reasons to be here aren’t the same.

If you believe that just because you’re a “producer” that we’re somehow equals, then you’re in for a rude awakening.

But since you went and said all of that, then I’ll give you a little show.

The staff have arrived, right on time. I’ll go and get ready; you can watch from the sidelines/from over there.

Remember, I did not ‘escape’ to the idol industry because I couldn’t stay in the modelling industry.

Hello, thanks for working with me today~ ♪

I’ll put on a solemn and stern expression. And then the audience will equate your product with the spokesperson–tough, reliable, and long-lasting.

That’s what we’re trying to convey with this product. A smile would destroy that.

You think that’s fine? Okay, I’ll keep this expression. Then, I’ll drape my clothes over my shoulder…

Alright.

Mm, I’ll need to change up my pose and take a few more shots later.

These are good? Alright, great work today. Thanks, everyone.

…Hey, Anzu, what’s up with you? Why do you look so dazed?

Arashi: Oh my, Izumi-chan’s really insensitive. You were super handsome just now, did you know that? Of course, it’s because you were so serious while you were working.

Such a cool expression… Even I was almost impressed, so obviously Anzu-chan was blown away!

As expected, I really do love seeing you hard at work, Izumi-chan.

Izumi: Hey, you—! Ugh!

(Do I really have to remind you that the filming staff are still here? You better watch your actions—stop hugging me like some kind of fruit!)

Arashi: (Hehehe, it’s because the staff’s here that you can’t talk to me the way you usually do.)

(After all, you’re someone who’s crazy self-conscious of his public image, so you wouldn’t dare talk badly of anyone else, right?)

(I definitely want to take this opportunity to get closer with you, Izumi-chan ♪)

Izumi: (…You’re taking advantage of this opportunity to try and piss me off on purpose, aren’t you? Anyways, what are you doing here?)

Arashi: (My goodness, did you forget that I’m a model, too? The only reason I’d be here is for the audition.)

(Did Anzu-chan forget to tell you? This job also found its way over to me.)

(Not only that, I want to compete against Izumi-chan fair and square.)

(Izumi-chan… you aren’t scared, are you? Or are you actually afraid that I’ll steal your job away ♪)

Izumi: (Hmph, I don’t need your lip.)

(But whatever, it’s just Naru-kun. Bring it on!)

Cough, cough… This… Naru-kun, why are you still wasting your time? Shouldn’t you hurry up and go change? Don’t let everyone else wait on you.

Arashi: Yeah yeah, will do.

Anzu-chan, you’ll watch my photoshoot as well, right? We can’t let Izumi-chan be the only one acting all cool and handsome ♪

Please wait just a sec; I’ll be back before you know it~

Izumi: (Tsk, that person’s as shrewd as ever.)

(But, that’s where their strength lies: being shrewd but not annoying, and always doing what’s expected of them.)

Anzu, why are you staring at me like that? You think I’m unhappy or something?

Whether Naru-kun comes to the audition is none of my business. Knowing about it won’t affect my performance.

That’s the baseline for a true professional. No matter what line of work you do, you have to understand this.

Honestly, having someone competing next to you isn’t actually a bad thing.

At least, one wouldn’t feel as hollow, or bored, or stupid, as though putting in all that effort is a meaningless endavour…

Forget it, why am I even talking about this to some sparkly-eyed idiot?

Just keep on working hard, like you always have. I hope you’ll never have to learn all this the hard way.

I really do mean that, okay? Keep it in mind and don’t take it too lightly.

[un2-verse]

BILLY — Kim Taehyung (1)

》 News of a Sadistic Serial Killer nicknamed “Jigsaw” is spreading around town like wildfire… the nickname stemming from the puzzle piece he cuts from every victim’s body. No one knows who he’ll trap next but in a town full of delinquents and criminals, it could never be you. Right? 《

pairings: john kramer!taehyung x female reader

warnings: dark themes, angst, yandere, murder, torture, self harm, suicide, stalking etc.... (will add more when i know lol) although it is rather innocent in the first couple chapters(?) so idk it could be slow burn but i guess we’ll find out as i write it >< ,, it’s my version of saw if saw was a fucked up love story lol. Please don’t read if any of the topics mentioned trigger you!! 18+

this fic is exactly that, fiction!!!! the au does not represent the characters mentioned irl......

synopsis: you end up lost on the other side of town, where you cross paths with a handsome stranger, kim taehyung, only.... are you a stranger to him?

[a/n: daffodils represent; love me, sympathy, desire and affection returned...]

word count: 3k

series masterlist

part two

——————————————————————————

Hiding behind a mask was something you were accustomed to. Your friend group and family were clueless to the torment you endured from simply existing. You were confident your masking had convinced the world you were happy with yourself. Unbeknown to you, one other person saw straight through your façade.

You wanted to end your life.

He needed you to cherish your life.

Nothing looked familiar. The café you frequented was nowhere to be found. Your usual hangout was most definitely not on the side of town you found yourself in. You felt anxiety slowly curl its way around your body, you were frigid. You tried and tried but couldn’t find it in yourself to run.

You lived in the more friendly part of town (so to speak) – where houses were colourful, gardens pristine, warm-hearted neighbours who would treat you like family and white picket fences are what surrounded you. That was your norm, sure, you weren’t exactly loaded but you weren’t exactly poor either. It was a healthy balance in the middle. That’s not to say you hadn’t lived or seen this side of town before.

Your Mother and Father had grown up on this side of the fence. Two young people brought up in the rougher, more unfortunate areas. Your Mother was tough; she looked like a naïve, weak girl, albeit that was not the case. She was strong willed, used to life on the streets and doing anything she could to get money to make sure there was at least some food on the table. While your Mum was the leader, your Dad was more of a sheep. He was easily influenced and was dragged into the wrong crowd (had his fair share with drugs and street racing). That was their life for a few years till they crossed paths and your Mum helped your Dad get back on the right track.

They didn’t tell you much about their childhood and adolescence but they told you enough to make you appreciate what you have and to always work hard for it. To stick with the right people, be wise and conscious of your decisions. Be kind to those around you.

Your family owned a garage; your Dad was the head mechanic. This was the sole reason you were here. You knew it wouldn’t be simple when you agreed to go to this side of town to get a few bits for your Father’s shop. However, you didn’t expect it to be this difficult. How could you be so stupid? Why didn’t you just ask Hoseok and Yoongi to come with you like your father told you to? Or at least tell them where you were… yet you decided today of all days to be stubborn and venture on yourself, knowing full well how unsafe the area was. There were rundown businesses on either side of the road, beggars at every doorstep; drug dealings happening in broad daylight, no one even trying to hide it.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket, you took it out and sighed a breath of relief once you’d read the texts.

14:37— From Papa: U ok munchkin ??? Did u get the stuff ?

14:39— From Papa: its ok if u didnt. Yoongs rang said hes got majority this morning lol so be safe n get home soon . Love u

14:40— To Papa: ohhh ok pops, i couldn’t find the shop anyway lol i’ll head back soon, love u too x

*LOW BATTERY*

“Fuck, trust me to forget to charge the bastard.” You rolled your eyes as you stuffed the phone back in your pocket.

Muffled shouting was heard around you. People ran across the street, bumping into you as they ran past. You gathered yourself and moved further down the path. “Great!” you exasperated, “honestly I’m so fucking stupid! Yoongi’s gonna kill me for this, I knew, I knew I should’ve told him I was coming over here but no,” your head was hung low as you dragged your feet across the pavement, “maybe I could tell Hobi, he wouldn’t be as angry right? I’m sure he’ll come,“ A sudden scream ripped you out of your chuntering. You whipped your head to the right, you could make out some figures bustling about in front of you, a group of men were quite clearly fighting… your anxiety struck you and you held your breath as you saw a man pull a knife from the waistband of his sweatpants. All thoughts and common sense seemed to leave all at once. Statue like, feet stuck to the ground. You watched on as the group rushed towards the brown haired man, you scanned his figure: tall, broad, confident… he exuded an intimidating aura even when you were this far away from him.

How could someone be so sure of themselves? It was one against five, surely the loner had no chance?

The glistening of the knife brought you back to your senses. Fucking hell. How do you always end up in these situations when you’re alone? Why me? Why? Good Lord, I need to run. Just as you were about to leave, the group who were arguing charged past you; one gripped his side as another supported his weight. Holy fuck, did he stab him? you stood frozen, yet again, your mind raced a mile a minute. Panic bubbled in your chest.

“You okay there Doll?” His voice was deep, velvet-like. It flowed so smoothly you doubted it was real, it was so soothing like it had wrapped itself around you, embracing your body. You heard his footsteps before he planted himself beside you. His shoulder reached the top of your head, his hand brushed yours. Swallowing your nerves you dared a glance up. He was fucking breath-taking, like a fallen angel. The stranger shot you a small smile that you would’ve easily missed had you not been staring at his features… a blush crept up your neck as you nodded. His smile slowly twisted into a smirk.

Cute, Taehyung thought to himself. Couldn’t help but adore the way you slightly trembled under his gaze, the way your hands gripped and twisted your sweater paws. Almost like a puppy. He cleared his throat and reached his hand to yours, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Taehyung.” you took his hand into yours, apprehensively you greeted him, “I’m Y/N.”

“Ah, Y/N. I haven’t seen you round here before, you new or something?” Taehyung cocked his head to the side, his eyes seemed to stare right through you.

“Uhm, I don’t live here. I live over the other part of Town… I was just grabbing some stuff for my Dad but, my phones about to die. I have no idea where I am or how to get home, I’m sorry, I promise I didn’t see anything!” a deep chuckle cut you off, Taehyung smiled and beckoned you to follow him.

“Come on Y/N, you’re not suited for this side of Town, I’ll walk you back. A pretty little thing like you, you’re easy prey to these guys.” your feet fell into a cautious pace behind him, he glanced over his shoulder, “hurry up Buttercup, I don’t bite.” Taehyung flashed a boxy grin in your direction, which caused you to speed up ever so slightly.

You were unsure how you felt about letting a complete stranger walk you home, Yoongi would definitely kill you for this. Especially with the recent news of some serial killer named ‘Jigsaw’, Yoongi and Hoseok had been very stern and their usual, overprotective selves when the news had broken out. “It’s on every headline Y/Nie! No more leaving the house on yourself, you need to go anywhere you ring either of us. Got it? Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know either. There’s some dodgy fucks about recently.” Although, you loved them dearly, sometimes their protectiveness was a...little overbearing. You already felt suffocated from your parents (you didn’t need it from your best friends as well). They were happy and believed you to be too; but that was exhausting, faking happiness. You had a constant façade, acted like a happy normal teenager with a happy family; when that was far from the truth.

Drowning. That’s how you’d explain the way you felt. Breathing was difficult and brought you more pain than it was worth. Growing up was tedious, you had grown differently to your peers which only brought ridicule and embarrassment for you. You had struggled with your speech (sometimes you still do), you often stuttered, mispronounced words, the list was endless. That was one of the first reasons you were a castaway. As you grew, the ridicule worsened. Verbal abuse turned physical from your classmates. They made you feel like you were a waste of space. The names they called you, you soon started to believe them. Ugly. Weird. Freak. Stupid. They took root in your brain, slowly they grew and grew till your head was overgrown with twisted, rotten weeds.

Eventually, you sought comfort in blood. You didn’t care that it hurt you; you were almost happy to feel pain. Like you deserved to.

By age 14, you had started to skip school. Only ever there for exams and a couple of art classes you had with Jeongguk. He was what you would’ve called a best friend, he supported you and was by your side till you left school. He went away to college and like always with school friends, you drifted apart. Nevertheless, he still texts you now and then to check in.

Although you were (once) close with Jeongguk. He never knew of your inner demons, the same with Yoongi and Hoseok. You didn’t want to feel like a burden and worry your friends when they had shit to worry about themselves.

Why devastate flowers that flourish beautifully with weeds that manage to twist their way around every crack?

You had walked for a few minutes now, having chatted absentmindedly about anything and everything. The roads still didn’t look familiar to you and you just wished they did, you didn’t want to be away from your home any longer, your feet were starting to ache, your phone was on 10% battery and it was fucking cold. You just wanted to be back in bed tucked up watching Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians for the millionth time. You felt safe and content when you indulged in your comfort films. Far away from the real world and wrapped up in the false reality. They easily distracted you and that's when you truly felt at peace. Your mind was always too busy thinking about how cute it was when Tramp calls Lady, Pidge or how in love Pongo and Perdy were.

Majority of the time you fantasised about having a love similar, but then again, why would you wanna make yourself vulnerable like that? Is the risk of being hurt (more than you are now) any good? Of course it’s not. Fuck that, life isn’t nothing like those shitty romance films or novels… It’s real and painful.

As you and Taehyung rounded the corner, a little cafe caught your eye, a dainty blue and pink building. Fairy Lights strung up around the windows, you could see a handful of people inside, busy sipping their drinks and chatting away to one another. ‘Aroma Mocha’ hung above the doors. It looked so cute and simple. Your previous thoughts left your mind as quick as they had come. You wanted to go inside, it had an enticing atmosphere.

Taehyung hadn’t realised you’d stopped walking until he couldn’t hear the soft thud of your footsteps behind him, he turned as he called out to you, your eyes still fixed on the cafe. He chuckled to himself, “Fucking adorable, like a kid at christmas,” he walked back over to you. “Hey Doll, you wanna go in?” He felt his heart quicken when you looked at him with those pretty eyes, “We’ve plenty of time to get you back before it’s dark angel.” You answered him with a nod as you turned your head from Taehyung to look back at the alluring little cafe.

Not a second had passed before Taehyung grabbed your hand and pulled you across the road to the entrance; you ignored the warmth of his hand as it intertwined with yours; you ignored the way your tummy erupted with butterflies. Taehyung had stopped to hold the door for you, you murmured a small, “thank you,” looking up at him, the heat that crept up your cheeks making your face resemble that of a doll’s he thought to himself. Once he ushered you fully inside, he placed his hand to rest on the curve of your waist as he guided you to the back corner of the room, where a quaint table for two was unoccupied, a little pot of Daffodils sat atop. How fitting...

Taehyung was quick to pull the chair out for you to take a seat, you pulled it in as you sat down and sent a shy smile his way, “I’m sorry, I know we just met Taehyung but this place is so fucking precious! I hope I’m not bothering you, if I am we can just carry on walking or, I could ring a Taxi? Is this weird? Oh god, I can’t believe--”, Taehyung threw his head back as he laughed, a sound that seemed to wrap its way around your soul, twisting around your heart in the nicest of ways, it was almost like a killer to the weeds taking over your body. A temporary release. You felt like you could really breathe in those short seconds of his laughter.

“Angel, if you were bothering me, I’d have kept on walking. That, or I would’ve called you a Taxi myself, it’s no problem honestly.” You ducked your head as he sent a wink your way, fuck sake Y/N get it together! Why are you acting like a fucking schoolgirl?

“Well I uh, appreciate it so, yeah thank you?” You don’t know what to do, you’re here with the most gorgeous person you’ve ever laid your eyes on… yet you have no clue if what you saw was real, did Taehyung stab someone? Could someone have had the knife who wasn’t Taehyung? Was he even the person you saw in that altercation? Did you imagine everything that had gone off?

Before you had chance to overthink it, a light bubbly voice greeted your ears, “Hi! Welcome to Aroma Mocha, I’m Jimin and I’ll be your server today. Is there anything I can get you?” Jimin held his gaze on you as he flashed you a friendly smile, Taehyung turned around at the sound of his best friend, “Oh, Tae! I wasn’t expecting to see you today, what are you doing here? And who’s this pretty little lady?”

“This is Y/Nie, she was in the neighbourhood so we thought we’d nip in for something to drink before I take her back to hers.” you sent a warm smile to Jimin which he gladly returned, “I’ll have my usual and can you get Y/Nie a Strawberry Iced Tea? Thanks man.”

Once Jimin had disappeared to make your drinks, you shot your eyes to Taehyung, “Uhm, how’d you know I like Strawberry Iced Tea?” Taehyung didn’t even look in your direction as he scrolled through his phone, eyes glued to the screen. A minute passed by and he’d still not acknowledged your question so you let it slide, it wasn’t that big of a deal right? Your mind drifted. Your fingers rested atop of your lap, hidden from the sight of onlookers, picking around your nails as anxiety flooded your body. You felt like you were about to suffocate. You shouldn’t be talking to anyone, you shouldn’t let anyone close. You were only going to fuck everything up in a heartbeat. It’s only natural. Self deprecating thoughts devoured and made their way through your veins, poisoning yourself further; your whole body felt as though it was alight.

Jimin brought you your drinks, placed them carefully in front of the pair of you as you both said your thanks.

The click of Taehyung’s phone being locked and the clearing of his throat brought you back to your senses. “The drink I ordered for you is popular here so, I assumed you’d like to try it. You wanna talk about what’s bothering you?” your eyes shot up to meet his, your head tilted a little to the left as your tongue wet your lip, so puppy like...

You stared incredulously, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Taehyung.” You leant forward slightly as you wrapped your lips around the straw and took a sip.

Taehyung saw the way you sucked your drink up through your straw, his eyes darkened. Thankful to have worn sweatpants that day, he shifted himself discreetly, “I’m not stupid Angel, I know what you’re doing under the table. I’m here, so talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you gotta say.”

You stuttered as you wracked your brain for something to say, “I-I only met you like forty minutes ago, I don’t even tell my friends what’s wrong. Not that there is, everything’s fine.”

You met me just short of an hour ago, he thought to himself, “You don’t have to lie to me Y/Nie…” he grabbed your hands that were laid near the cup of your Iced Tea. His thumb rubbing circles onto the back of your hand. You looked small and fragile, like the Daffodils on the table; one little pluck and you’d be ruined. He wouldn’t admit it to you just yet but, Taehyung fucking loved how delicate you seemed as you sat across from him.

How easy it would be to take your life away. How easy it’d be to pull those weeds up that are poisoning you, torturing you every single day. He shook his head, as he cleared those thoughts. No, only Y/N can make that decision. I’m just going to help her choose.

Live or Die.

You visibly winced, “You don’t know me. Think whatever the fuck you want about me, it doesn’t matter.” your eyes flashed hurt as you went back to picking your skin. You knew it, this whole encounter was too good to be true. A complete stranger (well acquaintance technically) had just presumed shit about you, the fact he was right is what hurt more. You didn’t want anyone to know how you were feeling. Or how you were dealing with it.

You couldn’t exactly tell him to piss off, you still needed his help home and so you tried to distract yourself from the unsettling gaze that watched your every move. You let out a breath as Taehyung went back to his phone. Your eyes drifted as you picked up the local Newspaper, your eyes skimmed over the headline, ‘Jigsaw Traps Continue’. Taehyung noticed you staring at the front page, and chuckled, “you scared of Jigsaw Angel?”

You shook your head, why would you be scared of some nutjob who’s targeted criminals and drug dealers? You’re a nobody. “Of some psychopathic puppet?” if anyone did anything to you that would threaten your life, it would be you. Taehyung just laughed in return as you skipped the article and skim-read the other pointless stories.

You were fucking clueless as to who he was while he knew every little thing about you. He had watched you for months… His precious little Y/Nie… Oh how silly you were, taking your life for granted.

You hated yourself that much, you were willingly marking yourself up. Tainting your skin… oh your skin, how fucking beautiful and soft it looked, even with all the scars it still looked perfect… Taehyung wanted nothing more than to whisk you away and lock you inside with him. Forever. He didn’t want anyone touching what was his.

He knew you wore a mask when in public, too afraid to show your real self. Little did you know, he wore a mask himself...only he wore it to better other people.

He had a plan.

And you’d soon find out.

Let the games begin.