#nice to know my grandma’s feelings of importance and authority matter more than my well-being

[navysealt4t]

sure i’m exaggerating how bad i feel rn (even though i did feel that bad yesterday but whatever) but the fact they believe i’m light headed and nauseous and cramping and still making me my my grandma’s stupid fucking 2 pounds of cheese and 2 cans of condensed milk recipe hurts

#nice to know my grandma’s feelings of importance and authority matter more than my well-being #can she just keel over already . sorry but like #vent #i want my mom . and friends :( #and IM THE ONLY ONE MAKING THIS SOECIFIC FUCKING MAC N CHEESE #CAUSE *I* HAVE TO MAKE A SPECIAL FUCKING GLUTEN FREE VERSION AND IM GONNA BE THE ONLY ONE ‘EATING’ IT #AND I ATILL HAVE TO FUCKING MAKE IT WHEN I DONT WANT TO AND I JUST CANT #I CANT I CANT NO ONE HERE CARES ABOUT ME. not really #they care about their daughter or sister not blue.

[youwerenevermeanttofeelalone]

Strangers | Joaquín Torres

✦ pairing — Joaquín Torres x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 5.8k (I’m sorry, I don’t have much self-control left)

✦ loosely based on the song Strangers by Mallory Merk

✦ request — I’d like to ask for something where Bucky and the reader are roommates but she’s younger (Joaquin’s age) and one day Sam and Joaquin are there for whatever reason and that’s how Joaquin and Reader meet and they get along (and flirt obv) and Bucky is like a protective older brother and Sam vouches for him but Bucky doesn’t loosen up until Joaquin saves reader from danger or does something nice for her

✦ warnings — angst, awkwardness, Bucky acting like a jealous brother, mentions of beverages and food, light depictions of anxious worry, fluff.

════════════════════════

Bucky and you were in the middle of discussing whether you should adopt a cat or not when a rhythmic knock on the door interrupted the urgent conversation.

“Are you expecting someone?” he asked, eager to go back to the pressing matter at hand.

“You know I am not. I didn’t order anything either...”

Bucky sighed. “I’ll check.”

“No!” You stood up abruptly from the couch. “You’ll scare whoever is behind the door off like you scared our poor neighbor.”

“Can you let that one go?”

“Nope,” you replied as you crossed the small living room.

You would never. The lady still tried to hide from him when she saw him down the hallway which was hilarious because it wasn’t due to the fact that he had famously been The Winter Soldier but because he grumpily opened the door when she needed a favor and closed it on her face.

As you opened the door, you found two attractive men standing in the doorway.

“Is Barnes here?”

“Oh, God. What did he do now?”

“I didn’t do anything!” he exclaimed in your ear, making you jump.

“Jesus, Bucky.”

“Sorry.” He then acknowledged one of the men in front of you, the one who had asked for him, “What’s wrong, Sam?”

“Can we come in?”

Both Bucky and you moved out of the way so the pair of handsome men could come inside.

“So you’re the roommate?” Sam asked.

“I am.”

“And you don’t think he’s the most annoying person you’ve ever met?”

“No. Should I?”

“Hey!”

“I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“I’m Sam Wilson,” your interrogator introduced himself properly. “And this is Joaquín Torres.”

“Nice to meet you.” You smiled at Sam, then at Joaquín who smiled back.

Bucky cleared his throat.

Sam looked tense as he ominously said, “We need your help.”

“Give us some privacy, sweetheart,” Bucky told you.

You retreated to your bedroom, wondering what the secrecy could be about. You knew who Bucky was, what we had done, and everything in between.

And sure, some people thought you were crazy for being his roommate, but you weren’t scared of him. You trusted him and cared about him. In the few months you had gotten to know him he had become an important person in your life, one of your best friends.

His visitors didn’t stay for too long. You hadn’t even gotten comfortable on your bed after having put on a tv show to have something on the background when you heard the front door close.

A couple of minutes later, Bucky knocked on your door and opened it just enough to ask if he could come in.

He sat on your bed, fixing his eyes on your desk.

”So...” you broke the silence, “should I be worried?”

“No.”

“Bucky. Look at me.”

He turned to the side, fully facing you. “What?”

“You don’t have to hide things from me or coddle me.”

“I know. But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assured you.

“Promise?”

“Promise.” He gave you a small smile. “Now, about that cat...”

════════════════════════

After a long week of work, you found yourself relieved to have the apartment just for you. Bucky was a lovely roommate, you just wanted an alone moment.

Saturdays were usually the day you had the apartment for yourself, Bucky had a strict routine until something extraordinary happened and you were comfortable with adapting to it.

To your luck, somebody knocked on the door. You hoped it was somebody looking for the neighbor or something because you weren’t in the mood for people.

Your mood, however, did a 180 as soon as you opened the door.

Joaquín gave you a small smile. “Good evening, (Name).”

Why did he have to come by when you were in sweats and an old t-shirt?! You smiled at him. “Hi.”

“Is Bucky home?”

“No. But he should be back in a couple of hours.”

“Oh. Well, I’ll wait for him outside.”

“Do you want a cup of coffee?” you asked. A part of you wanted to be polite, the other wanted to chat for a little bit. “I just started a batch.”

“Uh—“ Joaquín cleared his throat. “I would really like that.”

You motioned for him to come in. His eyes fixed on you as he did, but for some reason, you didn’t feel uncomfortable. There seemed to be no malice in his eyes.

“Free day?” he made small talk.

“Yeah. I actually don’t work on weekends.”

He shifted in order to face you and asked more about your job. You hoped it wasn’t part of his small talk anymore.

As the conversation progressed, you were sure it had been. His gaze remained on you whether he was speaking or listening, interest never wavering as he found more things to ask about you.

His eyes were such a peculiarity and you couldn’t understand why. Brown eyes were common, you had seen them thousands of times.

“I think the coffee’s ready,” he murmured.

“Right!” You abashedly stood up, smoothing your t-shirt as though it really mattered anymore.

“Do you need help?”

You shook your head. “I’ve got it.”

Glancing at him as you poured the beverages, you saw him staring at you too. Either you weren’t being subtle and were making him uncomfortable or he wasn’t being subtle either. Both options were terrifying.

You walked slowly towards the living room and put both cups down. “Sugar?”

“Please.”

As you went back to the kitchen, you checked the state of your hair on the microwave. Deciding there was nothing you could do to it, you left it as it was and took the container of sugar in your grasp along with a teaspoon.

You placed the sugar container on the table. “Cream?”

“No, thank you.”

Joaquín sweetened his coffee as you sat down next to him once again.

“You don’t like it with cream either?”

“No. I only remember to buy it for Bucky.”

Giving you his entire attention back, Joaquín lifted both eyebrows. “He takes his coffee with cream?”

“Oh, yeah.” You nodded enthusiastically. “I was as shocked as you are.”

“My grandma loved coffee with milk. She added so much that I don’t think it was coffee anymore.”

“Did you ever try it?”

“I didn’t. Well, maybe as a kid?” He tilted his head as he tried to remember. “I would prepare her coffee all the time...”

“That’s so sweet.”

He took a sip of coffee. So did you. For a moment both of you remained silent, and although it wasn’t uncomfortable you found yourself wanting to ask more about him.

You were out of practice in terms of social interaction. It was terrifying to admit, but the fear only made it truer. The blip changed and ruined lives, and while you were getting back on your feet, you still found yourself socially and emotionally stunted at times.

Joaquín didn’t seem to mind the silence. You wondered if he sought it.

Peacefulness and silence didn’t last. The front door opened unexpectedly and Bucky’s heavy steps cut the harmony of Joaquín’s and your breathing.

“I didn’t know you would be coming over,” Bucky grumbled.

Joaquín jumped off his seat. He took the file in his grasp and handed it to Bucky. “Sam wanted me to give you this.”

Humming, Bucky opened the folder. He gave the contents a quick read, then closed it again. “Well, you gave it to me already.”

“Right. Uhmmm...” Joaquín turned to the side and lightly bowed. “Thank you for the coffee, (Name).”

“Anytime,” you said, voice too enthusiastic even for your liking.

Joaquín gave you another smile before leaving the apartment, causing your face to flush.

You attempted to entertain yourself by washing the cups, but you still couldn’t believe you had spoken like a teenager with a crush.

Bucky leaned onto the wall. “I saw the way you were looking at Torres.”

“With my eyes?” you teased.

“With too much enthusiasm.”

“He’s cute,” you admitted as you twisted to look at him.

“Nope, not happening.”

“Not happening what?” Feigning innocence never worked with him, but you still liked trying. However, his glare told you this wasn’t the time to be playful. “Bucky, come on, I just admired the view. It’s not like I’m planning on running after him to ask him to marry me.”

He narrowed his eyes.

“Do you believe me capable of asking somebody I barely know to marry me?” As soon as the question left your mouth, you added, “You know what? Don’t answer that.”

“He gave you the same eyes you were giving him,” Bucky said grumpily.

“He did?”

“Can you be serious for a moment?”

“Oh, Buck, I’m being more than serious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is this my first time seeing you with a crush?”

“Do you find it charming?”

“You weren’t this cocky with him.”

“Were you eavesdropping?!”

“I thought you had another type of company. Wanted to make sure it was safe to come in.”

“That’s such a bad excuse.”

“Not as bad as your flirting.”

“Just because you used to be a good flirt doesn’t mean you still are. Be humble, Barnes.”

“I’m still better than you.”

You stuck your tongue out. “I’ll become the best flirt in the world. You’ll see.”

“Absolutely not. And Torres is off limits!”

“Awww, do you want him for yourself? Can I have Sam then?”

“You don’t even know him!”

“Sam or Joaquín?”

“Joaquín,” he grumbled.

“Whose fault is that? I couldn’t even get his number because you had to show authority or whatever macho bullshit is clouding your judgment.”

“My judgment isn’t clouded.”

“You need to get laid so I can get laid.”

“What’s wrong with taking things slow? The last date I went on was a disaster.”

“Nothing,” you assured him. “I just think you need to de-stress, have some clarity and see I just have a mild crush.”

“Mild?”

“Yeah. I was kinda intense in high school.” You feigned a shudder. “Dark times.”

“What about college?”

“We don’t talk about that. I had terrible taste.”

“See?”

You tried another approach, “We’re acting like children and I’m pretty sure we are adults. I pay taxes, dude, I can have a crush on whoever I want.”

“Of course. You’re a big girl.”

You could tell he was only going with your flow. But you would take it.

════════════════════════

Bucky sat in front of Sam. Brows furrowed as he went through the same file Joaquín had given him a few days ago.

He didn’t like the idea of going after anybody. He had left violence to the side already. Did this count as ruining it all so soon?

Glancing at Sam, who was expectantly watching him, Bucky sighed. “What about (Name)? What should I tell her?”

“I could send Torres—“

“NO.”

“Barnes,” Sam sighed, “you know we can trust him.”

“For this type of stuff. Not with (Name). You didn’t see the way he was looking at her the last time.”

“He might have a crush,” Sam conceded, “but you’re acting like he wants to murder her.”

“He might,” Bucky said without really meaning it.

Sam crossed his arms. “Do you like her or something?”

“Not like that,” Bucky replied, almost offended. “She’s like a sister to me, Sam. I care about her, I want to protect her.”

“By not letting her see people?”

“You don’t get it.”

“No, I do. And I know damn well this isn’t the right way to do it.”

Bucky scowled, yet knowing Sam wanted to say something else, remained quiet.

“Think about this. You’re worried something will happen to her while we do this, and I’m telling you Torres could keep her safe but you’re being childish because you think you should act like a jealous brother.”

“What if he breaks her heart? Huh? What then? She likes him!”

“He’s nice, of course she likes him! You should be glad he likes her too, dumbass.”

“She’s not ready to date people.”

Sam rolled his eyes.

Bucky shifted in his seat. “I’m not trying to be a dick, Sam. She’s been through hell.”

“Something might not even happen between them, you’re jumping to conclusions way too quickly.” Sam then added, “Unless both are into fast dating in which case things would be fine too.”

“You don’t know that. He could hurt her.”

“You already managed to run a background check on him and—“

Bucky interrupted, “How do you know?”

Sam nonchalantly shrugged. “I’d do the same.”

Bucky hung his head, staring down at the file on the small table. “Can I beat him up if he does something he shouldn’t?”

“He won’t.”

“But can I?”

“Will you shut up if I say yes?”

“Maybe.”

Sam withdrew his phone, tapped the screen a couple of times and brought the device to his ear. “Torres. Are you busy?”

Bucky huffed through his nose and then went back to read the file for the hundredth time.

════════════════════════

The forecast that morning had forced you to carry an umbrella and a jacket that you ultimately had to shed. It rarely rained around your workplace; you couldn’t say the same about your apartment.

You weren’t sure what type of natural phenomenon was at play —or fault, really— but you were not happy about it.

Hoping you hadn’t forgotten to close your bedroom window, you quietly wished your coworkers a good night and made your way towards the exit.

You found a face you seemed to see everywhere. Mostly due to your daydreams, but who could blame you apart from Bucky?

Joaquín slid his right hand off his pocket and waved at you.

Waving back, you approached him. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t home so I contacted Sam so he could ask where you could be and Bucky said you worked here so I came here.”

You couldn’t hide your smile upon hearing his convoluted explanation. “I imagined as much. What I meant with my question is why are you here?”

“Oh! I’m making sure you get home safe.”

You frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. “But we don’t want to take any risks.”

You didn’t know who was we exactly although you could assume he was talking about Bucky. And about himself. The realization made your stomach flip.

“Are we walking?”

“I drove here,” he explained, hesitating to make the first move towards his car.

You gave the first step forward, getting slightly closer to him. A whiff of his cologne hit you and just like that it was gone. He started walking too.

“Had a nice day?”

“It wasn’t too bad. How about you?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary.”

You wanted to oh so badly ask what his ordinary was. Fuck, it was like you were having a crush for the first time all over again.

“So... are you staying at mine or...?”

“I’ll sleep here in the car.”

“There’s a couch right there. Kinda comfy if you ask me...”

“I don’t want to intrude.”

“Please, you’ll be there because of me, it’s the least I can do.”

“It’s no problem,” he hurried to assure you.

The streets looked different from the car. Bigger. You were so used to public transport, to see people from afar — to perceive everything from the perspective of somebody trapped in a box that had been created to make things easier for them.

You didn’t feel small per se, yet people looked bigger too. It was as though you had forgotten that people outside of your bubble existed.

Friends were almost nonexistent in a world that still was trying to recover from a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

The people you considered friends kept their distance from you and each other because they didn’t have other choice. Work, school for those privileged enough, debt, grief... all those things got in the way. And perhaps it was better that way for now. Everybody needed to heal.

An empty hallway greeted you. It wasn’t too late, but your neighbors kept mostly to themselves. Bucky preferred it that way.

You pushed the door open after unlocking the two locks, allowing Joaquín to get in first.

He shed his dripping jacket, bashfully hanging it on the coat hanger.

“Can I offer you anything to drink or eat?” you asked, placing your belongings next to the couch.

“Whatever you’ll be having.”

You tugged the fridge door open. “Are you allergic to anything?”

“Not that I know of.” He approached you, leaning on the kitchen bar. “Surprise me?”

“Oh, yeah, I will. With a visit to the ER.”

“Hey, it’d be a surprise nonetheless.”

You giggled and took a glance at him. The ghost of a smile crept into his face before he started laughing too.

“You don’t have a boyfriend that would get mad at me for staying here, do you?”

You chuckled. “No.”

“Are you even into guys?”

“I am.”

“That’s good.” Realizing he had sounded too happy, he added, “I mean... it would also be good if you weren’t, obviously.”

“I get what you meant.”

“Do you?”

“Yeah, it’s cool.”

“Cool.”

Neither of you stopped smiling. You only moved when the fridge’s door alarm interrupted.

You ended up ordering takeout and talking to him past midnight.

But not every night was lighthearted. Such a thing was true to life and to this particular week.

Joaquín was a good distraction before and after work, but the moment the time to say goodnight arrived, worry heaved on your entire body.

You tiptoed your way towards the kitchen, desperate for a glass of water. Hoping the stream of water wouldn’t make too much noise, you filled the glass and stood in the middle of the kitchen, slowly drinking it.

“Can’t sleep?”

You jumped, splashing water onto you and in consequence the floor. A couple of days or so weren’t enough for you to be completely used to Joaquín’s voice. Albeit nice, it was still new.

He turned the light on. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You clumsily placed the glass on the counter. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Sleep was elusive, something you had assumed was in the past. Insomnia had been your loyal friend throughout the blip, then grief joined.

Bucky was the closest thing you had to a family now. What if you had to grieve him too?

As though he had been reading your mind, Joaquín softly said, “He’ll be okay.”

“You sound so sure...”

“He’s strong and skilled. Sam is too.”

“I’m scared,” you confessed. “I don’t wanna be all alone again.”

He placed his hand on your shoulder. It almost burned you. “You won’t be.”

You pursed your lips. You had heard that one many times before.

“Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just... you know...” You started laughing instead of truly explaining yourself.

But you didn’t need to explain anything. “It’s okay, everything will be okay.”

You laughed again, louder this time, nodding because what else could you say? That you couldn’t believe him if you wanted to?

He looked at you with worry. “Do you have any tea?”

You nodded once more, unable to speak as you continue laughing and pointing to the top cupboard.

“I’ll fix you a cup.”

Crying out of laughter, you sat at the small table, leaning on your forearms as you tried to watch him — the tears didn’t allow you to truly assess the damage.

Said tears worried you. The last time you had properly cried seemed to have been too long ago to be healthy.

Then again, not many people were in a healthy position as of now.

Before you could even realize what was going on, Joaquín softly set a cup on the table. “Sorry for not adding sugar, I didn’t think it was a good idea.”

Embarrassed due to the fact that you couldn’t stop laughing, you avoided his eyes and wrapped your fingers around the cup. “Thank you,” you mumbled.

“Hey,” he said softly, “it’s no problem, okay?”

You hummed, inhaling the scent of the tea before taking a small sip.

He made you company as you drank the hot beverage at your own pace. In complete silence, trying to hide from you that he was playing with his fingers under the table.

“Better?”

“I think so.”

“Do you need anything else?”

“I don’t know.”

“You have work tomorrow...”

How could you forget? You stood up with the cup in your grasp and went into the kitchen to wash it.

“I can wake you up for work if you want,” he offered.

“My alarm is loud enough.”

“Oh, yeah,” he said as if he was just remembering, “I’ve heard it.”

You huffed a laugh. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Before he could turn around, you called for him, “Joaquín?”

“Yes?”

“Would you keep me company until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.”

It felt strange to have somebody that wasn’t Bucky in your bedroom. Joaquín curiously eyed the room while you got comfortable in the bed — his eyes eventually landed on you.

He gripped your desk chair and took it out.

Before he would sit down, you told him, “You can sit on the bed if you prefer. That chair ruined my back.”

Considering the offer, he approached the bed, slowly as he looked at you in case you changed your mind.

You patted the empty space. “I don’t bite.”

Tentatively sitting down, he asked, “Why haven’t you changed the chair?”

“I like the color.”

He softly laughed. “It’s pretty,” he agreed. “Looks nice with your decoration.”

“Thank you.”

His hand brushed your forearm as the two of you shifted at the same time. Your face heated up, and now you wondered if his palm contrasted the softness of the back of his hand.

Joaquín cleared his throat. “Try to sleep,” he whispered, “I’ll be here.”

You took a deep breath before closing your eyes. Focusing on trying to remember what you had been thinking before falling asleep the last time you got some rest, you got lost in your own head.

The door creaked as it was pushed open. Bucky opened his mouth.

Joaquín brought his index finger to his closed lips, signaling for Bucky to not make a sound.

Joaquín looked down at your form, still fast asleep. Your head was on his shoulder, face semi-buried in his t-shirt.

Bucky watched as Joaquín softly removed your head from his shoulder, delicately making it rest onto the pillow — he then left the bed in silence and tucked you into the covers before leaving the room.

”Everything in order?”

Bucky grumbled in affirmation. “What was that?”

“She was worried about you. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Nothing else?”

Joaquín shook his head, hoping he was managing to mask his disappointment.

Bucky hummed. “Thank you, Joaquín. For everything.”

“It was no problem.”

Joaquín collected his few belongings in a minute, taking a glance at the ajar door that separated your bedroom from the lounge area.

“Bucky...”

“Mmh?”

“Could you text me when she wakes up or if she needs anything?”

Bucky stood silent for a few seconds. Seconds that for Joaquín felt like hours. “I will. Go home.”

════════════════════════

Having Bucky back at home was relieving. Except for the fact that he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to spill it.

“Is there anything you want to say?” you yelled from the couch.

He stopped chopping carrots to lift his head. “Did you get Torres’s number?”

Turning the TV off, you pushed yourself to a sitting position and eventually left the couch.

“Yeah, I did.”

“Have you called him?”

“I sent him a meme.” You extended your hand, taking a piece of carrot. “He laughed and sent one back.”

“I assumed you would have asked for his hand in marriage by the time I would be back.”

“Ha ha, you’re so funny.”

Bucky snorted. You munched on your cube of carrot.

“Maybe you’re reading too much into it. He’s genuinely nice, you know? People can be friends regardless of gender.”

“What happened to wanting to get laid?”

“I doubt it’s mutual.”

“He likes you and you like him. That’s practically the definition of mutualism.”

“You said he was off-limits,” you accused.

“He isn’t anymore.”

“I didn’t get the memo.”

“Don’t get grumpy with me.”

“I’m not grumpy.” You pouted. “But what if he doesn’t like me that way? He’s a really nice person, maybe that’s it.”

“Oh my God,” Bucky exhaled, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

You whined, “Buuuuuuuuucky. Don’t be mean.”

“Don’t act obtuse then.”

“I haven’t dated anybody in years. I don’t know how to do it. He’s fun to talk to, don’t get me wrong — I’m the problem.” You sighed dramatically. “We should throw a pity party for me,” you sarcastically said.

“Why do you think I’m making lasagna?”

“I honestly thought Sam was coming over for dinner.”

Bucky blushed due to his inability to be subtle which was the most shocking thing you had learned about him.

Truth to be told, Bucky’s words stayed in your mind for days. You continued casually texting Joaquín, not sure if you should ask him out or let it go.

You wanted to, and it wouldn’t be the first time you had made the first move — that didn’t bother you. What bothered you was the mere idea of asking him out too soon.

Seeing your phone light up with Joaquín’s name and a message attached to it genuinely improved your day every single time.

It was so hard not to be in his orbit when apart from being handsome he was so nice and easy to talk to.

You liked him, you really did. You also liked that things didn’t feel awkward with him when you knew they would’ve been unbearable with somebody else. It was liberating.

Are you home?

Nope.

If you were looking for Bucky, he’s out on a date.

I know. But I’m not here to see him.

You’re there?

Yeah. I’ve been here for a few minutes now.

I’m having drinks with my coworkers. Two of them are celebrating their birthday. I can ditch if you need anything.

I wanted to see you.

I also wanted to ask...

Are you busy next Saturday?

Your heart skipped a beat. I’m not.

Eyes glued to the three dots that signaled he was typing, you finished your drink in a single swig.

Would you go out with me?

You can pick wherever we go, I don’t mind.

I would love to!

Was the exclamation mark too much?

Fuck, you felt like a teenager again.

And I don’t mind if you pick.

Why don’t we make that decision later?

Sounds good to me.

Sorry for making you wait outside for nothing.

I’m the one who appeared unannounced, but it’s okay. I got almost everything I wanted.

You’re making not ditching really hard right now.

Good to know I’m doing something right.

But you should hang out with your coworkers.

And be careful. If you remember, text me when you get home.

It was stupidly hard not to be smitten by him.

════════════════════════

“For the millionth time, you look fine.”

You glared at Bucky.

“He’s right,” Sam assured you from the couch. “You look fine, and it’s just a casual date. You’ll be okay.”

“Just a casual date?” you asked in a high pitch that surprised the three of you.

“He’s seen you in the morning already,” Bucky reminded you, lifting his eyebrows. “I don’t understand why you’re so nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” you defended yourself. “I’ve had these jeans for literal years and I’m scared I’m gonna rip them.”

“Take a jacket or coat with you just in case.” Sam offered the solution immediately.

You did as Sam suggested and carried your favorite jacket over your forearm.

In contrast to what you saw every morning, there wasn’t a single familiar face in the subway. As you checked the time to make sure you wouldn’t be late, you saw that one of your other friends had wished you good luck on your date.

The fact that somebody apart from Bucky —and Sam— openly wanted you to succeed at something outside of work improved your mood. You had lied to Bucky earlier regarding being nervous, less due to embarrassment, and more because you didn’t want to admit you were scared of still not knowing how to handle things when they went wrong.

Rejection was easier to take in comparison to the way things crumble after they seem to be going well. Rejection is quick, it eventually passes — regret and what-ifs potentially stay forever. You had the scars to prove it.

You had to walk a couple of blocks from the station to the place you would meet Joaquín at. The area was new to you, colorful and lively from what looked to be brand new businesses.

Upon arriving at the diner, you understood why Joaquín had chosen that place. It wasn’t crowded by any means, but it looked far from empty. It was the perfect middle ground for a first date.

Such observation didn’t ease up your nerves, yet giddiness couldn’t stop itself from bubbling up.

“Oh!” he exclaimed from behind you. “I was about to text you.”

You turned around. “I just got here.”

Joaquín silently stared at you, taking a shaky breath and bobbing his head open and closed.

He settled for a short compliment, easier to say than the jumbled mess of euphoric reactions he internalized, “You look great.”

“I—“ You weren’t expecting that. “Thank you. You look really nice.”

You might have been selling it short, he looked as handsome as ever and more — but you didn’t want to sound intense or say too much and scare him off.

He looked down for a moment, trying to fight the warmth crawling up his skin. “Thank you,” he said quietly before looking up once again.

His bashfulness was a good sign, it would be less awkward if both of you felt the same way about the prospect of a first date.

“I found this place by mistake a few weeks ago,” he told you as he opened the door for you. “Their coffee is great.”

He let you choose the table, arguing that it was your first there and he wanted you to have the best experience. You appreciated his effort.

Bucky and Sam mentioned you could come across as being uncomfortable around others, he must’ve been under the same impression.

In all fairness, it was less about being uncomfortable and more about being scared of oversharing.

“Are you a big coffee guy?”

“Kind of. I’m used to instant coffee even though I don’t like it so I try a different one every time I can.”

“I have a coworker who is obsessed with that stuff.” You chuckled. “But they drink it cold.”

Joaquín huffed a laugh. “It might taste better like that.”

The conversation deviated from mindless small talk to work, and then to your interests — it was refreshing to know you shared a few and even more so to find he was open to giving things he didn’t know a try.

After eating, the two of you decided to take a walk just so you could talk some more.

Your hand brushed his by mistake. Joaquín looked down. He pressed the back of his hand against yours, momentarily pushing his fingers between yours.

“Is that okay?”

“Yes.”

He pulled away then slid his hand under yours. Clasping his palm against yours, he stared at your face in search of your reaction. “How about that?”

“Also yes.”

He smiled. “Good thing I listened to Sam when he said I wasn’t imagining things and you were into me too.”

“You know, I almost made the first move.”

“What stopped you?”

You shrugged. “Maybe I would have drunkenly asked you out if you hadn’t beat me to it.”

He hummed yet made no further comment.

“You don’t believe me?”

“I do, I do!”

“Buuuuuuut?”

“It took us a while to exchange phone numbers. Imagine if it had taken us the same to go out?”

“Oh God, we would be stuck third-wheeling Sam and Bucky.”

“I’m so sorry you have no escape from that,” he joked.

“I just hope they never have sex when I’m in the apartment or I will need therapy I can’t afford.”

He lightly squeezed your hand. “I’ll rescue you, don’t worry.”

It was your turn to smile. “I’ll take that as a sign that I’ll be seeing you again.”

“As long as you don’t see it as a threat...”

You giggled. “I would never.”

According to the blog posts you read online, guys seemed to like it when the other person assured them they had a good time with them. You hoped he had gotten the hint.

In case he hadn’t, you said, “There was this coffee shop near my childhood home that I used to love... They had the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted and the coffee was delicious too. I heard it reopened...”

“We should go there next time.”

“Sounds good. I haven’t visited the neighborhood in a while.”

“Any reason in particular?”

“I don’t know anybody around there anymore.”

It was getting late and you knew your time together would be over. At least for tonight.

He walked you toward the subway station, swinging your intertwined hands. The conversation didn’t seem to end, he could thread on any topic and you would’ve listened to him until his voice was hoarse and his throat dry.

You couldn’t leave without properly telling him what a great time you had. It was too soon to know what would happen, you weren’t naive, but you also really fucking liked him.

“I had a great time,” you reassured him. “Thank you.”

“Me too. I hope it repeats soon.”

You did too. All those nerves had thankfully paid off.

He scratched the back of his head with his free hand. “I’m sorry if I’m being too forward, but... can I kiss you?”

“You’re not being too forward.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes.”

Joaquín licked his bottom lip and cupped your cheek with a hand. His other one tightly held yours, giving you time. You wetted your lips too. Then he leaned in and kissed you.

You basked in the kiss’s bliss. Short, sweet, perfect in every single aspect. The kind of human contact you had longed for years and had been too scared to look for.

His eyes were on you as you opened your own — shining with a happy glint.

“You’re even prettier from up-close,” he commented lowly, hand still on your face.

Your gaze fell to his wrist for a second. Then you held his. “I could say the same to you.”

“Thank God.” He giggled.

“You said you needed to wake up early tomorrow...” you said, much to your own dismay. You didn’t want to be selfish.

“I’ll wait for your train to get here.”

And so he did, and you almost cursed the stupid giant can when it arrived.

You reluctantly let go of his hand. “Text me when you get home just so I know you arrived safely, yeah?”

He nodded. “Promise.”

“Goodnight.”

He kissed your cheek. “Goodnight.”

#joaquin torres x reader #joaquin torres x plus size reader #joaquin torres

[sugarmaplewings-fics]

Baby, You’re Perfect

Pairing: BNHA Boys x reader

Warnings: Weight insecurity, negative body image/icky thoughts, body shaming from relatives, talks about skipping a meal once, general stuff like that. Kirishima’s reader is actively trying to lose weight. Cursing/language throughout (but mostly in Bakugou’s)

Characters: Bakugou, Kirishima, Kaminari

Author’s Note:

And here we have yet another request that is super old. I’m talking this has been chillin in my inbox for three good months. My sincere apologies, anon. And again, I’m sorry that that had to happen to you. Your grandma has no right to speak to you in that way. You’re making great progress and that’s amazing! Keep going strong, I believe in you. Anyhow, I had a lot of fun doing this request! We all need more chubby y/n on this website.

Yes, it says Hawks but I contacted the anon and we switched it to Denki bc I don’t write for Keigo (and we had a lovely conversation. they’re very nice :D). 

Also the first two insults are things that have actually been said/done to me irl (hehe tasty self projection) and the last one in Denki’s is from an episode from Tuca and Birdie (it’s a good show).

Anyway, be nice to people. Respect others and speak to them as equals. We’re all human beings here, trying to get by. We’re also like a month away from 2021, I shouldn’t have to say that >:(

Happy Thanksgiving!

-Sugar

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Bakugou:

You couldn’t take it anymore. You were tired of their faces, tired of their words. You were headed home early, and you would not be sorry.

You didn’t hate your family. They could just be a little . . . difficult sometimes.

At first, it had gone well. You’d arrived at your aunt’s house yesterday for a family gathering and met up with everyone. They’d hugged you and asked you how you were doing. They’d even asked after your pro hero boyfriend, who you had chosen not to bring along for the purpose of spending some quality alone time with your family.

But then it happened; the thing you’d been dreading, the type of comment you’d hoped against all things you wouldn’t hear this time. But there it was.

You were nearly done preparing for lunch, helping to place dishes of food out in the backyard for your family meal. Your aunt was starting to serve people food, and you happened to glance up to see one of your cousins making herself a plate.

“Do you want any more?” your aunt asked your cousin, ready with her ladle.

“No, thank you, I’ve got enough.” Your cousin flipped her long perfect hair over a perfectly narrow shoulder. “I wouldn’t want to get fat like—” her gaze wandered over to you, meeting your eyes pointedly, “—some people.”

You faltered. Had she really just said that? About you? Well, it wasn’t impossible that it would come from her, but seriously? Today?

You swallowed a lump that had started forming in your throat, setting down the new stack of paper plates. Your aunt shot you a pitying glance. Was she even going to say something? Would she call your cousin out on her words?

No. She just moved on. Moved on like you should have. But something about it stuck with you. Your cousin’s words and implications rang through your mind, making you feel sick to your stomach. You shouldn’t let it bother you this much. You were doing better, both with your habits and your confidence. So why did it hurt so bad?

The darker thoughts you’d kept at bay began to come back; you were worthless, you were ugly, you were undeserving. Why wouldn’t they stop? Why was your stomach churning and your hand shaking? Before you knew it, hints of tears began to prick at your eyes.

No.

You weren’t going to give her the satisfaction of seeing you this way. But you were no longer interested in staying, any sense of hunger leaving you for sick dread.

Next thing you knew, you had said an early goodbye and put your things in the car, headed back home. Maybe driving wasn’t the best idea, since now you were alone with your thoughts. But crying wasn’t worth it. It was a bad idea, especially since now was the time to focus on the road ahead.

You couldn’t have gotten home sooner, a sense of relief washing over you once you pulled into the driveway. You unlocked your front door, pulling your bags in behind you. You heard movement coming from the kitchen as you set everything down; the sound of the faucet turning off signaling to you that Katsuki had heard you come in.

Heaving a sigh, you tried to chase the negative thoughts from your head. They shouldn’t be there, and it wasn’t something to dwell on. You were home again, and you wouldn’t have to deal with your family for another few months at least.

Bakugou’s head peeked out from around the doorframe, double checking that it was you who had walked in. “What are you doing here?” he called, ducking back to whatever he’d been doing in the kitchen.

“Hello to you too.” You tried to keep the tartness out of your voice, but some of it must have crept back in. The sounds from the other room stopped again, and the house went eerily quiet. Huffing, you dragged your luggage into your shared bedroom.

You felt drained, that was the only way to describe it. You couldn’t even bring yourself to hang your clothes in the closet. Giving up, you laid down on the bed and stared up at the ceiling. You couldn’t help but hear your cousin’s words ringing over and over in your head, reminding you of the countless years of both internal and external torment you’d gone through regarding your weight.

The sound of footsteps in the doorway made you glance down, registering a spiky blond head of hair approaching you on the bed. You said nothing as the mattress dipped next to you, indicating that Bakugou had come up on your side.

The two of you were silent together for a long moment, and a stolen glance told you that Katsuki was mirroring you with his head resting on his arms as he stared at the blank ceiling.

“Are you going to tell me what’s got you in this mood?” he finally asked.

You sighed. “My cousin can just be a pain sometimes.”

“She the one you were telling me about or is it someone else?”

“Same girl.”

“Hmm.” Bakugou continued to keep his eyes trained solely up above. “What did she do this time?”

“Called me fat.” You tried to keep your voice even. You were simply stating a fact. It shouldn’t bother you like this, right? Even so, the tears you’d been forcing back once again rushed to your eyes, causing your tone to pitch. You swallowed them down again, blinking rapidly. This wasn’t something to spend time crying over.

“Don’t let it get to you,” Katsuki said, a little unhelpfully. “I don’t want to see you hating yourself.”

You frowned at this. “I don’t hate myself,” you said, thinking about your words for a moment before you spoke them. “I don’t hate my body. It’s just that . . . sometimes I wish it looked a little better, a little different. Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m enough as I am.”

“Don’t tell me you think you’d be happier looking like everyone else.” Bakugou’s gaze had shifted from a blank one to a glare.

“I don’t know,” you said, shrugging. “It’s just . . . hard sometimes. Being like this.”

Finally Bakugou rolled to face you, taking one of your hands in his. “I know you . . . struggle with your self-image or whatever, but you can’t let it take over your life, got it? You can’t just waste it worrying about what everyone thinks of you. You’re never going to be able to please everyone, but if they’ve got a problem with you, then they can go fuck themselves. You want to know the one person’s opinion who matters most? Yours. You have to be the one who’s taking care of yourself.” Katsuki paused for a moment, absentmindedly fiddling with your fingers as he considered his words.

“You want to know who’s opinion is the second most important?” he continued, his voice starting to get a little more mumbly. “Mine. I picked you because I love you. I love everything about you, from your shitty, annoying personality to your gorgeous body. You are so much more than just ‘enough’ for me, so don’t go worrying about that. You’re everything to me, and you know that, right? I love you no matter what, so don’t let this ruin your whole day.” He kissed your knuckles, signaling that he had said his peace.

You smiled at him, a tear or two finally sneaking past your defenses. “How—how do you do that?”

“What?”

“Sometimes you say something horribly stupid and I swear I hate you, and then next thing I know, you’re telling me everything I need to hear.”

“Tch, I can be eloquent whenever I want. It’s a choice.”

“Alright.” You rolled over so you could properly face him. “Can I have a hug?”

Bakugou rolled his eyes, but nevertheless held open his arms. You happily snuggled into the hard, built muscle enveloping you, offering a beautiful contrast to your own soft body.

“Do you need me to talk to your cousin?” Bakugou asked. “I’ll do it.”

“Nah, let her go.” You nuzzled your nose into his neck. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

______________

Kirishima:

You honestly expected your family to last longer when it came to keeping from upsetting you. Nevertheless, maybe you were being a little too optimistic. But come on, did they have to ruin everything the literal second you walked through the door?

Even after the scathing comment, followed by a half-hearted, hasty brushing off, you forced yourself to spend time with them. It wasn’t often that you got to see this half of your family, so you decided to ignore it with the rest of them.

But as you sat on the couch sipping tea, you were unable to focus on the light conversation buzzing around you. The event that happened mere minutes before played over again in your mind, causing you to wince.

You’d walked into the house, prepared to greet everyone and have a nice time, when your aunt looked up from her position on her arm chair. “Hello, (Y/N),” she’d begun. “Ah, look, you’re still fat.”

Your heart had almost literally stopped beating in your chest as you froze in the threshold. Had she just said what you thought you heard? You must have been mistaken, right?

Any positive anticipation you’d had of seeing your relatives had plummeted to your feet, and you strongly considered turning around in place and leaving without another word.

But you couldn’t do that, of course not. Then your aunt had begun to babble something about how it made you look cute like a baby, but her words had already done their damage.

You tolerated the rest of your afternoon with them, but it was a great relief to you when you were finally able to leave and go home. As soon as you pulled into your driveway, you exhaled a sigh of relief. It was over with, and it hadn’t been that bad.

Eijirou wasn’t home, but you knew he wouldn’t be long after you. You went about making dinner, knowing he’d appreciate it once he got home. He was always so tired these days.

Even so, as you stirred broth in a pot, your aunt’s words rang in your head. You vaguely remembered telling her about your weight loss a month ago. You figured you’d been making considerable progress, and you knew that no one was more proud of you than Eijirou himself. But had it really made a difference?

After a moment of fretting, you turned off the stove. You walked into your shared bedroom, flicking on the light. Your eyes caught sight of your reflection in the mirror. You frowned, going up to it. Turning your body this way and that, you tried to see if you recognized a change in your appearance. You lifted your shirt, only to wince at yourself and tug it back down. You pinched at your arms, your thighs, and your cheeks, growing almost angry at the way your fingers sunk into the flesh.

Maybe you hadn’t been making as much progress as you’d thought. Or the progress you had made wasn’t enough. Without you even realizing it, your mind began to toy with ways to speed things up. Guiltily, you found yourself wondering if Eijirou would notice if you just skipped dinner that night.

You shook your head to clear away the intrusive idea. No, that wouldn’t solve anything. Eijirou had told you that he’d help you lose weight the right way, so you’d stay healthy and be able to keep it off. It would be best to listen to him.

Still, you found your eyes glued to your reflection. You wouldn’t consider yourself vain, but there was something in the way that your eyes traced over your curves, wondering just how they might look on you if only you were a little smaller . . . .

Movement behind you in the mirror caught your eye, and you were quick to recognize a head of spiky red hair. You must not have heard Kirishima come in through the front door.

“Hello,” you said with less cheer than usual.

“Hey, babe,” he greeted you, coming up from behind to give you a hug.

You leaned back into his chest as you both stared at each other’s reflections.

“Checking out my perfect girlfriend?” he teased, referring to how your eyes continued to trace down your body. “That’s my job, you know.”

You snorted, gently rubbing at his forearm.

“So how was your family?”

“Okay,” you shrugged.

“I saw you left something on the stove. Are you doing okay?”

Oh, Kirishima. How did he do it?

You shrugged. “I guess I didn’t really have a good time there. Got a little upset is all.”

Eijirou frowned. “What happened?”

You took one of his hands in yours and began to play with his fingers, now determined to keep your eyes from catching another glimpse of yourself. “My aunt told me I was fat.”

You missed the flash of genuine anger that shot through Kirishima’s eyes. He knew this was something you’d struggled with for a long time. Your aunt had no business making comments like that about your body, especially now.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, deciding to keep himself calm for your sake.

You continued to fiddle with his large hands. “I just worry sometimes that I’m not doing enough,” you mumbled. “What if it doesn’t work? What if I’m just meant to look like this?” You sniffled, hating the sudden tears that were beginning to fill your eyes.

“Honey . . .” Eijirou spun you around and held you to his chest, running a hand down the back of your head as you finally let the tears slide down your face. You nuzzled into his shirt, appreciating the warm, familiar feeling of it. “Even if you weren’t able to lose more weight, you know I’d still love you, right?” he said in a tender voice. “I’d think you’re beautiful either way.”

He tilted your chin up so he could look into your eyes, giving you one of the most loving gazes you’d ever seen. “And besides, we’re not together because of how you look. I love you for you. I love your personality, and how you always say and do the cutest things.” He bent down for a quick kiss, caressing your cheek as he pulled away. “I love your laugh, and I love looking into your beautiful eyes . . . .” He kissed you again, beginning to gently guide your bodies to the bed at the other wall.

Eijirou laid you down in the center of the mattress, hovering over you as he went in for another kiss. “I love your body too. This body, just the way it is. I love how it feels to hold you at night—” he kissed your neck. “—I love your chest, your butt, your arms, your thighs—” he nuzzled his nose against your face and neck. “—your cute tummy.” He pushed himself up and gazed down at it with such a genuine expression of love, you almost started tearing up again. “The cutest tummy in the world. And I love it because it’s yours.”

With that, he bent down again and lifted up your shirt just enough to give it a little kiss. You couldn’t help but let a giggle slip from your lips, which only made his ruby red eyes dart up to meet yours mischievously.

“You like that? What if I did it . . . again!” He placed a second kiss in a different spot, going for another and then another. You broke out into laughter, the sensation of his lips and nose brushing over your sensitive skin making you squirm in his hold.

Soon, he was laughing himself. He nuzzled into your skin one last time and blew a raspberry against your skin.

“Eiji—!” you began to protest through a laugh.

“What?” He smirked at you, moving up and settling his chin in the valley of your chest.

You smiled right back at him, bringing up your hand to brush the backs of your fingers against his cheek. “I love you.”

Kirishima took hold of your hand and brought it to his lips, kissing the backs of your knuckles as he looked into your eyes. “I love you too, baby.” He held your hand in his, getting lost for a moment simply looking at your face.

Eventually he sat up, laying down next to you and pulling you into his chest. “I’m proud of you too,” he told you, tucking your head under his chin. “I know you’re actively making a change for the better, and you’re doing really well. Results won’t happen immediately, you just have to stick with it sometimes.”

You sighed through your nose, taking his hand in yours again. “I know. I just get discouraged sometimes is all.”

“And I’ll just be here to put you back on track. You’ve got this, you know.” He hugged you tight against him, rubbing your back. “Are you hungry?” he finally asked. “I’ll help you make dinner.”

“Sure,” you said, chuckling lightly.

“What? We both have to eat, and you know me. I’m a hungry shark.”

You laughed again, leaning up to kiss his jaw.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Well, there’s always more where that came from.” He kissed your forehead. “I’m here for you, okay?”

______________

Kaminari:

If there was one thing Denki hated more than anything, it was seeing you upset. 

He could tell something was off the moment you came through the front door. You were too quiet, and that bothered him. When you finally made it up to your shared room, Kaminari was already watching the doorway for you.

He noticed immediately that your eyes were puffy and a little red. Even your posture looked defeated and slumped over.

“Hey, Denks,” you said once you noticed him stretched out on the bed. His heart broke even further when he saw you try for a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Hey, hey, what’s the matter?” Kaminari got up, clearing the space between you so he could put his hands on your shoulders.

“I—I just,” you began to stammer out, feeling the flimsy dam you’d placed behind your eyes begin to falter. “I . . . don’t know if I want to talk about it right now.” You covered your burning face with your palms. “It’s stupid anyway. I shouldn’t let things like that get to me.”

Kaminari frowned, trying to figure out what might have made you so upset. But he wasn’t one to pry when it came to situations like these, and he knew you’d tell him on your own time.

Even so, he led you to where he’d once taken position on the bed, pulling you up with him. He knew that sometimes you simply wanted to be distracted from things, so he decided to do just that. Allowing you to settle in next to him, he picked his controller up from the covers again where he’d set it down.

You noticed he’d been playing Minecraft. You let yourself take a mild interest in his mining session that you caught him in the middle of. You watched him wander through a cave system; placing torches, killing the occasional zombie, and mining out various ores he happened upon.

What you didn’t see was how often he shot you glances, studying your face for any signs of you getting upset again. He saw when you finally took your eyes off his screen, frowning distantly as you twisted the material of the blanket underneath you.

Before he could ask you again what was going on, you opened your mouth to speak. “Do you think this outfit is too much?”

Denki faltered, confused. “No? What do you mean by that? I think you look really pretty.”

You pursed your lips. Clearly that wasn’t the answer you’d wanted. “I just—I don’t know.” You frowned and went back to avoiding his eyes.

“Are you going to tell me what happened today?” Denki asked. A sudden idea struck him. Before you could answer him again, he stood up on the bed and walked over to a shelf you kept just above it. He pulled down a large stuffed Pikachu he’d gotten you a few years ago, and went back to sitting next to you. “Would it be easier to tell him?”

Denki positioned the toy in his lap, grabbing hold of its little arms and letting it go through various motions, starting with a little wave at you.

You couldn’t help but snort at Kaminari’s antics, looking from the plushie to the curious but concerned expression on your boyfriend’s face.

“Your Pikachus are worried about you.” Denki lifted it up higher on his chest, continuing to fidget and wave the arms back and forth in a little dance. “You saw your family today, right? How did that go?”

Your face fell again and you shrugged. “It went well I guess. My grandma just said something dumb and it made me upset.”

Denki frowned, lifting the arms of the Pikachu so its hands were on its pink cheeks. “What did she say?”

You shrugged again. “I was messing around with my cousins and I said I looked like a snacc. And then she said that snacks were probably what made me so fat in the first place.”

Denki’s frown deepened. “That’s not very nice.”

“I don’t think she knew what I was talking about, to be fair. And maybe it’s a little funny. I mean, she’s not wrong.” You rested your chin in your hands, sighing. “It just caught me off guard. It’s a dumb thing to be upset over, like I said—”

“Hey.” Denki met your eyes. “It’s not dumb. You have every right to be upset.” He held his arms open to you. “Come here.”

You sat up, letting him embrace you.

“Do you need me to remind you how beautiful you are and how much I love you?” he asked from next to your ear. “Because I’ll do it.”

He took your shy smile as a yes, letting you settle back as he proceeded to lift up the stuffed yellow toy.

“Are you hearing this, bro?” he addressed it, throwing a serious look on his face. “The most gorgeous person on the planet is sad. We have to do something about it.”

Denki put the Pikachu’s paw on its chin, tapping it for a second before removing it again. “What’s that?” he asked it. “You have an idea?”

He lifted the toy to his ear, pretending to listen to it for a moment as he nodded along. Once he was satisfied, Denki scooched himself even closer to you. He brought Pikachu’s nose up to your cheek and made a kiss sound with his lips. Setting the toy down beside you on the bed, he motioned for you to come sit in his lap.

You obeyed, settling yourself in between his thighs and wrapping your legs around his hips.

“There you go,” he muttered, slotting his nose beside yours as he touched foreheads with you. “I love you and you’re the most important person in my life. You know that, right?” He waited for you to nod before continuing. “And I know that you can feel a little insecure sometimes with how you look. You’ve got bad days, and you have good days. It’s my job to be there for you on these bad days, and you can be there for me when I have mine. I want you to know that you’re so beautiful and I wouldn’t want you any other way.”

He connected your lips to his for a long moment, trying to convey all his feelings for you into it. “And don’t let anyone make you feel like you’re less-than. They’re not the kind of person you should be listening to. Trust me when I say that you’re perfect just being you.” Denki wiped a tear trail off your cheek with his thumb, leaning in to kiss the skin there. 

“Thanks, Denki,” you said, your voice just above a whisper.

He gave you a soft, caring smile; his fingers still lingering on your cheek. “Is there anything you want to do together to make you feel better? We could watch a movie, we could snuggle, whatever you want.”

You leaned in and hugged him tight. “I love you.”

He hugged you back. “I love you too. You’re my sunshine nugget, and it would take a heck of a lot to ever change that.”

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Taglist: @basicaegyo​ @fourteenow​ @iiminibattlehero​ @katsugay​​ @nabo39​ @onepieceask​ @pyrofanatic​​ @sendhelpimstupid​ @xoxopam4​​ 

#katsuki bakugou #bakugou katsuki #bakugou imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima eijirou #kirishima imagine #kirishima x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #denki kaminari #denki imagine #denki x reader #kaminari x reader #bnha x reader #mha x reader #plus sized reader #reader insert #request fulfilled #sugar fics

[rosietaeyongswife]

black orphan |l.ty

genre: angst, smut mafia!taeyong, taeyonxreader, mafia au

tw: mentions of dead, murders, bad language, sex, mafia, mafia stuff

summary: being daugther of people who are hierarchy..well known around south korea isn’t very nice especially when they’re mafia and you killed them. u know what also isn’t easy? taking care of your younger sister.

authors note: pls if you have time it would be nice if you could read this it’s about lately thing with chinese idols. i explain there why some people should stop spreading hate on them and that it’s not really their fault.

when you were child you didn’t understand what were your parents doing. you only knew you were rich. private schools. everything you want. most expensive clothes. everything. trip to hot country in middle of the winter? no problem. you and your sister minhee had everything. but your father and mother didn’t forget to teach you that you need to work for what you have.

  you were always amazed by your parents untill you were 16 years old and started to understand what they are doing for living. your parents were killers and drug sellers. you couldn’t belive it at first but with time you understood. that’s how your family is living. that’s how kim’s family is living. with time you learned about mafia life and your parents business. your father made sure that his daughter is going to take care of their business one day.. exactly - one day. one night your mother was standing in front of you with smile.

“y/n you are getting married.” she smiled wider. “he is son of rich man who can be needed.”

“what?”

 they wanted you to marry some 40 years old man and sell your younger sister because they would had only benefits. it was this time when it hits you.

 you are just 24 years old, are you really going to kill your parents? answer is yes. few weeks ago you poisoned your parents and made sure that everyone would think that their heart stopped. because of this you were now the owner of kim hierarchy. now you are boss. 

  you were sitting at conference room with jackson when someone called you.

“yes honey?” you smiled. “how much do you need? okay. take my credit card. yes it’s fine.”

 you hung up. it was minhee. she needed some money so you gave it to her.

“it was minhee right?”

“how do you know?”

“you always smile this way when you are talking with minhee.”

“damn jackson. you know me too well.” jackson chuckled. “so now. how is the deal with sagurako family?”

“i think they don’t want to pay us.”

 you could only smile.

“they really don’t take me seriously.” you sighed. “kill his son.”

“ok, how and when?”

“whatever. tell jaebum that it’s job for him.”

“yes sir.”

 you really weren’t in mood to games. you just want money and nothing else. is this that hard? pay what they own you? your parets exactly but they are dead so you should take money, right? they don’t matter same as their children. they have five kids so one less isn’t big deal. 

 when you were sitting by your desk you heard someone. it was yugyeom. you sighed and walked to the coridor.

“why the fuck are you so loud?”

“because bambam is stupid idiot.”

“what? no!” he shout. “he almost kill me.”

“whatever. be quiter.”

“y/n wait!” yugyeom looked in to your eyes. “someoe was following minhee when she was at school and then with her friends.”

 hearing this made you upset. you know that you have much more enemies than friends but you had hope that minhee isn’t going to be part of their hit list. 

“bambam take me home i need to talk with her.”

“what are you going to do?” yugyeom was looking at you confused. he knows very well that you don’t play games. “are you going to kill somebody again?”

“ew no. she is going to have home school. ask youngjae or mark to hire someone ok?”

“yes.”

 your sister safety is your priority. she didn’t do anything wrong and she is innocnt teen. you couldn’t let someone to hurt her or even worse. of course minhee knew that yours family works in dirty business but she doesn’t know much. and it should stay like this. minhee isn’t going to take your company one day. you can’t do it. if you won’t be dead to your 60s you would give company to your child or something but at this moment it isn’t time to think about this.

 the whole house was clean. junmyeon was here for sure. you smiled softly. take off your coat and boots. first thing you did was to drink some watter. drinking watter is important especially for your brain’s work. when you were done you went to find your sister.

“minhee!” you looked around your house but you didn’t hear her back. sighing you went to check her and you could hear she was talking with someone. “minhee!”

 you walked in and first thing you saw was her with phone.

“i’m sorry. didn’t hear you.”

“yeah, it’s okay. are you fine?”

“yes. everything is fine. something happend?”

“you not gonna attend school anymore. you will have home lessons. you know teacher will be here with you.” you shrugged.

“what? no way!”

“you can’t do anything about this.”

“you can’t lock me there! the fuck y/n! i have friends there.”

“they can come to house.”

“but no..wtf. i don’t want to.”

“it’s for your safety.” you tried to hug her. “i know it’s not cool and all but i don’t have any other choice.”

 minhee was looking at you with only hate in her eyes.

“are you trying to lock me down? just like parents did to you?”

“no, of course no! it’s not it.” you took package of ciggs. “i don’t want to see that you are dead. someone is following you. if you still be arguing you’ll be dead soon.”

“w-who is following me?”

“i don’t know. jackson hire some teacher and some bodyguards so i hope you’ll be safe here if no then i have to send you to china.”

“china?”

“yes to our uncle.”

“why the fuck i can’t live normal live.”

“listen. you can’t choose family but you should be grateful for us. for what you have. i work hard for everyting we achhived.”

“how? by killing people? it’s a job for you?” she smirked. “you are exactly like parents. what else do you do? drugs? murders? are you selling people?”

“done! i’m fuckin done. you can’t leave the house for next week. better accept how things are going because i’m not gonna let you talk to me like that.” you were pissed of. “you didn’t even know them well, what can you know? you acting like i don’t care about you even tho it’s not true.” 

 minhee didn’t feel bad about what she said. she was mad at you because she didn’t want to be in home. she wants to explore. you exactly know that she doesn’t want to live the way the whole your family is living. and you also don’t want her to live the same just like you. so sending her to china is the best option. uncle isn’t in mafia and all dirty stuff the rest of the family members do so minhee can be safe there.

  your sister didn’t talk with you by the whole week. you didn’t really care because you have so much work to do. kinda proud because you made japanese family to pay you the money they owned to your parents so you were satisfied. everything went fine. things are nice so are you. no worries by the whole time. only thing you are upset about is that your family want to meet. family meeting sounds nice? no. there is going to be other mafia because remember guys - if there is family meeting that means there is going to be make big deals.

 jackson with the rest of the boys were standing next to you. 

“you look pretty.” mark said looking at you with a smile. “but where is minhee?”

“told her that she has 5 minutes untill i go there.”

“yes sir.”

 you smiled. nothing can make your day worse. you are clever person so it turns out that you made a lot of big deals so now you are just swimming in the money to be honest. everything is so fine like never and nothing can upset you. not even this damn dinner with your family and others because you’ll be there with your people.

“minhee please we don’t have time. grandma will be mad.”

“i don’t care. i don’t want to.”

 you could only sighed. walking in her bedroom made you feel like teenager again. she was kind of similiar to you but at the same time she was so different. you took her hairbrush and started brushing her hair while looking in to her eyes in the mirror.

“you are so beautiful minhee. can you see it?” she nod. “everyones eyes are going to be on us. especially you because you are younger. behave there honey ok? they won’t like acting up or something. also be ready for all the compliments.” you smiled softly. “plus.. i can’t have eyes on you whole night so be careful. if someone is bothering you..” you lean to her ear “you know what to do.”

 she nodded and stand up. ready to go and show off. you are y/n and minhee kim. you are prestige family and nobody can tell otherwise. 

 the place was huge and expensive. you knew your family like things like that but not that much. without thinking your people with you at the front walked in welcomed by some people who were smilling at you.

“mrs.kim?”

“it’s me.”

“welcome madam. have fun.”

 slight smile goes on your lips and disaper quickly. and here you are. all eyes on you and your crew. smile and confident walk by you was really indimidiating. you knew your presence here was cherry on top. your parents died in mysterious conditions and here you are leading kim’s company. isn’t it suss? it is and you know it well but it’s only made you proud. your parents were problematic and were problem not only for you but for the family and co-workers. jelous eyes of wifes and girls were on you. to be honest, you are one of the prettiest and hottest woman there and that’s why you are just eye-catching. 

 the long table was place where you and minhee should stay. your people found place to themselfs, and when they were gone you noticed that by the table was sitting bosses of others organizations.

“good evening grandma.” you goes to hug her and asked minhee to do so. “i missed you so much.”

“is this my little y/n? sunshine i missed you. how are you?” she was worried. this woman was someone who you wish were your mother. she was the only one who cares about you. your mother or father never told you “i love you” it was your precious grandma who always was making sure to say “i love you” no matter what. “is everything fine?”

“i’m fine. everything is the best. business is going really well. you know.. zeros on bank account are only growing.” you smiled. “what about you? health?”

“i feel like i’m in my 30s.” she was only 70 years old but she felt way younger. “you know even tho your grandpa is pain in ass i’m fine. i’m so happy that now you are leading business.” she smirked. “my son and his -be sorry god- wife were failure. they have never made this much money like you do.”

“grandma thank you. it’s not such a big deal.”

“it is. i’m proud of you. i’m proud that you are leading something to be even bigger.” tear came down my cheek. “and you minhee. what about you?”

“everything is okay i guess.”

“is something bothering you?” everyone were looking at your sister and you knew what she is going to say.

“i feel kinda grounded but it’s okay.”

“what?”

“y/n made me stop attend private school and have home schooling.”

“it’s against your wish?”

“yes.”

 you were now kinda mad at your sister. you know well that she said that because she still doesn’t agree with idea of home schooling and china.

“let me make things clear grandma. someone was following her and i love her too much to let someone hurt her. it’s the safest in our home.”

 your grandma sighed like everyone else in family.

“minhee you are still too immature and too young to understand things. let your sister work and decide. she is doing everything for your best.” your grandpa said while he was drinking his wine.

“but i have friends there. i have thing i’m interested in school and now i’m going to be grounded.”

 you couldn’t listen her anymore what notice your another uncle.

“minhee just let things happen. can we talk about something else? as you can see we have guests by these table.” he looked around.

 and that was the time when minhee must leave. you looked at her and she disaper. anothers girls and boys who were teens also disaper leaving the elders and bosses.

“okay so let’s talk.” your grandpa said. “my son is such a dumbass and made debts. also. police was suspecting you to be the one who killed your parents my dear y/n.”

 boss of nct, bts and monstax looked at you. you just smiled at them.

“there is no proof. i made sure to done work.” you took your glass of wine. “i’m more pro than my parents was, right? i don’t think someone is crying because of their loss.”

 you interested taeyong. he has never seen a person who openly talk about murder. about parents murder. you were that cofident that it makes him like you. he could see clearly that you don’t fuck with others. 

“mother will you let her get away with this? he still was your son.”

“will you talk like that if you knew that he signed documents about taking over your wealth? and everyone else?” you took a sip.”seokhyun you are so fuckin dumb. i hope you know why i don’t have respect for you right?” you smirked “you are pain in as..you remind me of some boy who was bothering minhee. you know what did i do with him?” he shook his head no “i shot him in front of his parents eyes. be careful.”

“what else you know?” grandpa took another bottle of wine.

“i know so much that i could easily take over business of everyone here.” you smiled. “father hide money in japan. i guess no one knows why there but it doesn’t matter. i have deal for mr. lee taeyong.”

 taeyong smiled over you. he was glad that he is going to make deal with big mrs. kim y/n. 

“i listen to you lady.”

“i know your handsome and eye-catching member named yuta nakamoto is japanese and he runs your business there. let’s say i need him. i want your help with finding money in japan.”

“i want 40% from this.”

“you want too much. it’s almost half of the money i would get. it’s not worth it. you are only finding money that are basically belonging to me.”

 you weren’t dumb. you knew that it’s way too much.

“what is your proposition?”

“i can give you 20%.”

“deal. i’m glad i’m going to work with you mr. kim.”

“same here mrs.lee i hope you not gonna fail.” he smiled. “i want to also say something. time is ticking mr. seo. and you know what happend.”

 lee taeyong stod up and leave to his members table. you looked confused at wife of your cousin jongdae.

“what happend?”

“it’s matter between me and him. please don’t ask questions.”

“okay so i can begin now.” namjoon said slightly annoyed. “what with our collaboration mrs.kim.” he was looking annoyed at your grandma

“i said i don’t know.”

“please.. my boys were working for you. i think we would be giant.”

 you were looking at them and thinking. what the fuck. you knew that bts are doing good but you also heard about their debts.

“no. if my lovely grandma said no then it’s no.” you didn’t look at him but at your glass full of wine.”don’t you want collaboration with my grandma and granpa just to pay off your debts and bills?”

 everyone was looking at your table because everyone heard it. whole nct were looking at you with shock same with bts and bosses of other mafies were spechless same with shownu.

“aren’t you too mean? it’s none of your business y/n. it’s thing between me and your grandparents.”

“exactly. and i’m not going to look how you want to take their whole wealth. how much money do you need? we can borrow you but you know.” you stand up like namjoon did few seconds ago just to come closer. “deadline is short period of time. and consequences are really big.” you smiled. “ask chan what happend when he was late with money.”

 namjoon was standing there embarrased and paralaized. you come at him and he didn’t like it. but you weren’t afraid. you are at too strong position to be moved by little kim namjoon.

“okay. borrow me a three milion dollars and i’m going to return them back.”

“sure. jackson!” you said. “make collab with my grandma but remember that i have eyes all around and i will notice if there is less money than it should be. you have month to pay me back.” jackson give you both piece of paper when you signed it. “sign it.”

“thank you and yes. month and you will have your money back.”

 after this everything went smooth. no fights. just paceful event. by the time it was time to dance and you were asked by your cousin jongdae to dance but soon enough you were dancing with lee taeyong.

“i didn’t know you were that mean and that strong.” he said while his hands were on your waist and yours around his neck.

“i don’t like playing games with someone who isn’t worht it.”

“and i like it.” he smirked. “you seem to be good player aren’t you?”

“maybe i am. mr.taeyong why are you even here?” he was confused. “i clearly see that you and your men don’t want to be there.”

“are you watching us?”

“shouldn’t i?”

“i guess you should. it scary talking with girl who killed own parents.”

 you could only smile. you aren’t afraid of anything and no one will make you feel regret. your parents deserved this and if you wouldn’t kill them they would ruin your life and your family lifes. and y’all don’t deserve this at all. your parents were selfish since you’ve been child. when there was no minhee your only friend was maid and chef. they were talking with you and play with you and your toys just to not feel alone. beside of them you had your grandparents. your grandma loved you like you were her daughter. she always made sure to say “i love you” and to check on you. and your grandpa? he would be proud and happy to walk you to your kindergarten and take care of you along with your grandma. and your parents? they didn’t care. they just thougth about money. more money and even more money. your mother was mean if she had to stay with you. she would just left you in your bedroom with toys and goes to her friend or to watch tv. and father? he didn’t even talk with you. he started to talk when he wanted you to be part of mafia. 

he taught you everything you need to know. and because of their lack of love and your knowledge of things you shouldn’t know about you are like this today. cold and emotionless. no one really show your love (not including your grandparents). kids at shool were afraid of you becasue they knew who you were and their parents didn’t allow them to play with you. in high school they didn’t want to be in touch with girl whose family is gangsters and who could kill anyone they want. you even hadn’t any best friend. no one. 

“it’s not scary. they deserved this.” you were closer. “sometimes you need to get rid of your enemies and i’m sure they were one.”

“am i your enemy?”

“if you will help me you’ll be my friend.”

since then you haven’t talked with family members. you didn’t need to. also minhee was more distant than usually. you even noticed that she is leaving and coming back late at night. you just had hope that she isn’t causing any problems. but when she was gone for two days and came back like nothing happend it makes you feel mad. mark and youngjae were nice enough to follow her around and found out that she is dating someone. minhee was dating and you didn’t even know. also, it seems like they know each other really well and are together since the very long time. 

 you were fine with it. she is 18. she can date anyone. you didn’t even care about this that she doesn’t tell you but it’s okay. it’s hers life after all. but when she were gone for a week and she doesn’t contact with you.. boy, you were really mad. minhee just disapear and have no signs of live. 

“y/n you need to calm down. she for sure is fine.” mark said “she is teenager, something like this happens.”

“but i do so much for her, why she is like this?” bambam was looking at you with sad eyes. he knew he shouldn’t feel this way but he hates your sister and seeing you hurt was really.. bad feeling. he knew how much effort you put to raise her well and take good care of. “i don’t understand. she just could told me that she want to go somewhere or something. i’m sick of it.”

“y/n.. we got it. i think she could leave with her boyfriend. yugyeom is checking him.” jackson hugged you tightly. “she is fine. minhee is strong.”

“and naive. she doesn’t even know how to defend herself what if he is going to hurt her?”

“maybe no? we don’t know.”

 when you were sitting in your office you didn’t know back then that person who is lover of your sister is who he is. reading his info was really surprising to you. it was unbeliveble. member of nct. 

 sound of your heels could be hear in headquarter of nct. your usually outfit on you - dark coat and black boots above your knees. people called you black orphan because of the fact that you are orphan basically and because you only dressed in black.

 members of nct who noticced you were whispering something about black orphan being here. you were walking slowly don’t even bother to look at them. you had goal - find minhee. jackson and rest of the boys were behind you and were in the line. like always.

“excuse me, what are you doing here?” man named mark was in front of you. “i don’t remember that you were invited.”

“i don’t need invitation.” you growled. “better find kim minhee and park jisung.”

 face of mark knew that is going to happen and why are you here. taeyong and rest of the members of nct couldn’t belive that jisung is letting his girlfriend stay in their place. taeyong was against and mad because he found out by accident when he was checking bathroom and minhee was going to bathroom. he almost killed her.

 when mark was about to go your sister and her s/o were near. minhee was looking at you surprised. she knew you could find her but didn’t think that you would come to nct. 

“i count to 10 and we coming home.”

“i’m not leaving.” she hissed. “i’m sick of being under your control.”

“what is this noise here?” taeyong appeard in his hallway. the crowd of his people were looking around whole argument.

“you living with my money that i worked for. i pay your bills and all. i’m doing everything for you to have amazing life. why don’t you understand that you will never be normal girl? you will never. you will always be “daughter of mafia” or “sister who hate her parents”. you should accept this.”

“that’s why i fuckin hate you!” she scream. “i don’t want your help. you think you did everything well. i want to throw up everytime i reminds to myself what you are doing. i don’t want to be part of this also i don’t want to live in china. i want to decide.”

you laughed like freak. you were looking at your little sister and couldn’t think of anything but how stupid she actually is. 

“i’m not asking you.” you hissed. “you are ungretful, spoiled brat who thinks that owns the world and is main charcater, don’t you? if you want to be that independent okay. i’m going to block all back acounts from you. from now on you will work your ass off for money. i’m starting counting and you better come here.” you looked in to her eyes. “1..2..3..”

“you aren’t my mother. my mother is dead! understand this!”

 jaehyun was about to say something but taeyong stopped him. he was enjoying the show in front of him. he really loves how crazy you actually are.

“i’m staying with jisung. i won’t come back to home.”

“you are making disrace for our surname. don’t act like fool and come to home. i’m at 7.”

minhee didn’t even flinch.

“i’m not scared of you. after all i’m your family.”

“are you sure honey?” you touched her cheek. “do you know how killed your lovely parents?” she denied. “i did. funni isn’t it? everyone know but not their own daughter. i think you should be scared of me at that point.”

 minhee couldn’t belive her ears. you killed your parents. she was living with you not knowing about everything.

“you are crazy bitch! i hate you! i hate this family! one day i’ll make sure that police or media destroy you.”

“good luck.” you winked and slapped her. “you are no longer part of kims family. i don’t need you. you were the one that needed me.” you said harshly stepping closer and touched her chest to push her. “you are no one know. there is no coming back. you are done in my eyes. dead. and if i see you in my way i’m going to kill your love and then you. and guess what? nothing will bother to help find justice.” you shrugged and smiled one last time “you are free. make sure to change surname and to make it like we have never been family.”

 minhee was holidng her cheek and crying. at this point she knew that she doesn’t really know her own family. that there is secrets that are creepy and scary just like them. and she was sure she doesn’t want to involved. but now she was feeling bad because of what she said. jisung had tried hundred times explain her who you are. that she is doing it for her safety because thousands of people wants her head and she still didn’t listen.

 taeyong was following you.

“are you going to stop going after me or you want me to beat you up?”

“don’t need to be so harsh. i just want to ask you something.” he smiled. “have you ever been in love?”

“the fuck mr. lee? i only met you few times and i talk with you for the second time.”

“just answer me y/n.” his eyes was shining and you liked this view. you liked him to be honest. he did awesome work by finding your fathers money. he was loyal to you and you liked it. also he was handsome. why don’t like him?

“no. i have never been in love. having crush in daughter of mafia doesn’t sound nice right?”

“i don’t belive. you are way too pretty and too smart to be alone the whole time.” you smiled. he was cheesy but you liked it. “i think this can change.”

“do you want to seduce me?” you asked with little smile. “make me feel like i’m special and leave next day?”

“who said i would leave?” he smirked. “you are really something y/n.”

“i think we could talk about it.”

 and here you are. taeyong brings happines to your live. you have never experinced things like the one you do with taeyong. you are no longer alone. you wake up usually in his bed with his eyse piercing in to your soul. jackson and boys were happy that someone is interested in you and you are intrested in someone. they have never seen you having crush in male. but here you are. all over heels over lee taeyong. you didn’t like the idea of him having you wrapped around his finger but who cares? you like it.

“y/n what are you thinking about?”

“taeyong would you kill for me?”

“isn’t it obvious? i know you can do it by yourself but i would always kill anyone who is messing with my girl.”

“since when i’m your girl?”

“since the first time i’ve heard of you y/n.” he kissed you. “why you asking?”

“i feel like i spend way too much time with you so i need to make sure that you are worth it.”

“are you doubting me?” he touch your cheeks. “look at us. we are in my apartment in japan with beautiful view on sea. we are here alone having the best sex of our lives. having each other and telling silly secrets.” he hugged you and you lay your head on his chest. “we don’t need to stress about business. we have each other now. it’s feels like heaven.” 

“we are in japan. we are looking at the sea.” you smiled softly. “it’s almost like dream.”

“i know you have never thing like this. i want to show you life colors you know?” he smiled. “i want you to be happy. i want to see that you enjoy your time and let someone like you more than friend.”

“you just saying that.” you sighed. “you are going to leave soon like everyone in my life. but it’s okay.”

“you will never get rid of me.” he looked deadly in to your eyes. “past six months was like arcadia with you by my side. i feel like i can love you and i know that no one ever loved you the way i do.” he smiled. “but i’m here. i love you.”

“what?”

“you heard me and i’m not going to say this again.”

“lee taeyong you make me feel needed.”

 he was messing so much with your head and you didn’t even mind. he was there. he was with you and makes you forget about any problems. about stress. about work. time with him is smooth. and you love it.

“can we make love this time? not fuck? i want to feel your love even if it’s temporary.” you said with eyes closed while you kissed him

 taeyong smiled wide. he loved the idea of making love and not just fuck.

“my girl is soft.” he teased. “i want to do it. love.”

“i hate you so much sometimes.” you rolled your eyes. “i’m not going to ask anymore. it’s just this once.”

“alright. i got it.”

 you were sure that taeyong will disapear. you can’t show feeling but taeyong.. he show you love. he was there. you didn’t even know when you started to finding yourself making breakfasts for him. hugging him for every 5 minutes. telling him your dreams. listen to him and advice him. making him happy. it comes to you naturally just by watching his moves to you. it was so soft and so new to you. proudness. it what’s you feel. you could love taeyong. you didn’t even love your parents nor sister. it was more like obligation. but with taeyong? you realized your feeling when you were missing him and your mind just focus on him.

 you wanted to be best girlfriend to him. one time he even just put gun in your mouth and say to suck it if you love him just to then have you moaning “love yous”. and you did. not thinking twice. at this moment you both knew that it’s simply love between dificult people.

 taeyong was deep in you. you could feel him hitting right spots.

“how’s my kitten feeling?”

“good. good sir.” you moaned. “i feel like i’m close.” you whines

“i love view of you. you are perfect for me even your pussy is made for me.” he moeaned. “look at you under me. lovely.”

“stop talking and just make me cum.”

“marry me.”

 you were that confused. you were at edge of orgasm and he is telling you this.

“taeyong why are you saying this when we fuck?”

“why not? will you marry me?” he punted deeper and faster. “i would love to see you with my surname. lee y/n.” he smiled giving you hickeys “all by myself. my wife.”

“you got to be kidding me.” you laughed “we are having sex and you asking me about mar-”

 you couldn’t end your sentence because taeyong circled your clit and suddenly wave of pleasure hit you like ddu du and you cum. moaning his name and curling.

“answer kitten.”

“yes. i want to fuckin marry you lee dumbass taeyong.”

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[alliterative-albatross]

So, I sent you (@disgruntledspacedad) a pretty long ask a while ago (back when you had anon on) and I'm decently sure Tumblr ate it (or maybe you ignored it, in which case, feel free to ignore this one as well). But then I saw one of those "writers appreciate feedback no matter how long" posts, so I'm back here. Here is my mediocre attempt to rewrite my original review of your work. Bear in mind that English is not my first language, so if at any point my phrasing sounds weird to you, you know why. Mandatory disclaimer/apology: this might get a little too long 😅

RULES OF ENGAGEMENT

I remember being SO mad at myself for not finding this sooner. I binge read it one afternoon with no thoughts for any real life responsibilities I might have had (and no regrets). Javiears is one hell of an unconventional relationship in the beginning, and I really love what you did with them. The whole premise of your story is quite refreshing, and you somehow manage to convey the trust and mutual respect there two feel for one another without explicitly showing us the beginning of their "entanglement".

Also, fuck you for what you did to poor Emilio, that man was a saint and he deserved better! I honestly can't believe that I got so attached to a character that appeared so little in the story, but it happened, and his death kind of broke my heart.

But the Javiears reunion + mild confession was lovely, and felt completely deserved. And of course the sex scene. I won't lie, I expected a bit better from Javi there, but I did like how utterly /human/ it was. Capturing that humanity, the imperfections in each character is something you're really good at (more on that later).

AFTERSHOCKS

Ah, my emotionally constipated babies who really need to work out their communication issues. I do love them, though. And this short series did a really good job of delving a bit deeper into Ears's and Javi's psyche. Kudos to you for dealing with the medical "aftershocks" of living through an explosion AND using that experience to move your emotional plot forward. These two need to grow a lot before they can get to a stable point in their relationship, and you really manage to convey their insecurity and fear of commitment/intimacy while making it clear that they're in it for the long run and that theirs is a relationship that WILL work out so help them God.

IF I FALL

Ouch. Punch me in the gut while you're at it, why don't you?

But seriously, "If I Fall" is SO FUCKING GOOD. Don't get me wrong, it's angstier than an image of Jesus on the cross (don't judge me, it's Holy Week and I just got home from accompanying my grandma to church), but it somehow works beautifully. You, my dear, play heartstrings like they're a fucking guitar and I AM HERE FOR IT.

You're doing an amazing job at making me feel everything these characters are feeling, which is both awful (bc pain) and impressive.

Also, if anything happens to Ana I will cry, because she is adorable and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also, if anything happens to Ears I will cry, because she is badass and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Also also also, if anything happens to Javi I will cry, because he is loving and wonderful and has suffered way too much already and really deserves a break and some cookies.

Basically, I am really invested in the well-being of these characters and can't wait until they're happy and safe again (please tell me they will be, my heart can't handle much more pain).

A quick note on the angst complaints: yes, this story is way angstier than most other fics out there and it can be a bit too much at times, especially considering how many chapters of pain it's been. BUT it's obvious that "If I Fall" NEEDS this amount of angst to get where it's going, to send the message it wants to and to properly develop its characters. The pain is as important to this story as flour is to bread. You may not like eating flour on its own (I don't think anyone does), but you love bread (because bread is amazing) and you must recognize that bread NEEDS flour to work. It wouldn't be bread otherwise. And eating the flour as part of the bread even makes you like the flour because the bread is just DELICIOUS.

I fully understand and sympathize with the people who have elected to table "If I Fall" until it's completed so they can binge read it knowing there's a happy ending in sight, but in case you're feeling a bit self conscious about all the angst, please know that your story is beautiful not in spite of the pain, but rather /because of it/.

PS: No, I'm not high/drunk, I just really like bread

AUTHOR'S NOTES

Silly thing to comment on, I know, but I do feel like it's important that you know how useful your ANs have been. There are many details in the story that I simply wouldn't fully get without reading your comments at the end of each chapter, and I appreciate your writing a hell of a lot more knowing how deeply you understand and care for each one of your characters. Plus, it is obvious how much work you've put into researching a country and a time period that are (from what I gather) unfamiliar to you, and I really do believe you've done an amazing job of it.

JAVIER PEÑA

My boy. I love your characterization of this complicated character, and I have eagerly read each and every one of your headcanons about him. I can't really say if your version is fully faithful to the source material because it's been a while since I saw Narcos, but your Javi most definitely reads like a real person. He's fairly consistent as a character, and I feel like everything he does is perfectly natural for him to do as a character. He makes for an unconventional yet deeply interesting romantic lead, and so far I have thoroughly enjoyed all his POV chapters/scenes.

OCs

I know you've gotten some flack for making her into an OC halfway into the story, and while I get why the sudden change may have felt like a disappointment for some, I don't share that sentiment. I firmly believe that this fandom is unfairly harsh towards Original Characters and their creators, and I don't really understand why. Listen, I love Reader fics, and consume many Reader fics. I have read dozens, maybe even hundreds, and I can safely say that I've only ever "inserted" myself in approximately 10% of those stories. Reader characters are not as blank as their writers may want them to be. They can't be. They're characters, and character have personalities and moral values and senses of humor and a bunch of other things. Reader characters may not have a backstory or a physical description attached (and even that's not guaranteed), but they're still characters.

And on a more personal note, pretending they're actual blank slates is naive at best and insensitive at worst. Reader characters are American coded 99% of the time, and white coded 95% of the time. Not every readers is white nor American, even if that's the predominant demographic on Tumblr. When I read a JavixReader fic about a woman who speaks exactly zero Spanish, I know she's not me. The story may be beautifully written and have an amazing plot and character development, but the Reader *isn't me*. There is absolutely nothing wrong with that, and some of my favorite xReader stories feature a "reader" who couldn't be more different from me, but it's something that enemies of OC fics should take into account. Particularly if they are white and/or American. But I digress.

HANNAH AARONS

Your character is amazing. She's strong, smart, confident, independent and an all-around badass. She gets kidnapped while pregnant and still focuses on problem solving and survival. But she's also overly guarded and mistrustful, and really needs to work on her communication skills. There are times when I absolutely love her and even admire her, and other times when I want to whack her with a slipper. She's no Mary Sue, but remains interesting and likeable throughout the story. She feels wholly human and real, and that's no easy task. I like her, I am invested in her, and I can't wait to see what's next for her. She's a compelling and three dimensional protagonist in a complex story who never fails to draw me in. I love her. She's your baby, and you should be proud of her.

Also, quick question about personality types: I know you've typed Javi as ESFP and Ears as ENTP (100% agree on both, btw), but have you given any thought to their enneagram types? I personally have always seen Ears as being somewhere on the thinking triad, maybe a 7 or even a 6w7, but I'm not too sure about Javi. 9w8 maybe? He could also be a 6w5 🤔

PARTING THOUGHTS

Basically, I love your story, your characters and your writing in general. You are a fantastic storyteller and wordsmith. You get into the heads of incredibly different characters personality-wise (Ears, Javi, Berna...) and manage to capture all of their complexities and quirks every single time. And it doesn't feel like it's something innate for you either. To me, it seems that you have put a lot of work and effort into understanding each and every one of your characters, who they are, why they do what they do and what they want. And let me tell you, all that effort has been more than worth it. "Better Love" is a fanfic, but it wouldn't be out of place in a regular bookstore, if I'm honest. I don't know what you do for a living or if you've ever considered writing professionally, but you clearly have the skills and the drive to create some masterpieces.

You are amazing and your writing is a gift. Thank you for sharing it with us, and have a nice day! ~ 🍪

~

My friend, I apologize for hoarding your first ask. I’ve been sitting on it because I’m not gonna lie, I enjoy going back and rereading it. It gave me a lot of comfort when I was in a pretty dark place, both personally and in regards to my writing, and I was reluctant to send it out into the the abyss of Tumblr where I might never see it again. 

That’s not fair, though. You put just as much effort into sending me that review as I put into my writing, and I apologize for never responding to you.

Okay, anyway, so twice now, you’ve made me cry. In a good way, I promise! 

I absolutely love your bread/flour metaphor. It made perfect sense. I want the emotional release of Javi and Hannah’s reunion to be earned, and in order to do that, the angst has to come first (there are also a few plot “ingredients” that have yet to make their appearances). Thank you very much for understanding that, and for voicing it so eloquently.

I appreciate your comments on my research and characterization. You’re correct that I’ve put a lot of time and effort into crafting a universe. In a lot of ways, I’m doing my best to stay true to the source material (regarding culture and timelines in particular), and in others, I’m branching into my own territory. 

On that note, I’ve never once regretted fully embracing Hannah Aarons’ identity as an OC. She’s stayed consistent in my mind from the beginning, and it was a relief to finally share my vision of her with the audience. And for the record, I totally agree with you regarding “reader” characters. Every reader insert echoes the perspective of their author, no matter how vague the physical description. I can only imagine how grating that must be from the perspective of a non-white, non-american reader. Thank you so much for sharing your insight! I will certainly keep it in mind the next time I write a “reader insert” fic.

Okay, enneagrams! I am much less familiar with enneagram than I am MBTI, but I agree 110% that Javi is a 9 with a strong 8 wing. I waffled back and forth on Ears a little, but eventually landed on 8w7 for her. It came down to the eight’s deepest fear, which is being controlled. That’s Ears all over, and the fact that she and Javi share that eight willfulness means that they might butt heads a little, which also seems very appropriate for them. Big thanks to @remusstark for her insight into the eight frame of mind - our conversations helped solidify my decision on this. :)

Anyway, I’m just rambling now. The big take-away point that I want you to get is that I am so, so grateful to you, both for your insightful feedback and your dedication in making sure that I actually saw it. You are an absolute gem and a deep thinker, Cookie-Anon, and if you ever feel like sliding into my DM’s, I’d welcome the opportunity to get to know you better.

Mad love and soft hugs, 

~ Jay

[crashdevlin]

A River in Egypt 14- Denial

It’s Only Natural Masterlist   A River in Egypt Masterlist

Author’s Note: A series of snapshots from the It’s Only Natural universe, all told from Sam’s POV.

Summary: After losing Dean in the fight with Amara, Sam and Y/n are kidnapped by the British Men of Letters and tortured. Sam seizes the opportunity to get what he's wanted for years.

Pairing: Sam x Sister!reader

Word count: 4663

Story Warnings: torture, pain, incest (sister wincest), exhibitionism,  18+ HERE BE SEX! DO NOT READ IF YOU’RE A YOUNG’UN!!!, oral sex (fem rec), unprotected sex, creampie

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I hate this. I hate that I can’t devote all of my time to finding Y/n. I hate that Dean is all caught up in Amara and I hate that Y/n ran away again and I hate that...I kissed her. I kissed her and then she ran away. I hate that I just let her leave. I should have talked to her. I should have apologized for kissing her. I should-

I call her again. She doesn’t answer. Months of not answering. I hate this.

Dean keeps snarking at me about calling her, discouraging me from trying to find her. If he would just shut up and let me! Let me find her, let me bring her home! Let me apologize for being half the reason she left. Well, not half. Dean was more than half. Dean was 90%. Dean was more than that, even, because then there’s the whole thing where he knocked her up! On purpose! And then abandoned her!

Ya know...if she wasn’t a Winchester...if she wasn’t the strongest of us, I’d have been worried she might do something stupid. But she has never been the type to do that stupid thing. She’s the type to run off to get her head straight. She’s the type to come home eventually. She never has been able to stay away from us for too long.

But she seems determined to stay gone this time and all my searching isn’t finding and I hate that Dean was right that I wouldn’t be able to find her. Even when we lose Cas and Dean starts helping me, we still can’t find her. She does have amazing skills. Why don’t we lean on them more often instead of leaning on her emotionally, leaning on her physically?

We are the shittiest brothers ever.

And of course, it’s Chuck that brings her home. I couldn’t find her, again , and a higher power brings her home. Dean starts in on Chuck because of course he needs to air his damn grievances and Y/n only takes issue with Chuck’s qualifications of our misery. She gets up to make herself a drink and I follow her. She looks good, considering the fact that it’s been almost a year since I’ve seen her...and considering she’s upset.

I put my hand on her back to comfort her and, of course, Dean has to put his two cents in about that. “You should keep your hands to yourself,” he says as he sets a beer on the Map Table in front of me and I look up at him. He’s not angry. If it weren’t for Amara, he’d be furious that I touched her. “Y/n. She’s probably not in a good place for that.”

“How would you know?” I snap at him. He hasn’t even talked to her. He sits down next to me and takes a drink of his beer.

“Look, I’m just sayin’, Sam...it’s been a good eleven months or so since you’ve seen her, maybe you should ease into trying to replace me,” he reasons.

Replace him? As what, the brother forcing a baby on her? “I’m not trying to replace you, Dean.” I pick up the beer. “Unlike you, I’m just caring for her.”

“Caring for her doesn’t require touching her at every opportunity,” Dean says, shaking his head. I look at the tabletop and bite the inside of my lip. It's not my fault. I just wanted to comfort her. “We care about each other and we barely touch unless one of us is dying.”

I roll my eyes. It's like he doesn't even realize how upset she was back there. Of course, he doesn't know, does he? The losses that Chuck said were necessary...what he lost and he doesn't even know. "That's...not true, Dean. We touch each other all the time...and Y/n was upset, okay? What Chuck was saying was-"

“Dude, come on, you were feeling her up in your feminist way.” Why does he say that like it’s an insult? “Shut up. Don’t think I forgot you making out with her the night before she left, and I didn’t forget the collar either.” The collar. It took me a while to remember the collar. Guess I’ve been jealous of Dean’s connection with Y/n for a lot longer than we were using her to combat the Mark. I take a drink of my beer and clear my throat.

“Look. For Y/n’s good, she should probably not start anything else with her brother, ya know? Can you imagine how bad things coulda gone if she’d stayed with me?” Yeah, Dean, I can. “She’s better off with someone outside of our family.”

I scoff and shake my head. “What, you’re actually gonna let her be with someone without forcing them out of her life?”

Dean sighs and makes a clicking noise. “Yeah, I deserve that...and I got no good excuse for all the guys I blocked from her, but that’s not what I’m doing here.” He leans back in his chair and looks at me. “Look, we both know that what I did to her is...inexcusable, right? We both know I should never have touched her and it’s sick that I wanted to for so long. Just like we both know it’s sick that you want to.”

How dare he judge me? After everything he did? It doesn’t matter if I want it, I’ve never done anything other than kiss her. Even when I didn’t have a fucking soul, all I did was put a collar on her. He raped her and I might have gotten off on it but-

“It’s the best thing, for both of you, for you to go jack it to some of that porn you think no one knows you have and stop thinking about Y/n.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. Why does he always bring up me masturbating? “Not everything is about sex, Dean. I’m just trying to be there for her. That’s all.”

“Okay, Sammy,” he says like he doesn’t believe me. “Keep it that way. S’all I’m sayin’.”

There’s a million miles of subtext in that.

But at least she’s back. That’s the important part. The next morning, I go to check on her and talk to her about Grandma Millie. I end up sitting next to her on her bed as she tells me about the postcards that Dad used to send his mom, how he signed them with ‘Johnny’. And then she leans her head against my shoulder. It’s so nice. I missed her so much over the past year. I’m so happy to have her here where I can feel her and smell the roses on her hair.

“I’m tired, Sammy. I haven’t been home a day and I’m exhausted,” she admits.

“Have you talked to Dean?” I ask. Not that talking to him is gonna change anything.

“He said he’s sorry. He doesn’t even know what he’s sorry for.”

Of course not. I didn’t tell him what he needed to be sorry for...and I’m guessing neither has she. “You haven’t told him about the baby, have you?”

“It’s not like he would care,” she snaps.

With Amara still alive that’s probably right, but I say, “You don’t know that,” to make her feel a bit better.

“It’s not...I only...it was really early first trimester, Sam. I couldn’t have been more than six weeks. I...I only took the test right after Charlie’s funeral and...the Stynes…” She clears her throat and pulls away from me to look in my eyes. Her eyes are all watery and sad. “I don’t know why it hurts so much.”

She’s been hurting over this for a year and she’s been beating herself up for how she feels, too? “Because you created life, Y/n, and that was taken from you. It’s allowed to hurt.” I reach out and run the back of my knuckles down her cheek. I just wanna make her feel better. “ You’re allowed to hurt.”

I wanna kiss her, but the thought has barely crossed my mind to start leaning in when she goes stiff and pulls away. “Th-thank you, Sammy.”

I rub my hands together as I stand. Yeah, probably wouldn’t be a good idea. Maybe Dean’s right. Probably Dean’s right. “You know, i-if you need anything, I’m here,” I tell her and she nods so I just leave. It’s a bad idea to try to get close to her right now. It’s a bad idea.

Especially since she seems determined to sacrifice herself. Which, thankfully, she fails at. Every part of our plan to take down the Darkness fails. So we have to come up with another option...which puts Dean on the chopping block. This seems like it’s the...the last time. The end. Especially when Dean kisses Y/n right there in front of Cas, Crowley, and Rowena.

“Sam, Y/n, I’m so sorry,” Cas says as we enter the bunker. “If you want to talk...I’m here if either of you need anything.”

“Hello, hello,” a happy British voice calls out across the War Room. A well-dressed woman slams her hand into a banishing sigil on the wall, sending Cas away. Y/n and I call his name and reach for our pistols but the woman raises a gun before we can. “Don’t. Y/n and Sam Winchester. Toni Bevell,” she introduces. “Men of Letters, London Chapterhouse.” What? There’s still Men of Letters?

“Oh you won’t have heard of me...us. We’re very traditional. Keep out of the way, keep to our studies.”

“You, um…” I look over at Y/n, who looks just as confused as I feel, then look back to the intruder and shake my head. “What?”

“They sent me to take you in.”

“To take us in?” Y/n asks.

“Assuming the world didn’t end, and...yay!” she says. I am not in the mood for this shit.

“Look, lady,” I start, stepping toward her.

“We’ve been watching you, Sam. What you’ve done, the damage you’ve caused...archangels, Leviathans, the Darkness, and now, well...the old men have decided enough’s enough. I mean, let’s face it. You’re just jumped-up hunters playing with things you don’t understand and doing more harm than good.” I almost growl at that. We didn’t ask for the archangels or the Leviathans or the damn Darkness. We didn’t even ask to be hunters. “Now, where’s Dean?” she finishes.

“Dead,” I answer, focusing on my anger so that she doesn’t see the sadness in my face. “Listen, lady, I don’t know who the hell you are or what the hell you want-” I start advancing on her again.

“Stop,” she demands, but I don’t listen.

“Put the gun down,” I snap.

“I said stop,” she reminds me.

“We all know you’re not gonna pull the trigger,” I say, but she does. Y/n screams when the bitch’s gun goes off, bullet impacting my thigh. I hit the floor, Y/n drops next to me to put pressure on me.

“I’m going to retrieve something to use as a tourniquet,” the intruder says to Y/n as she tucks her gun into a holder on her hip. “I assume you wish Sam to survive. Don’t try anything stupid.”

“You bitch,” Y/n growls at her.

“Oh, you’ll be needing a gag too, then.” She starts to walk away as I take deep breaths to keep my pain level down. “Bloody hunters.”

“You’re gonna be okay, Sammy,” Y/n whispers.

I fucking hope so.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A cattle prod wakes me up. Y/n and I are bound to wooden chairs, hands cuffed behind our backs, ankles cuffed to the chair legs. I look over at Y/n to make sure she’s in better shape than me before I look around the room. We’re in a storm cellar. Nothing unique in Kansas.

“Be a good boy,” the woman with the cattle prod says as Toni Bevell walks down the stairs.

“You,” I bite out, pulling at my restraints.

She sits down in a chair across the cellar from us and flips open a notebook, taking the cap off of a fancy pen. “Now, Y/n, Sam...let’s begin.”

“Toni Bevell, London Chapterhouse.” Bitch. Stupid British cunt. Broke into my home, shot me, knocked me and my sister out.

“That’s right.”

“So, you’re what. You’re English Men of Letters?” Y/n asks.

“British,” Toni corrects.

“Right. Big distinction,” Y/n says rolling her eyes.

“You would think that you, the smarter Winchesters, would care about that difference.”

“Well, you don’t sound Welsh, so…” Y/n is such a snarky bitch. I love her.

“Where are we?” I ask.

“Does it matter?” she taunts me.

“Just wondering how far we’re gonna have to walk back to town after we kill you,” I answer. I nod at the woman in black who shocked us. “And her. But you first.”

She obviously doesn’t believe we’re gonna murder her. “Yes, well, before you murder us all, we do have a few questions about you, your brother, Hunters in America, and how you saved the sun.”

Really? “Right. You shoot me, kidnap us, but yeah, we’re happy to help,” I say, rolling my eyes.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, Sam. You gave me no choice. And, well, I could say it was never supposed to go this way, but you’re...you . It was always going to go this way.”

“And you know me?” I snap.

“We do,” she confirms. “We’ve been watching you and the twins for years. Ever since you almost ended the world the first time. We knew all about Lucifer, the angels falling, the Mark of Cain and its various...side effects.” I look over at Y/n, who looks so embarrassed. Fuck Toni for making Y/n feel like that.

“Then where were you?” Y/n asks.

“Fair question. See, some of us wanted to get involved but the old men wouldn’t allow it. Thought we were overstepping our bounds. After all of this business with the Darkness, even they have to agree...things need to change. And while you might not believe this, Winchesters, we’re here to help.”

Of course they are. “Yeah, no. I-I can tell,” I say sarcastically.

“I want to apologize for locking you up. You’re dangerous--to others and yourselves--but if you answer my questions, you both walk right out that door. I promise.”

I look over at Y/n. I wanna resist, but based on what I know of these assholes, they’re going to hurt us. I don’t want to fight back if Y/n isn’t up to the pain. But she’s the strongest of us. She tells me with a look that she understands and agrees that we’ll get through whatever they throw at us together. “Pass,” I answer for us.

“Sam,” Toni scolds me. She doesn’t know who she’s dealing with.

“You can ask me any kind of question you want. The answer’s gonna be the exact same: Screw you. You wanna get mad? You wanna get mean? I’ve been tortured by the Devil himself. So you? You’re just an accent in a pantsuit. What can you do to me?” I see Y/n gawking at me from the corner of my eye. She looks impressed...and maybe a little turned on.

“And what about your sister?” Toni asks, capping her pen. “Dear Y/n here hasn’t ever been to Hell. Her only interactions with Lucifer and the archangels has been tangential. She’s never been ‘tortured by the Devil himself’. Do you think she could handle it?”

“Screw. You,” Y/n says with all the spite and confidence of a Winchester. Damn, that’s sexy. The woman in black turns on a cold tap and water starts raining down on us. “I can handle anything you throw at us.”

“A cold shower? That’s your play?” I scoff and shake the water from my hair. We start shaking but we don’t complain. We don’t say anything except, “Screw you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wake up on the floor, out of my restraints. My burned feet are wrapped. My whole body hurts. I’ve taken a beating...and so has Y/n. I’m proud of how much pain she stood up to. When I see her on the floor on the opposite side of her chair, fear that she’s succumbed to the pain overwhelms me. I just lost Dean. I can’t lose her too. I shake her, call her name, check her pulse. She’s alive, but her breathing is shallow. I need her to wake up.

“Y/n. Y/n, you need to wake up,” I whisper desperately, grasping at her face.

“Um ah-righ,” she slurs and I let out a sigh of relief. She’s not out of the woods until she opens her eyes.

“Hey, hey! I can’t lose you too!” I shake her slightly.

“You’re really loud,” she mumbles, a little clearer, but still not awake.

“Yeah. Yeah, I know but you need to wake up.”

Her eyelids flutter over her gorgeous green eyes for a moment before they slide up and she focuses on me. “I tol’ you I’m okay, Sammy,” she says, trying to sit up. I help her and look over her. “Why aren’t we tied up?”

Good question. “We passed out, both ended up on the floor.” I point at the camera on the ceiling in the corner. “They’re watching us from that camera. I’m not sure the game here, but they definitely shouldn’t have-” My eyes go wide as she her whole body goes stiff and she screams like she did when they took the torch to her toes. “Whoa! W-what, what happened?”

“I-I don’t-” She shakes her head, looking up at me with panic in her eyes. “It’s-” Her next scream cuts off her words and she clamps it down but then she just starts whimpering. “It’s like I’m on fire, inside is on fire.”

I start looking her over. A hex bag, a sigil, something that’s causing this pain...a needle mark? I pull her hair off of her shoulder and run my fingertips over a pissed-off mark on her shoulder. “Needle mark. She injected you with something.”

“T-they...they’re trying to break you by b-breaking mmme…” She’s probably right, but I know she won’t break. “I’m the softer target.”

I shake my head and look down at her. She’s not soft. “Nah. You aren’t...you’re strong and...you can-”

She lets out a disbelieving breath. “Only time I’ve been tortured is when Gordon had me, and that--that wasn’t…” She whines and scrunches her face up. Gordon tortured her because of me. Toni’s torturing her because of me. “Hng...that was nothing.”

“You’re not gonna break, Y/n. You’re a Winchester.” Dean did thirty years worth of Hell torture before he broke. I...don’t even know how long Lucifer had me. She can do this.

“I’ve always been the weak-” she starts and I can’t hear her talking about herself like that so I lay her back on the floor and look down into her eyes.

“Not weak. Sensitive, beautiful, amazing.” Perfect. Gorgeous. Sexy. Fuck, how can she look so sexy after a night of torture and days of emotional bullshit and mourning? I look down her body, her perfect, curvy body. I’m fucked in the head, but...I want her. We might die here and I want her. Just once. “Just gotta distract you from the pain, sis,” I whisper as I pull her shirt up. Get her through this until whatever they hit her with wears off. I’m drawn to the burn marks on her abs from the cattle prod and I run my fingers over them. “Gonna make it better...and then we’re gonna make London Chapterhouse pay.”

“Sam, w-what are-” she starts, but I can’t let her talk me outta this. I have to taste her just this once. I lean down and kiss her burn and she gasps. I’ve heard her make that noise for Dean. I wanna make her make all the noises I’ve heard her make for Dean. I pull her shirt up over her bra and start mouthing at her boobs, wetting her bra, but I don’t care because her nipples are poking through the cotton. “Sam,” she whines, and holy shit, my name has never sounded so good.

“I love how my name sounds on your lips. Can’t wait to hear you scream it,” I admit, grinding my dick against her pussy. She grabs my shoulders like she’s trying to hold on for dear life. “Fuck, I’ve dreamed of this. Was so jealous of Dean.”

I start licking at her neck, the column of her throat. I use a little bit of teeth because I wanna mark her as mine. Just this once. She’s breathing heavy and it’s amazing. “I...Sam, please,” she begs as I pop the button on her jeans. She’s begging me. Fuck.

“So fuckin’ needy, sis. Gonna be too easy to get you off when you’re already begging for it.” I slide my hand into her jeans and rub at her clit. She cries out in pain and pleasure and I try to balance it a little more toward pleasure by rubbing a little harder and ramping up the dirty talk. “You’re so fuckin’ wet, Y/n. Soaking your panties. That all for me?”

“Sam…” she whines and that’s still the best thing I’ve ever heard.

“Don’t worry. Gonna take care of you,” I promise, pulling her pants and underwear down and off of her left leg so I can spread her thighs and hook her knees over my shoulders. I kiss my way up her inner thigh. I wanna go slow, but I’m so fucking eager and scared that the British Men of Letters might stop me. I kiss her pussy and her taste coats my lips. She tastes amazing. No wonder Dean couldn’t help but eat her out at inappropriate times. “Taste so fuckin’ good.”

“Fuck, Sam, please,” she begs and how can I say ‘no’? I start licking her lips and sliding my tongue into her slit, slurping at her delicious juices and listening to her gasps and moans. When she twists her fingers in my hair, I fuck my tongue into her pussy. She starts squirming and I put my hands on her stomach to hold her in place. “Sam, I need to--Sam, please, I need to cum, please, please, plea-” I make her scream when I move my mouth to suck her clit into my mouth.

The noise she makes is just...the best fucking thing ever, and I am hard as stone and I need to fuck her, now. I lean back and start undressing as I lick at her taste on my lips and chin. “Think they’re still watching? Huh?” I ask as I carefully pull my pants down. Her eyes go a bit wide when she sees my cock. “Or do you think they averted their proper English, sorry, British eyes when the video stream became incest porn?”

She tears her eyes away from my dick to the camera in the corner. Maybe I shouldn’t have reminded her that it was there. “Uh, I...I don’t-”

“I hope they’re still watching,” I say, carefully laying my body over hers. “Want them to see you cum all over my cock.” Her jaw drops at that. She doesn’t know just how dirty I can be. She’s gonna see before we’re done here. I lean down to kiss her, sliding the head of my cock to her entrance. She whimpers as another wave of fire hits her and I start pushing into her, French kissing her as I slowly get into her.

I’m big. Bigger than Dean, I know that much, almost certainly bigger than Jesse. I’m probably the biggest she’s ever taken, so I know that I have to go slow. But my big fucking dick is definitely distracting her...and that’s why I started this, right? I wanted to get her through this pain, but there’s no reason we can’t enjoy ourselves.

We’re kissing each other, hands buried in each other’s hair, as we wait for her to adjust. It always takes women a few minutes to get used to me...but eventually, I gotta move and when I do? When I start rolling my hips, rocking against her...I’ve never felt anything like it. I drop my head to her shoulder and take deep breaths. “Fuck, Y/n. I’ve wanted this for so fucking long. Since Dean was in Purgatory.” Since she was watching over me in Kermit. Since I was dreaming of fucking her with that collar on. “Used to fuck Amelia, picturing you,” I say as I start thrusting into her. I pick up speed a bit faster than I normally would but I’m so eager.

She grabs at my shoulders, fingernails digging in and I groan. “Sam! Fuck! Slow d-down,” she begs. Too fast, I guess.

I slow a bit, looking into her eyes as I fuck her. She’s got the most amazing body. “God, you feel so fucking amazing, Y/n. You’re squeezing my cock so good. I’m gonna fucking cum.” I grab her breast and tweak her nipple, loving the way it makes her clench around me. She’s exactly what I imagined she’d be. Perfect. “You gonna cum for me, sis? I wanna see your face. I’ve heard you cum so many times, I wanna see. I wanna feel it.”

I reach between us and rub my thumb over her clit and her nails dig in more as she whines, “Sammy.” Her body goes stiff as I start fucking her harder. She’s so fucking close. I’m gonna get to make her cum. “Fuckfuckfuck,” she rambles as her eyes roll back and her jaw drops a bit. Her breath catches on her orgasm and so does mine. I’ve never seen her look so beautiful, so blissful and heavenly.

“So beautiful,” I whisper. I kiss her again as my own orgasm approaches, pain shooting through me as my burned toes curl. I grunt into her mouth as I fill her with cum, gasping in a breath as my head goes woozy. That was everything I thought it was gonna be. Holy shit. I kiss her neck and jawline as I pull out of her. She hasn’t whimpered in a few minutes. “How’s the pain?”

“Better,” she says, stretching her neck a bit. “I think...whatever they injected me with, it’s wearing off.”

I lean away from her, get up on my forearm. I laugh as I look down at her red cheeks and sweaty forehead. “Or maybe I fucked it out of you.” I smirk as I pull her shirt down.

“Yeah. Maybe. My spirits are higher in the very least,” she says sitting up. She smiles at me for a minute before a sadness takes her eyes. “We’re gonna get out of this, right? That wasn’t a ‘Last Night on’-”

“No,” I cut her off as we start getting dressed. Her abandonment issues are huge. “That was a first of many. Next time, it’ll be better. Neither of us will be in pain.”

She shrugs and stands and I’m kinda proud of the way her legs are shaking. “Maybe a little bit of pain isn’t too bad.”

Dean was right? She likes pain. That means I don’t have to hold back with her. Perfect. She’s so fucking perfect. I smile at her. “You’re a little freaky, aren’t you?”

“Says the exhibitionist who just came inside his big sister,” she snaps back.

I chuckle. “Got me there.” It’s hot that she’s got my cum dripping out of her right now. “Let’s see if we can get outta here, huh?” She nods and we start looking around the cellar for weapons and a way out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Kitchen Sink - @emoryhemsworth​ @flamencodiva​ @wasabiwitteks​ @rainbowkisses31​ @rissbennett @mariekoukie6661​ @officiallyunofficialperson​ @dolphincliffs​ @mrs-meghan-winchester​ @gayspacenerd​ @foxyjwls007​ @ilovefanfic86​ @marvelfansworld​ @f-yeahfandoms​ @wonderlandfandomkingdom​ @hhiggs​ @sev3nruby​  @hobby27​ @paintballkid711​ @divadinag​ @thewhiterabbit42​ @fantasymyth-1 @queenoftheunderdark​ @cosicas-cuquis​ @superfanficnatural​ @letsby​ @supernatural-bellawinchester​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @swinchester27​ @chalicia​ @sunnyroadtrips​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dayasvalkyrie​ Hunter Tags - @atc74​ @sandlee44​ @spnbaby-67​ @kalesrebellion​ @tumbler-tidbits​ @hoboal87​ @stoneyggirl​ @kbl1313​ @cookiechipdough​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @winchesterxfamilybusiness​ @holylulusworld​ @pretty-fortune​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​ @imperiusimpala​ @supernaturalenchanted​ Gaga For Green Eyes Tags- @typicalweirdbookworm​ @deanmonandnegansbitch​ @jadesupernatural​ @stoneyggirl​ @4fareader​ @squirrelnotsam​ @lyarr24​ @akshi8278​ @pretty-fortune​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​ Hazy For Hazel Tags - @slut-for-jared @stoneyggirl​ @aeo10fan​ @pretty-fortune​ Wincest Tags - @typicalweirdbookworm​ @slut-for-jared @hoboal87​ @bobasheebaby​ @squirrelnotsam​ @akshi8278​ @we-are-all-a-bunch-of-idjits​

#cassie writes stuff #spn fanfic #reader-insert #sister winchester #sister wincest #sam x sister!reader

[icariamusing]

CHARACTER BASICS

FACECLAIM: Vanessa Morgan

NAME: Remi Rose Bellamy

AGE:  24

BIRTHDAY: July 12, 1996

OCCUPATION: Dance & Theater Teacher HS

HOMETOWN: Detroit, MI

PETS: N/A

POWERS

Remi has the power of dark fire attacks. She can release/use dark fire of various shapes and intensities to attack at will.

BIOGRAPHY

Growing up on the streets of Detroit, Michigan wasn’t exactly easy street for Remi Bellamy, but she either had to adapt or die. That sounds dramatic, but honestly, she wasn’t even remotely joking. When she was a baby, her lack of comprehension shielded her from things for a little while. She didn’t know that he father selling small dime bags out of their apartment wasn’t normal, or that her not always having a proper dinner wasn’t alright. All she knew was that it was home, and her mentality stayed that way until she was about seven.

Her father, Jacob Bellamy wasn’t a bad man. He was just a scorned one. Remi’s mother wasn’t a topic that was ever discussed inside of the home. When the little girl had asked about her once when she was little, all she’d gotten in response was that her mother was dead, and that was the end of it. Grief took her over momentarily for the woman she didn’t even know, but her focus shifted to trying to help her dad. The news explained her father’s circumstances and situation a little better to the girl. Perhaps losing her mom was why her dad’s life spiraled so much. She’d heard her grandad and grandma talk about how much potential he had, and how it was all wasted when that woman left him. She thought the words left him were a little harsh since surely her mom didn’t choose to die, but it made more sense.

As years passed, it was more and more clear that Remi had to help fend for herself. Her dad lost himself as he started sampling more and more of his product rather than selling it, and she was hungry. So, by age thirteen Remi was out there working the streets. It wasn’t hard to find other kids like her who had no guidance or direction, and all of them were led by Jarvis. Jarvis was an adult who counted on using the misguided youth of the hood to do his dirty work for him. Whenever he needed to make a drop, pick up some stolen parts, or make some sales, he used his kids. He kept them hooked by giving them just enough money to keep them happy and getting them hooked on the merchandise themselves. It was full proof. His “kids” as he liked to call them kept coming back for another hit of coke, and he’d proudly say that he was the only one who ever looked out for them.

Jacob Bellamy didn’t care about the calls from schools wondering about his kid’s absences or behavior as long as his daughter kept bringing him cocaine and cash, he thought that she was doing alright. Child services never had a reason to be called because to the naked eye Remi was well cared for. She always had the most trendy, even if inappropriate, clothing at school, was always clean, and had no signs of any abuse. While they didn’t agree with her father’s parenting at all, that was nothing but a personal opinion.

While it wasn’t necessarily something to be proud of, Remi was rather talented at surviving on the streets. Her bubbly personality and smile could get her nearly anything which came quite in handy when she needed to con someone. There were risks, but the girl was never stupid. A knife and taser were on her at all times. While Jarvis had offered her a small gun on more than one occasion, that was a length she wasn’t ready to go to yet. In her mind that made her cross the line from small time thug, to actual gang banger, and that seemed more permanent.

One night though, she wished she’d taken him up on it when she found herself on the bad end of a deal. Her partner was late meeting her at a drop site, and three thugs tried to jump her for her merchandise. Knowing that Jarvis would murder her if she let them get away with over five grand of cocaine, Remi panicked. Next thing she knew, a ring of black flames was surrounding herself and the other guys. They were looking at her with fearful faces and asking what she was playing at, but unconsciously all the girl did was make the circle get smaller and smaller until they finally dropped the bag. Remi didn’t know how she controlled the circle of black and was honestly more than a little freaked out, but she was thankful for whatever it was. Although, she knew better than to bring it up to anyone. Last thing she wanted was to end up in a straight jacket.

It wasn’t until Remi was fifteen that her life got completely turned upside down. One day she was on her usual street corner making out with her boyfriend after successful deal, and the next a woman was yanking her by the arm. At first, everyone around her went on high alert which didn’t seem to phase the stranger in the least bit. Remi immediately thought the woman was obviously crazy or had a death wish, but Remi began leaning towards the former when she heard the woman claim to be her mother. Naturally, Remi’s first reaction was to laugh in the stranger’s face. “My mother’s stone cold in the ground, honey. You must have the wrong one,” she replied as she made a shoo motion with her hand to try and get the woman moving along. Still, the woman asked for Remi to hear her case, and afterwards, she could leave if she so wished. Deciding she had nothing to lose if she listened to the tales of a lunatic, she assured her crew that she’d be fine and would catch them later.

Nothing, of course, could have prepared her for the tale spewed to her by Nyx. It was literally insane, and it wasn’t until the Goddess displayed some of her powers in the dark alley that Remi believed her. Slowly, the connection to what had happened in the alley all those years ago made sense, but instead of relief filling her veins, she instead felt anger. Hearing that she had siblings and a place to go didn’t sound like a salvation to her. Instead, it felt like a slap to the face. Remi was so happy that she finally remembered about her daughter enough once her sons were settled. On top of that, leaving her father wasn’t an option. Even though he wasn’t much, he was still her dad.

Remi’s situation changed drastically within days of that conversation though. One night she’d come home late after hitting up a club and found her father dead on the living room floor beside their coffee table with lines of coke set up. Everything from there was a blur. The last thing she remembered was taking a hit herself before calling the authorities. Somehow, her mother knew to show up, and right then painted out how little options her daughter truly had. She could either be put in the system and potentially end up in a situation she hated, or go with Nyx and be put with family. Remi nearly countered that she could also go with Jarvis, but she knew that wouldn’t be the safest either. The man was starting to point out how much of a woman she looked like and becoming to handsy for her liking. Out of desperation more than anything, Remi agreed.

The next months were hell. The Bennett’s were a nice family that graciously helped her, but going through withdrawals was awful. Her siblings checked in on her as she puked her brains out, went through cold sweats, and was in terrible pain, but her mind couldn’t really recognize the warmth of it all. All she could think about was how she’d give her right arm for another taste of coke.

Eventually she got placed with her own family not far from the Bennett’s residence, but she was able to come into her own while also getting to know her siblings. It took her some time, but as months passed she couldn’t help but feel thankful to her mother. After seeing her father die from the same addiction she’d possessed, she knew that it was only a matter of time until she fell to the same fate. Remi still thought it was almost a little too late, but she figured it was better than the Goddess never showing up at all. Her foster family were Nyx worshippers as well, so they encouraged her to work on her own abilities with her brothers, so she could master them along with self defense. Outside of that though, they wanted her to be able to finally have a normal childhood, so they encouraged her to pursue a passion in dance. Even though her previous knowledge had only been whatever she’d picked up from the clubs she used to frequently visit, her body had a natural skill. Between everything, she quickly found herself too busy to even focus on old habits that would get her in trouble.

Even though she knew of Icaria, the dancer decided to head to North Carolina to pursue a degree in dance at Duke University. While her family was worried about her being so far away, she assured her brothers that they could harass her whenever they wanted. Her college years were some of the best years of her life. She’d experienced love, heartbreak, friendships, and a free spirited life style that could only really happen in college. She’d decided to major in dance and minor in education, and after taking three years to teach dance at a high school back in New York, the woman was ready to make the move to Icaria.

Remi is free spirited, kind, but mysterious. After getting her heart broken by a woman she thought was her best friend, she doesn’t like dating people she puts in the “friend zone.” She thinks it’s twice as painful to lose the lover and friendship. Part of her mystery is her never speaking about her past in Detroit. No one outside of her family is aware of her darker past, and she likes to keep it that way. Keeping conversations on the lighter, brighter sides of things is her forte. When she’s not dancing, Remi can often be found watching anime, reading a book, or exploring food. She is a self proclaimed foodie and absolutely loves discovering new favorite spots with people. Family is incredibly important to Remi. While her father was a deadbeat she didn’t even bother wasting thoughts on, she did care greatly for her foster ma’s family. The woman had worked hard to give Remi absolutely everything, and while Adrianne asked for nothing in return, the woman was determined to always care for her. Remi is the dance at theater teacher at Icaria High School.

LEX | SHE/HER | 30 | LEX

#nyx

[argylemnwrites]

Fire Inside

Character: ??? 😮 ???

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu) referenced

Book: The Royal Romance (The Royal Heir, various chapters)

Word Count: ~2100

Rating:  PG-13 (adult language)

Summary: Doing what needs to be done isn’t for the faint of heart. Sometimes channeling that fire inside will bring out enemies, but only the timid worry about that.

Author’s Note: So, this is something pretty different from what I usually write, but the idea popped into my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. I don’t know if anyone else will like this, but I had a lot of fun exploring motivations of this character. I just wanted to dislike this character for interesting reasons, not hate them for dumb reasons that lack all nuance. So, yeah, not trying to defend this character, just trying to make them a dislikable human instead of a silly, annoying trope.

Inspired by Day 4 of the Choices November Challenge - Rage. Tagging all my TRR peeps, so apologies if this isn’t your thing. Like I said, I know this isn’t my usual style.

How did that old saying go? You catch more flies with honey than vinegar? Something like that. She’d heard it plenty of times throughout her life. She just never really understood it.

It’s not that she didn’t get the intent; she wasn’t stupid. But she just didn’t quite get why anyone would want to catch flies in the first place. Swat those annoying buggers away. Let them live their life while she lived hers. Why would you want to attract nuisances when you could scare them off instead? And no point drawing them in to kill them. There would always be plenty more pests coming after them.

But growing up, everyone seemed to tell her she should be more nurturing, more caring. Buying her dolls for her birthday and for Christmas. Trying to get her to care for the chicks after the coyote got into the pen and ate the hen. Scolding her when she hadn’t held Bee’s hand and wiped away her tears with gentle thumbs and soothing words when she’d fallen from the tree and broken her arm, but instead had carried her back to the house, arm wrapped in her own shirt as a temporary sling. But her practical solution hadn’t been enough. She was supposed to tend to her sister’s emotional pain, not just the physical.

They all wanted her to be sugar, spice, and everything nice. Well, if that’s what little girls were supposed to be made of, it never made sense to Leona that everyone seemed to ignore the middle ingredient. You wouldn’t call two pieces of bread on either side of some sliced ham a bread sandwich. That’s a goddamn ham sandwich. So why did everyone think that girls should be sweet little angels, not spitfires full of heat and intensity? 

Leona was never cut out to play the damsel, dependent on someone else. She would fight for herself, fight for what she thought was her due. And she was never going to apologize for being that way. Her fire served her well. It’s how she got out of taking home ec in high school, instead getting herself a spot in shop class. She could live with rips in her clothes that she couldn’t mend well and food that filled her belly without winning a prize at the state fair for its flavors. But if the equipment on the ranch broke down, well being able to fix that herself would save her whole family time and money. And that just seemed a hell of a lot more useful than learning how to be a perfect little homemaker. 

Of course, in shop class, none of the boys or Mr. Linvel had viewed her as anything other than a novelty. She wasn’t sure which was worse, the boys who laughed at her anytime she made a mistake, or the ones who assumed she couldn’t do it herself, always coming over to “help” her. What they didn’t understand is that she never needed their help. They weren’t better than her just because their fathers had taught them those skills already. She would do it herself, no matter how many tries it took. 

Because the world was a harsh place. It never made sense to Leona that she was expected to stay soft. She didn’t understand how anyone could. But all the girls around her seemed to manage it just fine. Cathy and Linda and Susie braided each other’s hair and shared lipstick. They giggled and gossiped and swooned over Chip and Bobby and Kenny. They hugged each other and passed around hankies when those same idiot boys all fell head over heels for the new girl, Patty, with her bleached hair and bell-bottom jeans. They all cried over their Dolly Parton records, moaning about how “Jolene” was their song. Leona didn’t get it. Why waste any time on some boy who was inevitably gonna let you down?

But one by one, she watched them go off, get married, start their families. Cathy caught the eye of some traveling salesman, Linda finally got Bobby to put a ring on it, and Susie moved to Houston to go to secretarial school, but quit and got married 4 months after her first posting. And one by one, she watched them get broken, by bills and mortgages, by baby after baby, by unfaithful and cruel husbands. And as they cried on the front porch, wondering how they got to that point, a not-so-small portion of Leona kept thinking, “I told you so.” She didn’t feel bad for thinking it either. Because she knew what they thought of her. Bitter. Cold-hearted. Bitch.

But she took it all, because she knew that life wasn’t a fairy tale. It’s a series of hardships you just had to face head on. She told her sister that everyday, not wanting her to make the same mistakes that so many of the other girls made. And for a long time, it worked. It was just the two of them and Dad, taking care of things on the ranch. But eventually Bee wanted more. She wasn’t content, always dreaming of something different. She saved her money. Traveled. When she came back, she was full of stories. But she was different every time. Still could pull her share around the ranch, but she was teasing her hair. Had new blazers with shoulder pads in addition to her practical work clothes. Talked about some fancy-ass coffee drink she had at some restaurant. And then she saved enough to go overseas, coming back a few months later, holding hands with some fancy European asshole. Told Leona she was moving to some country called Cordonia to marry that man. Left the ranch without a backward glance, leaving Leona and Dad to manage it all. She made promises of coming back in a couple of years after Jackson’s service requirements were complete, but first a son came along, and then a daughter. And each year that went by, Leona knew that Bianca was never coming back. Sure enough, phone calls promising a move back next year soon became phone calls promising a vacation. The life they had known together was now a novelty, an escape, not a reality. She only did make it back to the ranch once with the kids.

Those two were lost causes, as far as Leona was concerned. Brought up in a world of gold and diamonds, parties and designer clothes. Hell, the boy was best friends with one of the princes. And when she was the one who had to bury Dad in the orchard all by herself, six feet down, right next to Momma, she knew she was the only one left in the family with any common sense or perspective. She just hoped that Bianca remembered a little bit of the toughness she’d tried to teach her when those ass-kissing, stuck-up nobles she’d surrounded herself with inevitably screwed her over.

Leona was surprised that Bianca lasted over there as long as she did, nearly two decades before it all came crashing down with Jackson’s death. But she did crash, hard. Her life fell apart. And who did she call up, but the sister she’d abandoned, left to carry on the family business all alone. And once again, she wanted Leona to be softer. To offer sympathy and comfort. Well, she offered a roof over her head and food in her belly when her so-called “friends” somehow couldn’t be bothered to spare a dollar. That would have to be comfort enough. 

She’d heard Bianca crying many nights. At first, she knew it was over her husband, a man who gave his life for some over-important royals, leaving behind his own goddamn family. And after years of watching her sister struggle to finally heal from that, the crying started again when Drake called, frantic, saying Savannah was gone, asking if by any chance she’d come to Texas. She recovered faster that time, though. Leona hoped that she was finally learning, that she was tougher. Stronger.

But that all came crashing down one fall morning, when Bianca bounded into the barn, telling Leona that not only was Savannah back in their lives, but that she had a baby. Baby Bee was a grandma. Not only that, but she was going back to the hellhole of Cordonia to see this baby and to watch Drake marry some fancy duchess of some sort. She was optimistic and energetic. It was as if she’d learned nothing from her first time there. 

They’d fought, Leona asking her sister how many times she was gonna get her hopes up about that place. Bianca saying that things would be better this time. Yeah, right. Leona had seen enough to know how this would end. Bianca brought her kids up in the world of posh nobles and fancy rich people. It was only a matter of time until they decided they were too good for her again.

But Bee ignored her warnings, not only flying out there for some pompous hoighty-toighty wedding, but offering to host Savannah’s wedding to some frickin’ Duke of snobbery, the same man who knocked her up and then neglected her and the baby not two years earlier. Amazing what you could get away with when you had money.

To make matters worse, Bee invited some motley crew of royals and nobles to come stay on the ranch for this wedding. They weren’t outwardly disdainful, so maybe they did learn some manners from their fancy pants educations, but still. Leona had a ranch to keep afloat. The last thing she needed was to babysit a group of rich kids playacting at being cowboys. 

She felt a little guilty selling info on Drake and his wife to the press. He was the most helpful of the group, and he was family, after all. He seemed to remember a few things from his visit as a child, seemed to have kept a handful of practical skills. But his wife was overeager, annoying, and seemed to think that she had something in common with Bianca and Leona just because she used to wait tables. That growing up in a fancy city like New York was somehow equal to hard, physical labor because she hadn’t been born with a silver spoon in her mouth. If he had chosen to marry someone like her, then he probably wasn’t much different than the rest of them. The fact that they were orchestrating some bizarre political move to get their kid onto the throne just sealed the deal for Leona. So she did what she had to do. Granted, they all ended up being much kinder than she’d guessed them to be. But their kindness wasn’t going to keep the ranch going long term, keep the hands hired and the electricity on. So, Leona kept on selling any info she had. Morality was all fine and dandy when you were privileged, but it had no place in the real world.

It wasn’t until Riley was screaming at her, yelling about how she would never forgive Leona, hand protectively placed across her very pregnant belly, that she saw something more than kind but spoiled little princess. She saw pure anger, fire-forged and intense. She saw rage and hunger. She saw someone that maybe had been hardened by life, but kept that intensity hidden away, covering her true strength with silliness and laughter.

Leona couldn’t be sure, of course. She barely knew the woman, and she had no illusion that she and this woman would be bonding as in-laws going forward, so she probably wouldn’t get the chance to find out. She had never been naive, after all. She knew that bridge was burned. But she wasn’t one for regrets. She’d made her choices, and while she’d hoped maybe her nephew would understand her reasons, calm his wife down, she wasn’t surprised when that didn’t happen. So she went back to Texas, to her parents’ ranch. To her ranch, really. What was done was done.

She hadn’t anticipated her sister’s anger. Bee had never been the overly-protective, Momma-bear type, after all. But she’d yelled, alright. Told her off about betraying the family. Selling out her own nephew. Making it so that Drake and Riley were never going to be willing to bring the grandbaby to visit. Bianca expected grovelling, contrition, regret. But she wasn’t going to get that. Leona had the fire raging inside of her to keep moving forward; she would never apologize for that. And if anyone took issue with that, well that was just their own damn problem. No one else was going to solve it for them. Certainly not Leona. Anyone who expected such a weakness could just go fuck themselves.

Tags: @choicesnovemberchallenge @dcbbw @mfackenthal @yaushie @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @octobereighth @ao719​

#choices november challenge #the royal heir #the royal romance #trr #trh #trh fanfic #trr fanfic #leona walker #bianca walker #choices #choices fanfiction #choices stories you play #playchoices

[deepdaleducks]

Slow Burn - Dele

Author’s Note So I got the idea for this based on a conversation @forza-atleti and I had this morning so I kinda had to write it asap. Idk if I have much else to say, I have some ideas for a second part of this so if you want more, let me know. I didn’t proof read any of it so if you see any mistakes, point them out nicely. I love getting feedback from you guys and I’m really enjoying writing at the moment so thanks for enjoying reading it!! Love you all x

“Hey erm, I kinda have to bail on tonight. I know we said we’d stay home and watch movies but, err, something’s come up and I can’t anymore. I’ll defo see you Sunday though, yeah? I’m sorry and erm have a good weekend.” You’d listened to the voicemail he’d left on your phone what felt like a million times. You knew exactly what the something that had come up was. Or who it was for that matter. His ex-girlfriend, Ruby. They’d broken up about a month ago, but it had been long and drawn out. He would still call her at night and sometimes she’d go to his place. And in the mornings, he would be at your front door, regret on his face, ranting about how he just can’t seem to leave her. How unfollowing her on Instagram didn’t seem to work because his car still knew the exact route to her house, even if he wasn’t planning to drive there. How he’d memorised her number, so deleting it was no good. How she was his biggest weakness. You would make him a cup of tea and some toast and tell him that with time and distance things will heal. That moving on to other people will help him get over her. How spending time with other people would distract him from thinking about going to her house.

That’s how your Valentine’s Day plans had come about. No boyfriends or girlfriends, no exes or drunk dials, just the two of you, friends, together with a movie and a take away pizza. It wasn’t going to be a date, and you weren’t going to tell him. Not that it didn’t hurt when you got his message. Not that it didn’t break your heart a little when you realised that he was choosing her over you. So instead of pizza and movies, its wine and Grey’s Anatomy. And if he shows up tomorrow, its ‘I’m late for work’. But from the look of her Instagram story, a fancy restaurant in the city, he won’t be showing up in the morning anyway.

Your phone buzzes with a text, pulling you from your third episode of the night.

Chlo: Soooooo, how’s your night going?? If you don’t reply I know what you’re up to😉😉 get it girl!!!

When you’d told her about your plans for Valentine’s Day she’s shrieked in excitement. She had been begging you to reveal your true feelings to Dele for weeks and when she found out about his break up, she’d called you immediately saying that this was your chance. You’d insisted that this wasn’t your chance and that if you told him now, you’d just be a rebound and everything would fall apart. Instead you went for the option of being a shoulder to cry on and letting your friendship grow. You typed in a quick reply before turning back to the tv.

Me: He bailed. Back with her, I guess.  

Her reply comes through almost instantly. You pause the tv and head into the kitchen to fill your wine, figuring that if you were gonna be texting for a while you may as well get another glass.

              Chlo: Oh babe.

              Chlo: ….

Before she has the chance to type any more, you change the subject quickly.

              Me: It’s fine. How was your night with Jesse? His leg doing okay?

The two of you had become friends at the World Cup last summer. You’d bonded in the family and friend’s area of the stands over being two of the most outraged people there. You were both yelling over the referee’s poor decision. Somehow that led to you talking and becoming friends. When you’d introduced yourself as Dele’s friend, she’d quickly joked about how she thought Dele had gotten a new girlfriend, and you could tell she’d regretted it. “She doesn’t like me, either” You’d replied, and her face was flooded with relief. Since then, you were constantly texting, meeting up in each other’s city, watching the boys at games.

Chlo: Oi oi, don’t try to change the subject. We’re just having the night in, Jess is fine. Are you okay though?

Her text flashes up and then seconds later a call is coming through. You answer, sipping on your wine before talking.

“Chlo, I’m fine honestly. It’s Valentine’s Day, of course he’s gonna go back to her, I don’t know why we didn’t see it coming.” You say before she can even begin to rant about how shitty his actions were.

“Nah, that was a shitty thing for him to do. Imma be having words, swear down.” You hear Jesse’s voice echo in, realising you were on speaker phone, you chime in a ‘hey Jess’. You laugh at his threats.

“Yeah, babe, everyone and their grandma’s cat knows that she treats him badly. I don’t get why he can’t see that.” Chloe sighs. The three of you were biased for sure, with neither of you being her biggest fan, but it wasn’t hard to deny that she did treat him badly. And you would treat him so much better.

“There’s not much I can do about it though, is there? Like hey Del, break up with your girlfriend I love you more than she ever could. He’s not exactly going to fall into my arms. He’s wrapped around her finger, for fuck’s sake.” You reply, trying to push down any feelings for him that were rising in your heart.

“What are you doing this weekend? You wanna come up and stay with us?” She asks impulsively. Despite your usual plans to see Dele on Sunday, you agree, planning to make the drive up tomorrow after work. “I know your heart is hurting right now, babe, but he’ll see the light eventually. We’ll make sure of it.” She finishes.

“Hell yeah, we will!” Jesse yells from the background. With that you hang up and head upstairs to pack a small bag for your impromptu weekend away.

 When you get out of work on Friday night, you immediately get in the car and begin the four hour drive up to Manchester. The traffic delays don’t phase you, the promise of a warm home cooked meal keeping you on.  Your car pulls into the drive of your friend’s house, the warm lights from inside welcoming you. Inside you find Chloe and Jesse, taking your bag and coat.

“Surprise!” a familiar voice yells, emerging from the living room. You turn to see Marcus walking over to you with his arms open to hug you. “Been way too long, chuck,” he says, squeezing you tightly.

“Yeah sorry, I couldn’t come to see you at Fulham the other week. Work’s been so busy recently.” You respond pulling away. “Alright, not to be rude, but I’m starving so where’s the food?”

The four of you head into the dining room, engorging on a meal prepared by Chloe. Jesse claims to have helped with the cooking but you and Marcus both return with jokes about how Jesse has absolutely no cooking ability whatsoever and that the boy couldn’t even chop a carrot if he tried.

The night passes by with ease, as you share jokes and stories. Marcus talks about the girl he’s been seeing, and Jesse teases that she’s so out of Marcus’ league. The boys tell stories from training and talk about how rough its going to be now Jesse is injured. And Dele doesn’t cross your mind once. No thought about how she was probably in his bed right now. About how things should be different.

 In the morning, Chloe takes you to brunch and then you head out for some retail therapy.  She forces you to buy a new black dress, claiming that you should find a date for next weekend and wear the dress to knock the socks of your suitor.

“You now I’ve tried dating other people, Chlo. I have. Do you not remember Jake? Or Ben? Or that guy I went out with like a month ago!” You protest. Dating other people hadn’t been successful albeit. Every time you found something that felt that it could work, Dele would show up at your door in the night, eyes puffy from crying, voice hoarse from yelling, and you would let him in again. He would fall into your bed, and you’d hold his hands whilst he slept.  He would tell you that he was never going to find anyone else like you. And then he would leave in the morning and go back to her. Like clockwork.

“Yeah but Jake was the opposite of everything you want so that was never gonna work, and Ben was a dickhead anyway. Besides, if Del sees you dating someone else it might make him a little jealous. Remind him that he’s not the only guy in your life, yeah?”  She gives you a look that says I’m right and you best believe me, so you slowly nod your head in response, convincing yourself that her plan is good one.

She’s called into work in the afternoon and you’re left at home with Jesse, who’s still resting from his injury. You flick through Sky Movies together trying to find a film that suits both of your tastes. You want romcom and he wants action which leads to the two of you bickering like siblings over the remote. Pausing as you flick past The Proposal, you turn to look at him.

“I noticed you still didn’t put a ring on Chloe’s finger this Valentine’s then.” You tease, eying his response carefully. They’d been together for a while and you and Marcus had made bets on when they’d get engaged before Christmas, with him thinking it would be in the summer and you insisting it had to happen soon.

“Nah, nah, Valentine’s proposals are cringing as fuck man. That’s so typical. I don’t want her to be expecting it, so I’m skipping Christmas, Valentine’s, her birthday, our anniversary, none of that.” He defends himself, shaking his head.

“Christ, Jess. At this rate I’m gonna be getting married before you and I’m in love with a guy who is constantly going back to his ex.” You joke, the words stinging a little as you say them.

“It’ll happen soon, I swear. Maybe next month, who knows? March is nothing important, right?” He pauses to look you over, “Do you, though? Love him?” His question puts you on edge. No one had ever asked you that before. Sure, Chloe had teased you about your crush and about the fact you liked him. But the word love had never come up. Especially not in this content. Your mind spins as you think, but quickly enough, you have one clear thought.

“How could I not?” You ask, like it’s the easiest thing in the world.

 It’s 9pm before you finally hear from him. You never replied to his voicemail on Thursday and since then the two of you hadn’t interacted.

              Del: We still on for brunch tomorrow morning? I’ll pick you up at 10 x

              Me: In Manchester so I can’t.

Your reply is blunt, but worthy. He bailed on you, so you’re bailing on him. As much as he could have you like butter in his hands, you wanted to show a little distance. The distance crumbles when his face flashes on your screen displaying an incoming call and you answer immediately.

“What the fuck are you doing in Manchester?” He asks with a tone of anger in his voice. “Were you just not planning to tell me you were cancelling on our weekly brunch?”

You scoff in response, “That’s a little rich coming from you right now, Dele. Chloe and Jesse called me on Thursday night and invited me up for the weekend, so I happily accepted.” Throwing in the detail that they invited you on Thursday was done to spite him. You were supposed to see him on Thursday, and hopefully him realising that you had other offers would hurt a little.

“Oh right,” he mutters in response. “I guess we’ll have to do it another time then.”

“Yeah maybe…” You trail off, “Look, I gotta go. I, erm, I’ll see you when I’m back sometime.” Hanging up the phone you leave it in the kitchen, heading back into the living room to watch more tv with your friends. When you retire up to bed you leave your phone downstairs, happy to not be distracted by any social media or messages. Your phone sits on the kitchen counter, 10 unread text messages and 3 missed calls unnoticed on the screen.

 You’re sound asleep when you hear a banging on the door downstairs, followed by three more rings of the doorbell. You slowly pull yourself from the comfort of your bed and throw your dressing gown on, heading out in to the hall to see what’s causing all the noise. Jesse emerges from the master throwing a t-shirt on.

“You stay here, I’ll go see what it is.” He says sleepily. Waiting at the top of the staircase, you hear him open the door and mumble a “what are you doing here, it’s the middle of the night”. Straining your ears, you try to make out the other voice. It sounds familiar and the pieces of conversation you hear help you to piece it all together.

“I need to speak to her…”

“Look bro, it’s the middle of the night.”

“No but I need to see her.”

“I don’t know if she wants to see you… Come back tomorrow maybe, man.”

“I need to tell her it’s over.”

The last thing you hear sends you down the stairs tentatively. He stands there in the entrance hall, joggers and a t-shirt, bags under his eyes, presumably from driving all night, hair a mess, eyes pleading. Jesse looks between you and notices his que to leave, heading upstairs with a whispered shout if you need me.

“It’s over?” You ask, not stepping any further in his direction. He nods weakly in reply. You feel like you’re having déjà vu, flashing back to this exact situation a few weeks ago. You remember him crying, saying those same words. Then you remember him going back to her, and again and again. A bitter taste appears on your tongue and you feel a sudden urge to get a glass of water.

“Good for you,” you mutter, walking straight past him towards the kitchen. He follows you instantly, keeping his distance on the other side of the room.

“Good for me?” He hisses quietly, careful not to make any noise. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means I don’t think you’re telling the truth.” You huff, looking at him tiredly. “It means that I’ve been down this road so many times with you recently, Del, that I’m just bored of it.”

“No, I’m serious. It’s over.” He pleads with you, moving closer. You don’t respond and a silence settles between the two of you for a minute. You stare out the window into the garden and he stands behind you at a distance, facing in the same way. He eyes your reflection in the mirror and your eyes meet. “You know how I know it’s over? Friday morning, we wake up and we agree to go to dinner in the evening, right. And she calls me later saying, she’s invited to some club event and she’s gonna have to skip the dinner, am I arsed about it? No, not really. But then yesterday, hearing that you’re not coming to brunch and that you’re all the way up in Manchester and I had no idea. That broke my heart. Because I pushed you out of my life, and I don’t ever want you to not be a part of my life.” When he pauses to breath you turn around to look at him, leaning back against the counter. “I’ve been pushing you away to be with her and she’s not worth me losing you.”

Everything he’s saying sounds sweet. Perfect, in fact. But he’s still not saying the one thing you want to hear. He’s not saying he loves you, that he’s in love with you. And right now, as much as you want his attention, every second of his time isn’t worth it if he doesn’t love you back. The pain of him being your friend, but not yours, would be too much.

“Okay, well. I, um.” You stutter, lost for words. “I don’t think I can be your friend right now because…” The words are right there on your lips. Because I’m in love with you. You drop your eyes to the floor and attempt to move past him, out from where he’s trapped you in the corner of the kitchen.

“Because what? Because you’re in love with me?” His words echo your thoughts.

His words stop you in your tracks. “How do you know that?” you ask, not turning back to look at him.

“She pointed it out. Ruby. She’s the one who noticed it.” He stops for a minute, hoping you’ll lift your head, or turn around in interested. “She said she could tell by the way you looked at me, or the way your face would light up whenever you talked about me. It’s, uh, why we broke up actually. She was constantly scared I was gonna leave her for you, and I could never see it and thought she was just being jealous.”

If what he was saying was true, and he knew that you were in love with him, why was he constantly falling back into her bed. Why was he still putting her above you in his list of priorities?

“So, what? You know I’m in love with you, you break up with your girlfriend over it, cry on my shoulder and then still go back to sleep with her? None of that adds up, Dele. I don’t know what you’re doing, but whatever it is, it’s fucked up.”

He falters whilst processing your words. “I thought it wasn’t true. You never said you were in love with me and I didn’t wanna just spring it on you and ruin everything. I don’t know what I was doing, okay?” He says louder in frustration, throwing his hands in the air. “I’ve been in love with you since the day we met. But you were dating some guy, and she came along, and I just told myself to forget it. Then she goes and makes statements like that and it messes with my head.”

“You’re in love with me?” You ask, the new realisation sending excitement through your veins. Eyes finally meeting his for the first time in minutes.

“I am so fucking in love with you.” He grins cheekily. Hearing those words come out of his mouth dissipates every negative emotion that you’d been harbouring in the last few weeks. You feel the immediate pull of his gravity, drawing you across the kitchen into his arms. His lips crash against yours in an instant, lighting your entire body on fire. Its urgent and fierce and screams we’ve waited years to do this. When you part for breath, he rests his forehead against yours, and your eyes flutter open to meet his.

“What does this mean?” You ask, hesitantly.

“It means that we’re gonna go upstairs and sleep. Then tomorrow, we’re gonna wake up and I’m gonna take you on a date to get breakfast. And then I’m going to pay to get your car sent back to London, because in the afternoon I’m gonna drive you home.” He gives you another short sweet peck.

Your fingers find his and you drag him upstairs to the spare bedroom you’d been staying in. You fall into bed together, not for the first time, but when he reaches out for your hand like always, this time he uses it to pull you closer to him, and you know that tomorrow, he won’t be leaving.

READ PART TWO HERE

#footballer imagine #dele #dele alli #jesse lingard #marcus rashford #writing #idk what else to hashtag #slow burn

[tysoncoxum2021-blog]

Mr. Lovato Book Report: Tyson Coxum

Shows how brutal and the mass amount of number of Armenians killed during the Armenian Genocide.

This is Constantinople, where Vahan fled to in order to become free.

This is Bitlis, Turkey, where Vahan and his family grew up.

Adam Bagdasarian, author of, Forgotten Fire.

Thumbnail Photo of Character for site

Timeline:

July 28, 1914

World War 1 Begins

April 24, 1915

Armenian and Turkish war begins

November 11, 1918

End of World War 1

August 18, 1920

Women gained right to vote

Winter, 1915

Vahan’s dad is taken away by Turkish police and his uncle goes missing

Winter, 1915

The officers take Vahan’s family to a camp where his sister takes poison and grandma is shot while on a march.

Spring, 1916

Vahan and his remaining brother escape, but lose each other in an altercation.

Spring, 1916

Vahan stays with Selim Bey, a murderer, for shelter and food, but later leaves that place too.

Journal Entries:

1915

    My life right now is absolutely fantastic. I have everything I want or need and there is not a thing in the world that can stop my happiness. I live in a big house with all of my brothers and sisters. I have a mother and father who both live together and give me lots of love. There is always a hot meal prepared for me when I am hungry and there is constantly running warm water for when I take a shower. When I am tired, I know that I have a nice cozy bed to lay down and get a good night’s rest. When I am sick, I can depend on my sister to feed me and help me feel better. Man, my life is great. I belong to one of the wealthiest families in Bitlis, so I am confident that I will always have these luxuries wherever I go. I feel on top of the word, like nobody can stop me. The only thing that is putting a little darkness on my perfect world is that a couple of Turkish officers took my father and uncle away a couple of days ago and they have not come back yet. I know that they will return soon because they have done nothing wrong, but I am still curious why those officers needed them. It is only a matter of time before my dad and uncle come back. Other than that, life could not be better.

A couple months later:

    Everything has gotten so much worse. Remember when I said that things were all perfect and peachy. Well, not anymore. In fact, things are the exact opposite of that right now. I don't have long to write, so I will make this brief. Those same officers that took my father and uncle away came back to my house and ransacked the place. They led us all out into our garden and lined us up shoulder to shoulder. They asked all of my brothers and myself how old we were. Once we gave them all of our ages, they lined my two oldest brothers up against our wall. Then they pulled out there rifles and shot both of my brothers right before our eyes. It was so gruesome and disgusting. That wasn't even the worst part, to be sure that my brothers were dead, the soldiers put their barrels direct on my brothers’ skulls and fired. All that was left was a blood stained wall and two collapsed bodies that were once my brothers. Then, the soldiers took us away to some camp where other Armenians, just like us, were also being held. At this camp, Turkish officers would rape the women that were imprisoned. My sister was so afraid of being the next rape victim, that she drank poison, which later led to her death and end of her sufferage. That is now the third family member that I have seen killed today. I do not know how much more I can handle before I die too. We are being starved, parched, and held in poor living conditions. I cannot talk now, I hear the footsteps of the officers coming. I have to go.

A few weeks later:

    It has been a couple of weeks now and things have continued to get worse. My mom realized that the only way that we have a chance for survival, is if me and my brother escape and try to live on our own.  So, that night, my brother and I escaped by sneaking out the door, crawling through freezing cold water, with piles of bodies, ad walking over 10 miles through the night to a little city. When we arrived, we were instantly faced with the struggle of not being spotted by Turkish police. We came extremely close to being caught, but we were able to duck into a dark alleyway. However, the police were still able to see us, so we ran as fast as we could. Unfortunately, we ran in different directions and lost each other. Now, I am cold, thirsty, hungry, and alone. I do not know if I will see him again, but I really hope I do. He was the one that kept me going when I was cold and wet and had to walk over ten miles. He is the one that protected me and made me strong. Without him, I do not know if I have the strength or energy to go on. I have to do something or else I will starve to death. Tomorrow, I will try to find some food and shelter. Until next time.

   Many weeks after:

    Since last time, things have started to get a little better. I had nowhere to go for shelter because I was too afraid to be caught by Turkish officers. So, I decided to visit my old friend’s, Patoo, house to live with him and his mother. They were also a victim of the Armenian killings because Patoo’s older brother and dad were also shot by Turkish police. They have been so nice to me by providing me food, cold water for drinking, warm water for bathing, and shelter so I can finally get a good night’s sleep. I had to sleep in a closet all the way in the back though because Patoo’s mother was afraid that the Turkish police would come back and search the place. Upon finding me, they would murder the two of them along with myself. However, I was still grateful that she took me in and took care of me as if I was her own child. Unfortunately, the moment I feared has come. I have left her no choice, but to release me onto the street again. Her fear of the Turkish police searching her house grew stronger everyday that I was there. She gave me some food and water for my journey and a last hug before I stepped out once again onto the harsh streets. I will always be thankful for the hospitality that she showed me. Now, I must find another place to stay and survive. I will write again when I have found some spare time, but I must hurry before it gets dark.

Personal Narrative:

Forgotten Fire, by Adam Bagdasarian

    My name is Vahan Kenderian. I was born and raised in Bitlis, a province of Turkey, where I was always surrounded by beautiful scenery. I came from one of the wealthiest families in Bitlis and I lived in one of the bigger houses. I lived there for 12 long years, never having to worry about a single thing, until, things started to spiral out of control. Both my dad and uncle were taken from my home by Turkish police. Both of my older brothers were shot and killed right before my very own eyes. My family was taken to a camp were I saw women getting raped, my sister die of poisoning, and my grandma killed when a Turkish officer bashed her face with a rock to kill her. I was able to escape from the camp with my last brother, left mom and last sister behind, but we were separated during a scuffle.  In order to survive, I had to fight, become a beggar, and even live inside the house of one of the masterminds behind all of the killings.  I managed to escape by pretending to be a military officer in order to travel to a far away town and get help by some very generous people. They were able to get me on a ship to Constantinople, where I was able to be free and share my horrific story with millions. I was reunited with my sister many years later and we lived together forever.

Links Relevant to Book:

https://www.kirkusreviews.com/book-reviews/adam-bagdasarian/forgotten-fire/

Critical Review

https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/144463.Adam_Bagdasarian

Quotes and a little background information about the author

www.cilicia.com/armo10b.html

Devoted to eye witness accounts and family histories of the ordeal.

www.ushmm.org

United States Holocaust Memorial Museum

Historical Links:

https://www.armenian-genocide.org/

Official site dedicated to the study, research, and affirmation of the Armenian genocide.

https://www.history.com/topics/womens-history/19th-amendment-1

Gives background information on the events leading up to women getting the right to vote

https://www.history.com/topics/world-war-i/world-war-i-history

Detailed article about the causes of World War 1

https://www.britannica.com/event/World-War-I

Facts and causes about World War 1

Significant Quotes:

"This is how steel is made," he said, which was what our father used to say whenever circumstances tested our character, which wasn't very often. "Steel," my father said, "is made strong by fire." And this was our fire. But I did not feel like steel.” (55)

Vahan's dad's words are super important to how Vahan develops as a character, and the meaning of the book. It's clear that Vahan needs to suffer to become stronger.

“Strangely, I wondered who would light the street lamps tonight, and somehow all those unlit lamps and the lamplighters who were not there to light them were the most hopeless sight of all”. (31)

This quote shows us exactly how Vahan is thinking about his life. He is not only thinking about what is going to happen to him and his family, but somehow what it means for the community too. It seems hopeless that no one is even around to light the streets or do the day-to-day things that keep a society running.

“But this time was different. This time I sensed that something might be wrong, and every time I'd start to enjoy my freedom, I'd see my father being led away by the gendarmes”. (12)

When the gendarmes take Vahan's dad, he starts to think about his freedom more seriously. It's always been something he's taken for granted, but he now realizes that he might lose this freedom before he knows it.

“If there is any trouble," he said, "take the poison and it will all be over." No one asked him what kind of trouble could be worse than death. They all seemed to know.” (21)

I think it's fair to say that the women in Vahan's life have it worse than the men. Vahan sees first hand how violated they are by the soldiers, and how much they have to suffer, just because they are women.        

Response #1:

    I believe that life is determined by fate and not by the choices you make. This perspective on life has led me to believe that the world is unfair to those who try to do nothing, but good. For instance, my older brothers. They did nothing, but do their jobs and be good sons. This did not stop those Turkish officers from pulling them out of their own house and shooting them in broad daylight. Another example was my older sister. When we were taken to the camp, she took poison because she was afraid that she would be the next rape victim. This is unfair to her and all of the other women in that camp because they did nothing wrong. They were punished just for being a certain race. Therefore, I believe that you can do every right decision there is, but it will not make you immune to what fate has in store for you. I just do not understand why the nicest and kindest people get punished before the wicked people in the world. I think that it is so unfair that all of these good people had to die just for all the monstrous people in the world can  continue to do more horrible things. It just does not seem right. I believe that nobody in the world should suffer, but I would rather have the wretched people suffer over the people who do nothing wrong.

Response #2

    I define success as overcoming all the obstacles in life to get what you want and earned. I believe that I have achieved success for many reasons. The first reason is that I am finally free. I no longer have to run and hide every time I see a Turkish officer. I no longer need to worry about whether or not I am going to eat today or have a place to sleep. All of my worries of being captured and thrown back in that camp again to rot and suffer are gone. The other reason that I believe that I have achieved success is that I am finally happy. Even though these last 5 years of my life have been filled with darkness, death, and suffrage, I have finally made it to a point in my life where I can be happy. There is not a single day that goes by without remembering the murders of my family members or the suffering in the faces of others. However, it was this dark and brutal time that helped me understand that life is truly valuable and you should cherish every last moment of it before it is gone. Without these experiences, I would not be the man I am today. I have overcome so much in the last few years and now I get to tell my story to the world. I get to help people understand the important life lesson that you do not live forever, so you should make the most of life before it is too late.

Response #3

    I have multiple people in my life that are important to me. However, there are three people that I would not be the person I am today, without. The first person is my sister Oskina. When I was sick, she would help nurse me back to health and she was someone that I could always rely on for help. She was like a second mother to me. When I escaped the camp and left her behind, it was like I left behind a part of myself. I was lost, until we were reunited. We have been inseparable since. The second person that means a lot to me is my older brother, Sisak. When we escaped from the camp together, he was the one that helped me keep going forward. He pushed me through the freezing water, the 20 mile trek, and kept my mind off of starving to death. Without him, I would have stopped and been a part of all the other bodies who became victims of the genocide. I owe it to him that I still have my life today. Unfortunately, he died of an illness during the genocide when we were separated, but his soul and strength remains with me at all times. The last person that really means a lot to me is my father. He is the one that helped me keep my dignity and strength when things got tough. If it wasn’t for him, I would have been some low life beggar for the rest of my life. He also died during the Armenian Genocide, but I will be sure to carry his legacy on for generations to come. I owe it to these three people that I am the man I am today and I will always be grateful for what they did for me.

Response #4

    If I could change one thing in my life, I would change that my family was never split up. If this happened, we would all be living in peace right now because the war would be over. We would be able to live without another worry about being captured or tortured again. We would be able to suffer through things together and be strong together, instead of being separated and weak on our own. We would be able to help comfort one another when things were not looking so good for us. It would be hard at first, but we would know that we were going to be just fine. That soon all of the suffering will be over and everything would be able to go back to normal. The things that we survived through would only make us stronger as a family. We would practically be invincible because we went through so much together and nothing would be able to break our cemented bond with one another. This would be impossible to have, since everything has already taken its course, but it sure would be nice to have my family with me.

[thestudyfeels]

Hello There!

Just a note: This is some real important stuff. ONLY read if you have like 10 min at hand. Otherwise, bookmark this and save it for your Sunday afternoon because this is truly about to change your life. No clickbait here, I promise.

I’ll hands down say that this is the most important thing you will read today. And if you, like most people, spend your time alternating between why does my love life suck ass and whining, “ok, but honestly, climbing Everest would be easier than tackling the mountain of homework Miss Honey assigned” then this is surely the most important thing you’ll have ever read in your life.

In fact, if you blindly stumbled upon my blog and wanted to check out what shit I write, let this article be the lucky one.

Get excited (beat your chest like King Kong, play this song and jump up and down like a bunny) because I’m about to change your life. Or not. Most of it depends upon you making the decision to. Alright, I'll get into the juicy stuff soon, Wilma. First hear me out. I’m about to drag your lazy ass out from your broom closet and out into the sun. I’ll make you feel guilty in this post. Not cuddle you or “understand that you are trying.” I won’t tell you that you’re a champ and “dreams are made of roses.” Because you’re not. At least not yet. And not to be a party pooper, but roses have thorns too. Just saying.

Instead, I'll try my hell best to make you realize that you're simply not doing enough. Caught yourself scrolling through your Insta feed when you’re supposed to be writing an essay? Aha!

In the end, I’ll try to get as brutal as brutal can possibly get, because homie? Life isn’t a joke. Stop living like it’s one.

Ok, So What’s This Bubble Anyway?

In the past 6 months, I’ve read a thousand self help books (Or was it 2500? I mean, legit, each tree in the forest had to die). All of them, yes every single one, had one thing in common that was literally being screamed right in your face. GET OUT OF THAT BUBBLE.

In the self help community, the bubble is known by different names - Ego, The Mist, Big Snooze, that old, grouchy librarian in your high school who particularly hates you for no reason. I like to call it the bubble. Bubbles are cute. Except this one.

The bubble is what locks you in a cage of fear, ignorance, negative friends, and everything else that isn’t shiny. It prevents you from seeing how awesome this world is, how powerful you are, the many opportunities that await, and how good it feels to be alive.

The sad part is that even though we are born free, a beautiful bundle of fearlessness and courage, we get trapped in this bubble as we grow older. The even sadder part of the story is that most people spend their entire lifetime in this bubble. They don’t bother with risks, don’t feel that they deserve to be loved, underestimate their potential, never see their dreams as a reality, and prevent others from doing their own damn thing.

They would rather waste their precious time whining about the horrible beans Mrs. Brown is serving in the cafeteria today.

"Why Get Out? I Like Bubbles."

Hon, if you're into bubbles, you've got stockholm syndrome, but trust me, you DO NOT want to be in it.

Don't you want to push past your limiting beliefs, knowing that everything you want to achieve is possible? Then, you’ve got to come out of the bubble. Don’t you want to let go of your fears, rise above them, and learn to commit to your goals? Then, come out of the bubble.Don't you want to shoot for the stars, become successful and leave a legacy behind? Then, GET OUT OF THE BUBBLE. I want you to create the life you want with the belief and drive that your entire life depends on it.

Because guess what? It does.

If you are still reading, it’s probably ‘cause you're realizing you're more lost than Dory was and maybe some parts of your life aren’t looking too good. Or maybe nothing’s going great. You were probably just heading out to look for free beer and this caught your eye. Well, forget the beer and listen up. Let’s get high on life here.

Everything you want is possible. And no, I’m not an astrologer saying things like “Jupiter hates Saturn. Saturn, however, has a crush on Mars. Therefore, now is the time to poop.”

Here, lemme give an example from my life.

Two years ago, I was living a crappy life. I had a bunch of very sucky friends, I was insecure about myself, seeking validation from those sucky friends again, failing at school (and life), and had self-esteem buried deeper than the Mariana Trench.

Two years later, I have two good ol’ homies for whom I can die for (and they for me) and many other friends who are freaking awesome. I am neither insecure about who I am nor do I take no shit from anyone. I’m not afraid to voice my own opinion and I’m killing it, both at school and at life. My GPA has never been higher, and neither has my self-satisfaction level.

So what changed? I still have the same body, the same bad eyesight (lmao) and the same obsession with One Direction. What changed was my perception about myself and what I can achieve.

But how did it change? I’m going to be that author and say, GET OUT OF THE BUBBLE. It's the evil bubble that's doing sneaky shit. It’s what convinces you that what you dream is impossible and you should choose something “sensible”. Basically, society’s opinion in one sentence. Not yours.

Now I ask you. Is this the life you want to live? Ordinary and boring? Doing what your parents want, what society wants, not what you want? Why should society’s opinion matter? Are your fears more important than what you basically breathe, your dream? In the words of John A. Shedd, “A ship in harbor is safe, but that isn't what ships are built for. They have to face the stormy seas.” In the same way, even though you might have to overcome thousands of struggles and doubts on the way to your dream life, you can’t simply give up and be like “Screw that. I’m okay with this babysitting job. I mean babies puking isn’t even that bad. C’mon.” Every human is meant for greatness. It’s honestly time people realize that. Burst out of the bubble already.

Popping The Bubble

So when do people wake up? It’s only when people find themselves in a near-death experience that they wake up transformed, realizing how every moment is valuable, and every day a chance to pursue their passions. They wonder how they could have led such a shit-ass life a week back and take action asap. This is because it’s only in these events that we realise, humans are mortal, and it’s a blessing to be alive.

Annnnd plot twist. Even then, society’s all like, Wtf Shane, are you really going to quit this really comfortable job to start a bakery? What about that bone chilling debt you are in? What about your two children?? Do you even know wtf you’re doing???

Like hello?! Of course Shane knows that! But he would rather live his dream life than die with you whining about the mushy beans at his funeral.

Fortunately, you don’t have to have a near-death experience to flip the tables. It’s all about making the decision to change. Getting out of the bubble is truly all a mental battle. You're either in it, or not, there's no halfway. Once you choose to make a difference in your life, there's no going back.

And as scary and maybe crazy this might sound, trust me when I say this - It is nowhere as bad as you waking up one fine day, realizing that you wasted years upon years, and still haven’t created a life meaningful to you. The regret will crush you. That, not the struggle for success, will break your heart, but then it’ll be too late. Too late to live your dream life, find true love, meet new people, and leave your mark.

Heck, you'll even feel guilty for 'forgetting' to water the plants, mate. I guess you 'forgot' to live your life too.

The only way of popping the bubble is by killing your past, confining beliefs. By truly believing in your dreams and the fact that they will be a reality one day. When we were kids, our innocent minds believed everything. What, a fat, red (possibly a tomato) man is going to drop down the chimney, eat up my Oreo cookies and leave gifts because I've been nice? Why shouldn’t he? That is how I want you to believe in your dreams now. No matter how crazy they are, just believe in them. Don't lose that conviction, don't listen to others. Blind faith, give me that.

Because you see, so many people today end up regretting their lives. They don’t live it when they have the chance, and in the end, they realize that Shane was right. Now he has a multi-million dollar bakery business and they're stuck at the same high school as the janitor.

[ I’ll tell you how to slay every single thing that comes your way in another post (don’t throw those tomatoes at me, lmao) but for now I want you to simply have faith in yourself. It's been known to move mountains. ]

The End Card

So what’s limiting you? Your lame friends? Leave them. Your stupid fears? Forget them. Your doubts? Drop them. Your life awaits, my darling. Make the choice to live it.

Finally! If you’re ready, here, take this pin (I used it to puncture society’s ego) and burst that bubble. Don't let that pin give this crazy adventure called life a flat tire.

Hopefully, this changed your life. I would like to end with a warning - The worst mistake a person can make is by delaying the good stuff. These are the people who end up with the most regrets. They say they’ll workout when they get done with this big project. They will change their lives radically when they have time, love more and become a better human tomorrow. That’s bullshit in its purest form. You’ll find them making the same excuses the next day.

Point is, time waits for no one. It’s flying by. Your life is happening right now. Tomorrow will be no different. So take action now. Sooner or later, you’ll find yourself as a 50 year old grandma, regretting the opportunities you missed out on, if you don’t give your all today. Is there something you’ve been wanting to do since Ice Age? Start on it today. Now is the time. One last thing. At the end of your life, the only person you’ll be accountable to you will be you. So be sure, be very goddamn sure, to live true to yourself.

I’ll be here cheering for you the loudest.

want to read more? view the other masterposts in the series “get your shit together, you are here to conquer.” :-

general tips for getting your shit together

loving yourself and letting go of negativity

understanding the meaning of your life

taking control of your life: a 3 part series (click here to view)

Well, it’s a wrap! I post new articles every week (the schedule’s up on my blog’s front page) so you can follow me if you are interested in killing the game & conquering life bc I’ll do my best to help you in the tough yet amazing journey called life.

If you want to go thru my blog, I would rec picking your choice of post from my masterpost list! Or, if you want to read something insightful on your cozy Sunday afternoon while chilling under ‘em blankets, I would rec reading one of my interviews. Feeling spoilt for choices? Here’s another! If you want to implement the ideas I share in my masterposts by taking action - take on one of my challenges! + you can also request a blog post! For that, leave your question in my ask box!

I hope you are well, stay strong and conquer life, you conqueror.

- nandini (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

#unicorn studying #getting your shit togther #*gyst series #*bubble #ref #lifestyle #change your life #inspiration #studyplants #obsidianstudy #studyquill #uglystudies #moonshinestudies #artemistudying #athenastudying #studyblrmasterposts #natastudies #studyblr #scholasticus-medicinae #*life

[leam1983]

On Autumn

I call these chilly, wet days with bright colors and overcast skies the Dying Days. Nature's nowhere close to dying, she's just tucking herself into bed. No, what's really dying is a chapter of life itself. Maybe I see too much syncronicity in this, but defining moments in my life usually happened somewhere between late August and late November.

Today felt like one of those days: colorful, vibrant, chilly, with the earth smelling of decay outside the office - and everything telling me to get the Fuck outta Dodge while I still can.

The Big Boss is in denial. He's repeating to anyone who'll listen that the chip shortage is on its last legs. It's not. Appointments and referrals are in the pits, our no-shows are through the roof, and our clients are down to basically begging and groveling, plastering superlatives on dogshit rebates and hoping beyond hope that calling Joe Average for his 2014 Corolla's going to land them a buyback. My call center colleagues are filling in for the satellite teams that handle tire-change season for local garages. Hours might shift to a nine-to-five to reflect this, which I don't mind.

That covers October, and only October. November is usually dialed in months in advance, ahead of the Holidays, and now we have nothing. The salesforce might see its hours slashed within a week. I'm fine, being on the Production team, but the Sword of Damocles is still up there, all dangly-like. For the second week in a row, we've got nothing planned for Friday.

Next week? Hey Google, play The Twilight Zone's theme.

All because the global chip shortage is driving prices and import costs up the wall. Things get spread out across the chain, but the consumer ends up picking up the saltiest part of the final tab. It's hard to present anything as a great deal when you're looking at a 10% upmark cost for even last-gen sedans. That means no buyback offers. That means no clients for us, and those that do hang on are told to revise their expectations.

When I took the phone, I used to be able to bring in fifteen, maybe twenty referrals and appointments a day. Now, with the same skills and toolset, I bring in three. Sometimes five or six, on my better days - and that's for the mid-range and high-end sectors.

Try calling in and around factory and manufacturing districts. Try convincing a young mother that's already struggling to make ends meet in the midst of the Delta wave that shouldering a debt in the tens of thousands is worth it when her car's barely six years old.

Fuck, no.

The call center's deserted, our huddles turned into the seven or eight remaining regulars hashing things out around the coffee machine, and it's gotten harder than ever to keep the froshes motivated. Now, more than ever, they're aware of how upper management sees them.

They're disposable, and it pisses me the fuck off. We're some of these kids' first job ever, some of my youngest colleagues are still in their mid-teens - and the fun they had over the summer's evaporated. Now we're just the breadline they need for their smartphone contract or their tentpole console and PC releases. The breezy ones turned into cavalier types, then turned brazen - then stopped giving a shit. Four of them are playing hooky almost weekly. Instead of addressing things responsibly, the floor manager's pacing around the lanes and aisles, taking anyone aside who isn't transfixed with their desktop's set of Web apps.

"I'm afraid you're not giving us your 100%" is something I've heard several times over the past week, now. She's given it to me, too. I used to think Floor Manager Boss Lady could look fierce when she needed to - a moderately non-cliché Girlboss type - and now all I'm seeing is a cornered animal. Whenever she reports back to The Actual Boss, it's with taut skin and deepening worry lines. She's terrified.

The veterans feel it, too. Apart from their pension, the paycheck made their modest lives livable. Now, though? Those with enough strength left are scrambling, and those that can't are in the process of navigating HR's darkened halls to try and find an exit that doesn't land them on the unemployment line. Half of these guys' work is starting to look like the kind of stuff you'd see pushed around work placement agencies: pages and pages of LinkedIn printouts and Indeed screengrabs.

The Actual Boss is spending more and more time at the gym. He handles things well, but you can tell that there's a punching bag, somewhere, that's taking the blame for everything from the strikes in South Africa's silica mines to the various manufacturers' head offices being stuck trying to keep the shareholders in line with offers that aren't too generous.

Others don't have release mechanisms. Some colleagues of mine stormed out of the floor manager's office, cussed out shitty scripts in full view of Production team members or just stopped giving a shit. Our metrics are getting worse, which makes people feel worse.

People openly talk about looking for other jobs. In Quebec, at least, etiquette demands that you don't publicly discuss job-hunting while on the clock. There's been several reprimands, already.

As expected, nobody gives a shit. I sure as fuck don't. I don't give in to the temptation, but I also haven't worked my own authority as a fill-in supervisor all that much. I shield the other supers, all the while nodding at the mouthier types and adding I feel ya on the after-hours Discord group.

I've got three interviews lined up. Work's already notified. Supervisors and floor boss accepted that with looks of quiet resignation, but Actual Boss came up to me, offered to give me a raise out-of-pocket (assuming I didn't tell anybody) and more or less begged me to stay.

We get along well, but I also get along with girls in Accounting. How's it going to look for me if I drink from that cup and one of these girls notices weird extras in my slips? I can't do that, not in good conscience.

One of the sales reps took me aside, a few days back. They're not fazed yet, they're partly paid by commission. They make cash even out of sales they cinch outside of our referrals and appointments.

"You know why you'd never really hack it as a salesman, Brain? You're too nice. You empathize too much."

I realized that this was coming from the rat bastard in the salesforce; the salamander who's okay with pricing overused and worn-out demos as close to Stock price as he could without breaking the law.

I smiled icily, took a swig of coffee. "Yeah, it must be nice knowing you'll just go back to the same four Nissans and that you won't ever have to confront a customer's dissatisfaction. Betcha you sleep real well, at night."

He didn't pick up on my sarcasm. "They're just opinions, bro; I'm just here to deal, y'know?"

Sure. Deal away. In the meantime, some of my colleagues have been driving the same busted sedan to the point of being ordered by the cops to get their cars towed in for servicing - all because they can't structure their budget around a broken part that costs two hundred dollars to fix.

I caught one of my older colleagues weeping, alone in the cafeteria. An older lady, sweetest person you've ever met; everyone's Favourite Grandma, no matter the lack of blood relations. She was crying, because she wasn't sure how she was going to afford Christmas presents for her grandkids.

I hugged her after sanitizing my hands, social distancing be damned. If it weren't for my Disability Savings Account, I'd be forced to stick my inhalers on my Visa.

I figured the end of my tenure there would feel like a big, huge nothing-burger. Woop, one office - and zoop; another office!

Instead, it feels like I'm watching clumsy hunters trying to work out how to put a lamed hunting dog out of its misery. Doom and gloom around the water cooler, either in the meatspace or on Slack.

Time to send more resumés - except I'd rather stop and hug more people for a few days, first.

#work stuff #real life

[dat-town]

Definition of Beauty

Characters: Seokjin & OC (Bona)

Setting: college au, photographer au

Genre: romance, fluff, slight angst

Warning: mentions of past bullying

Summary: Define beauty, I will define love.

Words: 6.4k

Previously titled Pose. Click. Kiss. on AFF.

“Okay, everyone. Today’s topic is beauty. Let’s talk about what beauty means to you.”

Mrs. Son is an excellent professor blessed with all the skills needed to gain attention of lazy ass college students who only signed up for her class in hope of a good grade without much effort. She's intelligent, open-minded and strict about deadlines. Her strong persona makes her an ideal role model for girls in this man-driven society. Hence her creative art class was Bona's favourite and no wonder why she takes the advanced level this semester. She hopes for even more challenging projects like the ones she enjoyed most last year so she's always an active participant in class. A few still cough nerd behind her back but she doesn't care because at the end of the day she's the one getting an internship at a good company and not them. Her dream of leading a successful career in the future keeps her going.

She raises her hand up high asking for permission to speak up. She doesn't mind starting any discussion because someone has to break the ice. Last year, she was that someone every single time. It set a routine. That's why when professor Son breaks into a lovely smile she's ready to talk but instead of pointing to her, the woman's eyes are glued on someone else behind her.

“Yes, Seokjin?”

Who? Bona's ears perk up at the unfamiliar name. She lets her hand fall bayk by her side while turning around in the seat to look at this kid. Her eyes scan the area behind her in the occupied lecture hall until they fix on this particularly gorgeous guy. There must be something about him that catches people's interest because he hasn't even muttered out a word and dozens have started to gossip. Maybe it’s his broad shoulders hugged by a white button-up or his delicate features, maybe the light brown locks hovering over his eyes or even his fashionable thick framed glasses. Still, Bona isn't fazed by his appearance, nor by his manly voice when the burble finally stops and he speaks up.

“I believe beauty is in details and without doubt, in finality. We're so obsessed with planning ahead of us, we often miss important moments. It’s enough to look at the Korean school system. Their evanescence is what makes everything beautiful and precious. Every beautiful thing has an expiration date. We want to prolong it, capture it and the beauty industry is living on the desire of staying young and pretty, preferably forever.”

He has an interesting approach, Bona admits but she raises her hand once again.

“Ah, Bona, go ahead,” the professor coos.

“I think Seokjinssi misunderstood the question,” she says diligently and raises her head to look at said guy sitting three rows behind her. Now he's carefully observing her with his tentative gaze while tapping his pen's end on the paper simultaneously. He raises an eyebrow in question so Bona explains further “He only considered the outer aspect of beauty, like the way we appreciate a sunset or someone who will age. What does numbers, such as age, really has to matter? Why couldn't be a grandma beautiful? Just because she's loved by her family. Or the Great Wall of China. Yeah, it's a tremendous but it's a great achievement of the human race and it's standing for thousands of years now. I think beauty doesn't have a limit. It comes from within.”

“You say this like beauty has to come with something worthy,” Seokjin argues flatly.

Was that even a question?

“Of course.”

“You know that the Wall was probably built by thousands of slaves, right? It's just a show-off of a Chinese Emperor,” he snorts and disapprovingly shakes his head. His bangs cover his eyebrows but his gaze doesn’t leave Bona’s face as he continues. “You can ask around but I'm sure if we would pass around pictures of a sunset and Stonehenge or a grandma, sunset would win. People are attracted to the more appealing things even if they are morally low. Terrible scenes could be pictured beautifully too, like natural disasters.”

When his words are swallowed by anticipating silence, it’s her turn to give voice to her thoughts again.

“But that's not beauty. That's judging the book by its cover.”

Anger boils up the blood in her veins when she snaps at him. She doesn’t like Seokjin’s zoomed-in view on the topic. Not even one bit. She likes to appreciate the big picture, the details and their connotations altogether.

“Real beauty is inside, in its meaning,” she insists talking louder than the ocean of whispers around them. She can only see that boy with raised brows and an amused smile. She’s sure her gaze is judging but doesn’t care when she’s trying to make a point. “A lullaby sang by a mother. The twinkle of happiness in a stranger's eyes. Words of philosophers living through centuries.”

At that, Seokjin giggles. Literally giggles! Like what the hell? How old is he? Five? And how dares he laugh at her in front of hundreds of students?

“You're being a hypocrite,” he says lightly with nothing hurtful or offending in his tone. As if it was a simple observation. “Everyone has prejudices because of looks, some just hide it better than others. You, on the other hand, are failing miserably.”

Well, that was insulting.

“What makes you say that?” Bona glares at him and gets prepared for what comes next. Though, she can’t prepare when the harsh words feel like a slap.

“The fact that you put me down as a pretty boy with no brain the moment you saw me.”

“Uh, burn,” a guy lets out a horse-laugh a few seats away from her and a lot join him. Bona feels her face heating up in embarrassment and she hates it.

“Okay, kids, enough. You can continue this outside of the classroom later but we still want to hear a few more opinions,” Mrs. Son interrupts their argument just as Bona has a witty comeback to tell Mr. Know It All where to get off.

Thus, she’s left with only fuming. Right now, she wants nothing more than to leave and never see that flawless face of the arrogant ‘pretty boy’ again.

The class goes on like nothing happened for another thirty minutes when...

“Okay, lesson’s over. Don’t forget the pair project about beauty due to next month,” the professors wraps up the lesson nicely but before anyone can leave she adds: “Oh, Mr. Kim and Miss Shin, come here please.”

Bona grits her teeth when she walks down the aisle towards the teacher’s desk. She isn’t in the mood to get scolded for her impulsive behaviour. Usually, she’s a reserved and calm person. Well, until someone gets on her nerves.

She gulps visibly when the three of them gather together and refuses to meet the eyes of Seokjin. Looking around the lecture room aimlessly is much more interesting until Mrs. Son clears her throat requesting their attention.

“I appreciate your passion about my course but what we would like to do is discussing, not arguing. Please respect each other's opinion.”

“Yeah, ma'am,” the guy nods while Bona mumbles out a sorry.

Professor Son’s smile is reassuring yet full of authority. “Don't be but I would like you two to work together on this project to sort out your disagreements.”

Wait, what? Bona gasps not believing her ears. All of her plans to have a quiet semester without stress go to Hell immediately. She hates teamwork with strangers.

“But I’ve already chose Dami,” she whines like a child but she can’t say no to Mrs. Son.

“I'm sure she won't mind. I hope you will get along well,” the professor waves a little without waiting for their answer and takes her leave. Bona’s struck there dumbfounded.

“I can't believe it,” she mutters to herself while adjusting the bag on her shoulders. Creative Art classes always went smoothly for her but now she feels betrayed. What did she do to deserve this? Let’s say hypothetically that she was wrong (which she wasn’t but still), does she have to be cursed with this arrogant stranger’s presence for another month? Really? What kind of punishment it is?

Bona knows it’s rude but she just wants to leave to have a good coffee and forget this awkward lesson ever happened. Unfortunately a puppy face stops her on her track.

“Wait a little, partner,” Seokjin shouts after her, grabbing his bag from the desk and runs to the door where she snarls at him:

“What?”

Bona wants to make it clear that she wouldn’t wait for him forever to groan out what he wants. The fact that they have a project together doesn’t mean they have to become BFFs.

“Hey, I just wanted to apologize. I guess I was too harsh,” the guy rubs his nape bashfully. A nervous habit maybe? Otherwise, he seems totally unfazed by the whole situation as if he was totally okay with working together on this assignment no matter their opposite opinions.

She snorts.

“Calling me judgemental and hypocrite? Yeah, you definitely were.”

“Sorry?” he flashes a shy smile although he doesn’t seem like the shy type. More like someone who was born with a golden spoon in his mouth and have been growing up among praises.

“We started on the wrong foot. I'm Seokjin, but my friends call me Jin. My major is photography,” he introduces himself dutifully and bows a little. Bona mirrors his actions out of habit.

“Bona, journalism.”

Keep it short and simple, she tells herself. Maybe they can actually manage a mature conversation like adults do.

“I haven't seen you around much,” she makes an innocent remark referring to his absence from previous classes. He doesn’t take the hint.

“Well, yeah. You're a second year, right? I'm in my third and I don't live on the campus anymore. Maybe that's why,” he shrugs while opening the door wide and lets her walk out of the room before him. His reply could explain why she didn't remember him from last year's course but she only hums in acknowledgement.

“So I guess we should start brainstorming about our topic soon,” he brings up as they are manoeuvring in the hallways towards the exit gate of university.  

“I have already decided,” Bona replies casually like it’s no big deal while Seokjin stands there with mouth agape. She knows her attitude must be testing his patience.

“What? But...  Ok, nevermind, what's it?” he catches up to her quickly with his long limbs and sounds sincerely interested.

“Independence. Equality. Freedom. Justice...”

“They're moral ideas,” he cuts her off with a confused expression.

No hell, Sherlock, really? Bona rolls her eyes. Ever since Mrs. Son mentioned the topic she knew she wanted to do something unique. She could have written little stories with excellent, mesmerizing writing style, jaw-dropping vocabulary and adjectives that only a few know. It could have been without a plot, just a description about the unearthly experience of seeing the sun rise and set. It could have been beautiful but not for her. Not anymore. Not when she thinks beauty can’t be in vain.

“Yeah and they're beautiful.”

Well, he can’t argue with that but his almond brown eyes are still searching for answers. Glowing in the darkness of the place like bright stars lighting up the night sky. It’s not fair. From up-close he’s even better-looking.

“And how you wanna portray them?” the question throws Bona off. She didn’t think about that.

“Well, we have to figure it out, Picasso.”

Seokjin pulls a face at the nickname and reminds her. “I'm into photography, not painting.”

That’s when she catches a sight of a clock and panics.

“Okay, my next class is in 5 minutes so here's my number. I'm free on Wednesday evenings, Friday night and Saturday before noon,” she scratches down a row of numbers on a ripped paper while talking. She despises being late.

Seokjin nods in understanding, wrapping his fingers around the tiny piece of paper.

“Got it. I'm gonna text you,” he promises.

And texting he did. No other than:

Kim Seokjin: Are you a carbonara or jajangmyeong person?

Are you for real?

I'm not playing this game.

Kim Seokjin: Come on, it's not a game. I'm curious.

It depends. If my mom makes it, her jajangmyeong is delicious but I like Italian cuisine.

Kim Seokjin: You're being difficult again.

Nothing new.

Kim Seokjin: And you're quite bitter.

Am not.

Bona would like to say that Seokjin is an arrogant and unbearable asshole but in reality he’s far from that. She should be glad because he seems genuinely enthusiastic about their project. He follows her on social media and sends her various pictures about beautiful things constantly, most of them are likely to be his own works: a park, roses, scenery of Seoul, balloons, someone laughing so hard he hides his face… And more: just snippets of their fragile beauty. Such as cherry blossoms before they dry, birds before flying away, neon lights under the dark city sky and food! He’s so into cooking, it's almost unbelievable for a college student. He could have been a culinary major. His Instagram feed is full of photos of either food or selcas. He likes to show off his pretty face along with his cute dog Jjanggu.

Oh, not like Bona is stalking him online. Even if she did, he’s way worse: he stalks her in real life. Luckily, he’s not creepy or rude about it. Sometimes they grab a coffee together when they meet in Starbucks or he stops by at a course she’s taking just to drop an idea about their project. It’s actually easy to get to know Kim Seokjin because he likes to talk. You can chat with him about everything and he’s too nice -the kind who helps grandmas on the street nice. But she doesn’t want to be deceived. Perfection is only a fragile illusion of the mind.

Kim Seokjin: Are you a romanticist?

I don’t believe in love at first sight. So no?

Kim Seokjin: Idealist?

Most likely.

Kim Seokjin: Vegetarian?

No.

Kim Seokjin: Good. Tonight’s the opening of this new Thai place and I’m taking you with me.

Kim Seokjin: ...

Kim Seokjin: If you want.

Okay. I can’t wait.

Kim Seokjin: REALLY???

Kim Seokjin: I mean cool.

“Yah,” Bona fishes out her phone of her best friend’s hands. Nara laughs hysterically.

“You will thank me later. He seems like a dream guy,” she pinches Bona’s cheeks to melt her frown but she doesn’t like to be treated as a child.

“Emphasis on seems,” Bona grunts out that makes the other girl pout. Nara’s voice is tiny and kind when she dares to say the name that shouldn’t be said:

“Not everyone’s like Dojung.”

The name that rolls off her tongue is heavy and cold in Bona’s ears. She feels a tug at her heart-strings. Words taste like dry sand in her mouth.

“I know.”

It doesn’t change a thing.

Sorry. It was my best friend.

I'm busy tonight but if you insist we can go after we finish the project.

Kim Seokjin: So raincheck it is. Okay.

Their - sort of but not really - friendship revolves around the Creative Art project and arguing about beauty constantly. They don’t get fed up anymore because they have learnt to respect each other’s spaces (more or less). They often grab a drink while brainstorming together between classes but the first time Bona meets with a friend of Jin’s, they get together in a small coffee shop near the university. When she arrives, her eyes unconsciously wander to the senior student who currently chit-chats with a waiter. The guy has the weirdest mint green hair and a sarcastic laugh when he lets out a grumble:

“You're really okay with representing beauty with these ideas like sex equality? That's ridiculous.”

“I think it's interesting. The way she sees the world,” Seokjin shrugs and pushes his bangs aside. There's something mellifluous in his voice. “She's so fond of this but sees the world without colours: only black and white.”

Bona snorts loudly as she gets closer.

“Black and white, huh?” Bona mumbles when she sits down in front of him. She has to bite back an insult so instead she takes a moment or two to look at the waiter. “Then can I have an Americano, black with ice?”

“Well, well the infamous Bona. Seokjin just won't shut up about you,” he ignores her order and teases the older with a gummy grin.

“That's a huge overstatement,” Soft, awkward giggles escape Jin’s mouth and pink blush creeps on his face. He must have talked quite a lot. He motions towards the pale, manga-character looking guy. “He's Yoongi, by the way, my roommate.”

“Nice to meet you,” the waiter nods then excuses himself to hurry and make her an Americano. When the two of them is left alone, Seokjin rubs the back of his neck a little nervously.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough”, she says nonchalantly, not really caring about what she heard. She believes in the freedom of speech and expression. Only if he respected her opinion she would do the same. Most of all, she doesn’t care one bit because she has way more important things to do. “But we're here to discuss our project and not your home life and how much you tell your roommate.”

“Sure. I’m all ears.”

“I’ve written some drabbles, short stories about why these ideas are beautiful but we should make it visual, you know hit the big screen.” her voice is dripping with sarcasm towards the end. It’s obvious she isn’t really keen on the idea of shooting a short movie just for this project. Seokjin doesn’t take offense or he’s totally oblivious about the irony. He nods running his long fingers through his silky locks.

“Agreed. I’ve also thought about acting out scenes representing your weird ideas about beauty.”

It’s no surprise that there’s no malice in his voice when he say weird. Maybe it’s the difference between them: Bona is quick to judge and very much headstrong while Seokjin is so open for new things he welcomes even the oddest ideas.

“That could actually work but I'm not an actress.”

He flashes a warm smile.

“You're presentable. That's what matters.”

“Geez. Thanks,” she rolls her eyes and Jin laughs. He has a nice laughter without doubt. That kind of high-pitched giggles that makes everyone smile around him. His beautiful almond-shaped eyes turn into crescents and strangers stop on their track just to look at him. Not in the judging way but a curious one. Bona wonders whether he got any offer by modelling agencies.

“To be honest, I actually have a theatre major friend and he could bring along someone to play out your drabbles. Is it alright?” Seokjin suddenly sounds serious. His facial mimics are so expressive, Bona can easily pinpoint his mood… At least, she thinks she does.  “Are you perhaps available on next Saturday?”

“Yeah. Saturday is good,” Bona notes it down in her schedule book. She just wants to get over with it. “What do you think about Han River as a location?”

Seokjin purses his mouth and touches his chin. His gaze averts outside of the window looking lost in his thoughts. “Isn't it too cliché? And crowded at the weekend?”

“Right,” she clicks her tongue in irritation. She would have been more grateful if he had actually did something instead of just criticising her ideas or occasionally accepting them. “Maybe Namsan then?”

Seokjin hums approvingly with a glint of happiness in his eyes. There’s a snippet of excitement in those chocolate brown orbs.

“That could work, the atmosphere and the lights are considered ideal. Where do you live? I'll pick you up.”

Bona has always been the suspicious kind. Careful with her private information so she doesn’t answer right away.

“You have a car?”

“Well, as a photographer I need it. I have a lot of equipment and I can’t carry a tripod on subway all the time,” Seokjin shrugs. His reasoning doesn’t sound like something mommy’s little boy would say. Maybe he really did work for what he has. Bona likes this idea more than she thinks she should.

“I live in the dorms on the east side of campus. I'll meet you there at 10.”

Jin’s smile is just like his laughter: bright, vivid and genuine. It makes her want to smile as well.

“There you go. Enjoy your treats,” Yoongi returns with a tray and two cups of coffee. They both thank him and it’s borderline awkward when he leaves too soon.

Then it happens. The door opens, the bell rings cheerfully and time freezes. Bona looks up ready to comment on Jin’s choice of place, but her face is painted white, all colours drained out. Voices mingle together and Jin's face fades away. Suddenly she feels dizzy.

“Hey, Bona? Do you hear me? Are you okay?” the low panic-painted grunt is coming from afar. It sounds slurred almost as if she was under water.

“I... I have to go,” she stutters and stumbles to her feet without having a slip of her drink.  Her breathing is laboured, voice raw and it feels like the world collapses on her. Or it only happens in her?

Everything is a blur. The door, the street, the people. She doesn’t even know where she’s going. It doesn’t matter, just away. Away from him.

“Bona, wait!” Seokjin calls after her, catching up to her as if his life depended on it. He’s a little out of breath when he carefully touches her shoulder. Bona shakes him off impatiently and annoyed.

“Leave me alone.”

Gosh, why does her voice break? It’s hurting her ears. Doesn’t it enough that she’s already hurting everywhere else?

“No, I won't,” Jin counters and grabs her shoulders with a little bit more force to make her stop moving. Her eyes are red because she struggles not to cry. She looks terrified. “You look like you saw a ghost.”

“Because I just did. He's dead to me.” she says relentlessly and sobs while trying to hide behind her hands. Her voice is cracking and she can’t shake off the feeling of shame because of her public breakdown. “Oh God, I'm so pathetic.”

Seokjin shakes his head violently. He pries her hands off her face and lifts her head to look at her properly. Warm reassurance is swimming in his eyes, his fingers are soft against her skin and his voice is dripping honey.

“No, you're not. You can be weak sometimes and that doesn't mean you're any less strong.”

Bona is staring at him for a long time before she finally, finally let herself cry. Tears are soaking Seokjin’s pink dress shirt but he holds her close nevertheless. He soothes circles onto her back while she clings onto him silently asking him not to let go.

Things get better after. Even though Bona doesn't talk about what happened, she feels more at ease beside Jin. He acts like nothing wrong ever happened but from time to time he's more careful with his words. He's still blunt but don't blame her for being bitter anymore. He doesn't expect an explanation either. They start hanging out more. It begins with walking together to Creative Art class and sitting next to each other. Sometimes they share lunch boxes. Despite any of her protests, next thing Bona knows, she's having a coffee at the place Jin's roommate's working. Seokjin makes sure that she would sit with her back to the door in a little hidden corner.

It has also become a daily routine to talk via SNS if they can't meet. Seokjin often asks her to have a bite of every new receipt he tried out. She doesn't have to worry about food anymore. Also, she has to get used to being photographed almost every day. The guy takes his major seriously, always carrying around one of his cameras and snapping photos here and there. Bona hates taking selcas, she feels uncomfortable under the unknown gaze but Jin never demands her to pose. He likes to take photos of slices of life when she doesn't know. Like that time when she changed the burnt-out bulb in her dorm once he was over. Or when after they helped two foreigners on the street and she laughs at Jin's broken English. On every single picture he takes, she looks ephemeral and beautiful. Nonetheless, she makes him promise to delete these later. But deep-deep down her heart flatters because of his little habit. Although he may be the same with everyone since he likes to take photos in general. She wonders why it pains her.

Kim Seokjin: Are you ready?

Her phone pings on the day of their shooting. Bona is staring at her reflection in the mirror and wonders if Jin sees her differently. She's not that skinny or graceful like other girls. She hates wearing skirts and isn't really keen on shopping or going to cosmeticians. She can be quirky, picky and stubborn as a mule. She prefers superhero movies over stupid American comedies. Funnily, they bond over Disney movies and playing video games at Jin's place. They argue a lot about who's better but he has someone to play with and Bona always gets dinner so it's a win-win.

Bona never had guy friends before so she doesn't know what to feel about all of it or when Jin opens the car door for her like a gentleman. Inside of the car a cheerful voice of somebofy with boyish features greets her from the backseat.

“Dude, nice to meet you. I love the concept. Jin said it was your idea. Unique that's for sure.”

“Uhm, thanks?” Bona isn’t sure how to react. The boy introduces himself as Taehyung, a cute dongsaeng of Jin when the older starts the engines. He’s bubbly and way more talkative than the quiet girl with cold appearance next to him.

The drive is filled with Taehyung’s chirping, Seokjin’s laughter and not-so-subtle glances between Bona and the photographer. She can’t really pinpoint why but this shooting feels like the end of something. The end of this month when they had this bond or something. After this, there’s no project and no reason for them to hang out for its sake. What will happen to them after?

She tries to dismiss her concern during the shooting which goes surprisingly smooth. Jin gives her the upper hand to act like a director and give out orders. Meanwhile, he’s snapping pictures quietly and recording short scenes when she says so. They work well together and their ‘cast’ is talented too. At the end of the day, they can wrap it up nicely. She should be satisfied. Yet, she has this uneasiness in her heart for some unknown reasons.

The light footsteps and honey sweet voice take her by surprise.

“Tae said they would catch the bus home so they left early.”

Bona looks up to see Jin smiling lightly like he always does. It brings out his soft features which create a perfect contrast with his sharp jaw-line. She averts her gaze. Why does he have to be so sinfully handsome?

“Have you finished packing?” she asks instead of commenting on it. She stays completely still when Seokjin sits down next to her on the bench. There’s a convenient distance between them: not too far, not too close. Just like their relationship is on the edge between strangers and lovers. They’re somewhat friends but not really.

“Yeah and checked some of the videos. I’d give it a week to edit the material.”

Great, they will finish in time. She should be happy but she doesn’t say a word. Ahead of them the clear sky is swimming in carmine and crimson colours. There are no clouds, no threats of upcoming storms, no crowd. Birds’ singing and tourists’ murmuring are faded into the view.

Sunset from the top of Namsan Tower is indeed undeniably beautiful. Bona agrees however she still seeks for meaning. It doesn’t take too long to find it in the reflection in Seokjin’s eyes or in the melody of his voice. In him.

“I wanted to be an actor.” 

His confession is so sudden and raw, Bona can’t help but stare at him. He doesn’t turn his head, eyes focusing on the scenery.

“It was my childhood dream and I actually applied to the uni’s theatre major. I thought I was good, at least mediocre but they rejected me. One of the judges said at the audition that I'm nothing more than a pretty face and they're looking for talent there. The bruise I got that day hurts every time I meet students who learn performing arts. You know, it’s like ripping off a bandage all over again.”

Then there’s silence and Bona’s throat is dry. She would have never thought that this warm-hearted boy of all people was discriminated because of his looks. He seems like someone who have been praised his all life and had everything served on a silver plate. Spoiled and narcissistic. Even though he’s confident in his face, he’s not egoistic at all. He spends most of his times behind his camera and not in front of one. He could easily become a model with his looks but he’d rather capture beauty through his lenses. It has always made her curious.

“Then how you got into photography?” she wonders out loud.

“That's actually a funny story. I got an old polaroid camera from my grandma when I was a child and I liked taking photos ever since. After they turned down my application, it was Yoongi who sent in a couple of my pictures. You can imagine how surprised I was to get a congratulation letter on my university entrance. I'm truly grateful to him, because now this is what I want to do all my life.”

Jin’s eyes light up as he talks about it. It’s obvious that he truly loves doing this. He catches Bona off guard when his gaze suddenly drifts to her but neither of them looks away. Under the starry Seoul sky, she can almost feel the breeze of ocean, a scent of home just by looking at him. He doesn’t feel real. Like a midsummer night's dream.

He doesn’t have to ask what’s her story. Bona tells him anyway,

“I’ve loved reading ever since I stumbled upon Harry Potter. I used to dream about becoming a famous writer. Now I know better, I’m not that talented but I want people to hear my voice. I know I can’t force world peace but I want to stop bullying and I wish people would be more considerate towards each other.” Wishful thinking, something only a dreamer would say. But Bona is one and she doesn’t even try to deny it. She casts down her eyes before continuing. “When I was a kid, I was mocked a lot because of my weight. By the end of high school I’d become thinner and Dojung noticed me.”

His name tastes like salt and regrets on her tongue. She’d like to spit it out. To forget and move on. Maybe telling someone about him would help. She wants to give it a try.

“He was the most beautiful boy I've ever seen,” Bona gulps loudly, her heart is already panicking at the thought of him. She can breathe again when a soft hand takes hers intertwining their fingers comfortingly. “I fell so hard. I was in love with his smile and everything about it. It took me a lot to figure out he's rotting inside. He manipulated me, making me skip dinners with family, abandoning my friends and studies just for him. Freshman year, he dumped me; he said I wasn't enough. I was alone and had a rough semester. I finally just started to get a hold of myself when you came along.”

It’s a mistake for sure but Bona dares to stare into Seokjin’s chestnut brown eyes. They’re passionate yet caring just like when he has a camera in his hands. The fondness in his dark orbs never fails to amaze her. He would never put pressure on her. He’s waiting patiently for her to collect her thoughts and open up. Bona drowns in his kindness.

“I had a hard time trusting you because you reminded me of him. You really don't have any similarities except the fact that both of you are beautiful.”

“That's offensive. I'm sure I'm way more handsome,” Seokjin gasps dramatically with his free hand on his heart pretending he’s offended. It makes her laugh.

“Probably you are but your flaws are my favourites. They show you’re human, too,” she says gently playing with his crooked fingers and admiring his lopsided smile.

But will she be ever enough? For him? For anyone?

During the following week, it’s hard to decide whether they’re friends or more. They never talk about it yet grow closer day by day. Their project video is finished in time so both of them claim their regular seats (now next to each other) in the lecture hall in ease.

Mrs. Son smiles at them knowingly when she enters the room. When she clears her throat, every pair of eyes focus on her.

“Good morning everyone,” she chirps and in the silence her footsteps are echoing in the room. “I’d like to thank you for all your submitted works, I love the different ways you interpreted beauty. Today we will discuss the three most creative and interesting projects.”

Excitement spreads among the students, murmuring about odds and grades. The whispering is fading away as soon as the professor switches on the computer to let them see her choices one by one.

“Look at these different interpretations and after we have seen all three, we’ll talk about them.”

The first project is an oil-painting. At first, it's really chaotic. The audience need a moment to realize the purpose of iridescent colours splattered on the canvas. The background is black and silver showing the universe, but there are Hangeul characters for the word beauty and it contains tiny replicas of famous paintings. It's the most beautiful collage Bona has ever seen.

The second one is a contemporary sculpture built of cosmetics bottles and cans. It symbolizes a women's submission to the beauty industry. Bona really likes this approach.

“And last but not least, my personal favourite! Miss Shin Bona and Mr. Kim Seokjin, congratulations! Your work was captivating and it reinvented the meaning of beauty.”

Others clap either cheerfully or not interested at all. Bona is so excited she grabs Jin's hand under the table without a second thought. His long slender fingers fit into hers perfectly like two pieces of puzzle.

Bona is proud looking at their short movie with Seokjin's actor friends. While they follow the screenplay she's written about siblings during the French Revolution. She's ready to clap after the last scene but then the boy next to her presses her hand a little while their movie keeps playing. She has seen the mp4 file he sent her the day before and it should have been the end. There shouldn't be clips about her. Although you can't really say it's her because she is never shown directly. Just her hands, back profile, eyes, smile... never her entire face. She’s smiling at the camera carefree and happy because she didn’t know Jin was planning to use this. There’s also voiceover, a monologue in Seokjin’s narration that takes her breath away.

When it ends for real, Bona doesn’t even hear Mrs. Son’s comment on the subjectivity of beauty and love, she’s storming out of the room. She can hardly breathe but it’s not a panic attack. It’s something else, something overwhelming.

“Bona, wait! I’m so stupid. I thought you’d like that. Sorry, okay? I-”

“I can't believe you did that,” she snaps at him when he finally catches up to her and both of them stand still in the empty hallways. Seokjin rubs the back of his head nervously.

“I thought it was romantic. I suck at confessions.”

“Really? And that was your idea? In front of the whole class?” she rolls her eyes but she can’t hide her smile anymore. It’s almost impossible to stay mad at him for long. “Gosh I can't believe I like such a dork. “

“I like you more.”

He says it so casually, so genuinely open that it makes her heart flatter. She can hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. She clears her throat, suddenly antsy but instantly relaxed when he touches her wrist lightly like a butterfly kiss.

“So… to answer your question: I’d love to. It just caught me off guard.”

Seokjin’s relieved laugh must be one of the most beautiful things of the world. Maybe the 8th wonder. “Huh, I’m glad then. I was so afraid I misread you.”

“And what now?” Bona questions because they’ve already done so many things couples do. Except anything involved kissing or talking about feelings.

“What about an official couple selca?” Jin suggests and digs out his cellphone from his pocket.

“So boyfriend material,” she teases but there’s no edge in her voice. It’s soft and adoring.

“What can I say? Photography major,” his boyfriend shrugs and prepares for the shoot nevertheless. Scooting closer, making a fishy face and starts counting. “Okay, on three: one...”

Pose.

“Two...”

Click.

“Three!”

Kiss.

Wait! WHAT?

Pink plump lips touch her already flushed cheeks and the camera snaps.

“Yah!”

 beauty /ˈbjuːti/ noun

a combination of qualities, such as shape, colour, or form, that pleases the aesthetic senses, especially the sight.

a beautiful or pleasing thing or person in particular

Beauty. It's everywhere around us.

Beauty is independence when she's cooking alone. She could ask for the help of a mother's or a friend's but she decides not to. She can do it all by herself.

Beauty is equality when she insists to pay for her share in a coffee shop or when she changes a light bulb on her own because she doesn't need a man.

Beauty is freedom when she forgets about deadlines and burdens for a day and just has fun.

Beauty is justice when she gives herself instead of faking it and beats my ass at Mario Kart.

Beauty is complex, ethereal, strong, unique. Just like her. Her features. Even her flaws. The depth of her soul. She's more than enough.

Beauty is love when I look at her and offer my hand. Love is beauty when she looks back at me and meets me halfway.

That’s beauty: you and me together, today and tomorrow… if you would like to.

#bangtan bookclub #sfwbangtan #bts writing squad #btswriters #stories #look what i found another piece i forgot to post here #bts fluff #bts jin fluff #kim seokjin x oc #bts jin oneshot #bts oneshot #photographer au #college au

[blinkerfluidcars-blog]

Dear Ford, Don’t Forget the Drivers

Pictured above is my ‘14 Focus ST, the first (and only) new car I’ve ever purchased. 

Welcome

First of all, welcome to BlinkerFluid, and thanks for taking the time to check it out. For a long time, I’ve wanted to start some sort of car-centric social media whosamuhwhatsit, with a nice balance of substance and humor (hence the page name), and I finally took the jump. I hope you enjoy it. This first post turned out to be a mini-book, but I needed to get it off my chest after Ford’s recent announcement. After all, it’s what finally got me off my butt and up to the keyboard to write for you fine folks.

I got a bit of shock the other day when, before I’d rubbed the sleep out of my eyes, I came across a post someone shared in an ST Facebook group I joined. Ford announced that it was axing every car in its North American lineup, except for the Mustang. Of course Ford can’t kill the Mustang, and they shouldn’t. They’re axing the cars in the lineup to expand the offerings of crossovers, SUVs, and trucks. I also read that a second car would remain, or rather it would be brought to the American market from Ford’s product lineup in China. They call it the Focus Active. I understand it’s more of a mini-crossover than an actual car. Will there be an ST variant of the Focus Active for the real drivers? One that would replace the current ST? Since Ford plans to offer an Explorer ST, I’d say the chances are good. But will the car be good? It will certainly be taller, which doesn’t help when it comes to performance. Right now it’s hard to say if the car can be worthy of the ST name, but Ford has a lot of questions to answer. And seriously, an Explorer ST? Yeah, there’s a track ready driver’s car. Let’s see how many pennies we can squeeze out of this ST thing before we kill it. And here I thought autonomous cars were the closest threat to drivers’ cars.

Will the real drivers please stand up

So what do I mean by the real drivers? Well, it’s simple really...and if you’re spending your valuable time by reading this, odds are you might be one too. I believe that there are two types of drivers: Drivers and Commuters. Drivers are the glorious misfits like you and me who enjoy the sport of the drive. We get behind the wheel for the fun of the drive, not the destination. We take the long way home to get those few extra minutes on the road (or off). We relish that connection between man and machine. When we’re not behind the wheel, we think about being behind the wheel. We watch Smokey and the Bandit, and the Cannonball Run, and yet another Fastest/Furious movie. Why? Because Vroom. That’s why. And we’re a damn proud bunch.

Then there are commuters. Commuters aren’t bad people, but they just don’t get us drivers. “Why spend all that money on a car?” “Why customize a car?” Commuters climb into a car to get from point A to point B. That’s it. They drive a stock Toyota Camry with mismatched hubcaps. *Shudders thinking about hubcaps*. They drive a car like they use a washing machine. Why? Because a vehicle is really nothing more than an appliance to them. I have to give Motor Trend the credit for that comparison, having read a number of articles where they compare the Camrys/Accords of the world to being automotive appliances. Just soulless. 

What is being lost exactly...

I’m going to focus (the pun really isn’t intended) on the ST/RS vehicles. When Ford launched the Focus ST in 2013, and later the Fiesta ST, they demonstrated that they understood the drivers. A vehicle that offers ONLY a manual transmission? There’s the mark of a real driver’s car if ever there was one. YOU WILL NEVER SEE A COMMUTER DRIVE A MANUAL. EVER. And the STs were affordable. Affordability was what drove the original 1964 1/2 Mustang to such enormous success. The ST was launched at exactly the right time, too. Can you imagine if the previous generation Focus had been given the launch of the ST? That car was hideous. 

The Focus ST is a fabulous car. It’s quick, fun, and always feels like it’s ready for more action. There’s a slew of other things I love about my car. Although I can’t speak from experience, I understand the Fiesta ST is also an excellent car. The Focus RS is in another league, and it’s a highly respected track car. When Ford offered these cars, it demonstrated that it understood there was a market of drivers who were looking for sport in something other than a Mustang. I’m not targeting the Mustang in the least, but it’s influenced to fit the desires of a wide range of buyers. You see, sometimes commuters fancy themselves enjoying a sports car. Good for them. You can see that influence in the Mustang: Auto transmissions are very common, the cars are a bit hefty with some optimization for commuting, and the price tag can climb pretty quickly with the wide range of optional equipment and features. You don’t see that influence bleed over into the STs and RS. You have colors and several trim packages from which to choose and that’s about it. Why? Becuase in this market, cusomization is huge, and creature comforts and little gizmos aren’t the primary concern. That money is better spent in the aftermarket realm.

The timing for the ST/RS cars was right because then CEO Alan Mulally, the man who deserves every bit of credit he received for saving Ford, brought over the long-desired European Focus that American drivers actually wanted. His philosophy was straightforward: build the best damn car because that’s what the customers want. It involved globalizing the Ford product line and using its strengths from each geographical market to produce the best cars (and cut costs drastically). If you get the chance, I recommend reading “American Icon” by Bryce Hoffman. It’s got a slight feel of being Ford propaganda, but the company gave the author unprecedented access that revealed how close the company was to total collapse, and what it took to save it.

Let me get to the point

Ford’s recent announcement feels like they’ve forgotten Mulally’s philosophy. And their deep-rooted history in racing. Just look at the Henry Ford II/Carroll Shelby fight to defeat Ferrari in the 1960s at Le Mans (read Go Like Hell, by AJ Baime). The decision feels like an affront to those of us who would have remained loyal to the ST/RS brand. It feels like the company’s primary goal is to make money, not cars. Let me be clear: I know the company needs to make money, and take care of the stockholders, and bla bla bla. I get that. And I don’t like to brag, but I own literally tens of dollars worth of Ford stock. I’m sobbing into some Jacksons as I write this.

What bothers me is that the move to an almost entirely crossover, SUV, and truck lineup is a decision that was driven by the hoards of commuters who flock mindlessly to dealer showrooms demanding such utilitarian vehicles. But here’s the thing: Commuters are flaky. They want the trendy, shiny object, regardless of what it is, and regardless of the brand. They buy their cars like they buy paper plates. They consider them disposable. The case is not so with drivers. But we are on the losing end, because we will never be a majority in the buyers’ market.

History repeats?

What really grinds my gears about this whole ordeal is that according to one article I read, Ford is cutting billions of dollars from its engineering budget. It’s unclear whehter they’re moving the investment away from engineering, or if they’re saving that much by cutting the cars. But if they plan to add models that don’t currently exist, I don’t see how they’re going to do that without investing in the engineering budget. They must not have long memories in Ford’s boardroom, because the Big 3 nearly went extinct when the economy tanked in the late 2000s. Ford, GM, and Chrysler had been neglecting what was important (the customers) for decades, and the cars they were building (with some exceptions) reflected the lack of investment the companies made in them. They were in the money business, not the car business. 

The only reason Ford didn’t have to take a bailout was because they finally woke up and saw the disaster looming (losing billions of dollars each quarter). The other 2 had to declare bankruptcy and were actually owned by the U.S. government for a while. Part of the price that GM had to pay was killing some of its brands in an effort to cut costs. The long-neglected (and recently resurgent) Pontiac was killed and it was a damn shame. Just as the G8 was launched. And yet Buick survived. The only reason Buick survived was because it was making serious money in China, it sure as hell wasn’t making that much off of Grandma and Grandpa back here in the states. Either way, Buick was making money now, and that was the ticket to live. It didn’t matter that Pontiac had a bright future. 

In response to Ford’s recent announcement, GM says that it remains committed to cars, whatever that means. They’re all a bunch of appliances, minus the Camaro/Corvette. Good appliances, but appliances nonetheless. I'd love to see a Cruze SS, I think it could be a really great car. Dodge showed serious potential with the Dart, but killed it before it really had a chance to solidify itself in the small car market. An SRT Dart could have been killer! I love the Challengers, but like the Mustang, they're heavy, and expensive. Committed to cars or not, it seems all 3 American automakers are far more focused on building utilities and pickups. Even Mazda has moved away from its long and rich history of building driver's cars to building cars aimed at the commuter market.

I finally got to the point

Unfortunately, it appears that the bean-counting has begun again, at least at Ford. And as a true-blue Ford man, I am so disappointed in that. I’m not stupid, I know the company has to make money. A small, sad, soulless part of me almost admires how bold the move is...I just don’t like what that move is. So the big question for me is, will the Focus ST survive, when the new model arrives from Ford’s China lineup, and will it be any good? I sure hope so, but right now I’m just waiting on answers. Meanwhile, the drivers who came to Ford for the ST and RS are already eyeballing other brands for their next ride. Brands that will continue to offer true driver’s cars.

I didn’t write this inaugural post to bash Ford, by any means. I wrote it to make a point...that the drivers of the world shouldn’t be forgotten. We aren’t all racecar drivers, but driving is a sport for us, nonetheless. And that matters, plain and simple. As I develop this blog and add more writers, I plan for it to be about all things cars. Stories, photos, fun, whatever. 

Thanks for reading!

#ford #st #focus #drivers #drive #cars #gm #chrysler #blinkerfluid

[lukeysgirl]

The Note Tree ❋ L.H. Pt.10

Part T E N 

Summary: A cherry blossom tree, residing at the farthest part of the schools courtyard. Nobody dwelled there, and you didn’t care much for it. Until you kept hearing one song played over and over, with lyrics changed to touch at your curiosity. They knew you were listening, and one day you gave in and made your way to the pink tree. Waiting for you, a series of notes tied to a single strand of string.

Word Count: 5.5k+

AN: blAH here’s part 10 for you guys! im making this finally a bit more eventful as it was going slow. but here you guys go and i really hope you enjoy it very much! remember, 100 notes pls and thank you :) xx 

Parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty.

I M A G I N E 

Wednesday

“We are taking the seniors to a trip in the woods!” The principal announces into the black entity worth of a microphone. 

Everyone was told to file into the auditorium immediately when the doors were opens and the morning announcements echoed through the corridors. More specifically, the seniors were requested. So, you trotted into the large room with ease, your friends easily finding you in the crowd as you chose seats towards the very back, left corner of the theatre. 

It was an extraordinarily large theatre, might you admit. The cozy, cushion red chairs were ornate in rows of three, each horizontal row owning about 12 seats before going down to the next ones. Overhead was another floor of chairs, just for the sake of using more space and having a cooler, higher sight to see kids reenact the horrid tragedies of Shakespeare. Because, honestly, what other play writers do people actually know that deserve to be mainstream? 

“Y/N, are you okay?” Alexis hummed beside you, nudging your shoulder gently in pure concern. 

“Yeah, I’m alright,” you croaked, your elbow planted upon the arm rest as you leaned your cheek against your fist. You lied; you were actually sleep-deprived and starved. After the tutoring with Luke, you were too stuck in thought due to Luke’s damned words and shameless stripping as his way to learn. It bothered you so much so that you couldn’t capture one wink of sleep. You were up all night, wondering in the dark about this blonde, blue-eyed dolt. 

“You don’t look too well,” Des hummed, bringing her gentle hand to plant it upon your forehead. The coolness of her fingers sent goosebumps around your body, but you ignored it with ease. “Your forehead is a little warm…” 

“I doubt I have a fever, or any sort of sickness for that matter,” you said in a hush tone, your eyes focused on the principal, who (in your head) started to sound like a character from Charlie Brown. Des relieved her hand from your forehead, exchanging worried glances with Alexis as Des turned to pat Savannah to inform her. 

“A few of your professors are currently handing out permission slips, regardless to those who are already 18 or above,” Principal Michaels spoke, having you chuckle from the way he held the wooden podium. The pale-white, brown mustached, green-eyed authority stood at the podium all high and mighty like he was some sort of god. “I apologize for such short notice, but it’ll be for this coming Friday and we should come back by Sunday…” 

You sounded him out, unable to keep up with his annoying, raspy voice. With not even a hint of sleep, you couldn’t be asked with a monotonous lectured about a trip that only needed 2 basic sentences: “we’re going camping” and “here’s what you need by Friday.” You understood that nobody could religiously follow you in your energy conservation belief, but you knew as fact that your fellow classmates were bored out of their asses. 

“Nice sweater,” chimed a male, pretty familiar voice, behind you. The girls turned, with the Principals’s voice acting as background to find Nathan right behind you. Sweater? How uncultured. But nonetheless, you looked down at the new Linkin Park sweatshirt with ease and released a curt smile. 

“Thanks,” you spewed simply, slowly focusing yourself on getting a few minutes of sleep as your eyelids began to sink down. So sleepy… if only I could just doze off for a few minutes…

“Y/N.” Nathan’s voice spoke right into your ear, having you snap your neck away and open your eyelids. You divert your eyes over to your right shoulder, where Des sat and Nathan’s face appeared at your outer periphery. “Are you tired?” 

“Just a bit,” you spat simply. “But keep in mind it’s morning and I’m in school, forced to study and interact with the likings of you, Nathan.” 

“Yeesh, cold,” Nathan hummed in offense. You saw a bit of his fluffy chestnut hair bounce to the front of his forehead, having you smirk. You recalled how Luke said he had ‘stolen’ Ashton’s haircut, and he was very true on his similar it was. But then Nathan’s eyes met with yours and an influx of Luke’s ocean eyes came into your mind. “You must be real tired if you’re this crabby. Want a supplement?” 

As Nathan dug into his pocket in search of his offer, Des brought her hand up and slapped him on the back of his head. 

“Fuck, Odessa,” Nathan groaned, using his free hand to rub the future bruise. “The fuck was that for?” 

“If you drug Y/N, I’ll literally rip out your eyes with my nails,” Savannah hissed, flashing up her pastel nails with fake diamonds encrusted upon it in a rather adorable form. Des quickly grabbed the blonde girls wrists, muttering ‘down girl’ as though she were a dog. 

“Relax,” Nathan spoke quietly, throwing his hands up in defense. “I’d never drug sweet little Y/N here. Besides, I know she isn’t gonna take it anyways. I just decided to offer for the slight chance that she should.” 

Already annoyed, you pull on the hood of the sweatshirt over your head. You ensured every spec of hair left out was tucked it kindly before folding your arms over your chest. Alexis did you the favor of gently placing her hand on the side of your head and tugging you over to lean on her shoulder. You emit a yawn, feeling tears well up in your eye sockets as you studied the several shadows of heads in front of you, blocking the view of the Principal. 

Your mind suddenly began to wander over the whereabouts of Luke R. Hemmings. You hated yourself for a brief moment, but succumbed to the reality of things: Luke is now someone kinda important. You couldn’t really explain to anyone, moreover yourself, but Luke is so persistent that he’s managed to put himself in your small circle of people. Fuck me, you thought. This is so annoying. I never asked for this. 

“Now, for those who have attended this school since middle school know how this very trip works,” Principal Michaels hummed, having you roll your eyes as you forced yourself awake for his blabbering. It might be important. “But this year we have decided to… revamp a few traditional customs.” 

The camping trip, though annoying, was an infamous tradition in the school. It was a 3 day trip to hell in which you ‘become one with the woods’ and ‘get closer together with your fellow campers.’ But basically it was a trip full of boring activities that included getting splinters when climbing trees, doing a safer version of sky lining, and getting wet in some lake. There are groups of 4 with teachers as the leaders and each team tries to rack up enough points in order to get some ‘cool prize.’ 

Your guess was an sharpened pencil that said ‘College Bound!’ or some corny shit like that. 

“This should be shit,” you muttered under your breath, feeling Alexis snort from your response. 

“A few e-mails showed up in my inbox with a more fun suggestion for the trip,” Principal Michaels hummed excitedly, reminding yourself of an old grandma content to receive several rolls of yarn. “So we’ve decided to allow students to be the camp leaders instead of our staff.” 

Several quiet chatters and murmurs ensued as you allowed your eyes to droop shut. 

“Maybe I can be a leader,” Nathan hummed, leaning once again on your chair as you felt his eyes on yours. “Would you like to be on my team, Y/N?” 

“I’d rather choke on acorns,” you replied bluntly, your eyes still shut while nuzzling nicely onto Alexis’ shoulder. Des snorted, having Savannah, reach over to rub your shoulder in praise. 

“You never fail to break my heart, Y/N,” Nathan coos, having you snort quietly as you resumed paying attention to what the superior had to say. 

“Unfortunately for those who wanted to be leaders,” Principal Michaels says with little to no sympathy. “The leaders have already been chosen.” 

Annoyed banter ensues as several students begin to chant their ‘boos’ and idiotic complains. Nathan shouted ‘that’s not fair!’ right behind you, having you hiss at him for producing such ear cancer from his mouth. You sat up, relieving Alexis’ shoulder as you decided to see the leaders step up and pretend like they’re the shit. But your eyes widened in great surprise to see the 4 alphas of your class to walk across the large stage before everyone. 

Front and guiding the other 3 was Luke Hemmings, which honestly didn’t surprise you all that much. Luke was always off doing something to get the attention, even if he wasn’t trying. But there he stood, as lanky and covered in black as usual. His curly hair was even more messy than before, seeing it more damp that it should be. Probably didn’t bother trying to dry it and add the disgusting chemicals the businesses call ‘hair care products.’ 

Oh, and following them was the deliciously tan Maori boy Calum, the pale party-monster Michael, and the sweet, and only mature one of the quad, Ashton. 

And, of courses, while the other male seniors groaned in annoyance, the rest of the girls broke their voices in cheers. The most you heard was the chanting of Luke, obviously the favorite for being the lead dog and audacious man who was anything but tame. You heard girls squeal, ‘I hope I’m in Luke’s team!’ and other very explicit terms you wanted to ignore. Your eyes scanned the area to see the red-headed, blue-eyed monster stand excitedly, waving desperately to get Luke’s attention. 

But even Nadia couldn’t capture the attention of the pair of ocean orbs. He looked around, his rouge lips stretched to form a lovely smile as he looked around the auditorium. You watched as he slowly made his way to your row, having you being to sling down to avoid contact. But the blonde asshole was too quick and spotted you, his pearly whites coincidentally shining as he shot you a wink. You huffed, rolling your eyes as you saw a student dash from his seat in the front row to go to the stage. He offered his hand up for a slap, in which Luke stretched his arms in pleasant surprise before bending down to slap his hand. You looked away, closing your eyes in hopes to fall into some sort of deep, 10-minute nap. 

“Simmer down, all of you!” Principal Michaels scolded, forcing your eyelids up to see his old, wrinkly hands wave the flood of students down. They’re already riled up, you thought. How the fuck are you gonna explain this? “They suggested the idea– it was only fair for them to be the leaders of the camping trip!” 

“Do they even know how to be leaders?” A boy hollered towards the middle-center of the bottom influx of students. Several of his mates agreed, having them stomp their feet on the floor in protest. Waste of energy, you thought. 

“God, look how good Calum looks,” Des swooned, having you chuckle as she waved her hand to produce air for the crook of her neck. You had to admit: Calum was looking pretty good. Super loose tank top, skinny jeans hugging his thick thighs nicely, tan hands ornate with small, but evident tattoos. Calum was just eye-candy to all. 

“Okay, but look at Michael– he changed his hair color!” Savannah squealed, bringing her petite hands up to cup her mouth. You emit a small burp, indicating that you required food and immediately. Your eyes divert to the forest green-eyed boy, seeing as his hair was no longer a fiery red. It was a blonde– maybe not as natural and strong like Luke’s, but a blonde with brown wisps coming from the roots at his scalp. It also seemed much longer than before, though you couldn’t make that assumption as you barely looked at the light-skinned boy. 

“Not gonna lose your ovaries about Ashton?” You hummed over to Alexis, who was gnawing on her bottom lip kindly. 

“I don’t need to highlight how amazing he looks,” Alexis muttered simply, her eyes stuck on the brown-haired man who smiled widely at everyone. “That’s a given.” 

“Point taken,” you said with a quiet giggle. Principal Michaels continued to emit details over the trip, in which you deemed mutable. Then, the student in front of you turned around and eyed you, having you furrow your eyebrows curiously. He dragged his upper arm over the back of his seat, with his forearm bent up. 

“Are you Y/N Y/L/N?” The boy hummed, his voice rather high and evidently suffering slow puberty. You blinked a few times before nodding skeptically, having the boy reach over to offer you a small, folded note between his index and middle fingers. 

“Uh, thanks,” you emit quietly, taking the note from the boy as he turned around and became just another figure again. You sit up more properly, allowing the hood on your head to droop off as you felt the paper substance in your fingers. You saw the infamous ‘-H’ on the very top before opening it. 

“Secret admirer?” Alexis whispered beside you as the three girls began crowding you. You nodded, your eyes finally focusing to see the words scribbled on the paper. 

‘Every time I go camping, I always getting so terrified because I’m really scared of the dark. Keep that between us though! Oh, btw, no tree 2day, sry :(’ 

You giggled, quickly closing the note before lifting yourself up a bit to stuff it in the back pocket of your jeans. The girls eyed you, obviously slow readers who didn’t get passed the first 3 words. You remained silent, allowing Principal Michaels words to flow through as you grinned to yourself. Afraid of the dark, stalker? You’re just narrowing it down for me, you thought to yourself. It was an easy situation see: go on the trip, see what night activities occur and stare at those who seem the most terrified. Easy. 

“The boys will choose who they’d like on their team,” Principal Michaels. “You can try and plead them to choose you, but nonetheless it’s their decision. As for the boys,” he resumed, glancing over at the tall boy band before him, “you’ll have to choose 24 students each as the senior class, excluding you boys, is 96.” 

“Fucking yikes,” you huffed, calculating the numbers in your head. 6 cabins, 4 people in each one, gender mixture being a possibility. “I sorta don’t want to go anymore.” 

“You’re going,” Des insisted as she slapped a permission slip on your lap before passing the small stack along to Alexis. You groaned, having Des roll her eyes before placing her hands on your shoulders. “It’s only 2 nights and you always want nothing more than to be out of the house.” 

“Well sure,” you began with a grumble. “But 2 nights with pure strangers being idiotic and attempting to scare each other with Brothers Grimm stories isn’t exactly what I like.” 

“How do you know you’ll be with pure strangers?” Hissed Savannah, leering over at you with her blue orbs worth of eyes. 

“Knowing the situation, I know as fact you’re going to be in Michael’s team,” you commented, receiving silence from Savannah as you snorted. “And then Calum is gonna take Des and Ashton is definitely taking Alexis so I mean… I’m not a genius but surely I’m good at reading the situation.” 

“…Except you actually are a genius and can read anything and anyone like a book,” Alexis points out, having you smile at her response. 3.9 Gee Pee Aye, just like Luke said. Oh fuck, I’m thinking about Luke. 

“Whatever man,” you croaked, taking the permission slip to fold into a small square. You stuffed it in the sweatshirt pocket, keeping your hands in there to gather some warmth. 

“Whatever my ass,” Des huffed, playfully hitting your forearm. “You’re going anyways and you’re going to have a great time in Luke’s team.” 

“Oh-ho, I’m not on his team,” you spat. The girls all leaned forward to stare at you, having you scoff at them as you tugged on the hoodie in reassurance. “I don’t care if he chooses me. I’m in Ashton’s and that’s settled.” 

“You baby, you don’t get to choose,” Alexis cooed with a gentle shove on the shoulder. “Besides, it’ll be fun– Luke likes you and you get along with him best.” 

“That’s because I see nothing in him and he’s super persistent,” you growled. “He doesn’t know when to let up. So I don’t care– I’m not in his team. That’s final.” 

“Okay then, Princess,” Nathan said suavely from behind. You let out a heavy sigh, feeling a headache collect in your head as his head peeped once again beside you. “Want to join my team?” 

“Die,” you spewed quietly. 

“I wanna be on your team!”

“Pick me, please!” 

“Yay, I’m in Calum’s team!” 

This sudden, abrupt camping trip has completely punched the little desire to be in the institution. You dropped your head in your arms in defeat, attempting to mute the chatter with the MP3 you gladly stole from Des without any complaints. Blasting Tyler the Creator in your head, your mind wandered in the pitch black darkness to see if you could sleep for just 5 minutes. 

You allowed yourself to peek up to see a big crowd of seniors surrounding the table of the infamous quad by the name of 5 Seconds of Summer. They looked somewhat stressed out, seeing as several students were hollering their names and pleads to join their teams. Dumbasses, you thought to yourself. So desperate for attention, then when you finally get it, you’re stressed out. You shook your head as Alexis joined the table with a tray full of food. Des brought lunch, and Savannah accordingly ate a big breakfast. You didn’t have the energy to start walking through crowds for food. Especially not with the weakness you own. 

“They have pizza today, you know,” Alexis teased, flaunting the cheesy slice of life on her tray. You blinked a few times before hiding your face back in your arms. 

“I’m not really hungry,” you lied, your head vexing you as a headache was ensuing and brewing quickly. You hoped the lie would have placed a believable facade around you, but knowing your friends, one of them would take a hint and stuff something in you. But before any of them could chime, a loudness entered the lunchroom that was incomparable to the noise that was already blasting. So you plugged the earbuds back in. 

Forcing yourself to sit up, your eyes darted to notice the infamous blonde monster enter the lunchroom. Crowds of students (mainly women) tailed after Luke as he walked in. Smug smile and all, you wanted nothing more than to punch it off his face. Luke’s presence quickly drew his other friends as Calum, Ashton, and Michael escaped their table and dashed over to Luke. They were really testing your boundaries it seems. 

You increased the sound of the MP3, practically breaking your ears with rap as you watched the boys stroll around the lunchroom. Their combined crowds made them look like they were going on a school trip, seeing as they guided them around. But as you did, a sudden dizziness began striking, having you drop your head into your arms once more. Your vision was now tilted, having your eyes divert every which way to notice the girls looking at you with wide eyes. You pulled off the earphones and stared at them with wonder. 

“Y/N, you alright?” Des began worriedly, her hand coming to plant itself gently at the bend of your elbow. You nodded, your eyes struggling to stay open. Fucking fuck, you thought to yourself. This sudden weakness from sleep deprivation and starvation was really getting to you, and you didn’t know whether to be pissed at Luke or yourself or both. 

“Y/N, you seriously don’t look well,” Savannah chimed, moving from across you to stand behind you. You let her hold your chin to tilt your head a bit up. Her free hand resided on your forehead, listening to her silver bracelets clink against one another as she moved her hand. “You seem a little warm.” 

“I don’t have a fever,” you groaned, attempting to swat her away. But you were too weak to even dare wave your hand any sort of high velocity. You loved your friends– you do, but they sometimes fretted over you far too much for you to actually handle. “Seriously, I’m fine. I’m just tired, like I usually am.” 

“Yeah, but you’re incredibly groggy and you’re not jolting away,” Alexis points out. Right as she said that, a fairly loud growl emitted from your stomach, feeling a painful twist as you let out a hungry burp. “Y/N, are you hungry?” 

“I just told you I wasn’t,” you huffed. “What part of ‘I’m not really hungry’ do you guys not get?” The girls watched you as your eyes lightened up at the sight of Alexis’ pizza. You really wanted at least a bite, just to relieve yourself of this excruciating pain before you could get home. “I’m fine, really.” 

“Okay then,” Des hummed, her brown eyes looking down at her phone before looking at you. “Stand up then. Lunch is almost over.” Your eyes darted towards the large clock in the lunch room, seeing her words ring true as you saw there was only just 3 minutes. Reluctantly, you forced your legs straight to rise from the cold, circular table. Throwing your legs one by one over the seat, your bend down to grab your bag. But mistakes were very much made when you quickly rose again and found yourself go far too lightheaded. 

“Fucking hell,” you muttered, bringing a hand up to your forehead. The periphery of your eyesight was suddenly splotching black as you took one step away from the table. But then a jolt of pain hit your head and you found yourself going limp. Slowly, you saw your vision going sideways again while you were close to colliding to the ground. The last thing you saw was a black figure wearing a Cage The Elephant dashing to you, your name being yelled loudly in a masculine, accented tone before everything went mute and you drowned in the black. 

“Nnn…” 

Emitting a croaky groan, your brain was finally regaining consciousness. Slowly, you allowing your eyes to flutter open. Your eyelids felt heavy, but you nonetheless forced them up to get shot by a very brightly lit ceiling lamp above. Feeling your mouth going very dry, you moved your tongue around and licked your lips, providing the moisture of saliva all around. Realizing that you just awoke from a slumber, you jolted yourself up to sit up and take in your surroundings. “The fuck am I…” 

“The nurse.” Oh, of fucking course. You turned to your right to see Luke Robert Hemmings sitting beside you, his elbows on his knees with his back slouched. His ocean eyes were no longer beautiful, and more dim and sunken. His hair was a little messy, probably from tampering with it anxiously. His rouge lips were normal, though his bottom lip was much more crimson due to the lip biting he’s probably been doing. 

Great, you thought to yourself. There goes my heart. 

“Why am I here?” You asked softly, slouching yourself to lean against your hand. That’s when you finally noticed. On your right arm, the sleeve of your hoodie was pulled up with your forearm exposed and being punctured by a needle. Your eyes dragged up the wire connected to it to see it connected to a big pouch of liquid. Artificial nutrients, you guessed. 

“You passed out in the lunchroom,” Luke replied, his stern face not faltered a single bit as you distantly stared at the needle in your vein. Luke sound a bit mad, like you did something to actually get him pissed. Not that you were an angel, but you doubted to have done a thing to get the blonde, pompous idiot mad. “Because you apparently were sleep, water, and food deprived.” 

“How’re school nurses accurate?” You wondered quietly, attempting to escape Luke’s information. You wanted to avoid being scolded, especially by Luke. You’d actually feel bad, and that would be very annoying, considering how tired and weak you still were. 

“Y/N, what the fuck were you doing with no sleep and no food or water in your body?” Luke growled, anger present on his tongue. You gulped, goosebumps suddenly crawling as you made sure to look away from the boy. You didn’t understand why you felt bad– it’s fucking Luke. Not even Sav, Des, or Alex. It’s fucking Luke Hemmings, Mr. I-Am-Too-Popular-To-Try-In-School. “Answer me.” 

“Cool down, blondie,” you hummed quietly, weakly raising your arm to wave him gently with your hand. You couldn’t move it too much, seeing as that was the punctured arm. You rose the other hand to cup your mouth to emit a yawn before crinkling your nose a bit. “I’m not dead and you’re not my guardian. I don’t see why you’re acting like some sort of worry warrior.” 

Suddenly, Luke abandoned his chair, the plastic dragged upon the white tiles as it was violently sent back. You looked over and flinched, seeing Luke look down at you with vexed eyes. His jawline was clenching, with veins dancing up and down his neck and temples. He then went and slammed his hands down on the bit of bed that you weren’t occupying, his face just a few inches from yours. 

“Stop being so fucking careless!” Luke exclaimed, practically barking as you stared at him blankly. The scruff ornate on his chin was collecting very small dews of his spit, you noticed. “You have to be more self-aware and give a shit about yourself because it’s not just you that cares about you. I fucking care about you, and you damn well know this because I’ve told you this before and I’ll say it again: I. Love. You. So stop acting like your damn choices don’t affect anyone else because my heart fucking stopped when you fell right before me.” 

You stared, somewhat stunned by Luke’s aggressive take. His blue eyes were so dark, the azure not sitting well with you. You noticed his under eyes seeming a bit pink– had he been crying? His lips were in a pout, not entertained and very unlike his usual smiley self. You suddenly took in his words and allowed your eyes to fall down to see his shirt. Cage the Elephant. 

“You were the one rushing to me,” you connected the dots, looking away to take this in. You wanted the silence, but Luke was obviously not going to give it to you. He moved and ended up in your view again, still quite aggravated. “Luke–.” 

“Also stop shutting down my feelings just because you believe I’m wrong about them,” Luke barked, having you blink a few times as he huffed. “I flipped my shit. I threw myself on the floor so your head didn’t hit the damn floor. I was not gonna let you get a concussion.” 

“You cushioned my fall?” You asked quietly, seeing Luke’s eyes soften as he revealed a curt smile. He stood up straight and turned around, clinging his thumbs into his jeans. Before you dragged your hands up to your eyes, Luke looked back at you with a sympathetic gaze. 

“Before you start, I’m not gonna moon you again,” Luke spoke softly, having you hesitantly put your hands down as Luke dragged his pants that resided towards the left down and showed his upper buttcheek to you. Your eyes widened a bit.

A large, black splotch was evident in the very pale skin. The outskirts of the bruise was red, the flesh obviously agitated from the fall. There were licks of purple and blue in there, resembling a night sky in a hilarious way. But you couldn’t help and feel genuinely bad. You were a burden to someone you didn’t ask to take your burden-causing ass. 

“Luke, thank you for catching me and whatnot,” you began quietly, having Luke pull his pants up as he turned to face you once again. “I’m also sorry that you did but… you didn’t have to. I know, you care about me and love me or whatever, but I didn’t ask for you to do that. You wouldn’t have gotten hurt and I wouldn’t feel bad and have to apologize if you just let me fall completely.” 

Luke just stared at you for a brief moment, before bringing his hand up to your forehead and flicking it. 

“Oi, the fuck was that for, Hemmings?” You spat, bringing your left hand up to your forehead to rub it. 

“You sound stupid when you rant invalid reasoning,” Luke said quietly, sauntering over to grab the chair back and sit himself back down. He winces. He folded one leg over the other, studying you wistfully. “Even as strangers, I wouldn’t want to see someone fall down, knowing damn well I could go over and prevent a way bigger damage that the bruise on my ass.” 

Your palm was tickled by the wool sheets of the gurney as you distantly studied your black leggings. Luke bothered you, but not only because he was a persistent pest. He bothered you because even when he was like this, he was only doing it out of genuine care and kindness. He spoke words of sentiment to you, about you, without any hint of embarrassment. His heart is real and soft and full of warmth and completely saccharine. It bothered you because if you weren’t so stubborn, this would be taken, with ease, as the first time someone has given you romantic love. 

“Where’s Sav, Des, and Alex?” You hummed, refusing to respond to his banter as you looked around to see the nurse vacant. It was just the two of you, it seemed. 

“In class,” Luke hummed. “There’s about 15 more minutes before school is over, so just regain your energy before you could go home. I can take you if you’d–.” 

“I’m good,” you quickly dismissed before letting out a sigh. You stomach grumbled, annoyed that you were still hungry. Your left hand subconsciously held your tummy, having you plot a plan to grab a sandwich before returning home. But it seems Luke was ahead of you on that. 

“Someone left you food, by the way,” Luke hummed, having you turn to watch as Luke grabbed a brown paper back from the floor and offered it to you. You grabbed it weakly, placing it on your thighs as you opened it curiously. “I didn’t look in it, I swear.” 

You snorted, digging through the bag to fish out a packed sandwich. You noticed it was from Five Guys, humoring you as you put it beside you before checking more of the bags contents. There was a Pure Leaf ice tea, lemon flavored and fairly cold. Putting that aside as well, you noticed a note at the very bottom. Picking it up, you tossed the brown bag away to your lower legs as you opened the note up. 

‘I heard what happened– please eat up! I almost had a heart attack tbh. Anyways, this place makes my favorite sandwiches so I hope you like it. Nobody knows this, but I used to be extremely fat. Like, really fat. But puberty did me good and I still eat about 2 boxes of pizza to this day -H’ 

“What a loser,” you muttered under your breath, rising a bit to stuff the note into your back pocket with the other as you took the sandwich and dropped it on your thighs. You opened it quickly to reveal a nice sandwich before you. Your mouth was practically watering, super excited to eat the delicious food. But before you could, you felt two large, calloused hands wrap around the one being pumped with nutrients. You look over and see Luke stare at you, his eyes warm and soft with a curt smile playing at his lips. 

“If I may, I’m going to use your invalid reasoning right now,” Luke hummed quietly. “You’re going to be in my team for the camping trip, and it’ll be my responsibility to take care of you. Don’t quote-unquote ‘burden me’ by being careless during that time, okay? But on a serious level, please don’t worry me. I’d hate for something to happen to you, especially when I’d be watching you.” 

“Luke…” you began softly but he was quick to let go of your hand. He rose from the chair and stretched a bit, emitting a loud yawn. He cracked his knuckles a bit, adjusting his hair as he continued to look down wistfully at you. He bent down again, his hands down on the bed as his nose was just a few inches from yours. 

“Get that permission slip signed, okay?” Luke requested calmly, giving you a blush-inducing wink. “A little birdie said you weren’t going, and I think that’s what you could do to pay back my services.” 

You groaned, realizing he was the reason you weren’t currently suffering a concussion and potential brain damage. 

“Okay, now shut up,” you growled, smashing the half sandwich again Luke’s lips. Luke chuckled, taking a bite before rising up again to make his way out of the nurse’s office. “Where are you off to?” You asked curiously, somewhat upset that he was leaving. 

“I’m off to tell Ms. Lee that you’re okay as well as to get your work for the day,” Luke chimed, walking over to the doorway. He then halted, turned around to lean against the right side of it. “Nice sweatshirt by the way.” 

With that, Luke Hemmings left you in the nurse, with food on your legs and your heart racing.

ooo look at me, productive and quick update wow. if you liked this chapter, pls lmk right ovah here, and ill see you at pt 11 xx

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[auroralovespirit]

Words of wisdom: 

 I've learned that ...... I've learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is be someone who can be loved. The rest is up to them. I've learned that no matter how much I care, some people just don't care back I've learned that it takes years to build up trust, and only seconds to destroy it. I've learned that it's not what you have in your life, but who you have in your life that counts. I've learned that you can get by on charm for about 15 minutes. After that, you'd better know something. I've learned that you shouldn't compare yourself to the best others can do, but to the best you can do. I've learned that it's not what happens to people that's important. It's what they do about it. I've learned that no matter how thin you slice it, there are always two sides. I've learned that it's taking me a long time to become the person I want to be. I've learned that it's a lot easier to react than it is to think. I've learned that you should always leave loved ones with loving words. It may be the last time you see them. I've learned that you can keep going long after you think you can't. I've learned that we are responsible for what we do, no matter how we feel. I've learned that either you control your attitude or it controls you. I've learned that regardless of how hot and steamy a relationship is at first, the passion fades and there had better be something else to take its place. (Amen to that!) I've learned that heroes are the people who do what has to be done when it needs to be done, regardless of the consequences. I've learned that learning to forgive takes practice. I've learned that there are people who love you dearly, but just don't know how to show it. I've learned that money is a lousy way of keeping score. I've learned that my best friend and I can do anything or nothing and have the best time. I've learned that sometimes the people you expect to kick you when you're down will be the ones to help you get back up. I've learned that I'm getting more and more like my grandma, and I'm kinda happy about it. I've learned that sometimes when I'm angry I have the right to be angry, but that doesn't give me the right to be cruel. I've learned that true friendship continues to grow, even over the longest distance. Same goes for true love. I've learned that just because someone doesn't love you the way you want them to doesn't mean they don't love you with all they have. I've learned that maturity has more to do with what types of experiences you've had and what you've learned from them and less to do with how many birthdays you've celebrated. I've learned that you should never tell a child her dreams are unlikely or outlandish. Few things are more humiliating, and what a tragedy it would be if she believed it I've learned that your family won't always be there for you. It may seem funny, but people you aren't related to can take care of you and love you and teach you to trust people again. Families aren't biological. I've learned that no matter how good a friend someone is, they're going to hurt you every once in a while, and you must forgive them for that. I've learned that it isn't always enough to be forgiven by others. Sometimes you have to learn to forgive yourself. I've learned that no matter how bad your heart is broken the world doesn't stop for your grief. I've learned that our background and circumstances may have influenced who we are, but we are responsible for who we become. I've learned that sometimes when my friends fight, I'm forced to choose sides even when I don't want to. I've learned that just because two people argue, it doesn't mean they don't love each other. And just because they don't argue, it doesn't mean they do. I've learned that sometimes you have to put the individual ahead of their actions. I've learned that we don't have to change friends if we understand that friends change. I've learned that if you don't want to forget something, stick it in your underwear drawer. I've learned that you shouldn't be so eager to find out a secret. It could change your life forever. I've learned that the clothes I like best are the ones with the most holes in them. I've learned that two people can look at the exact same thing and see something totally different. I've learned that no matter how you try to protect your children, they will eventually get hurt and you will hurt in the process. I've learned that there are many ways of falling and staying in love. I've learned that no matter the consequences, those who are honest with themselves, get farther in life. I've learned that many things can be powered by the mind, the trick is self-control. I've learned that no matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar, you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most. I've learned that your life can be changed in a matter of hours by people who don't even know you. I've learned that even when you think you have no more to give, when a friend cries out to you, you will find the strength to help. I've learned that writing, as well as talking, can ease emotional pains. I've learned that the paradigm we live in is not all that is offered to us. I've learned that credentials on the wall do not make you a decent human being. I've learned When two people relate to each other authentically and humanly God is the electricity that surges between them. I've learned that the people you care most about in life are taken from you too soon. I've learned that although the word "love" can have many different meaning, it loses value when overly used. I've learned that it's hard to determine where to draw the line between being nice and not hurting people's feelings and standing up for what you believe.

: Author Unknown: