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reinavii · 2 years

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comethru | Hanta Sero

❥ Info / Warnings: gn!reader, smoking, swearing

❥ Word Count: 4.4k

❥ Summary: You're a content creator with a stubborn work ethic, and Hanta takes matters into his own hands. McDonald's at 3a.m., smoky purple lights, and vulnerable confessions await.

Read Along On YouTube! ✧˖°

_Michu donated ¥500!

‘I love love love your content! I was wondering when you were going to continue your roleplay series? I have to know what happens next!’

“Thank you for the ¥500 donation, Michu!” You smiled at the screen showing your stream. “And to answer your question, I should have the next episode uploaded this weekend, so look out for that!”

You continued reading through the stream’s chat, giggling at people’s responses until the page was flooded with hearts and animated cats. Though one particular user caught your eye, their pink-coloured name whizzing past your vision.

“Tell Hanta to get his ass on Discord already,” you read aloud before laughing. You had promised your friends a chill video call before you all picked a game to play, but it had been over 20 minutes since Hanta left to order food.

“Where is he? Don’t tell me the guy’s jacking off or something.”

You choked on your water when you heard Denki’s voice on call, unmuting yourself to reprimand him. You were streaming for crying out loud! He was lucky he was living on the other side of the city, or else you would have slapped him upside the head.

Denki was laughing at your reaction, and you groaned quietly when your chat went crazy from the electric-blond’s comment. You shot daggers towards your friend before picking up your phone, in hopes to know Hanta’s whereabouts.

Hopefully he wasn’t what Denki said he could be doing.

You read a few more donations, thanking the respective users who loved your content enough to send you gifts, all the while typing away at your phone in an attempt to reach your raven-haired friend.

You looked over to your Discord on the other monitor; Denki had resorted to spinning in his chair with his gaze directed to the ceiling, Mina had just returned from eating dinner, and Eijirou was laying on his bed on the other side of his room. Katsuki was supposed to join tonight’s stream, but because of your inconsistent schedule and late start, he had already gone off to bed.

“He’s still not here?” Mina exclaimed, taking her seat in front of her computer, “Jesus, he probably ordered enough food to feed a country!”

“Should we just start a game without him? He can join us once he gets back,” Eijirou suggested. You looked back to your stream; you didn’t want to keep your viewers waiting any longer.

One by one, each of you agreed, Eijirou hosting a quick game of Gang Beasts for the time being.

“Denki. Denki, you’re a lil bitch. A traitor, a traitor is what you are.”

His maniacal laughter rang through your headphones, his character holding yours over the edge. Mina and Eijirou had been knocked off the platform, and after spamming keys for the last two minutes, you had found yourself in your current predicament; body dangling over the edge like Mufasa from the Lion King.

“Long live the ki–”

“No, shut up.” You cut him off, your need for competition blazing like a wildfire as you desperately tried to pull yourself up. “I ain’t no Mufasa-lookin’ ass, I’m not dying like this.”

You were sure your mic could pick up your frantic keyboard-smashing, but it was drowned out by your cheering when your character miraculously escaped Denki’s clutches, much to his dismay.

“Yeah, kick his ass!” Mina hollered, seeking revenge against Denki, for he was the one who had knocked her off in the beginning of the round.

You clicked buttons around, your character flailing its arms and trying to knock Denki unconscious, but the poor little blob was running around the platform, refusing to meet your fury.

“Fight me like a man, Denki!” You challenged, earning a whine from the blond. Your gaze darted to your chat for a split-second, and you smiled at the multiple viewers cheering you on, while some others took Denki’s side.

From the panicked screeching of your wuss of a friend, you heard a faint click before Mina piped up.

“Is Hanta finally here?”

You saw a figure appear in the corner of your eye, Hanta sitting in front of his PC with an apologetic grin.

“Geez, there you are! Was your food delayed or something?” Mina exclaimed, leaning closer to her webcam.

“Nah, it arrived early actually. I just went out for some air afterwards,” he replied, pulling up your stream on one tab. He laughed at your viewers freaking out over his presence, casually greeting a few.

“Glad you could finally join us, Han,” you said before bursting into laughter, pulling one of your headphones from your ear when a loud “FUCK!” flew out of Denki’s mouth.

You had won that round, and all it took was Denki misclicking and flinging himself off the map.

You stuck your tongue out at your Discord, where Denki was leaning back on his chair in defeat. He was mumbling about his game lagging, and how he was going to beat you in your next match. You shook your head in pity, taking a victory sip of your water.

Eijirou started a new game, now with Hanta present, and the group was currently waiting in the lobby while the redhead excused himself, apparently to calm his dog.

“Seems to be a slow stream tonight, huh?” You commented, skimming through your chat, “Sorry everyone.”

Mina seemed to perk up from her seat. “Well now that Hanta’s here, I’d like to know why he’s been smiling stupid since he got online?”

You furrowed your brows, looking over to Hanta, who was dazed out of his mind. He wore his usual smile, but after having known the guy for years, you could tell there was something different about it.

“Must be because of that neighbour he’s been chatting up lately,” Denki answered. You watched as Hanta’s face immediately fell, stumbling over his words with hands waving frantically, which only seemed to prove Denki’s statement true.

“H-Hey man, it–it’s not like that. I..” The man struggled to find the right words, causing him to bury his face in his hands.

Your heart dropped, but you hid it as you busied yourself with your stream. Viewers were losing their minds, shook to the bone and wondering if Hanta’s “single man” status was finally going to change. There were mixed responses; a lot of people were excited over it, a few were angry, while some were severely in denial.

You hated to admit it, but you were one of those people. You had harboured feelings for the dark-haired man for as long as you could remember, and seeing how unbelievably flustered Hanta was at the mention of his neighbour caused an ache in your chest.

The conversation was left at that, Eijirou returning and starting the game. But despite how much you tried, you just couldn’t focus.

—

It was late into the night, and you spent the last remaining minutes of your stream reading donations, subscriptions, comments and generally spending time with your viewers.

The heat of Hanta’s love life thankfully subsided by the time you ended the stream, but you sighed once more at the thought. Your body was heavy, but your mind was running amok, refusing to listen as it continued to replay that stupid smile of your crush.

You decided to put your heavily conscious mind to work, an attempt to distract and exhaust it enough to pass out. You briefly stretched before opening your motivational playlist and editing software — you seriously had to stop putting off your editing.

30 minutes passed like a breeze, reaching almost a third of the way through your video. You cropped parts of your recording, giggling at certain points and cringing at the rest, adding the necessary effects and music once you were satisfied. You could feel your stomach grumble, but the desire to finish your project took over your need for food.

There was a peculiar "ding”, then all of a sudden:

“You should probably take a break. I can hear your stomach from here.”

You visibly jumped at the sudden intrusion of a voice, pausing your music and turning to your other monitor. In popped Hanta, joining you in the group’s voice channel that you somehow forgot to leave.

“Jesus Christ, man! Don’t do that!” You let out a heavy sigh, clutching at your chest. “Fucking hell..”

“Sorry, sorry. Didn’t think I would scare you.” He had turned his webcam on, and he was smirking. You shook your head, hiding your smile as you turned back to your work. Even the sight of him alone had you smitten; you couldn’t stay mad at him.

“You’re an ass.”

“What’re you doing up?” He asked, looking past your playful insult.

You told him you were editing your most recent recording, still hyper-fixated on the task at hand. You didn’t mention the fact that your feelings for him were the main reason why insomnia was kicking your butt.

“And when was the last time you ate?” He asked. You stopped for a moment, pondering his question. “..I don’t like that silence.”

“I’ll get food eventually,” you answered.

“Not sure I can trust that.” You didn’t answer him the second time, unmoving from your position in your chair. You didn’t care that your stomach was still growling, but the way Hanta sighed at the sound made it clear that he did. “Don’t make me take matters into my own hands.”

You only hummed in response, eyes glued to the screen before you. Hanta was certain you were barely listening to a word he was saying, and an idea came to mind. If you weren’t going to make an effort to feed yourself, then he will. He wasn’t going to let you go hungry on his watch.

“You down for McDonald’s?” He asked with a sly grin.

You hummed again.

“The usual burger and nuggies?”

Another hum.

“Bet. Give me 20.”

He left the call after that. The sound of his departure snapped you back from your productive trance, your brain now registering what he said.

“Hanta, no!” You spoke more to yourself, launching over to your phone. Immediately finding the man’s contact, you typed a frantic message telling him not to waste his money on you. You loved the man, there was no doubt about that, but for god’s sake he lived on the other side of the city! Buying you food only to drop it off and leave right after was not worth the travel.

But that didn’t mean you hated the idea.

It wasn’t a surprise when he didn’t reply, your message left unread and glaring tauntingly at you. A defeated sigh escaped as you gave in, tossing your phone aside, neglecting the rest of your work and getting ready for the night.

Hanta wasn’t known for his punctuality, but you wouldn’t hold it against him either. You had changed into comfier clothes and booted up Animal Crossing, in the middle of catching fish when the sound of your doorbell caused you to jump.

You bounded over to the door, and the moment you cracked it open you were greeted by a paper bag in your face.

“Delivery for the gremlin who won’t eat.” And here he was, a solid 20 minutes later with a large paper bag and drinks in hand, the golden arches of the fast-food logo incredibly enticing. You had to admit, seeing Hanta’s triangular smile in person was infinitely better than through a screen.

“You didn’t have to do this, you dweeb,” you said with a pout. He huffed out a laugh, chest heaving and catching his breath. The sound made you concerned. “Wh– don’t tell me you ran all the way here or something?”

His eyes crinkled as he laughed again. “What exactly do you take me for? Of course I didn’t.”

A small sigh of relief left your mouth as Hanta ruffled your hair.

“I swung here.”

That sigh quickly turned into a groan. Of course he did; no need for cars or trains when you got tape-producing elbows to get you through the city. Convenience over practicality, you presumed.

“You’re inconceivable sometimes, you know?” You made your way to the kitchen with the paper bag, Hanta following and paying no mind to your statement, merely brushing it off with a wave of his hand.

“But you love that about me, don’t you?” You felt your heart leap, and you prayed he didn’t notice the falter in your step when you kept your back to him. “The impulsive decisions like bringing you food at almost three in the morning?”

“I wouldn’t push your luck this time around.” You applauded your voice for not breaking, reaching into the paper bag and snagging the large container of fries. You were more than happy to focus your attention on the crispy goodness than on the obvious teasing expression on your friend’s face, reaching up and flicking his forehead without batting an eye.

Although, you were grateful that Hanta would perform such a feat for you; swinging across the city and to the closest McDonald’s just to satiate your hunger. He was a doof, he can be unbelievably extra and a massive show-off, but he was considerate, selfless. And those were one of the many things you loved about him.

He joined you in the kitchen, the two of you propped on the high-chairs and sharing mirthful banter in between bites of food. It was easy to lose track of time, the night drifting by in a peaceful haze filled with laughter, lively debate and teasing remarks. You cared not for the potential noise complaints you would get from your neighbours; all that mattered now was the cute dimple that made an appearance every time Hanta smiled, followed by a contagious laugh that had you grinning from ear-to-ear.

You wished every day was like this; mornings where you would wake up to see his half-awake smile in the kitchen, where you would cuddle up together on the couch, watch movies and play games, to stay up late and pretend like time doesn’t exist. You wanted to lose yourself in his presence, to strip yourself of your doubts and create a comfortable space where you could talk about everything.

Hanta helped you with the cleanup, tossing the empty containers in the trash as you wiped the kitchen island clean. There wasn’t much cleaning to be done other than that, you thanking Hanta as you both finished up, walking towards the living room.

“Uhh– hey.” He had spoken up just as you were about to sit down, turning your head towards him. He had pulled out a peculiar box from his pocket, size no bigger than his hand. “Do you mind if I..?”

There was an unsure glint in his eyes as he toyed with the box, and you purse your lips. Smoking wasn’t something Hanta did very often, only on the rare occasion that stress was eating away at him and he needed a temporary escape from it.

A sigh eventually escaped you, giving in and nodding towards the balcony door. “Only if you promise to talk to me about what’s bothering you right after.”

He smiled in gratitude, nodding as a response to your promise and sauntering to the balcony, sliding the door closed and leaving you in the dimness of the room.

You left him with his ministrations as you turned on the T.V., opting for a quick game of Zelda to pass the time. But Revali’s Gale and Calamity Ganon didn’t seem so inviting when the very man you had been pining for was just meters away.

Turning your gaze away from the screen, you were grateful the curtains were drawn back, allowing you a breathtaking sight of Hanta’s silhouette leaning back against the rail. With arms propping him up, he seemed to be lost in his own world, head tilted back with a cigarette between his lips. Lithe fingers plucked it away, leaving a trail of smoke streaming from his mouth, waving about in a hypnotizing fashion.

Smoking was one of the least attractive things anyone could do — health-wise — but god damn was this something else.

You couldn’t say when you moved. It felt like seconds when you suddenly found yourself standing by the balcony door, enraptured by the sight of the man basking in purple fluorescent light. He seemed to be surprised to find you standing a few feet away, raising a curious brow.

“Sorry if I’m taking a while,” he said, and you tried desperately not to stare when loose ribbons of smoke flowed from his lips with every word. His demeanour had mellowed some, eyes lidded as they scanned every part of the balcony before landing on you.

“Don’t worry about it.” You stepped closer, hands reaching to rest on the railing. You could feel the heat of his gaze, too nervous to return it, choosing to focus on the retreating cars below you.

You heard Hanta take another drag, the whiff of smoke raiding your senses before fading. That was when he spoke up again.

“You okay?”

You couldn’t help but snicker.

“I should be asking you that. It’s not everyday you.. You know.” You gestured to the cigarette between his lips, to which a small grin made an appearance. It was bittersweet, distant, like a part of him was lost somewhere else.

“..Love is a funny thing, isn’t it?” He said suddenly, his voice just above a whisper. Your breath got caught in your throat, eyes darting briefly to scan his face. His grin was instantly wiped away.

“What do you mean?”

The neon lights caressed the angle of his cheeks and hid away in the shadows of his jaw, conflicting the somber haze of his eyes. He inhaled one more time, holding his breath before smoke tangled with the late-night air.

“When you grow up barely showing romantic interest in anyone, and by the time you catch feelings for this one person, you’re reminded that you’re too “simple” for their taste. That you can’t compete with the other, more attractive, more interesting people in their life.”

Hanta’s posture grew lax, his head now resting between his arms.

“It’s not a big deal, I know that, but… after being seen as that “plain-looking, third-wheeling, maybe a second choice if he's lucky” kinda guy, I thought all of that would change as I got older… But I was wrong. I got my hopes up too high, and all it took was for someone to tell me I wasn’t worth it–”

“Stop.” You blurted without a second thought. Your heart ached at what you just heard; Hanta Sero was the best guy you could ever call a friend, and anybody who ended up dating him should be damn lucky.

“Han, whoever told you that is spitting bull. People might say that you’re not as “appealing” compared to others, but if they learned to get past that shallow mindset then they’ll learn that you’re actually one hell of a catch. You’re honest, you put people in their place when they’re getting out of hand. You go out of your way to make sure your friends are happy, evidenced by you swinging across the city just to feed me. You’re the backbone of our friend group, both the figurative and literal tape that holds us together."

Honest words flowed free, no restraint or hesitation found anywhere in your voice. You held his gaze even though your nerves kicked at your conscience, just to emphasize your point and let him know just how much he meant to you.

The cigarette hung loosely from his lips, eyes wide in surprise. You couldn't read any of his emotions other than utter shock, your feigned confidence wavering as you let the last of your thoughts loose.

"You deserve someone who will continue to fall in love with you every time they wake up. Someone who will look at you like– like you're the most beautiful thing that ever existed. Someone like.."

Like me.

You held yourself back, your emotional walls reassembling as your heart quickly shut out the idea.

"Like who?" He asked when you didn't continue, and you had to prevent yourself from cracking when you heard his hopeful tone.

He was vulnerable.

“L-Like..” You bit your tongue; every part of you wanted to spill your deepest emotions for him, to end this hopeless pining once and for all.

A brief silence lingered, until you felt strong arms wrap around you. The scent of smoke and peaches ran pleasant through your senses as you returned Hanta’s embrace, clutching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to spring that on you,” he said, muffled against your hair, “Don’t worry– just forget what I said, yeah?”

Your grip tightened slightly when you heard those words, eyes growing soft when you were greeted by his usual smile the moment you let go. You didn’t even want to think how many times that smile hid his pain, to brush it off with a simple “don’t worry!” or “it’s all good!”.

It drove you insane.

“Hey.” Fingers suddenly cradled your chin, keeping your gaze locked on obsidian eyes, clear and sharp against bright purple light. “I promise I’m okay. I faced things worse than rejection and uncalled-for opinions and came out alright, didn’t I?”

Despite his attempts to lighten the mood, the feeling of guilt still weighed heavy in your chest. You took his hand in yours, caressing his fingers as your gaze wandered off.

“But you don’t deserve it. You never deserved it,” you murmured. “You’re absolutely amazing, and I wish all those assholes saw that too.”

There was a scent in the air, and you felt intoxicated, spilling more of your emotions without your consent. Your tone spoke of worry, of reassurance, and more you were too afraid to acknowledge. They swirled in your chest, a whirlpool of hidden feelings waiting to burst at the seams, and you could feel yourself starting to drown.

“Oh– don’t cry.” Hanta’s thumb swiped at your cheek, where a lone tear had somehow escaped. “I’m sorry. How can I ease your worries, Cariño?”

His voice made the swirling worse, and that godforsaken pet name caused your breath to hitch in the best-yet-worst possible way.

Your chest was heavy, and you were growing agitated.

"What do you want me to say?" You sighed, "To kiss me senseless? So hard that I forget who or where l am? To give me some sort of sign that you–”

Something finally snapped.

“–might actually feel the same way I do?"

There. You said it.

It may have been masked by a thin layer of sarcasm, but you've done it. Your safe haven of many years has finally collapsed under the force of pent-up emotions, waiting for the inevitable outcome of Hanta pushing you away, telling you he never felt the same. Telling you that he no longer wanted anything to do with you, and that you only took advantage of his vulnerability for your own selfish wants—

“Do you want me to?”

He stopped your thoughts in its tracks. The flame of his cigarette may have been snuffed, but his touch burned like fire. He whispered those words to you, like a silent plea for mercy. For comfort.

You swore he felt you flinch under his touch, his words of consent only causing more tears to form in your eyes.

“I..” you inhaled sharply, “I don’t want you to do this out of pity.” Even though this was everything you wanted.

“What makes you say that?” He had a soft smile, cheeks flushed, bright red against purple. “I’ve been waiting for this for years, love.”

The weight suddenly left you all at once, replaced with a lingering sensation — a jumbled mess of overwhelming confusion, denial, relief, delight. He looked so sure, eyes dripping with honey-like sweetness that had you trembling. All you wanted in that moment was to be trapped in his gaze, for your lips to be against his, reminding you that all of this was real. That you weren’t just drunk off heartbreak and wishful thinking, waiting for the dreaded moment of waking up without Hanta beside you.

Your lip quivered, shutting your tearstained eyes. “Why?”

“What?”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You exasperated, “I’ve loved you for so long. For God’s sake, I almost broke down in front of the stream when Denki said you were.. seeing your neighbour.”

You paused at the mention of them, eyes growing crestfallen. There was doubt written on your face that Hanta seemed to pick up on.

“Believe me, I’m not.” He admitted. He was firm, wiping away the remainder of your tears. “I only have eyes for you, Cariño. I was just afraid that eventually, you would see that I’m not that special. That I would stay as that friendzoned freak with the weird elbows and shitty puns. That I would be nothing but–”

You had heard enough. Your heart was overflowing, taking over your actions as you grabbed his collar and pressed your lips against his. You loved him, but he was an idiot — a big, heaping pile of small-brain energy that you wanted to smother with all your love. A dense dork that you wanted to kiss until he was breathless.

Sparks ignited behind your eyes, plush lips moving with yours when he finally returned your kiss, equalling your passion as he brought you closer to him. You melted, embracing the flames licking at your heart, warming your fingers as they danced against his skin.

He was everything you could have imagined — cheeks flushed pink, dark messy hair, lips kissed swollen with a blissful smile. All for you to witness underneath a fluorescent-purple haze. All for you and you alone.

“Hey Han?” You spoke moments after you pulled away.

He hummed in question, golden streetlights dancing in his eyes.

“We’re both idiots, aren’t we?”

He sputtered a laugh, squeezing you tight.

“Yeah,” he said, “But being idiots brought us to now, and that’s all that matters, right?”

He kissed the top of your head, and you snuggled deeper into his chest in response. He was right — if it weren’t for your stubborn need to get work done and Hanta’s instinct to take care of you, he wouldn’t have come through.

You silently thanked whatever god was looking down upon you that night; for you to be blessed with a tape-swinging dork with fast food at three in the morning, only to share vulnerable moments and blissful kisses as you enjoyed each other’s company until sunrise.

He came through. And you couldn’t ask for anyone better than Hanta Sero.

✿ I have officially re-invested myself into Tumblr.

#reinavii #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #mha x reader #bnha x reader #sero x reader #sero hanta #hanta sero #mha fanfic #bnha fanfic #sero x gn!reader #sero hanta imagine #sero x reader oneshot

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kirishwima · 4 years

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soulmate au 30 for Jumin x mc and yoosung x mc? pretty please?

30. Every so often you will get flashes of what your soulmate is seeing at the time, however your soulmate does not know when it happens. ok listen, i get how cute and/or heartbreaking this can be but like,,,,imagine the funny potential djdjksaljd

JUMIN:

* His first flash came unexpectedly-he was at school, another boring class dragging on and on, the view of Jihyun’s messy mint hair more interesting than whatever historical fact the teacher was rambling on about, when his eyes blinked, and suddenly the scenery changed, odd and unfamiliar, his heart stammering in his chest at the sight

* He was still seated, still a desk in front of him-but gone was the pricey mahogany of his private school’s classroom, instead a different, white-painted desk beneath his hands-his black pencilcase replaced with a white one, a cat-face key-chain dangling from its zipper, fingers-were they his own? No, they were far too different, but they were fumbling with the cat ears, flicking one between their thumb and index finger-

* He heard a voice calling out, an unfamiliar voice, an even more unfamiliar name-but before he could even begin to comprehend what was happening the scenery was gone, replaced with the view of his very furstrated teacher standing over his own, normal desk, Jihyun’s worried gaze turned to him with furrowed brows.

* Without bothering to give anyone an explanation, Jumin simply excused himself, leaving class early.

* He didn’t speak of it to anyone until it happened again and again-as he caught more and more glimpses of this persons’ life, how he’d see their hands, fumbling with their phone in bed, looking up one thing after another online, or he’d see them in an alleway, see their knees as they bent down to coo at a nearby stray cat.

* The only person he eventually confided in was Jihyun-he told him his genuine concern, how he was afraid he was going mad, how else could he explain it all?

* Jihyun merely shook his head, a small smile on his lips-Jumin couldn’t be sure, but something about that smile didn’t feel right, as if it didn’t belong on his friend’s face.

* “You’re one of the lucky ones Jumin. That’s your soulmate.”

* Jumin...didn’t know what to do with that information. So he very simply didn’t do anything. What use were these glimpses into a strangers life to him? And what use was it to them, to see glimpses of his own life?

* He became more self conscious, worried everytime he’d be caught doing something wrong, something inapprorpiate-he’d keep his interaction with his father and the random women that came home with him to a minimum, worried his soulmate would see-but why was he worried? Why should he care if they saw or not?

* Yet he carried on this way for years-he’d smile everytime he saw anything cat-related, remembering the flashes of his soulmate’s life, their love for cats; they’d recently adopted a black cat, a curious little thing that spent most of its time on their lap, their hands scratching behind its ears, or perched atop their shoulder like a parrot, as they’d turn their head to face it, the cat happily chirping at them in return.

* That’s the very first thought he had when Rika had presented him Elizabeth the 3d. Had his soulmate seen her? Had they gotten the same rush of excitement he did as she blinked up at him, as she used his lap as a pillow?

* He wondered what it’d be like if their two cats met, a black and white mess in a shared home, tails intertwined as they sat together, hand in hand, watching them-

* Shaking his head, he tried to put that thought out of his mind. After all, he had no plans to meet them. How could he?

* ...how could he accept he’d been falling in love with someone he’d never even met?

YOOSUNG:

* His first glimpse into their life was....rather embarassing.

* He’d just come home from school, exhausted as exam season was right around the corner, college applications haunting his every waking moment-the only thing he wanted was to hop into the shower come out as a full-time employee of a high-paying firm.

* And he did-almost that, letting the water wash the stress of the day away, happily humming a song as he lathered shampoo into his hair, shutting his eyes to avoid any stray soap reaching them-

* -only to find an unfamiliar scene greet him as soon as he opened them again?!

* He’d been in his shower, at his home-that much he was sure of so how-how was he outside right now?! How was he sitting in a park, a sandwich in his hands, and-there were people around him?! But he’s naked!

* He tried to cover up his body but his hands just wouldn’t follow, but as he looked closer-those hands were...manicured? Wait, he’s pretty sure he doesn’t have pastel pink coloured nails, unless his sister pranked him again...

* Oh! Oh, this is his soulmate!

* His initial shriek of fear became an excited scream, his eyes trying to soak up everything they could about his soulmate, ignoring his current predicament as he took in the faces of their friends, the colour of their jeans, even the contents of their sandwich, what they liked and disliked, anything and everything about this scene-

* Only to remember his position as soon as the glimpse into their life faded, his own body greeting him once again, the water stinging his eyes as he looked around manically.

* “Wait” he mumbled, eyes wide, “if I saw into their life....and they can see into mine...”

* His poor mom couldn’t ever understand what the context behind her son yelling ‘DID THEY SEE MY D*CK?!” could be as his voice echoed through the entire house.

* Throughout the years he tried to find out as much info as he could about his soulmate-he found out they loved coffee, that they didn’t really like sweet things, since he saw them refusing sugary treats from their friends more than once, unless they were on a diet-which he’d be sure to tell them they didn’t need to unless they absoloutely wanted to! He doesn’t want his soulmate to think they’re not beautiful, he huffed, all the little things that made up their personality, little quirks and habits that made him fall more and more in love.

* He hoped they could see him too, could see things about him they liked-but as he looked around at his bleak life, the only light illuminating his room being the computer screen...he highly doubted it.

* Rika’s death tore him apart, and he knew his soulmate must’ve caught more than a small glimpse of his breakdown, the countless nights he spend crying, how he’d nod off in school because he spent his nights staring at the ceeling, a million thoughts racing through his mind.

* Yet somehow he knew-he knew his soulmate wasn’t the type of person to judge him for it.

* The fated day came when, during his orientation day at university, another flash came to him-a glimpse into his soulmate’s world...

* Only...they were looking at the same view as him? It was the same university, the exact same area-they must be in the orientation tour too!

* And-he saw himself, a blonde bob of hair a few meters ahead of them, could see his own shoulders tense in excitement, how his feet stopped his fast-paced walk-as did theirs, their gaze solely focused on him.

* He turned in a flash, scanning the faces of his fellow colleagues-until he found them.

* He didn’t have to know what they looked like to know this was his soulmate. The way their eyes widened as they saw him, how their lips turned into a soft smile, their hands coming up to their reddened cheeks-he knew.

* Before his confidence could waver, he walked to them, gait shaky, extending a hand to them.

* “It’s...it’s nice to finally meet you.” he said.

* They looked up to him, their eyes clear, holding so much emotion-Yoosung couldn’t wait to begin to untangle this Ariadne’s tangle in their gaze.

* “I-you too” they stumbled over their words, “It’s funny I-I didn’t expect we’d meet like this-I don’t know you yet I feel like-like I’ve known you for a lifetime.”

* Yoosung laughed, clenching their hand tight as they shook his, remaining quiet-what was there even to say?

* His soulmate had nailed it right on the head.

* “Yeah” he said, “yeah, me too-but I can’t wait to spend another lifetime getting to know you”

listen Yoosung is a sappy romantic and once he becomes bold enough he’ll be the sappiest boo ever no u cant change my mind-

-send me a headcanon for mystic messenger character(s) reactions!-

-you can find commission info on my bio if you’d like a full-fledged fic!-

#asks #mystic messenger #mysme #mystic messenger reactions #mysme headcanons #mysme prompts #mystic messenger prompts #jumin han #yoosung kim #soulmates #soulmate au #fanfics #mysme fanics #mysme imagines #jumin han x mc #yoosung kim x mc #Anonymous

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whitewallwhispers · 4 years

Text

Little Lies

Narcos - Javier Peña - Series

Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four - Part Five - Part Six - Part Seven - Part Eight - Part Nine

A young writer moves to Colombia to perform research on the drug war for her latest novel. She’s willing to do anything for information, which leads her down a rabbit hole that begins to blur the line between pretending to be someone and becoming something she might not be ready for.

Her latest target is a D.E.A. Agent named Javier Peña. And things are getting complicated.

Warnings: Drug use (cocaine), alcohol use (wine), strong language (pretty much every expletive under the sun), smut - mentions of oral sex (male receiving), rough sex (mentions of hair pulling, choking), unprotected sex (wrap it up, folks), daddy kink

My hope is that you can imagine this character as any race with any style of hair (as someone with short hair I get annoyed when every fic mentions long locks and ponytails).

This is kind of a dumb note but I feel the need to clarify that this smut is completely aimed at Peña - I love Pedro but in a completely different, non-sexual way. It’s a credit to his acting skills that he can make me want to fuck nearly every character he plays when IRL I just want to be his best friend.

He certainly left bruises. On her hips, her wrists. Purple at first before fading to yellow in the week that had passed since she last saw him. She’d gone to the bar every night, drinking away her parents’ money in the faint hope he’d show.

He didn’t.

She tried not to take it personally. She tried not to think about the possibility that he’d gone back to his regulars and forgotten all about her.

Maybe that’s why she’d decided to blow through an entire packet of coke, railing line after line off her counter as she wrote, though it wasn’t long before she was running into a dead end of ideas. If Peña had given up on her, she’d have to find another cartel member soon to give her more information. If she couldn’t gain the perspective of the opposite side, she might as well gain more insight into the one she already knew.

Her high made her forget that the next packet of her supply still laid on her bedside table. It didn’t help that she’d gone for the bottle of white wine she had in her fridge, drinking deeply straight from it as she moved to turn on her stereo, dancing to herself to Billie Holiday as she took another pull, her lips numb and limbs buzzing.

Maybe I should call it a night on writing. She’d been stuck for the past hour and even the coke had failed to stimulate her further. Maybe she could drown out the strange strain in her chest with the next packet she had. Maybe the wine would give her a hangover, and she’d spend the whole day tomorrow thinking only about how miserable she felt instead of wondering what Peña was doing and if she’d ever see him again.

Thirty minutes further into dancing by herself she’d drank nearly half the bottle of wine and taken another line from her fresh pouch.

She was being irresponsible.

She thought there wouldn’t be consequences.

She wasn’t thinking straight.

So when there came a knock at her door, she opened it straight away without peeking through the chain to see who it was.

Fuck fuck fuck.

She now had her door wide open to Peña, who was giving her an apologetic look.

“I know I said I wouldn’t turn up unannounced next time, but you wouldn’t believe what a week it’s been.”

Before she could even think he was stepping into her apartment.

“Wait,” she choked. “Hold on.”

But by the time she’d thought to stop him, he was already in the door. He could already see what she was about to do. He’d see her hiding the coke and he’d know and he’d hate her and she’d lose her only chance at writing about both sides of the story. He saw her panic.

“What’s the matter?” his voice was full of concern, too sweet in contrast to the severity of the situation.

“Can you close your eyes? Please? I know it sounds weird, but…”

“I - uh - sure, I guess,” he answered, mercifully shutting them without question.

She reached behind her to the counter to put down her wine and grab her manuscript before sprinting to her bedside table, stuffing the baggie of coke on top of the papers and shutting them safely away in the drawer.

“Okay, you can open them now,” she said, returning in front of him.

He was on her immediately, lips hot and heavy as he pushed her further into the room. It unfolded much like last time. He forced her onto her knees. This time she did a better job of relaxing her throat, and as such he thrusted into her harder than before. She didn’t gag once, and he rewarded her by eating her out before he began to pummel her into the bed in every position imaginable. There were no handcuffs this time, but plenty of hair pulling and insistence on calling him daddy and choking.

He came inside her again, and this time she made sure she got up to go to the bathroom first. He required no cleanup. That should automatically grant her first dibs.

But it was a mistake. After she’d taken care of everything she washed her hands and opened the door, only to find Javier standing there, jeans on but shirtless, his gun held lazily in his hand that rested against the wall as the other held up his badge.

“You wanna know what this means, sweetheart?” His voice was calm and even, but his eyes were dark.

Fuck. Had he looked when he said he’d close his eyes? Had she forgotten to hide something? Or please, for the love of God let this be some weird sort of kinky roleplay bullshit. He took a step towards her and she fought the urge to take a step back. It’d look too suspicious. Instead she tried to play dumb.

“Hmm…American Beurau of Fuckall?” she asked coyly.

“Wrong letters.”

“Unless you’ve been studying up on the Berlin Wall I don’t think you get to quiz me about anything.” She rolled her eyes and turned back to the mirror, frantically looking for something to do with her hands. Lipstick. Bingo. She pulled open her makeup drawer and grabbed the first tube she found before hurriedly applying it. She prayed he couldn’t see the way her hand was shaking.

Javier stepped fully into the bathroom now, standing directly behind her, his arm holding the gun wrapping around her waist while the other returned his badge to his back pocket. He pushed her forward until she was stuck between him and the counter.

“That thing better not be loaded,” she joked, “and your gun better be empty too.” She finished with her lips and began to toy with her hair instead, avoiding his eyes in the mirror.

“What’s this?” he asked, bending so his mouth pressed close to her ear, dangling something small in front of her.

“What does it look like?” she said with a shrug. Holy fuck. It was a baggie of coke. Her coke. She couldn’t tell if she’d left it out or he’d gone looking for it and honestly it didn’t matter right now. The only thing she needed to focus on was sounding as oblivious as possible. “If you want some go ahead, I don’t mind.”

His grip on her tightened painfully, the cold metal of his gun biting into her bare skin.

“Where’d you get it?”

“A friend.”

“What kind of friend?”

“The same kind you are.”

His arm loosened its hold on her slightly, but she was still pinned between him and the sink.

“Do you know who your friend works for?”

“I mean, he’s never said, but given he pays me half in coke I think you and I can wager a guess.”

Javier nodded.

“How often do you see this friend?”

“Not often.” A lie. She’d only seen him once. But he made sure she knew where to find him again.

“Are you friends with anyone else he works with?”

She shook her head.

“Could you be?”

“Why?” she laughed. “Bored of me already? Worried I’ll go broke when you stop calling?”

“I’m D.E.A.”

She blinked. “Yeah, I still don’t know what that means.” Oh, yes I do.

“Drug Enforcement Administration.”

Time to play it up.

“Oh shit, Javi, listen, I can explain,” she stammered. “Please, don’t -”

“Don’t worry, you’re not in trouble,” he reassured her, placing the baggie on the counter and stroking her cheek. “Not unless you refuse my offer.”

“Offer?”

Okay, now she was lost.

“See your friend more often. See his friends. See his friends who are more powerful than he is. And I’ll keep seeing you, and if you tell me where they are or what they say or anything useful about what they’re doing, I’ll pay double.”

She gulped. On the one hand, she’d already been considering seeing cartel members more frequently for info. On the other, she wasn’t sure if she was prepared to really commit to being a prostitute. It wouldn’t be pretend anymore. Instead of a writer playing at being a whore, she’d be a whore who was writing a novel.

“You…you won’t get in trouble for sleeping with someone who does coke?” she whimpered, trying to still sound scared of him while inside she was really just scared shitless of herself and the mess she’d gotten into.

“What, you think you’re the only whore in Medellin who partakes? You think you’re the only one I see?”

She bit her lip. Why the fuck did that hurt?

“Right,” she nodded, suddenly unable to look him in the eyes.

“You’re so naive,” he sighed. He placed his gun on the counter and returned his hand to her hip, thumb brushing over the bone with the same intensity as when they fucked. His lips found her neck and they began to press feverishly against her skin, gently biting her between every kiss.

His free hand reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, briefly letting go of her long enough to pull out a stack of bills and toss it next to his gun.

“The only info I have on him is old, probably useless to you now,” she stammered.

“That’s not what it’s for.” After shoving his wallet back into his jeans he gripped her waist and pushed his body so tightly against her back that her hips ground painfully into the sink. She gasped at the way it hurt, but it only made him groan into the crook of her neck, biting her harder now.

“J-Javi,” she breathed, not knowing which pain to focus on.

“Why do I want you so much?”

She blinked in surprise. His voice sounded so vulnerable. Raw and honest.

“I know I just told you to, but…I think about you fucking someone else and I can’t help but feel jealous.” His hands tugged down her panties and she could feel his growing erection pressing into her lower back.

What the fuck was she supposed to say to that?

Especially since she felt the same way.

Come on, think of something clever.

She couldn’t, her mind was completely scrambled between the way her hips were embedded against the cold porcelain, the way his lips were trailing across her collarbones and shoulder, the way his hands were pulling out his cock and pushing it between her legs.

His hand came to her other shoulder and bent her forward, her reflection flying towards her as she leaned closer to the mirror. She looked at him in the glass, noting the way his eyes were heavily lidded and mouth was hanging open slightly as he breathed heavily.

“I find myself daydreaming about being inside you all the time. It’s so fucking distracting,” he huffed, sliding into her and meeting her eyes in the mirror. She braced herself against the sink, crying out gently as her hips were pushed further into the counter. He pumped in and out of her slowly, keeping his eyes locked on hers.

“See how pretty you look when I fuck you?”

“Javi,” was the only response she could think of. Think of? There hadn’t been any thought in it, it slipped out of her as she threw her head back. He felt so good, and hurt so much. Not just the way he trapped her against the sink, but the way she wanted him.

She’d gotten attached.

She really was too naive, too inexperienced, too out of her depth.

Childish, almost, in the way she let herself develop feelings for him just because he was the first man to make her orgasm, the first man she dreamed about when he wasn’t there, the first man to make her feel desirable. She felt so silly, so ashamed of how she’d lost her professional objectivity.

She was so lost in thought she didn’t notice the tears that welled in her eyes. It wasn’t until one slipped down her cheek that she realized she was crying. Javier pulled out of her immediately, turning her around to face him.

“Am I being too rough?” he asked, eyes searching hers.

“No,” she shook her head, her voice pathetically weak. “Go harder.” Maybe the physical pain would drown out the embarrassment and confusion currently filling her mind.

“I won’t if you’re crying.”

“Please just do it. I’ll use our safe word if it’s too much.”

His eyes surveyed her dubiously for a moment before he turned her back around, pushing her against the counter once more and bending her forward. His hands found her waist as he began to thrust into her again, grunting as she tensed around him.

She watched his face in the mirror, a few more tears spilling out her eyes before they stopped as she steadied herself. Focus on the physical, she thought. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip so hard she was sure she’d break the skin. Her hips would be bruised again, much worse this time, but she began to relish in the way her bones ground against the sink.

He picked up his pace, slamming into her with stuttering breaths.

“No one feels as good as you,” he whispered.

“Don’t.” She hadn’t meant to say it. But it came out of her mouth anyway.

He froze inside her.

“Don’t what?” he sounded concerned again. Sweet.

Stop it.

“Don’t be nice to me. Don’t say nice things to me. Just fuck me and go.”

“I - are you sure you’re okay?”

Oh, great. She could feel herself getting choked up again. “Javi, just do what you’re paying me for.”

He sighed heavily and pulled out of her. “Fine. But not like this.” He pulled her up and shut the bathroom door, pushing her back up against it and kissing her gently, his fingertips softly brushing over her cheeks and neck. His hands trailed lower, sliding around her to undo her bra, pulling it off of her carefully and placing it on the counter beside his gun. His thumbs circled her nipples as he brought his lips back to hers, tongue hesitantly slipping into her mouth.

“You made your lip bleed,” he said, pulling back and looking at her with furrowed brows.

“Good.” Her voice was flat. The way he was treating her so softly was making everything worse.

“What’s going on?”

Frustrated, she grabbed his wrist and thrust his hand against her throat. “Please stop being like this. I want you to hurt me.”

His fingers flexed weakly against her neck, but still, he didn’t let go. “You’re acting different. Something’s off.”

“I don’t wanna talk about it. Just fuck me.”

“Look, you don’t have to be an informant for me if you don’t want to, I won’t get you in trouble, just -”

She went on her tiptoes and kissed him as hard as she could, her hand wrapping around and stroking his length.

“I’ll do whatever you want if you just finish this the way you started,” she breathed. “Please.”

Her touch seemed to bring his base instincts back into control, because his fingers began to tighten around her throat while his other hand hooked under her knee and pulled her leg up, pushing it beside her chest and testing the limits of her flexibility.

It burned. He held her leg in place so firmly she could feel the muscles straining as if they were ready to snap. As both his hands were occupied it was up to her to guide him into her center, but once he was inside her she let her hands brace herself against the door.

Their height difference made things a little awkward until he finally released her throat and scooped her other leg up, lifting and holding her against the door with his body as he thrust into her again and again. Her hands came to his shoulders, gripping them to feel the way the muscles were pulled taut with her weight.

He buried his face in her neck, panting against her hot skin.

There was no pain now, only pleasure, and it was almost too much to bear. He felt so good against her, inside her. She ran her fingers through his hair and breathed in the smell of sweat and sex and faded cologne that encompassed him.

She didn’t want to cum. But she did anyway, biting her lip again to keep herself from saying his name. She couldn’t do it to herself. It would hurt too much in the wrong way. In the way that came from inside.

“Good girl,” he murmured as she pulsed around him, legs shivering.

She hung her head back against the door, closing her eyes and trying to numb herself to his touch. It sounded like he’d finish soon and then he would leave and then she would never see him again.

She wouldn’t allow herself to.

Fuck it. Her book would only take place from the cartel’s perspective.

It wasn’t worth getting her heart broken over.

Because the money on the counter beside her bra and his gun was all she meant to him, all she’d ever be worth to him. And if she fucked him one more time it might kill her.

He came inside her, groaning as he held her against the door one long moment before gently bringing her down. As soon as her feet the floor she was picking up her clothes and the money, pushing through the door without looking at him. She rushed to get dressed before he could follow her, but she only got as far as her bra and panties and shirt before she heard his footsteps coming out of the bathroom.

“Cigarette?” he asked, walking past her and picking up his own shirt off the ground. He turned to study her while he buttoned it, but she didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

“No,” came her blunt reply. She debated putting on her shorts but the minute he was gone she’d be under her covers feeling like shit, so she decided it wasn’t worth it. Instead she stood awkwardly against the back of the couch, arms crossed, looking everywhere in the room but at him. When she heard him light himself a cig she thought she should polish off the last of her wine.

Not wanting to risk walking near him in her suddenly unbearably small apartment, she decided to forgo actually stepping into the kitchen to get it and instead leaned over the counter from as far away as possible to grab it, her hips aching in protest as she did so. She took a deep swig before moving to go back to her perch on the couch, but when she turned she found herself nearly running right into his half-exposed chest.

“Why won’t you look at me?” he asked quietly.

Defiant, she met his gaze and was taken aback by how sad he looked.

Goddammit.

All she wanted to do was kiss away his frown and push back the messy hair from his face.

“Don’t show up unannounced next time,” was her only response.

Something flickered across his face so quickly she didn’t get the chance to recognize it before it was gone.

“Meet you at the bar, then?”

“Sure,” she nodded before pushing past him, resting on the back of the couch and taking another draw.

She’d never go to that bar again.

#narcos #narcos fanfiction #narcos fanfic #narcos smut #Javier Peña #Javier Peña fanfiction #Javier Peña fanfic #Javier Peña fic #Javier Peña smut #fanfiction #fanfic #smut #heeeeeeeeeeere we go #pedro pascal #bye #little lies

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3packsfrom21 · 4 years

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Gander through Greece

On October 22, we flew from Rome to Athens. Knowing that Greece was nearing the end of its warm season, we only stayed in Athens for 2 nights before heading to Thira (Santorini). Our days in Athens were spent close to the hostel. I was feeling a bit of a stomach bug, so I needed to lay low. However, we were thrilled to discover some delicious food for cheaper prices than we’d seen in months! Greece is known for its gyros – wraps comparable to kebabs with generally either chicken, pork, or lamb, along with onions, tomatoes, tzatziki sauce, lettuce, and fries (inside). We were just grateful to have meat options that we could afford that weren’t just smoked ham, prosciutto ham, fake deli meat ham, or slightly-more-expensive-but-probably-actually-has-meat-in-it-ham. We also discovered feta cheese and HOLY. I didn’t think feta cheese could get better than ours at home, but I assure you it can. [In case you’re confused, my stomach bug didn’t eliminate my appetite].

The morning of the 24th, we woke bright and early (4:30 a.m.) to catch our ferry. Our receptionist had recommended that we show up two hours early, so although our ferry didn’t leave until 7:30, we caught a cab down to the harbor at 5. We were then confused because no one knew where our boat was supposed to dock. Our taxi driver was immensely helpful (another one of the Lord’s saving gifts) and helped us until we figured it out. Apparently, it is ridiculous to show up to a ferry 2 hours early. So, although we kept showing ticket offices the name of our boat, nothing made sense until we finally showed them the time when we would be leaving. They weren’t even considering boats that were arriving that far in the future. Our taxi driver thought we were crazy. With everything sorted, we sat at our gate for 45 min, while Lynece gloated (she’s the “no need to be too early, everything will work out” type), Kiana sat, resolutely unfazed (she’s the “better to be early cause what if [insert literally any possible obstacle that could arise here]” type), and I sat between them, admiring the boats and early morning breeze (I’m the “sure, ok” type). We all had a good laugh, and did get some pretty sweet seats on the ferry (which we later learned were reserved for people who paid more, but regardless). The ride was 7 hours long. We experienced the most amazing sunrise, the kind that can only be witnessed from aboard a boat, and spent the rest of the time chatting. You’d think that we’d eventually run out of things to talk about, but, although we do have our moments of silence, we always have more to say.

Now, to talk about Santorini. In the last post, Lynece told you about Venice being her “must-see” destination. Santorini was mine. In fifth grade English class, I had to do a project, which focused on traveling to another country. I remember basically nothing about the project itself, but I know I did mine on Santorini. I priced out flights and accommodations (pretty sweet deal when you’re 11 and have all the money in the world). I recall choosing a private home in Oia, with a pool that overlooked the stunning view of pearly-white-walled and sky-blue-domed houses, as well as the surrounding islands and endless ocean. From then on, I was GOING to Santorini (“like, when I’m old enough, like probably when I’m 16, or something”). My resolve was further strengthened by the likes of Mama Mia and The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants. I, too, put it on my list of 10 places that I wanted to see for my 13th birthday trip, and even cajoled Aasta into putting it on hers. And yet, somehow, even with turning 16 and everything, the plan had yet to materialize. Until now.

Since 5th grade, I’ve learned that apparently (and disappointingly) I’m not alone in wanting to go to Santorini. It’s chocked full of tourists who were as convinced as I by Meryl Streep and Abba. So, my expectations were sufficiently checked. Still, the 11 year old inside me couldn’t help but jump with glee as we neared the white-topped cliffs. We didn’t stay in a private home with a pool and a view (although, my fifth grade research was pretty accurate - there are plenty of these homes available). But, our hostel in Fira was clean, had plenty of people to meet, and did have a pool (minus the view). On our first morning, after picking up some groceries and Freddo Cappuccinos (iced espresso, with some kind of special sweetener, topped with just-under-whipped, whipped cream), we sat looking out over all of the magnificent view, feet dangling over the wall, and I couldn’t help but be filled with overwhelmingly joyous tears. It was all too cool.

We spent 5 lovely days in Santorini. The first was spent exploring the climbing streets of Fira. The second was spent in Oia (we went to Oia!), where we explored some more, found the classic windmills as well as an an epic bookstore (that I’d still be in now if it weren’t for Kiana and Lynece’s prompting), and discovered the unpredictable nature of the local bus system (I say local because that’s what it is called, but it is used much more by tourists than locals, from what I could tell). The bus is supposed to come every 20 minutes; however, the bus that brought us back from Oia to Fira was 45 min late. A new understanding of “island time.” The third day was a life maintenance day, where we caught up on journals, did laundry, etc. On the fourth day (I’m beginning to remind myself of Genesis, here), we went to the heavenly “Red Beach,” named after the red sand. It was a cove perfect for swimming, with the kind of water you see on people’s screen savers. We swam and soaked up the rays aaand.. I forgot to drink enough water. Which brings me to the fifth day, where I had a touch of heat stroke, so we lounged around the pool of our hostel all day before catching our ferry back to Athens in the evening. While here, we caught the famed sunsets almost every night (there aren’t enough words), and were blessed with absolutely perfect weather. Also, being at the end of the season, there were sales everywhere and we were each able to pick out a ring we liked.

There is something truly magical about Santorini. It is undeniably westernized. It’s busy. But there’s just a feeling about it that leaves you wanting more. It has an almost Arabic feel to it (I say this with admittedly zero grounding, as I’ve never been to an Arabic country). It feels island-y and luxurious but also feels like real things have happened here. It makes me curious to explore other Greek islands to see what even more spectacular gems might be waiting outside of all the vacationers’ sights. But I would be more than thrilled to spend a season just here, working at one of the shops (preferably the book store mentioned above). Many of the people that we met who were working at the shops were from elsewhere in Europe; they all go home for the down season. So I know it is frequently done! Maybe when I’m finished my degree..

Anyway. We loved Santorini. And I will be back.

As I started saying, on the evening of the 29th, we caught a ferry ride back to Athens. A 12 hour, overnight ferry this time. There were no cabins (and we wouldn’t have been able to afford them even if there had been) but, luckily, the boat was not too busy and there were plenty of open sofas to lie down on. Even better, the ride was incredibly smooth, especially compared to the rather choppy waters on the way there. It was a surprisingly incredible sleep!

We arrived in Athens at around 9:00 a.m. We stayed at the same hostel as before – it was particularly lovely because there were curtains around the bunks which gave us a little bit of privacy. You come to really appreciate these kinds of things! The heat stroke had thrown me off; I lost my appetite towards anything Greek food and was just not feeling myself. So, we spent the 30th and 31st laying low, once again. Truthfully, we were glad to have an excuse to take a break from any kind of sightseeing. Europe was tremendous, but we were exhausted, especially after Rome. Rome really took it all out of us. So those two days of rainy weather and bed/café chilling were necessary for us.

We ventured out a bit more on the 1st. We went and explored the area around the Acropolis, called the Plaka. I was feeling particularly moody and, frankly, angry with still being in Europe, still having to eat this stupid food and sleep in these stupid foreign beds. All I wanted was Mum’s chicken and dumplings, or noodle soup, or Dad’s buttermilk pancakes. It’s funny, writing this and noticing how drastically my attitude towards Greek food changed. Don’t let this deter you; the food is GOOD. This was just the post-heat stroke talking. Anyway, the good news was that our little bit of exploring helped to brighten all of our spirits. We didn’t overdo it - soon returning to the hostel to begin to prepare for our flight to Asia – but it was enough to move through some of the blues.

The next day was Acropolis day. The Acropolis did not get the astonishment it probably deserves. As I’ve mentioned, we were tired. And there comes a time when another set of ruins is kind of just another set of ruins. We put in our best effort, reading lots of the placards for more info and taking time to admire the sights. It really was cool. My favourite part of any ruins is when they still have old engravings on them, and some of these did. On the South slope, there is an ancient stadium/theatre that spans a large portion of the hill. In this stadium there are still the seats that were reserved for the priests/priestesses and on the front of many of the seats there is still the engravings dictating which priest got to sit where: “The priest of Zeus” and so on. We couldn’t actually read the letters, of course, but we overheard a nearby tour guide telling her group about it.

As for the Acropolis itself, I’ll need to return to appreciate it fully. It was remarkable to think of all the history that occurred there (in other circumstances, it would’ve likely been mind-blowing). My highlight of the day was seeing the Areopagus (Mars hill). It is quite the experience to know that you are standing in the place where Apostle Paul preached the gospel to the Greek philosophers. To think: in this spot, Christianity was introduced for one of the first times to this land. Woah. It’s really just a craggy rock on the top of a hill, but it was more impactful to us than any of the pillars in the Acropolis.

Acropolis day was also wonderful because I had my appetite back. To celebrate, we went to one of the most famous Greek restaurant chains, called O Thanasis. O Thanasis is known for its yogurtlu: souvlaki meat, covered in warm Greek yogurt and various spices, and served on a bed of pita bread. GUYS. This food is SO GOOD. Ah. We shared a yogurtlu and a Thanasis souvlaki kebab (basically the same thing, but just onions and tomato instead of yogurt), and were filled and happy, happy, happy. What’s more, it only set us back 19 euro in total. For dessert, we went to Lukumades to try Greek doughnut balls, called loukoumades. Traditionally, they are served with honey and cinnamon. So, we shared one order of traditional ones (with a side of ice cream, of course) and one order with Bueno chocolate drizzle on top. Enough said.

With the 2nd at a close, we only had two remaining days in Greece (and in Europe!) and we had plenty to do. You see, paying to check bags would’ve cost a ridiculous amount of money. So, we embarked on the task of trying to carry everything on. This meant that a) we needed to make our packs look small enough to carry on (the easy part) and b) we needed to ensure that each of us only had 10kilos of weight (the slightly harder part). This task was made easier by the fact that we knew we were entering hot country, so we left pants, sweaters, and other unnecessary layers at the hostel, for other travelers to look through. There were some things that we didn’t want to part with, so we also sent a package home. However, even after all of this, we were still over our weight. We began seeing how much we could fit into our pockets. Turns out, the inner pockets of my sweater can fit our iPad on one side and a novel on the other. I look like a walking brick, but oh well. We debated significantly about how much we could carry in our arms without looking suspicious. Finally, we caved a little for the sake of comfort and bought an extra 5 kilos of carry-on weight. This meant that with just the right number of layers, and with our pockets as full as reasonably possible, we could probably squeeze by.

And so, the morning of the 5th came. We donned our layers and took the hour-long metro ride to the airport. And what were we wearing? Well let’s see. Kiana: 1 pair of capris; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long sleeve shirt; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of socks; and sandals. Lynece: 1 pair of shorts; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long-sleeve; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of thick wool skiing socks; and sandals. And me? 1 pair of capris; 1 pair of pants; 1 t-shirt; 1 long-sleeve; 1 sweater; 1 rain jacket; 1 pair of socks; 2 bandanas (one on each wrist) and sandals. And what did we have in our pockets? Kiana: pillowcase, 2 bandanas, phone, charging cords, and glasses case. Me: charging battery, charging cords, sunglasses case, phone, a deck of cards, and my camera. Lynece: phone, charging cords, camera, and 4 adaptors. To top it all off, we each have a multi-colored sheet (Kiana, Lynece, and Dad brought them home from the Philippines) that is sewn like a sleeping bag (except open on both ends). Naturally, we wore them around our necks like face-eating, overgrown scarfs. Needless to say, the metro ride was a little warm.

Just imagine 3 huffing girls walking down the airport hallway (in Athens, a warm country, mind you), topped with massive scarfs, each wearing two backpacks, weighed down by their sagging pockets, wearing socks in their sandals. That was us. We decided that if anyone asked we’d just say we’d come from Canada. We acted as normal as we could, standing in line at the check-in counter, and comparing the size of our packs to the size of everyone else’s. Our anticipation rose as we stepped up to the counter. The man gave us one look, asked for our Passports, printed our passes, nodded, and sent us on our way. HE DIDN’T EVEN WEIGH OUR PACKS. We stood outside of line, stunned, for a minute. The email had been explicit in warning that “each person is only permitted 2 bags with a combined total weight of 10 kilos.” We thought there must be some mistake. Maybe they weigh them later. So, we refrained from removing any layers or putting anything more into our packs. We cleared security (that was a sight, as we emptied the electronics from our pockets). Still no weighing. We found our gate, thinking: “Is it possible that they’d weigh them at the gate? That makes no sense!” Still, we stayed in our layers, pockets full. And so, we boarded the plane with our 16 layers. No weighing necessary. It was all somewhat anti-climactic and highly hilarious. At least we wouldn’t be cold on the flight.

Our plane took off at 11:00 a.m. It was a 10 hour flight, followed by a 3 hour layover in Singapore, and then a 2 hour flight to Denpasar, Indonesia. We said goodbye to Europe, part 1 of our trip. Wild. We’d dreamed of our sister trip to Europe for so many years and it has now come to a close. We were sad to see the end, but also so excited for Asia. We were really too tired to continue in Europe; Indonesia couldn’t have come at a better time.

Cheers // Janae

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spn-and-daddy-issues · 7 years

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Real vs. Not Real

A/N - Some language and mentions of torture in here, be aware. Not entirely sure where this came from, but I ran with it when it popped into my head.

“Better start talking, sweetheart.” The menacing voice brushed your ear.

A shiver of anticipation went up your spine, causing your wrists to chafe uncomfortably against the rough rope that bound them behind your back.

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

The man circled back in front of you, his eyes filling with black at your words. “Want to try that again?” He pressed a knife up to your throat.

“I. Said. Fuck. Off.” You spat each word as if it were poison, the anger running through your veins thick enough to outweigh the fear that logically should have taken over long before.

He lowered the knife, an even more wicked grin filling his face. “So you want to have some fun then, do you Y/N?” He leaned in so close you could feel the whisper of his breath on your face, “Let’s play.”

The ropes binding your wrists were cut free from the thick pipe you had been tied to, but they were gripped tightly in one of Dean’s large hands, still keeping you very much restrained. He shoved you over to a pair of shackles on the wall and before you could even try to maneuver your way out, had you fastened into them, arms dangling above your head.

“Last chance, where is my dear old brother hiding out?”

Figuring it was the best way to show defiance, you didn’t even respond. You tried to keep a neutral look on your face and simply look bored. Maybe pissing off the demon who was rearing to torture you wasn’t the best choice to make, but you surely weren’t going to give him any information either.

“Wrong answer.”

Using one hand Dean turned you so you were flush up against the wall, and with the other he dragged the knife across your back, down from shoulder to hip. It was deep enough to elicit a muffled scream from you, but you unsuccessfully tried to bury your mouth into the meat of your arm to hide it.

“Having so much salt and water, even if of the holy variety, comes in handy too. I just have to make sure I don’t actually touch the stuff, and presto. Another option for our fun little bit here.”

Before you could comprehend his words, there was a splash across your back and the wound he had left felt like it had been lit on fire. Of course, trained by Alistair, Dean wouldn’t just inflict the damage, he’d find every way to make it more painful. Even with something as simple as salt water tossed on top.

You grit your teeth against the pain, knowing full well that it was nowhere near over, but also knowing full well that Sam was either going to rescue you and cure Dean, or Dean would end up killing you to try to get info on his brother. Either way, you had a long way to go.

“You see, I know my baby brother is looking for me, but it would be loads more fun if I could just catch up with him first. Rid him of any of his romantic notions that I can be changed back into a lousy human. Teach him a thing or two about this new and improved me, and how I’m never going back. I just want to let him know that, Y/N, isn’t that fair?”

Deciding to go with stoicism again, you remained silent, still pressing your face into your bicep to try to hide the pain that you were in.

“Come on sweetheart, I don’t like being ignored.” Dean yanked your hair backwards harshly, a small cry escaping your lips. “Where is Sam?”

The cycle went on, Dean switching between a few of his favorite blades, even bringing the First Blade out to make its marks on your skin a few times. He knew just how much blood he could draw before you’d get light headed, how to make the smallest incisions the most painful, where to strike with a palm or fist to reopen old wounds as if they were fresh once more. You lost track of time, only realizing that the more torture that went by the less the chance you’d be rescued, but the longer Sam had to run and hide from Dean. That the busier Dean was with you, the less attention he was giving to spreading harm elsewhere. It wasn’t a bad way for a hunter to go out.

“Fine, let’s see what we can do to that pretty little mind of yours, body’s too far gone to do much else to right now anyway.” Dean’s eyes were black as he growled at you and shoved a large syringe into your neck, pumping its contents directly into your blood stream.

“Hey, hey. Come back to me, Y/N.” Sam was bending down to be at eye level with you, concern masking his expression.

“Sam?” Your voice cracked and sounded even more ragged than you expected it to.

“I’m gonna get you out of here, Y/N. Just hold still for me, okay?” Sam’s large hands went to work with the cuffs that you had hung from since your first day here.

“Sam, where’s Dean? You’ve gotta get out of here, it’s you he wants.” You squeak out, determined to protect Sam.

“He’s fine, Y/N. We’ll take care of it, I just need to get you out of here.”

“No, Sam, it’s a trap, he wants you!”

Dean chucked from where he stood against the opposite wall, watching you cry and scream out into thin air. It had taken quite a bit of testing, but his newest concoction made the hallucinations strong and hit right at the core of the one experiencing them. He’d broken your body but it hadn’t done the trick, the mind could be far more fragile.

“See, he came to got you, I found him, and I didn’t even hurt him. Come on, where would he go next?” Dean was practically purring next to your ear as you faced the wall once again. He had taken to starting you in this position to dress some of your deeper wounds, telling you he wanted them to heal so he could have his beautiful canvas back to make his artwork on. He’d then turn you around so you were facing forward before jabbing another syringe into your neck, bringing a new round of hallucinations.

He'd cycled through trying to get your mind to believe Dean would be perfectly nice to Sam when he found him, that somehow you guys would get away, and a million other situations that Dean hoped would crack you. None had worked, but this one, this one was special. There was a pride he took in doing quality work, and this was a fine example of it.

“Lights, camera, action.” Dean smirked from where he leaned against the wall as always to watch your reactions to the images your mind was projecting just for you.

“Sam! Sam!” your voice was strong, but tears streamed down your face.

“Y/N?” Instead of rushing over to comfort you, check your wounds, undue your bindings, Sam simply stood away with a confused look on his face.

“Sammy, hurry and help me, Dean will be back any second.”

The confusion turned to disgust, “You think I’m here to help you? Why would I be here to help you? I’ve been with Dean this whole time, Y/N. Listening to your pretty little screams, watching you fight your inner demons and lose over and over again. And you think I’m here to, what, break you out?” Sam’s classic chuckle as he shook his head and looked down away from you was what sold it. “I’m just here to join in the fun in a more direct way.”

Your legs gave out from under you and your entire weight was being supported by your wrists in the cuffs above you. “What?” you whispered. Your anchor for every second you’d been here was that you were protecting Sam, that you were keeping Sam away to keep him safe. That Sam loved you, and you loved him back, which was why Sam had to stay as far from Dean as possible right now.

“You heard me,” Sam sneered, “I’ve just been dealing with the behind the scenes parts, now I’m here to jump in on the real action and have some fun!”

Your heart rate slowed at his words, dread rather than fear consuming you. If Sam really was working with Dean than the only reason you were here was to torture for the sake of torture. There wasn’t any info for you to give, anyone or anything for you to protect. “Sam?” it was a barely audibly whisper that slipped past your lips.

Dean grinned from his spot for the show. Based on your reactions and what he had devised the spell to do he could clearly deduce what was happening. Next up was for imaginary Sam to carve into Y/N. It would’ve leave actual marks so Dean could still have his fresh canvas tomorrow, but Y/N would have that ingrained fear of Sammy and with that extra doubt it might be enough for her to spill the beans.

“Enough, Dean.” suddenly the real Sam was in the room, demon blade and holy water at the ready. “Let her go.”

“Hahaha! Sammy! Finally showed up!”

“You wanted me, here I am. Let her go.”

“But Sam, where’s the fun in that?”

You picked your head up and heard the exchange, but it was illogical. Sam was standing in front of you grinning at a knife, Sam was with Dean the whole time, he had been here. Why was there a second Sam over there? What were they talking about now?

You listened to some more taunting back and forth, then registered the fury that was growing with intensity on Dean’s face. You had experienced that look and the black eyes plenty of times, you weren’t looking forward to witnessing it escalating further, especially when you were still very much restrained.

“Enough.” Suddenly Cas’s gruff voice echoed through the room and he grabbed Dean tightly from behind, also banishing the second Sam that was still standing in front of you. His angel strength was enough to contain Dean and get him back to the bunker safely.

Sam turned to you and instantly reached to unlock the cuffs, but you flinched away from him.

“Hey, Y/N?” he asked quietly, trying to meet your eyes. “We got Dean, Cas has him back in the bunker ready to begin the cure. We got him. And I’m going to get you down now, check what needs to be stitched and cleaned up.”

You refused to meet his eyes, and flinched away when his skin came in contact with yours as he released the cuffs, then offered his arms to catch you when you stumbled. He reached to pull you in for a hug, and when you backed away another concerned look passed his face.

“Y/N, are you okay? What’s wrong?”

You took a step back away from him, questioning reality. What was real. What was part of the pain. What piece went to what reality.

“It’ll take a while to filter out, I understand. But right now, can you let Cas get you back to the Bunker where we’ll all be safe?” Sam held his arms open in a relaxed stance as he made his request. He’d been in Hell, he knew physical torture wasn’t the worst that was thrown at you.

Your only response was to nod slightly, there were hands on each of your shoulders, then with a quiet flap of wings you found yourself in your bedroom at the Men of Letters bunker, Cas’s arms gentle around you. “Sleep, we’ll talk when you wake up.” A soft touch to your forehead was the last thing you remembered before slipping into the most relaxed state you had been in a very long time.

Sam gently nudged your shoulder, rousing you from your angel induced sleep, “Y/N, come on babe, wake up.”

You tensed up as you opened your eyes to see him sitting right next to you, still having difficulty discerning reality from the hallucinations you had endured at Demon Dean’s hand. It would take some time, but you’d have to put the work in to get used to Sam again. He wasn’t something you were willing to give up, not for anything, especially not things that had never even happened.

#sam winchester x reader #sam x reader #dean winchester #demon!dean #supernatural #supernatural fanfic

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jobsearchtips02 · 4 years

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Promote Garments, Automobiles or Campers on Fb Market. Right here’s How

Perhaps you’re shifting and none of your outdated home equipment match the brand new digs. Don’t throw out your outdated microwave — and dangle onto that toaster, too. Fb Market will help you discover a purchaser in your undesirable stuff — family stuff, furnishings, toys and even autos. If not for Mom Earth, do it for the cash.

Since its launch in 2016, the free-to-use commerce platform has develop into wildly widespread amongst down-sizers and upcyclers alike. Deb Liu, Fb’s Vice President of Market and Commerce, informed The Penny Hoarder in an electronic mail that greater than one-third of Fb customers now flip to Market each month.

“Marketplace is fostering economic opportunities for people,” she stated. “Many people are decluttering and selling things they no longer need and making extra money in the process.”

The Penny Hoarder additionally profiled three entrepreneurs who used Market to launch their aspect companies. They, together with Liu, shared their insider secrets and techniques for the best way to promote on Fb Market — regardless if it’s a couple of pairs of garments you’ve outgrown, or a $5,000 trailer you’ve renovated.

What Sells (and Doesn’t Promote) on Fb Market?

Earlier than you fireplace off a list into the ether, take inventory of what you wish to promote to see if Market is the best platform. Are you making an attempt to promote new or gently used clothes, furnishings and toys to your neighborhood? Nice. These objects do fantastically.

Market has additionally added extra options for bigger sells, like autos and residential leases as a result of customers have been naturally utilizing their Information Feeds and buy-and-sell teams for these kinds of transactions already. The brand new options formalized these rising tendencies.

“Cars is now one of the most popular categories,” Liu stated. “In fact, my husband sold our family minivan on Marketplace within two days of listing it.”

It’s necessary to know what objects aren’t allowed on Market. Based on the corporate’s commerce insurance policies, a number of classes are banned: all providers, weapons, medication, home-health objects, present playing cards, occasion tickets, animals and grownup merchandise.

Many individuals are decluttering and promoting issues they now not want and making more money within the course of.

An extra restriction is positioned on recalled merchandise. A current investigation by Shopper Stories underscored the prevalence of recalled child merchandise being bought on-line (many occasions unbeknown to the vendor).

Itemizing prohibited merchandise on the Market may result in disciplinary motion, similar to being banned. So make certain there are not any restrictions in your merchandise earlier than creating a list.

The right way to Create a Market Itemizing

To create a list on Fb Market, click on the blue button on the left hand aspect that claims “sell something.” Then select between these three choices: merchandise on the market, automobile on the market or dwelling on the market or lease.

Creating a list is sort of easy — and free. First, you will have a Fb profile (duh).

The Market icon appears like a miniature storefront. On desktop, it’s alongside the left column, beneath your title. For cellular customers, it’s both on the highest or backside toolbar, relying in your gadget. You may as well go on to www.fb.com/market.

From there, click on the “Sell Something” or “Sell” buttons on the desktop or app model respectively. As soon as you start the itemizing course of, Fb will immediate you to decide on what class of itemizing: objects, autos or housing? A follow-up type will request extra info.

Gadgets on the market

Choose an merchandise class (e.g. antiques, instruments, musical devices, and so on.). Then, title your itemizing in 100 characters or much less. Decide on a worth and double-check your location is right. An merchandise description is optionally available however extremely really useful. Lastly, add between one and 10 photographs earlier than submitting your itemizing for verification.

Autos on the market

The automobile promoting type asks for specifics about the kind of automobile (automotive, truck, RV, boat?), its yr, make and mannequin. You will want to share extra info similar to VIN quantity, situation, gasoline and transmission sort (if relevant). You need to embrace a worth, however the automobile description is optionally available. Add a minimum of one picture, as much as 20.

Housing on the market or lease

Residence listings require probably the most info up entrance. Very first thing’s first: Is it on the market or lease? Then specify if the property is an condo, home, townhome, or only one room. What number of bedrooms and loos? Month-to-month lease or gross sales worth? Be ready to fill in extra fields about sq. footage, lease size, laundry, parking, AC/heating, pet friendliness and extra. For this itemizing sort, the outline is required. In 6,000 characters or much less, define details about facilities, utilities, deposits and present occasions. One picture is required with a 50-photo max.

The right way to Promote on Fb Market Successfully

We’ve lined the fundamentals. Promoting on Fb Market is fairly simple stuff. If you realize the related details about what you’re promoting and have a photograph or two already shot, creating a list may take as little as 30 seconds. However simply because it’s easy doesn’t imply it’s best to blast by means of the method. Making your itemizing profitable will take just a little extra time. And that further effort will repay.

Use Excessive-High quality Pictures (and Staging!)

“Post as many pictures from different angles as you can,” stated Sara Chen, who upcycles dressers and resells them on Market. Picture courtesy of Sara Chen

One of many best methods to make your itemizing stand out is thru high-quality photographs. As in not only one.

“Post as many pictures from different angles as you can,” stated Sara Chen, who upcycles dressers and resells them on Market.

Liu, VP of Market, says she has a bit of her dwelling that she makes use of to stage the objects she’s promoting. Her greatest piece of recommendation for photographs is to maintain them “authentic.”

“Avoid filters, and be sure to capture the item at multiple angles, so interested buyers can see what they’re getting,” Liu stated.

Write Helpful Descriptions With Key phrases

Key phrases are phrases or phrases folks generally sort in to Market’s search bar. Based mostly on what’s included in an merchandise’s description or title, related outcomes will pop up. That’s why it’s essential to fill out an outline for every itemizing, even when it’s optionally available. Your merchandise’s description is a spot to tailor your itemizing to precisely what persons are looking for.

It’s additionally a spot to reply some patrons’ questions earlier than they even must ask — saving you time in the long term.

Professional Tip

Should you’re promoting furnishings, dwelling decor or counter-top home equipment, embrace the size or danger being bombarded with unending questions on size, width and peak.

Sarah Lemp, who renovates RVs and campers after which sells them on Market, recommends being sincere with patrons within the description.

“I try to be really up front if I sell anything that has damage. I just tell people,” she stated. “I have a lot of people that have said, ‘Thank you so much, now I trust what you’re selling to me.’”

When Kevin Mullan began looking out Market for a fireplace truck to renovate, he realized the significance of key phrases from the customer’s perspective.

“You can’t always type in fire truck and get exactly what you’re looking for,” Mullan stated.

Particularly as a result of the phrase “fire engine” is equally widespread. Relying on which phrase you utilize, totally different outcomes will seem, particularly if the itemizing author isn’t serious about key phrases.

Don’t make that mistake and danger lacking out on potential prospects. Embrace particular particulars and various phrases that could be useful to folks looking for your merchandise. For instance, should you’re promoting a fireplace truck, use each “fire truck” and “fire engine” in your itemizing description.

Worth Competitively

Sarah Lemp has earned a revenue of $22,000 from flipping RVs and campers. Picture courtesy of Sarah Lemp of All Issues With Goal

To grasp the best way to promote on Fb Market, it’s essential set the best worth.

Beginning off, there are sometimes three costs. What you, as the vendor, wish to make. What the customer needs to spend. After which there’s a center quantity between the 2 — it’s how a lot the merchandise sometimes sells for on Market.

“Pricing it realistically,” is a crucial element of a profitable itemizing, Lemp stated.

That takes a little analysis. Attempt looking out on Market for precisely what you’re promoting to get an thought of the vary of costs, and plot yours alongside that scale.

Professional Tip

Should you’re asking a worth on the excessive finish of the spectrum, ensure your itemizing is larger high quality than your competitors.

“There have been times where we listed something and priced it really high because I was really ambitious, and I thought ‘Sure this is going to sell,’” Lemp stated.

When you might imagine it doesn’t harm to intention excessive at first, overly bold costs can generally backfire.

Sarah Lemp discovered her area of interest overhauling classic trailers and reselling them to first-time house owners. To date, her RV- and camper-flipping aspect hustle has earned her $22,000 in revenue.

“Anybody that’s following my post is going to get notifications that I’m lowering [the price],” she stated. “Then it starts to raise suspicion: Then they’re like ‘Why does this person keep lowering it? Is it in that bad of shape?’”

Cross-Submit to Purchase-and-Promote Teams

When you’ve crafted a killer itemizing, it’s time to publish it for the world to see.

Sure, you might publish it within the basic Market alongside tons of of different listings and name it a day. However the best purchaser might by no means see it. To get your merchandise in entrance of a distinct segment viewers, cross-post your itemizing right into a related buy-and-sell group.

Fb Teams is one among Chen’s favourite options. When she lists her upcycled dressers on the market, she selects related antiquing and furnishings teams in her space to publish the itemizing.

“Posting to local groups definitely helps me grow my business,” she stated.

So as to add your itemizing to a gaggle, you first must be a gaggle member. So should you aren’t but part of any native buy-and-sell teams, get a way of those in your space and what sort of things they cater to. You may be part of as many as you need. Some are open to all, and a few might have a light-weight screening course of to hitch.

When you’re a member, you may cross-post your Market itemizing. The method is straight ahead: It doesn’t matter what sort of itemizing you create, the ultimate area earlier than clicking “Post” will immediate you to “select your audience.” Posting it to Market is required, however you may additionally choose to publish your itemizing to your private Information Feed in addition to as much as 10 buy-and-sell teams.

Be Versatile and Responsive

Fb Market is fast-moving. Don’t go away folks hanging – and keep in mind to be well mannered! Customers are sometimes your neighbors.

Your itemizing is dwell. Congrats! The work isn’t over, although.

Relying on how thorough your descriptions have been, you’ll obtain a various quantity of questions. Even should you wrote a lovely description, not everybody reads them. Be ready to reply.

As a result of Market relies in your native space, the folks inquiring about your merchandise or room or automobile are in all probability going to be buddies, friends-of-friends or somebody you might probably run into on the grocery retailer.

“You never know,” Chen stated. “Don’t be rude to people.”

Being versatile with availability and meetup places can actually repay. More often than not, patrons count on flexibility on the value, too. Chen, Lemp and Mullan all advise: Get able to haggle.

“You have to be ready to not be offended” at lowball provides, Lemp stated. “If you’re a nice person to work with, you’re more likely to get a good deal.”

Adam Hardy is a employees author at The Penny Hoarder. He makes a speciality of methods to earn a living that don’t contain stuffy company places of work. Learn his newest articles right here, or say hello on Twitter @hardyjournalism.

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from Job Search Tips https://jobsearchtips.net/promote-garments-automobiles-or-campers-on-fb-market-right-heres-how/

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