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shelovescontrol91 · 3 years

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Between a starring role in Cinderella, live performances, and a forthcoming album, it would appear things are business as usual for Camila Cabello. But there’s a difference: Before the pandemic her work was leaving her drained, anxious, and insecure. Now she’s found a way to be a pop star on her own terms, and everything—from the music to her relationship with her body—has fallen into place.

By mid-September, Camila Cabello was feeling burnt out. In the span of three days she had performed at the MTV Video Music Awards, attended the Met gala with boyfriend Shawn Mendes, and shot the first-ever global cover for Glamour. So when she finally returned home to Miami, rest wasn’t just desired—it was essential.

But rehearsals for New York’s Global Citizen Festival loomed. Before jumping back into pop star mode, Cabello put on a yellow bikini and headed to the beach for two hours of blissfully uninterrupted downtime. She sank into a chair and cracked open a book, her favorite pastime. The salty air enveloped her; waves crashed in the distance. This is why she lives in Miami, her hometown, as opposed to a showbiz hub like Los Angeles: more privacy.

Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

“I didn’t consent to those pictures,” she tells me over Zoom, camera off as she drives in Miami. (At one point she says to someone on the road, “Why are you honking at me, bro?”) “I got my period on the beach. I’m in a bikini and on my period, so I don’t know if I have a fucking period stain and that’s going to be everywhere. I didn’t sign up for anybody to be taking pictures of me in a bikini.”

Cabello has developed methods for dealing with invasive situations like this. She’s had to. The 24-year-old—born in Cuba, raised in Miami—has been in the public eye since 2012, when she competed on The X-Factor. She auditioned as a solo artist but was later matched with four other girls to form the pop group Fifth Harmony. They released two albums before Cabello embarked on her own—and achieved mind-boggling fame. Her singles “Havana” and “Señorita” (with Mendes) topped the charts worldwide. She’s earned three Grammy nominations, become a face of L’Oréal, and tried her hand at not just acting but starring in a feature film: this year’s Cinderella remake on Amazon Prime. Her third studio album, Familia, is due out later this year.

By all accounts it’s a lot. Careerwise it’s the closest things have felt to prepandemic times, when she was working constantly, arguably to an exhausting degree. As COVID-19 shutdowns went into effect last March, Cabello was able to realize just how tired she was.

“I by no means am trying to complain,” she says, “but it was such a thing of, ‘I have to get onstage tomorrow and I’m performing at this big thing,’ or whatever. ‘I want to do a good job. How do I do that when I feel nervous?’ I did this without being like, ‘Am I even happy right now? Do I even feel healthy?’ I didn’t have the space to ask myself those questions. I’m still working a ton now, but after quarantine I’m able to be like, ‘You know what? Right now I’m just not happy. I need to change something.’”

Therapy helped her see the changes she needed to make. Cabello tells me she’d experimented with therapy before the pandemic, but it was always situation focused—quick fixes to help her tackle the next performance or songwriting session. But with time at home, she dug deeper: “Because I wasn’t stressed about all the things I needed to do the next day, I was able to slow down and have enough stability to look at my stuff.”

Cabello doesn’t expand on what that “stuff” is. She does, however, explain why she decided to switch therapists as her internal work continued. “I wasn’t feeling like I was progressing in the areas I wanted to progress,” she says. “But when I switched, I found I was able to apply what they said in a way that benefited my mental health.”

One lesson she’s learned is the power of saying no. Two hit albums under her belt give Cabello the freedom to do things her way. Now she always has one day off a week, minimum. And when time came to start work on Familia, she forwent the standard pop music factory for a more intimate approach. The new album was made with just a handful of collaborators she could be open with. If Cabello was feeling anxious or nervous in a session, she had the space to address it. As a result, she says, it’s her best work yet.

“It’s the most grounded and calm I’ve ever been making an album,” she says. “I worked with people I wanted to have dinner with, and I was like, ‘I’m not going to write every single day for months, but write a few days a week and have time to gather experiences and be a human being.’”

Shawn Mendes is one of the people she’s gathering experiences with. The two singers confirmed their relationship in September 2019, and they’ve been tabloid magnets ever since. Everything from their laughably slow pandemic walks to their kissing style is dissected with a fine-tooth comb. A clip of them getting ready for the Met gala went instantly viral.

Cabello tells me she and Mendes try to avoid the social media chatter about their relationship, but it inevitably seeps in. “When stuff that’s negative is out there, it’s going to get to you,” she says. “So yeah, that’s very, very challenging. I feel like it’s another thing therapy has been really helpful for.”

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“For better, for worse, we’re very transparent with each other. I think that’s why we can trust each other so much, because it’s a very 3D human relationship,” she says. “I’ll be venting or ranting about something, and he’ll be like, ‘Have you talked to X about it?’ And I’ll be like, ‘No. I’ve got to do a session.’ And he’ll do the same thing to me. I think even just the language of being like, ‘Hey, I’m sorry that I’ve been distant with you or snappy with you. I’m just struggling and I’m feeling kind of anxious.’ That level of transparency really helps a lot.”

Mendes echoes Cabello’s thoughts. “Camila and I give each other an extreme amount of patience and understanding,” he tells me via email. “I think the truth is that when you’re struggling with mental health, it turns you sometimes into the version of yourself that you don’t like to be—and kind of loving and accepting your person through that, and being there for them through that, is life-changing. We give each other so much space and understanding and patience.”

A behind-the-scenes VMAs story perfectly illustrates this. When Cabello was nervous meeting new people at an after-party, she caught herself leaning on a habit she’s trying to break. Mendes helped her through it.

“I have this pattern of eating a lot when I’m anxious or uncomfortable,” she says. “It’s a comfort thing for me. I’ll just kind of become unconscious and zombie-eat a lot, and then I’ll feel sick. I’ve told Shawn about that. So at the VMAs party, I was like, ‘I’m doing it.’ And he was like, ‘It’s okay. You’re doing it. That’s okay. Let’s just take a breath and not do that.’ It’s really good for me to be able to talk about my patterns with someone.”

Food and body image are two things that have really been on Cabello’s mind this year. A July TikTok she posted shutting down body-shamers racked up 4.8 million likes. “Being at war with your body is so last season,” she says in the video, which she posted after photos of her running in Los Angeles made the rounds online.

That mantra is true, sure, but it’s easier said than done. Even Cabello has difficulty following it. She braced herself for what she might feel when those aforementioned bikini pics went live: “I need to work out. I need to eat better.” “Not that those things are bad,” she says. “But maybe I wouldn’t think about them as much if there weren’t people taking pictures of me.”

It’s not just the paparazzi who ignite moments of self-doubt. Cabello tells me about a time she was exercising with her trainer, Jenna Willis—who’s great, she says—and feeling insecure. “She’s the same height as me, and I was kind of comparing myself to her, because she is a lot skinnier than I am,” she recalls. “I was just like, ‘Yeah, but I’ve been working out and I look better, right? I look better, right?’”

It’s Willis who helped silence those voices in Cabello’s head, reminding her that how she feels is more important than appearances; that life is about balance and enjoying food. These are health philosophies we’ve all heard—but when you’re Camila Cabello and millions are picking apart your beach photos, it’s hard to tune out the noise. Now when she’s feeling down on herself, she just turns her phone off and goes outside.

“When I’m having negative thoughts about my body, that’s actually when I’ll want to binge-eat cookies, and then I have a stomachache,” she says. “It’s this weird psychology: The more I love my body, the more I actually want to take care of it…. As long as I’m healthy and working out and feel good, that’s the best I can do. There’s no point in trying to have another kind of body.”

By this point in our conversation, Cabello’s made it to her destination. When I ask if she’ll have time to chill and decompress, she says, “To be honest, not yet, but I will after this weekend.” There’s a calmness in her voice when she says this—a stillness, a readiness. She seems perfectly prepared for what lies ahead: album promo, performances, and undoubtedly more scrutiny about her body, her relationship, her everything. But she’ll be fine, because just around the corner is a day off. That’s nonnegotiable.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

#camila cabello #shawn mendes #shawmila

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theonetheycallhannah · 4 years

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The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter Five:Sensory Integration 1

Pairing: Captain “Sy” Syverson x OFC (Shane Benton)

Summary: A Friday full of teasing for Shane ends in a steak dinner with a blue-eyed beefcake. If you don’t finish this chapter hungry for one or the other, if not both, I haven’t done my job! Lol! (For inspo on Sy’s date outfit, think back to that one Men’s Health photoshoot Hen did and just imagine his hair shorter. That’s what I did. lol!)

Click me to catch up on the story and other stuff by Hannah!

Word Count: 4k (This date got away from me! Lol! And it’s only half over!)

Warnings: Mostly this is utter fluffy fluff, but I’m gonna put the following warnings on, anyway. Language, mature themes, alcohol consumption, borderline food worship (Shane may have a problem, I definitely do! Lol!) Also, pretty much every Sy fic I’ve read says that his given name is Logan, so...should his given name be used henceforth, that’s what I’m going with because it seems the most cannon and I like it and if it’s good enough for Wolverine...

Author’s Note: So, guys, this is crazy. First off, the reaction and love Sy and Shane’s story has been getting has taken me completely off guard and utterly made my day/week. (I’m serious. Every note makes my heart do a happy dance. A like, a reblog, a comment. It all means the world to me. Thank you for your feedback and for sharing this story.) Second, YOUR FEEDBACK MATTERS TO ME! Because initially, idk what I was thinking. I was going to skim over their first date and like…not write it…and I kept getting notes as I worked on further chapters to the tune of “can’t wait for this date!” and I thought…hmm…well, the date must be written! So, here it is, the first half-ish, of Shane and Sy’s first date. I hope it’s all you were expecting…or at least half of all you were expecting! Lol! More to come in part two of Sens Integ! (BTW, fun fact, these chapter titles are all named after treatments that therapists actually use on their patients sometimes! Lol!)

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism.

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@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka@thisismysecretthirstblog

@misslaland @speakerforthedead0@tumblnewby @suavechops

Friday morning. She was up with the sun. And a bit before, really. Today was the day. Her first date with Sy. She’d taken extra care in the shower, less clumsy, thank God! She shaved her legs because she had chosen to wear a knee-length blue dress with a scoop neck and cap sleeves in wrinkle-proof Jersey knit since it would be in her tote bag all day. She was not shaving because she thought anything would happen tonight with Sy. She didn’t think she was ready.

That is, she was ready, but, only physically. Emotionally, mentally, she would need to prepare for him a bit longer before taking him as a lover. She hoped he was on the same page.

He had an appointment in the early afternoon. He greeted her with his warm “Hello, sunshine.” Following it up by telling her how pretty she looked today, causing blush to burn in her cheeks. She’d reciprocated, even though he was in his typical tee and shorts look. It was still true. They got on their usual bikes to warm up for about 15 minutes, and then took to the leg press to try to advance his strengthening.

“I’m really proud of your progress! You wouldn’t have been able to do this much weight two weeks ago!” She encouraged him.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely. Now, we are going to do some drills next. Simple ones, but they aren’t going to be fun for you. I’ve chosen to do them on your last day of the week for a reason. You may be sore. Ice and whatever you take OTC if you must. Ibuprofen or acetaminophen. But try the ice first. It shouldn’t be too bad.”

“Okay.” He conceded, dejected.

“Stretching afterward.” She promised.

“Okay!” He pepped up. She knew he just loved an excuse to have her hands on him.

Later, as he lay on the mat, sweaty from the exertion of the drills, with her up there with him having to use her whole body to leverage the proper stretch out of his hip flexors, she felt the heavy weight of his gaze. She tried to look anywhere but those sapphire eyes below her. They were too vulnerable. She couldn’t handle that right now. Not here.

“Shane?” Dammit, he was gonna make her.

“Hmm?” She looked down at him, smile meeting smile.

“I just…” he couldn’t seem to get out the words. But she thought she understood what he was feeling.

“I know, Sy. I know.” She gently patted his outer thigh where she had been bracing her hand for the stretch, and let his leg back down, while dismounting the mat, as well.

“Well, that’s about the hour. Any questions before I let you go?”

“Are you as excited for tonight as I am?” He asked. She chuckled. She couldn’t imagine him being more excited than she was!

“Yes! Hehe! But I still kinda meant about therapy, Sy.”

“Oh, right. Are you excited to finish up with your therapy patients at therapy today so I can pick you up from the therapy clinic and take you on our date?”

“Just because you say therapy 20 times doesn’t make it about therapy.” She laughed.

“Okay, I do have a question for you, since I’m here.”

“Shoot.” She encouraged.

He stood and held her face, taking it into a kiss so devastatingly and painfully tender, she could not process what to do next. She was leaning toward fainting. But then tackling him onto the mat again seemed an attractive option. She settled for placing her hands on his waist, ready to control the situation as need arose. But after a brief moment of slight deepening, he broke away, still holding her face in his large strong hands.

“Ahem. That’s a good question. Why don’t I have you a reply later this evening?”

“Sounds good to me, sunshine.” He grinned widely, and waved a quiet goodby to her.

She walked to the doorway of the small room to watch him walk out…his gait still uneven from his injury but improving enough that she could tell he once took very…confident strides. She could almost picture it. She sighed, forgetting herself for a moment until Anita came up behind her walking her elderly patient with a gait belt and front wheeled walker.

"Is that a bit of drool on your chin, Shane?" she said quietly, but still startling the younger therapist from her reverie.

"Oh, uh, hey." she checked her chin, absentmindedly, late in getting the joke, and rolled her eyes. "Funny, Nita. Do you need anything?"

"Nope, Gladys and I are just headed to the gym for a few minutes on the NuStep to round out her treatment." Nita grinned at Shane.

"Who was that handsome young man that just left, Shane?" Gladys asked her, as women of her…demographic tended to do.

"He's just one of our patient's Miss Gladys. But I can't tell you his name. It's against the privacy policy." She explained.

"Oh, okay. Well, if I was a few years younger, I'd let ya give him MY name…and my telephone number." she smirked with pride in herself. All three ladies giggled.

"I'm pretty sure he's spoken for, Gladys." Anita broke the news to her randy patient, smirking at her coworker.

"Shame! Well, that's one lucky young lady!" Gladys hobbled on with the walker as Anita cued her not to let the device get too far ahead of her feet. Shane was beet red from the whole interaction. At least she wouldn't have to wear blush tonight.

Her day finally finished, notes done, and final communications sent, the most important (in her opinion, probably not her employer's) message of them all was next. The text to Sy that he could head toward the clinic to pick her up.

She touched up her eye makeup, applied another coat of mascara, and dabbed on some of her favorite lipstick in a deep red that complimented her skin tone. She also spritzed on a bit of her favorite Armani perfume before slipping on her dress and black ballet flats and sliding on a pair of simple hoop earrings. She'd had her hair pulled up all day in a clip, so it should be pleasantly wavy when she took it down…and with a bit of flipping, shaking out, and finger diffusing, it was.

She looked in the mirror. She was ready.

Was she ready? She examined herself in the full length mirror in the empty locker room at the clinic. The dress and the shoes suddenly seemed all wrong, both together and as individual pieces for the occasion. She looked great, it wasn't that…but…was it right for tonight? Should she cancel? Was she being ridiculous? Clearly she was, as she'd already sent the message telling Sy he could come get her. But the closer she got to being ready to go, the less ready she felt. Those butterflies were suddenly clawing at her esophagus, disrupting the bile in her stomach, and threatening to choke off her air supply. They were no longer pleasantly fluttering. She felt like she had a boot against her windpipe.

She was snapped out of the panic attack when she heard her phone go off. A message from Sy.

Your chariot, m'lady. Should I come in and get ya?

She grinned like a lunatic. How could she have considered calling tonight off?

Nay, m'lord, verily the gates be locked. I shall use the rear exit and meet thee around yonder forsooth.

Wow, you ran with that one. *laughing in tears emoji*

I have that tendency. Lol. *monocle wearing emoji*

She grabbed her bags, walked out the back door, and tossed the one that wasn't her purse into her vehicle, which was parked nearby and walked around to the front. He was standing on the sidewalk near that edge of the building.

The sun was just setting, and the light from it hit him so bewitchingly that it took away her breath. Not in the frightening way of the panic attack she'd just had, but in the nice way, like right before you surface from a deep dive and you know the sweet relief of oxygen is imminent. She assessed his ensemble with approval. Black books, sleek dark blue jeans, and a sapphire v-neck polo that even in the low light of near dusk made his blue eyes dance with vibrant intensity against his fading tan. His hair was starting to grow out ever so slightly, but it was still very close cropped. His beard, she could tell, had been finely groomed, combed, and styled. He looked…well, she'd never looked up the word "handsome" in the dictionary, but she imagined it would describe the image before her quite succinctly. And alternatively, Sy's image could be used as an illustration in the reference book, itself.

The best part, though, was the look on his face when he saw her.

She felt like he'd never properly looked at her, perhaps. Maybe he wasn't expecting a dress, or loose hair, or red lips. Or maybe it was a combo of the whole Date Shane package he was seeing before him. As his eyes beheld her, he almost looked confused. As if she was a stand-in. Or maybe an alien. Some body-snatcher. Only he wasn't frightened. She was having a hard time working out his expression as she'd really never seen it before, and particularly, never aimed in her direction. He said one word.

"Wow." It was reverent. Not a whisper. But barely a decibel above.

Again, her cheeks required no artificial pigmentation.

"Hey. You look…you certainly scrub up good, mister." she giggled nervously, feeling immensely awkward at her inability to properly compliment the chiseled image of Adonis before her. His every muscle hugged to perfection by the fabric covering it. How did you even begin to tell such perfection how perfect it was?

"You…Shane, I don't remember the last time I saw anyone look so beautiful." he frowned, as if trying to recall, then giving up with a smile, and leaning in to kiss her cheek. He lingered a moment to hug her, hold her as the day faded, breathe her in. She did the same. He was freshly showered and wearing cologne, as he often did, but it rarely hit her so solidly as it did tonight. She loved this scent. Woody, but earthy, with notes of bergamot, a kind of musky scent similar to amber, but more masculine, and something spicy that she loved. The combination exploded like an olfactory fireworks display.

The shirt was an unthinkably soft cotton (blended she thought perhaps with kitten, she could not stop touching it.) and the warmth of him radiated into her as his chest rose and fell over the course of his numerous breaths as they stood there holding each other and enjoying this feast for the senses.

"You ready for supper?" he asked, a faint but distinct rumble from his abdomen indicating that he most certainly was.

"Yes." she smiled up at him as he took her hand in his and led her to his truck. A Ford F150, the same sapphire blue as his shirt and his eyes. She was sensing a pattern, here. It wasn't the newest vehicle, but he had taken immaculate care of it. She felt shame for her own treatment of her Explorer, Bessie, which often functioned as storage shed, trash can, and sometimes, hotel, when she felt like a road trip on a shoestring budget. He walked her to the passenger side, opened the door for her, and helped her in, as the truck sat a bit higher than what she was used to.

"So, I have us a table saved at this great steakhouse just down the road. And then, it's supposed to be a nice night, I thought we could take a walk by the lake?"

It sounded perfect to her. Quiet and simple.

"Amazing. As long as your knee is up for a walk?"

"I've got all weekend to rest before getting tortured again." he smirked at her as he pulled the truck out of the parking lot and on the main road toward the interstate. "B'sides, who better to have with me if I start hurtin' than my PT?"

The emphasis he placed on the possessive pronoun, claiming her as HIS PT sent a delighted shiver through her that she blamed on the AC, which he promptly turned down.

He had his Spotify shuffling Kings of Leon at a low volume as they conversed lightly and pleasantly. Since it was an earlier model, even well equipped as it was, it wasn't quite ready for auxiliary or Bluetooth sound, so he'd bought one of those radio receivers that tune into an unused frequency and connect to your phone or iPod. She'd retrofitted her 2003 Ford Explorer in a similar fashion.

They were both caught a bit off guard when "Sex on Fire" came on, and tried valiantly to keep talking. But it was hard to hear anything but those lyrics. Singing of exhibitionism and dangerous sex acts that were definitely moving violations…and simply the sex being on fire. She was thankful, for once, that this song that she'd always found catchy without paying much attention to the actual lyrics, was now fading into the night as they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

She remembered to wait for him to get the door for her, even though it had been ages since she'd been on a date or had any kind of romance whatsoever. He helped her down from her perch, giving her a gentlemanly moment to adjust her skirt before taking her hand and leading her into the building.

He opened the door and led her in by that lumbar lordosis that made everyone tremble and swoon. She was no exception just because she knew that part of your back was not actually called "the small" and she got perturbed when she heard it referred to as such.

"Welcome to Mark's, how can we help you?" the host greeted warmly.

"Reservation for Syverson." Sy piped up. She was used to being the voice in these situations. She was thankful not to have to for once. It was a small thing, but it was still nice.

"Right this way, folks." he grabbed two large menus, a mid sized one, and a small one, and led them to a cozy but still spacious two-top in a quiet corner of the dining area. The warm light was low and ambient, and there were real kerosene lamps on the tables, which she loved. It had the rustic ambiance of a cabin with all the refinement of any four+ star restaurant she'd ever been to. Not that she'd been to many.

"Here you are, the table you requested, and your menus. Have a look at them, and Katie will be out soon to answer questions and take your orders."

As he walked away, Sy pulled her chair out for her, and aided her sitting. His gentility was so refreshing to her, because it was so sincere and kind, and in no way oppressive or domineering, as some men seemed to use such gestures. Wielding them like a club rather than a feather. She was just used to seeing a certain side of him, teasing and silly as he was in therapy that this side of Captain Syverson, or as she may end up calling him one day, Logan, his given first name, if it pleased him, had taken her off guard.

"Nice place." she approved, looking around at he exposed beams of the ceiling and the iron and copper chandeliers and light fixtures on the wall. She also noticed quite curiously a copy of American Gothic by Grant Wood on one wall and The Kiss by Gustav Klimt on another. Such different styles to be displayed in one room. She really liked it though.

"It's one of my favorites. I try to come in every couple weeks or so." The fact that he liked steak on the regular was definitely a point in his favor. She loved it but rarely went out for it on her own. Eating out alone wasn't so bad, but it was hard to enjoy a steak dinner by one's self.

"What's your favorite cut?"

"Oh, I've tried most of them, and you can't go wrong." He assured her.

They had a crazy selection. Ribeyes, filets, sirloins, prime rib, all seasoned, smoked, topped and wrapped in every way you could imagine…it was like staring at the Netflix menu of steak. And much like she tended to do with Netflix, she relied on a classic favorite. After all, who goes for an obscure choice their first time at a new steak house?

"I'm keeping it simple and going for their prime rib and a baked potato."

"Ah, that's a perfect choice. We're getting some of their lobster mac and cheese to start, though. Unless you're allergic or something?" he added the disclaimer when he saw her eyes widen.

"Not at all, that sounds…"she was thinking "sexual," but decided instead on "heavenly."

Soon, Katie, a peppy, slender young redhead in black jeans she'd been poured into and a white T-shirt she had outgrown some time ago, descended upon their table with gusto.

"Howdy, I'm Katie and I get to take care of you fine folks this evening. What drinks and appetizers can I start y'all off with?"

Sy looked at Shane to prompt her to start.

"Sweet tea?" she half stated, half inquired. Katie nodded and jotted.

"Sure thing! Sir?" she thought her eyes sparkled when she looked at Sy…she couldn't blame her. But…she thought she could take her if she tried anything. She was certain there was a very sharp knife in the black napkin set-up at her right hand.

"Same for me, Katie. And we are also gonna need an order of your lobster mac to start and a bottle of your house cab."

"Fantastic. I'll be right back with the teas and wine after I put in for the lobster mac for ya, and then I'll take your meal order." she smiled brightly. Sy looked at Shane, though, as he replied "Wonderful."

~~~~~~~

Her instincts about the lobster mac and cheese had been spot on. She couldn’t contain her yummy noises of enjoyment which amused Sy to no end. She couldn’t imagine the steak any better.

About that, she had been completely wrong. It was so succulent, tender, and flavorful, she debated on whether or not the provided au jus and horseradish were even needed. They were also too good to resist, though.

Her potato, twice baked to the perfect tenderness had a salt brined skin, and a garlicky butter that just sung with the sour cream and chives. She was in food heaven, and even if that meant she was dead, it was fine.

He’d ordered the same entrée as she had, but took his baked potato…a bit differently.

“You don’t like sour cream?” She asked, nonplussed.

“Nah, I mean, I can eat it, but…it feels weird in my mouth. I prefer the au jus and butter, instead. It’s much more tasty.” He said, waggling his eyebrows.

“I guess I’ll take your word for it.” She laughed.

“You’re welcome to try mine when I get it all doctored you how I like it!”

She did, right from his fork. And he was right about it being so flavorful, but she preferred the mild, creamier texture of her own side with the savory notes of her steak.

They ate and enjoyed each other’s company and conversation.

“Ya know, Sy, I totally had you pegged as a beer man, instead of a wine guy.” She said, as she brought her own glass of the deep red liquid to her mouth and nose, inhaling the bouquet before she took her sip.

“Normally, you’d be right. With a burger, pizza, sometimes tacos or what not, definitely. But I can’t do beer with steak. It’s gotta be wine. Red. And full-bodied.” He held her gaze as he drank from his own glass. Why did he have to look at her like that when he said those kinds of words? Her cheeks were warm from more than the booze.

For desert, they shared a decadent marbled brownie/blondie a la mode. He’d had the idea to slide his chair so he was sharing a corner of the table with her, rather than looking across it at her. Purely so they didn’t have to keep sliding the dessert…not so their knees would brush against one another now and then, or so they could feel the heat radiating from one another’s bodies…but actually, exactly for those reasons.

“Last bite is to you, Sy.” She set her fork down, full to bursting.

“Are you kiddin’? My mama’d tan my hide if she knew I took the last bite from my date.”

“You’re being gallant, actually! Rescuing me from a certain belly ache.” She patted her small but slightly rounded tummy. She did like her food, and was no gym rat, after all. He didn't seemed to mind. Yet.

“How 'bout we share the last bite?�� He suggested.

“Technically that’s not physically possible. Becau…”

He interrupted what was going to be an intellectual explanation of why no matter how small you cut up a bite, the remaining bit was still technically one bite, and couldn’t be shared.

“No. Shh. I know you’re smart. You got nothin’ to prove here. I’m gonna cut what’s left in half until I get a bite you’re willing to take. Okay?” She nodded.

He only had to take the fork to it twice before she conceded, also letting him feed her, feigning paralysis from the food coma. She held the fork tightly between her lips, making him work to pull it from her mouth. She looked innocent, but she was an intentional little shit.

“You're so cute when you eat.”

“Said no one ever!” She held her hand over her face.

“You are, though. You enjoy the food. Experience it. It’s like you’re…getting a story from it, or something. Like it’s…almost like it’s entertaining you, I don’t know. It’s just…beautiful.” He leaned his elbow onto the table, supporting his head in his hand as he looked at her.

"Well, sometimes I think I like food a little TOO much for my own good." she lamented, reaching for the cabernet only to have it snatched by her date. He uncorked it and dispensed a generous pour for her, and topped off his own glass, killing the bottle.

"No such thing. Like I said about the wine, full bodied is the way to go. Nothin' wrong with a little cushion." he winked at her. She could not resist finishing a rhyme she'd always heard about the desirability of curvy girls…for the pushin,' and hoped the flush in her cheeks from the wine was enough to disguise the deepening color from the current blush she was feeling thinking of Sy…pushin' her cushions…but something tipped him off to her distraction.

"What's on yer mind, sunshine?"

"I'm wondering if you're prepared to carry me on this walk we're planning, actually." It was possible to think more than one thing, after all. "I don't know how I'll ever even walk again."

"Ah, give it fifteen minutes. Finish up your sweet tea, and by the time we're done with our walk, you'll want an ice cream cone."

"Ha, doubtful." But she was ashamed to admit, ice cream already didn't sound bad. Vanilla…maybe pistachio….no, coffee! In a waffle cone…with fudge drizzle…and almonds…maybe she had a problem.

"You ready to go?" he asked.

She nodded. He flagged down Katie and gave her cash, and what one might call a benevolent tip. They left the warm steakhouse, and entered the breezy late summer evening, the humid air seeming thick with promises.

Up Next: Chapter Six-Sensory Integration 2

#netflix sand castle #sand castle #captain syverson #captain syverson fanfic #captain syverson x ofc #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x ofc

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tessandscottforever18 · 3 years

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Or so she thought. Somehow the paparazzi found out where she was for those 120 minutes. She didn’t see them at first, but there they were, snapping away.

Mendes goes to therapy too. While Cabello says she and Mendes haven’t done couples therapy—though she’d be open to it—they very much work on their mental health together.

“It’s important to be on top of not just what’s making you sad or anxious, but also what’s giving you joy,” she says. “I want to be happy and enjoy my life. That’s kind of it.”

#camila cabello #interview: glamour #glamour #glamour magazine

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kim-seungmine · 4 years

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the time is now

title: the time is now

characters: (fem) reader x kim seungmin of stray kids (feat. choi lia of itzy, lee felix + bang chan of stray kids)

genres: romance, rich kid au, friends to lovers au, (sort of!) mafia au, dedicating this to 191109 seungmin & levanter era!seungmin

word count: 7.9k

warnings: alcohol consumption, violence (nothing too wild tho), i haven’t proofread, idk what im doing tbh (but seungmin drives an aston martin i hope that makes you feel better)

synopsis: you and seungmin spent years pushing each other away, only to be confronted by your biggest fears when you finally decided to stop running away.

a/n: i hope this doesn’t suck :(((

Summer is for fun. Summer is for rest. Summer is for romance.

But summer is also for opportunities, and that’s the sole reason why you’re standing inside the Laura Ryu boutique—where you can’t even afford its cheapest pair of earrings. The luxury fashion brand is open for internships for the very first time and now it’s one of those “a million girls would kill for that job” positions in South Korea.

“Good morning, everyone.”

The sweet but regal voice belongs to Julia Choi, Laura Ryu’s daughter who’s specifically flew back from New York to Seoul for the summer to help her mother managing the internship. You know her better as Choi Jisu, your childhood friend who’s currently attending Parsons School of Design.

“I’m Choi Jisu, and I’m going to be your mentor throughout the internship. Well, technically I’m responsible for all of you here so please, stay in one piece until the end of summer although it’s going to be absolute hell, okay?”

Everyone laughs, and soon you’re ushered to one big studio inside. You see a placard with your name on one of the table and quickly head there, giving Jisu a little wave as she tells the other interns to find their stations.

After all the interns are seated, Jisu claps, effectively silencing everyone. “And now, something to motivate you,” she announces. “We’re going to monitor every single one of you and by the end of summer, we’re going to choose one intern to help with our next collection. How’s that sound?”

Excited whispers are heard all over the room, and you hope you’ll survive summer in one piece.

“Y/N! Wait up!”

Jisu is running down the stairs, her heels making loud clacking sounds against the marble floor. She envelops you in a tight hug the moment you’re within an arm’s reach. You’ve missed Jisu, it feels like it’s been ages since you volunteered at the animal shelter together.

“I can’t believe you actually applied!” she chirps.

You chuckle. “Well, I can’t believe I actually got in.”

Jisu snorts. “Oh please. I don’t need to see your portfolio to know how amazing it is. You’re probably the only one who sent a proper portfolio.”

She greets the shopkeepers, leading you outside. “Are you free? Let’s catch up!” she offers. You nod, linking your arm with hers. “What do you want to do? Coffee?”

“O—”

A white Aston Martin pulls over in front of you, causing Jisu to gasp and check her watch. The window rolls down, revealing an annoyed Kim Seungmin on the driver’s seat. “Yah Choi Jisu,” he snaps. “I know I’m just your insignificant cousin, but couldn’t you at least tell me that you were going to be at your Mom’s boutique the whole day?”

“Oh shoot, sorry Seungmin! I totally forgot,” Jisu panics, turning to you with apologetic eyes. “It’s okay,” you assure her. “Go. You’re stuck with me for the whole summer anyways.”

She shakes her head. “No, I’m not gonna leave you behind. Seungmin, you don’t mind if I bring Y/N along, do you?”

Yeah, Kim Seungmin. Someone from your “summer is for romance” phase two years ago. You’re well aware that you’re an intern at his aunt’s boutique, but you thought you wouldn’t meet him since he’s set to take over his father’s law firm instead of becoming the heir of Laura Ryu’s fashion empire.

“It’s fine,” you refuse. “We can hang out some other time, Jisu. You two have fun!”

“Come with us,” Seungmin interjects, calmly as usual. Two years of not seeing him in flesh has weakened your defense. Seungmin has always looked fine, but now he looks ten times hotter with his dirty blond hair and you’re cursing yourself for being so shallow. Jisu shrugs, opening the door and pulling you inside.

Seungmin glances at the empty passenger seat then at the rear-view mirror. “So where are we headed, Young Mistresses?” he asks, his tone both sarcastic and playful.

“We were going to grab some coffee. Just stop by at the first Starbucks you see,” Jisu answers before attacking you with questions. Seungmin mumbles an, “Okay Miss” before making a u-turn. You feel all eyes are on you when you enter the café, suddenly realizing that you just stepped out of Kim Seungmin’s Aston Martin with Choi Jisu attached to your side.

For a split second, you forgot that you’re hanging out with South Korea’s top socialites who are way too cool for Starbucks.

After getting your orders, the three of you are chatting about every little thing. “And how is our little Byul? Has she been adopted?”

You and Seungmin exchange awkward glances, causing Jisu to cock an eyebrow. “What happened?”

“I didn’t go to the shelter last year,” you confess.

“Me neither,” Seungmin mumbles, sipping his Americano in a haste.

“Okay, neither of you went to the shelter last year, so what? What are you guys being so weird about?”

“Nothing,” you and Seungmin answer in unison. Jisu examines your face and snaps her fingers, seeming to get the idea. “Well, if that’s the case… why don’t you two talk things out?”

“Wait what happened to catching up?” you panic, while Seungmin grabs his cup and stands up. “I should drive you home,” he says.

Jisu clicks her tongue. “Sit down, both of you.”

You and Seungmin do as told, begging her with your eyes to save yourselves from this situation. “As you said, Y/N, we’re stuck together for the whole summer so we still have a lot of time. And no thank you, dear cousin. I’ll just take the cab. See you!”

Your friend smiles at you one last time before walking out, stopping the first cab she can find. You turn to Seungmin, finally letting yourself indulge in his pretty eyes that only seem to warm up whenever you’re around. Contrary to popular belief, there’s nothing special about Kim Seungmin except for the fact that he’s a straight-As law student, looks both adorable and hot, and is actually a sweet, humble boy despite being filthy rich.

Okay, you’re definitely not over him.

Seungmin clears his throat. “So, how’s the internship so far?”

“It was only my first day,” you answer. “We didn’t do much yet. The real fight starts tomorrow, I guess.”

“You’re in good hands. Jisu handles everything well, and her Mom won’t even show up until the last day so you’re going to have fun.”

You laugh. “But one of the interns is going to be included in the team in charge of the next collection so I suppose your aunt will appear once in a while, right?”

“She’ll be in Paris the whole summer,” Seungmin explains. “Jisu begged her to let her handle the program because she misses home, and here we are now.”

“How about you? Been doing fine, I guess?”

The little spark in Seungmin’s eyes fades at your question. He stands up, returning your puzzled gaze with a cold one. “Let me take you home.”

“You don’t need to,” you retort, slightly offended. “Seungmin, did I say something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t,” he denies. “Please let me take you home. Jisu will kill me if I leave you alone here.”

You’re not satisfied with his answer, but decide to follow him. Seungmin enters the driver’s seat and starts the engine, heading to your neighbourhood without a word. “You still remember where I live?” you ask.

“I’m a law student Y/N. I can remember a lot of things.”

You let out an exasperated sigh. This is probably the only thing you hate about Seungmin: he shuts down everyone the moment he shows a hint of weakness. “Seungmin… are you okay?” you try again. “I’m not getting off until I get a proper answer.”

Jisu once told you that everyone in their big family sees a therapist every month; you know for sure that Seungmin must be their favorite patient because they get paid a fortune for counselling a very good boy who answers everything with positive words.

Seungmin is a strong, positive guy, but not all the time. People tend to forget that. He tends to forget that.

Looking at how tense he is, you decide to drop the subject. “How’s Chan and Felix?” you ask while scrolling through your Instagram feed, looking at a photo of the said boys posing in front of their luxury cars.

Seungmin’s eyes soften at the mention of his best friends. “Aren’t you the one who go to the same university?” he questions endearingly.

Christopher Bang and Felix Lee were your classmates in Fashion Journalism—a class which Felix signed up for by mistake. He tried to have it erased from his timetable, but changed his mind when he realized that everyone in that class was girls. Soon, his best bro Chris Bang joined him and when they found out you were friends with Seungmin and Jisu too, they wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Yeah, but everytime I want to say hi they’re always surrounded by their friends.”

“You mean Seo Changbin, Lee Minho and Yang Jeongin?”

You nod. Seungmin laughs, slowing down his pace as he reaches your neighbourhood. “Just say hi. Those guys are harmless.”

“Easy for you to say,” you scoff. “Seo Changbin radiates this ‘you can’t sit with us’ vibes stronger than those girls in Mean Girls.”

“I mean it,” he repeats. “Just say hi. Felix calls you all the time anyways. You’re a part of their so-called circle.”

“You mean your circle?” you correct him jokingly, unfastening your seatbelt as he smoothly hits the brake in front of your house. “Thank you for taking me home.”

Seungmin smiles your favorite smile, the one where his eyes disappear into crescent moons. The door is opened, yet you’re just sitting there, trying to look for answers inside Seungmin’s doe eyes.

“What is it?”

You chew your bottom lip, shaking your head. “Nothing.”

Your Golden Retriever puppy named Sun died when you were in fifth grade. You couldn’t function for the rest of summer, so your Dad suggested that you volunteer at an animal shelter. You eventually registered for a 2-week volunteer program where you fell in love with a lively Pomeranian you ended up adopting and a lovely boy named Kim Seungmin.

You and Seungmin went to different schools (he attended an elite all-boys school), the volunteer program was the only time you could meet him. He brought his cousin Choi Jisu the next year, and it became a routine for the three of you from then on. Your beautiful friendship was perfect until your 18th birthday, when Seungmin gifted you a box full of photos of you he had taken as your birthday present.

After 8 years, you finally realized that Kim Seungmin wasn’t just a friend you volunteered with. He was the one you played hide and seek with, he was the one who taught you to use a camera, he was the one who sang to you when you cried after one of the dogs in the shelter got sick.

“Have I ever told you that I love your voice?” you asked him on one Sunday morning, right before you turned 20. “You could be a singer.”

“No, but thank you. You said it right when I started doubting myself.”

“This is not an empty compliment, Seungmin. I’m serious.”

Seungmin ruffled your hair, eyes lighting up at your seriousness. “You never say empty words, Y/N. I know that.”

After a few minutes of trying to find the right response and not finding any, you decided to let his compliment hang in the air. You laid beside him, keeping a safe distance because hearing him breathe so peacefully was enough to mess up your insides.

Seungmin turned to you, and for a while he just stayed like that, quietly examining your face while you were on the verge of freaking out.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He didn’t change his position, eyes still locked on your face as he whispered, “I asked myself that too, but I honestly don’t know. I just hope I can see you like this forever. Seeing you makes me happy.”

Speechless, you didn’t dare to meet his eyes. How were you supposed to react? Was Seungmin drunk?

“Seriously,” you croaked to break the silence. “You should audition to become an idol or something.”

“Should I?”

“Well, depends whether you want it or not, but go ahead if you want! You have nothing to lose anyways!”

His lips curled into a sad smile. “Nothing to lose? Y/N, money isn’t the only thing I have.”

Whenever you started to feel that maybe you and Seungmin could become something more, the universe always made sure to remind you that he wasn’t just a boy you grew up with. He was the only son of a successful lawyer who rode limousine to school and owned a black credit card he used without thinking. He appeared on nation’s newspaper after attending exclusive parties you could only dream of going. He was someone who flew to London with private jet over the weekend because he wanted to take some photos.

You laughed, locking eyes with him without realizing. “But with your money you can have everything, Seungmin. You and Jisu are different from the rest of us.”

Ten years of friendship and you never once talked about this. You knew Seungmin wouldn’t mind; he wasn’t the type who liked to flaunt his wealth, but he wasn’t one of those people who didn’t like to be reminded of how loaded they were. He never cared. But you were afraid he would think that you did, so you always avoided making comparisons.

That day, you had to do it. Maybe you were too protective of yourself, but you couldn’t risk getting hurt. One little slash on your heart, and the wound would leave a permanent scar.

Seungmin hummed in agreement, breaking the eye contact to look at the clear sky.

He left the shelter the next day, and you never talked to him again.

“Jisuuuu,” you whine as Jisu pulls you into Rose’s, a fancy bar that she frequents. “I thought we were just going to hang out!”

“We are!” Jisu exclaims, waving at the bartender before choosing a spot. She orders you a drink you’re not familiar with before pouting at you. “Okay, sorry for not telling you, but we’re not gonna hang out alone today.”

The door opens, revealing Chan and Felix. The latter immediately throws his arms around you, and you can’t help but break into an endearing laugh. “Y/N!!!! Why is it so hard to meet you? Don’t you miss your expensive friends?!”

You pull away from his grip. “Excuse me, but since when your socialite agenda includes your humble friend right here?”

Felix pouts, ordering a glass of Dry Martini while Chan and Jisu are whispering among themselves. You scoot closer to them. “What are you guys whispering about?”

The three of them snicker at the same time and you figure this isn’t just the usual “hanging out” session.

You turn to Chan. “Bang Chan, spill.”

“Wow, hearing someone that’s not my parents calling me Bang Chan is so refreshing,” Chan says. “It’s like having 2 personalities. Christopher is this hot, alluring, seductive man no one ever says no to, while Bang Chan is his inner child—soft, caring, funny… but still hot—”

Jisu shoots Chan a deathly glare before smiling at you. “You like Seungmin, don’t you?”

You take a sip of your drink and let her question sink in. Looking at your friends’ faces, you know that it wasn’t even a question. They feel it, and there’s no use of denying your feelings anymore.

“And that’s all we need to know!” Chan exclaims, standing up from his seat. He slips in a few dollars into the bartender’s pocket. “Seungmin doesn’t know we were here.”

Felix slaps his shoulder. “Bro you were literally the one who told him to come here. Stop trying to be cool.”

“Ah… you’re right,” Chan answers as Jisu rolls her eyes. “But anyways, Seungmin is will be here soon. Talk to him, okay?”

After waving them goodbye, you glance at your surroundings. Everyone is chatting with their friends while sipping their drinks happily; they’re in their natural habitat, while you’re just sitting there hoping Seungmin will come soon so you can get out of there as soon as possible. The bartender notices your uneasiness and offers you another drink to try.

Just as you start contemplating to leave, Seungmin enters the bar. He gives you a small wave when his eyes land on you, like it’s natural to see you there. The bartender serves 2 glasses of drinks before Seungmin even reaches you, “Gin and tonic, Mr. Kim’s favorite.”

Taking off his suit, Seungmin sits beside you and sips his drink. “When Chan kept terrorizing me to get here ASAP I know something’s up,” he says, examining your face. “… and you want to leave.”

Without waiting for your answer, Seungmin takes his coat. “Put it on my tab,” he tells the bartender, putting his hand on the small of your back and leads you out.

“Do you want to talk?” he asks after you’re sitting inside his car. “For real this time.”

He sounds apologetic, hurt and hopeful all at once and you recall everything you said to him two years ago. Those words left a deep scar in your heart, you can only imagine how broken Seungmin must have been.

“Yeah, we do need to talk.”

You never want to allow yourself to feel insecure, but the voices in your head get wild sometimes. You hate to admit it, the same way Seungmin hates to admit that he’s not always the calm and strong heir everyone expects him to be.

The only way to tune out those voices is to visit the park near your house to play on the swings

Seungmin has rolled up his sleeves so he could help you push the swings. You try to look over your shoulder. “Kim Seungmin what are you doing? Push it harder!” you demand, to which he shakes his head.

He continues to push the swings gently, still allowing you to feel the cold wind on your face. “No,” he answers firmly. “You’ll get sick.”

Knowing you can’t change his mind, you just let him set the pace, and soon your heart starts to feel lighter. The voices get muffled by Seungmin’s low humming. You have a lot of explaining to do, yet he hasn’t said anything, not even telling you to smile a little. This time you’re not sure if it’s because of the swings or Seungmin or both, but the voices are almost gone now and you decide that’s enough for tonight.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper quietly. Seungmin stops pushing, letting the swings moves by itself before coming to a halt. He kneels down in front of you, a frown on his face. “Why? What did you do?”

“Two years ago… I’m sorry I pushed you away,” you sigh. “I’m sorry I did it like that. And I’m sorry for pestering you the other day. I don’t have any right to force you to tell me things.”

Seungmin heaves a sigh, grabbing your hand to stop you from fiddling with your shirt. He slowly laces his fingers with yours, the warmth of his eyes reminding you of the old happy days when the two of you would sneak out from the shelter to have a picnic under the clear sky. “And I shouldn’t have left,” he reminds you. You only stare into each other’s eyes until he blurts out, “Can we start over?”

You almost cry at how easy and right it feels. You spent years of your adolescent life telling yourself that this wouldn’t work, the wall you built to protect your heart was destroyed by the very person you built it for. But you find it impossible to lie when he’s looking at you with so much hope and adoration. When you finally nod, Seungmin rewards you with his toothy grin that always makes your insides flip.

The voices in your head shout out warnings at you, but you quickly shut all of them down. You’re not going to let them win. You’re not going to let them stop you from loving the only boy you want to love.

“Let’s take things slow, yeah?”

Seungmin beams at your words, pulling you up to envelop you in his arms. He waits until you relax before tightening his hold. You rest your forehead on his shoulder, breathing him in as he mouths words you can’t decipher into your hair. “Remember when you managed to persuade that young couple to adopt Vivi?”

“My lucky day,” you murmur, unconsciously pulling him closer to you.

“It was my lucky day too.”

“Of course it was! The owner also bought you chicken when Jisu and I were the ones working hard! You just nodded along with us!”

Seungmin chuckles. “I got to hold you for the first time that day. You were so happy that Vivi got a new home that you just jumped into my arms. Then you started crying and ruined my Balenciaga shirt, but I was beyond happy. You stayed in my arms until you fell asleep, and I got to watch you sleep.”

You pinch his waist softly. “You’re such a creep.”

Seungmin’s laugh only makes you feel even giddier than you already are, so you just close your eyes and relish in the feeling of his arms wrapping around your waist securely. “Shall we go to Jeju tomorrow?” he suggests.

“Jeju?”

He pulls away, enough for him to see your face but still holding you close. “Yeah. I can book us tickets so we can fly tomorrow and spend the whole weekend there. You don’t have internships on weekends, right? We’ll go to pretty places and I’ll take hundreds of pretty photos of you. We can have dinner by the beach since our villa is facing the ocean. You love seafood, right? Our chefs—”

“Kim Seungmin, what happened to taking things slow?” you giggle, causing him to let out a cute frustrated groan. “I’m sorry. How about a road trip to Busan then?”

“You can drive to Busan?”

“You’re underestimating me, love.”

Seungmin’s phone rings when you’re about to utter a sassy remark. He glances at the caller and releases you, his eyes turn cold as he accepts the call. “Yes, father?”

You can’t hear what his father is saying, but whatever it is, Seungmin doesn’t look happy. You reach for his hand carefully, and he quickly squeezes yours while responding to his father in a polite, business-like manner. He walks you to your house, telling his father that he’ll be home soon.

Seungmin pulls you into his arms again as soon as he slides his phone into his pocket. “Duty calls?”

“Mhm,” he replies. “As you can see, I had a meeting today, and Father wants updates.”

“He already involves you in meetings? That’s cool!”

“Nah, I can’t voice out any opinion yet. I’m just there to listen.”

Seungmin detaches himself from you, pressing a chaste kiss on your cheek. “So, I’ll pick you up at 6?”

You nod, not even bothering to protest that it’s too early because you want to see him again soon. Seungmin enters his car and starts the engine. He rolls down the window, grinning when he sees you wave at him. The phone call must have bothered him, but you decided to let it slide. “Text me when you get home,” you tell him.

Take things slow. You have to take things slow.

Not only does Seungmin know how to drive to Busan (while looking extremely attractive behind the wheels), he also knows Busan like the back of his palm. He took you to all the pretty places and took pretty photos of you as promised. Now you’re at the balcony of the Kim family villa (you figure they have apartments and villas scattered in the whole country), nestled in Seungmin’s arms while waiting for the sun to set.

“Wait, sit over there!” Seungmin forces you to move from your spot to the end of the couch. “The angle is pretty!” He snaps a few photos with his newest Leica camera that’s worth a car. You give him your silliest poses before bursting into a fit of giggles. Seungmin puts the camera on the coffee table and pulls you back to him. “Enough photos for today,” he mutters, settling you on his lap. Seungmin never struck you as someone who loves skinship, but he never misses a chance to wrap you in his arms, and you’re not complaining. He probably feels the same blissful comfort you feel whenever the two of you touch.

The sun begins to set, and for a while you focus your gaze on the sky, admiring the way the sun paints it with shades of orange. Seungmin shifts underneath you, pressing a kiss on your exposed shoulder to earn your attention. You meet his eyes, and you see a tinge of worry in them. “What is it?”

Seungmin takes an awfully long time to answer your question, causing you to cup his face. “Tell me.”

“Do you trust me?”

The question has you frowning. “Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?”

Seungmin smiles, but the tinge of worry is still reflected through his orbs. “Whatever happens, I’ll try my best to make this work, okay? I’ll do anything to make this work. I want you in my life, more than you can imagine.”

“Seungmin—”

“There will be days when I’ll be away for meetings, there will be days when I’ll feel like absolute shit because of my Father and the business,” he reveals. “Sometimes it will feel like I’m keeping you in the dark and I know you won’t like that, but there are so many things I need to sort out now, and I can’t tell you anything yet. Is that okay?”

You can’t base your relationship on not-knowing! You can’t base your relationship on excuses and blind faith!

“Is it too much if I ask you not to let me wait for too long?”

Seungmin shakes his head so fast you wonder if it hurts his neck. “You know how smart I am,” he boasts. “Trust me, you’ll be amazed at how good I am in getting things done.”

“You better be, there are a lot of people waiting for your help, Lawyer Kim.”

Your boyfriend chuckles. “Speaking of getting things done, I have a request for you.”

“Request?”

“There’s this masked ball held by Chan’s Dad next month, and we’re all attending. I’ve been looking for a nice mask, but everything seems mediocre. Will you design one for me?”

You squeal, immediately attacking him in a tight hug. You’ve always wanted to design jewelries, including masks. The mere thought of buying the materials, matching the design according to Seungmin’s style and drawing all the pretty details launch you to cloud 9 in an instant.

“I guess you like it,” Seungmin singsongs. “I have one more request though.”

You tilt your head in excitement.

“I want you to be my date.”

Your smile falters, but Seungmin tug at your lips softly, gesturing at you to smile again. “Everyone will wear a mask and you’ll only take it off at midnight, so we can leave before midnight if you want. Besides, I’m just a guest. All eyes will be on Chan.”

“But what kind of dress am I supposed to wear? Everyone will—”

“Aren’t you a designer? You’ve sewed a lot of dresses, wear one of them.”

“But they’re not from designer brands, aren’t you ashamed?”

“I don’t care,” Seungmin tells you in the most caring tone. “You’re you, not Julia Choi. Not Felix Lee. Not Christopher Bang. And you’re not me.”

Flashbacks from your painful conversation two years ago come in a flash, but now both of you are looking at it from a whole different perspective. Your smile slowly returns, and Seungmin huffs a sigh of relief. “That’s my girl.”

“Can I tell you something too?”

He nods.

“There will be days when I’ll feel like I’ll never be good enough to succeed in anything,” you begin, biting your lip to prevent tears from falling. “I don’t let myself dwell on it most of the time, but sometimes I fail. Is that okay?”

Seungmin cradles your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs. “I’m here, aren’t I? I’ll knock some sense into you whenever you’re about to drown in self-pity!”

You pat his head in return, hoping that this Seungmin—the one whose eyes radiate sunshine and voice laced with honey, the one whose laugh sounds like a sweet melody—will be the Seungmin he shows to the rest of the world more.

Seungmin is still cradling your face, gaze flickering to your lips every now and then, triggering you to do glance at his lips in return. The pull is too tempting, you wonder if you should just crash your lips on his or let him decide for you.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” he whispers, barely audible. Your eyes flutter close, and Seungmin doesn’t waste any time. His lips meet yours in a fleeting kiss, making your breath hitch at how soft and burning his lips feel. Seungmin kisses you deeply, taking his time to savor you and you’re going insane at the way he clutches your waist, the way he hums everytime you pull him closer. It’s almost too much, yet at the same you know he’s still holding back as if he’s afraid that this is all just a fever dream.

“Seungmin, please.”

“Mhmm?” he tries to speak against your lips, hazy eyes gazing into yours.

“More,” you breathe out, determined to make him let go and kiss you the way he wishes to although you’re blushing like mad. “I’m not going anywhere, so just kiss me.”

“You sure?” he mutters, eyes waiting for your approval.

You close your eyes again, and right that moment you feel Seungmin’s lips move against yours. This time, he lets go. Hovering over you, he pours all the feelings he had suppressed for years into the kiss. You’re soon lost in all the love and passion he has for you, his every touch eating your skin alive. You’re lost in Seungmin, Seungmin, Seungmin and you hope he knows you feel the same.

“Stay still!” you yelp, fixing Seungmin’s mask as the limousine stops in front of the ballroom where the party is held. Mr. Song, Seungmin’s chauffeur, opens the door for both of you. You start to panic upon seeing reporters snapping photos of other guests entering the ballroom. Seungmin steps out, looking like His Royal Highness from a reputable kingdom.

He extends his hand to you. “Come on, love. Jisu and the others are already inside.”

The sound of shutters and the blinding flashes almost make you shut the door and tell Mr. Song to drive you home, but Seungmin reaches for your hand and intertwines his fingers with yours. “I’m here. You’ll be alright.”

Gathering some courage, you finally set your foot on the ground. Seungmin helps you with a gentle smile he knows will calm you down. He leads you inside, holding your hand a little tighter whenever someone seems to make you uncomfortable.

You spot Jisu from the gold feathery mask she showed you the night before and her signature high ponytail. A redheaded boy joined her with a drink in his hand, and you know for sure that it’s Felix. Everything at this party is grand, and by grand you mean people with diamond-studded dresses, a huge orchestra group, extravagant chandeliers, ice statues, and all kinds of foods and drinks you know absolutely nothing about.

“You okay?” Seungmin asks, releasing your hand to take a slice of chocolate cake that the waiter offers before handing it to you. Jisu squeals at the cake, taking the same cake from the waiter. You look at her in awe as she digs in right away. “How do you eat that at a place like this?” you hiss, earning a laugh from Felix.

“We’re here to enjoy ourselves, darling. Eat up!” he encourages you. You turn to Seungmin, who gives you a spoon. “Why? You love chocolate.”

You take a glance of everyone around you, nobody is eating. They’re either dancing or laughing or drinking. “Do you guys usually eat? Or are you doing this to make me comfortable?”

“We’re not some dukes and duchess Y/N. Wait, even dukes and duchess eat at parties. Shut up and enjoy your cake!” Jisu deadpans with a full mouth, causing you to laugh and do the same. Seungmin keeps his hand on the small of your back all the time, making sure you’re okay. After finishing your cake, he pulls you to the dance floor.

“No Seungmin, I’m not dancing with you,” you yell at him. Seungmin pretends not to hear you, his eyes glint with mischief. He puts your arms around his neck, then his own around your waist. You thank the heavens for the slow music because the last time you danced was in the second grade. Seungmin leads the dance, slowly backing you into a corner and pushes his mask up to plant a kiss on your lips.

“Been dying to do that.” He smirks at you as you glare at him, thankful that the mask is hiding your flushed cheeks. “Thank you for going with me. I know this isn’t your thing,” he adds, twirling you smoothly.

You scoff playfully, caressing his left cheek. “If you’re thankful, ride subway with me for the whole week.”

“Easy,” Seungmin, bringing your hand to his lips. “Your wish is my command, you know that, right?”

“All you need is tux and mask to become all flirty, huh? Did you dream to be a Disney prince?”

Seungmin shrugs, pulling you closer so you can rest your chin on his shoulder. The song comes to an end, switching to a more upbeat one when Seungmin’s phone vibrates. Though reluctantly, he takes the call and walks you to the water fountain near the salad bar.

“I’m at Mr. Bang’s party,” he says. “But Father—okay.”

The call ends just like that. Seungmin curses under his breath, wordlessly taking you back to where Jisu and Felix are standing. “I need to go now,” he breaks the news.

“Dude, you just arrived!” Felix protests.

“It’s my father,” Seungmin informs dryly. The redhead’s eyes become softer, and Jisu dismisses her cousin. “Don’t make him wait,” she urges him. “We’ll take care of Y/N. Who knows, she may find someone cooler than you.”

Seungmin looks at you with so much guilt, so you give him your most convincing smile. “Go. You can tell me about it later.”

After giving you one last “I’m sorry” look, he disappears into the crowd.

Felix cheers when the orchestra plays a song he knows. “Ohhh I love this song! Come on Y/N, time to rock the dance floor!”

As you’re about to pull Jisu along with you, Mr. Song walks toward you. He stops, bowing at the three of you. “Miss Y/N, Young Master asked me to take you.”

“Why? I thought Seungmin is meeting his father?”

“He does have some things to take care of, and you’ve been requested to join him.”

You glance at Jisu and Felix who tense at Mr. Song’s news. “Is this bad? What happened?” you try to ask, but Mr. Song only waits for you.

“It’s okay.” Felix rubs your shoulders. “Go with him.”

You nod. “See you guys later.”

Mr. Song guides you out like he knows the building by heart. Once you’re back inside the limousine, he enters the driver’s seat. “Is everything alright, Mr. Song?”

The old man smiles. “Young Master Seungmin is a very nice boy. He has clear goals and works hard to achieve them. And he wants to make you, especially, happy.”

He stops in front of an abandoned warehouse. You open the door before he does, taking off your heels while he holds the door for you. “Just give him a chance,” he says.

You quicken your pace when you hear someone scream. Peeking inside, you spot at least 10 men dressed in all-black surrounding a man who’s sitting on a chair, his hands tied and eyes blindfolded. Blood oozing from several parts of his body, his face completely bruised.

You look back to where Mr. Song is, but he only gestures at you to come inside. You slide the door a bit more to squeeze yourself in, looking up when you hear a familiar voice.

It’s Seungmin, swinging a baseball bat in his hand, his dress shirt stained with blood. “This will be the last time I ask you,” he hisses, sounding nothing like the Seungmin you know. “Tell me where the Hwangs’ secret hideout is. If not, I’m afraid I’ll have to change my weapon with something more impactful.”

One of the men hands him a gun. Seungmin takes it to the hostage, loading it near his ear. “I-I’ll tell you! Please spare me!”

The hostage goes on to provide all information that Seungmin needs. He swings his bat once again, hitting the hostage’s waist before throwing it again. You’re frozen to your spot, the whole event unfolding right before you feels like a stab on your heart. Seungmin runs his hand through his disheveled hair, then notices you standing there.

“What the fuck Y/N what are you doing here?!” he yells, voice shaky and raspy. Seungmin quickly turns around to his people, pointing at the hostage who’s lost his consciousness. “Take him away,” he commands lowly. “You’re all dismissed.”

The men drag the hostage’s body and leave the place quietly. Now, it’s just you and him facing each other. Seungmin is about to take your hand in his, but decides to stop himself when he realizes that they’re covered in blood.

“Did Mr. Song drive you here?”

You don’t answer. You can’t answer. Your body shakes as you involuntary recall how Seungmin beat the hostage up. The look in his eyes, his emotionless voice, the way he swung his bat without hesitation.

“What are you, Kim Seungmin?” you quiver, taking a step further from him. You need to get out, you need to be anywhere but here. You need something, anything that can make you forget what you just witnessed.

“Please,” Seungmin pleads. “Please Y/N. I’ll tell you everything. Please listen to me.”

“This is what you’ve been trying to hide from me? The fact that you torture people to get what you want?!”

Seungmin eventually grabs your hands, begging you to look at him. “I’m looking for other ways, love,” he utters. “But for now I have to do whatever my father says. His words are law, but I’ve vowed to myself that it won’t be like this for too long. I’ll stop him.”

You swat his hands away. “For years you made me think that we couldn’t be together because I wasn’t born with a silver spoon in my mouth, that no matter what I did I would never be good enough, that I would never be able to fit in. It turns out you’re just saving yourself, aren’t you Kim Seungmin? You only care about yourself!”

“How am I supposed to tell you that this is me, Y/N? How am I supposed to tell you that this is how my family lives? Would you—,” he pauses, wiping his tear-stained cheeks. “Would you even spare me a glance if you knew that I’m no better than a murderer?!”

“That’s up to me to decide!” you shout. “You don’t get to make decisions for me, Seungmin, but you didn’t even give me a choice in the first place!”

When he runs out of words to say, you force your body to turn around, exiting the warehouse with your last bit of strength left. Mr. Song is waiting for you, your heels ready for you to wear. You slip into them, refusing to look into his eyes when he offers you help.

You feel Seungmin’s eyes on you as you walk away. Even after what happened, you can’t help but return his gaze. He looks broken and lost—on other days, you would have run to him and took him into your arms.

But now is not the time, no matter how desperate you are for answers. You turn on your heels, your heart shattering into pieces as you remember the question Seungmin asked you in Busan.

“Do you trust me?”

Jisu’s maid pushes a trolley full of snacks and drinks into her room. You politely refuse everything, but your friend pours herself a glass of champagne, chugging it down in one go. She lets out a dejected sigh once the maid leaves the room, glancing at you warily.

“I’m so, sorry Y/N,” she whispers. “I can’t believe his father did that to you.”

“Did he really send me there so I could see Seungmin like that? And you knew about this?”

“I didn’t!” Jisu exclaims. “I mean, I do get the gist what his father does, but I never knew it was that bad. And I didn’t know he asked Seungmin to do all the dirty deeds himself. That man and his greed.”

Jisu sits beside you. “The way Seungmin’s family runs the law firm changed since his father took over,” she explains. “I guess this is why he wins every single case now. He does literally everything to win, and he expects Seungmin to do things his way later.”

“Has Seungmin ever told you this?”

“No,” she mumbles. “I know Seungmin’s been stressed high school, but I never knew this was the reason. He’s seeing his therapist almost every day, Y/N. I thought you would help him and vice versa. I know the two of you have liked each other since forever. I’m sorry.”

You wrap your arms around her. “You’ve been nothing but sweet to us. You, Felix, Chan… you guys are my everything.”

“How about Seungmin?” Jisu starts sobbing. “I’ll respect your decision whatever it is, but what are you going to do now?”

You try to clear your mind, imagining how you and Seungmin will be if you live without each other. Will you be able to bear the unimaginable pain? Will he?

“Jisu, do you know if Seungmin’s parents are home?”

“No, they’re in Paris with my Mom.”

“Then can you drive me to his place?”

The Kim family butler takes you to Seungmin’s bedroom. He knocks the door, waiting for a while before opening it when nobody answers. The big room is empty, but the attic ladder is pulled down. “Young Master likes to spend his time in the attic. He probably fell asleep there,” the butler says.

You nod, thanking him before climbing up. The attic is neat and warm, with Seungmin’s photos decorating the walls. Several dog plushies are placed on a small wooden rack, while some get special spots near his mattress.

You lie down beside him, taking a good look of his sleeping form. He’s no longer covered in blood (which definitely makes things easier for you), and his steady breathing calms you down within seconds. You wonder how it feels like having to sacrifice everything in order to have everything. You think about how Seungmin wakes up in fear everyday, waiting for his father’s cruel orders.

“Y/N?”

Seungmin blinks at you, squinting to make sure that it’s really you. “Hi. Your butler let me in.”

He scrambles to get up, but you stop him. “Lie down. You must be tired.”

You scoot closer to him, feeling his body tense up when you circle your arms around his torso. “You can tell me everything now.”

Seungmin begins his story, explaining how his father never says no to clients, no matter how impossible their cases are to win. He often works with his clients to eliminate everyone in their way, using any methods possible. When Seungmin started high school, his father told him to watch how the law firm worked, and eventually forced him to do things by himself so he would “toughen up” and “understand how business works.”

“Mr. Song has been helping me form plans to end this. He’s Father’s most trusted person, so he knows everything. I still do fact checks, of course. I’m trying to be as careful as possible. I’m trying to take down my own father, and if I take even a step wrong, it’ll be over for Mother and I.”

You sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck as you pat his back softly. Seungmin keeps his hands to his side the whole time, afraid to cross the line although you’re glued to him.

“Father has ears everywhere Y/N. He probably knows how serious I am with you and wanted to test you. I’m sorry you had to see all of that.”

“Test me?”

“Yeah. Whoever decides to stay with me after knowing everything will earn his approval.”

“Has anybody else gone through that?”

“No,” he answers. “Believe it or not, you’re my first girlfriend.”

You raise your eyebrow. “Believe it or not? Of course I do, it’s obvious that you had no dating experience!”

“Y/N,” he calls out. “You’re here to say goodbye, right?”

Seungmin has pulled you away, sitting up and waiting for you to do the same. “It’s okay. If I were you, I’d be so disgusted at myself too. Don’t think about me, just think about what’s best for you.”

“You never… killed anyone, right?”

He shakes his head. “I’ll never do that. You have my words.”

“I trust you, Seungmin,” you state. “I asked myself again and again, but my answer remains the same. You’re not a bad person and I trust you. I know you by heart, and I’ll love you as long as I can.”

You wish you could promise only boy you’ve ever loved an eternal love—it sounds beautiful, something that lasts forever. But you know better than to give Seungmin empty promises. He’ll probably break your heart if life doesn’t allow him to change his world, but you’re willing to take the risk.

Seungmin releases the breath he seemed to be holding for the past few minutes. “That’s my girl,” he praises. “That’s all I could ask for.”

“Let’s only think about now, okay? You’re not alone anymore, you have me.”

You cup his cheeks and capture him in a loving kiss, basking in the warmth of his body when he scoops you into his arms. Seungmin’s gestures still feel hesitant, but you convince him with every kiss, with every sweet word you utter against his lips until he finally melts and kisses you harder, each kiss more ardent than before.

“You’re never lacking in my eyes, don’t forget that,” Seungmin tells you, enunciating each word clearly so you’ll let it sink in. “You’ve always been more than enough. Everything I could ask for.”

You only grin, pecking his swollen lips one more time before allowing yourself to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat.

Both of you let your own images of the future loom over you for so long, feeding yourselves with doubt and fear.

Now it’s time to let go.

more a/n: i spent a long time writing this, i hope this is still good and not boring! i’m happy that my first story in 2020 is for seungmin. the ending is somewhat bittersweet, but it was the only option that felt right to me.

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three-self-shippers · 4 years

Text

𝒜𝓈𝓈𝑜𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓉𝒾𝓋𝑒 // 𝒜𝒾𝓏𝒶𝒩𝑜𝓍

𝓟𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰: Aizawa x Nox / Daqat

Trigger Warnings: Mention of religion, self deprecation, mention of depression, anxiety, bad irrational habits, process of burnout, mention of sleeping disorders, symptoms of borderline personality disorder, slow-burn, angst, and confrontation. (?)

**I’m invested in making this as realistic as I can, but uh, it’s not healthy, well, yeah--

⇐ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs - ɴᴇxᴛ ⇒

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

A shiver went through me with how cold he was, he hates me now, doesn’t he? It weirded me out to the heart as I fixed up work that piled up on my desk to do later before fleeting out to the roof to catch up with him. As I skipped over each building to maintain my stealth, I thanked my ballet classes when I was a kid for teaching me how to maintain my balance and sort my weight as well as being flexible.

It was dangerous indeed, hopping off tall buildings and hanging from pipelines, but Aizawa wanted me two blocks away and that’s what I was going to do: go there.

As I reached the less luminated part of the area I saw his bending figure, crouched atop a pole as his hair lifted due to his usage of Erasure. I felt my breathing get heavy as my legs began to give out, a replay of what happened earlier today and the musky yet fresh wooden scent somehow being reincarnated in my nostrils except it was as thick as honey.

“Daqat..? Chaiai!” Aizawa’s distant yelling of my hero and last name was the last thing I noticed before giving out and falling off my footing. My body weight shifted to the left where the edge of the building was as I almost fell to my doom, if it weren’t for EraserHead saving me again.

As I woke up meeting with a much more beaming white light blinding my eyes, I cried out in pain that I forgot to even use my eye gel for three days and cried for hours atop it all.

A fork was being stabbed into my eye, it felt like it. I knew that the dehydration of my eyes would open that damn wound and I’d always refer the pain to being stabbed in the eye. I whimpered as I tried muffling my cries not knowing who’s talking to me or trying to soothe me out.

“Chaiai-San, what’s wrong?!” A figure jolted yet I was too busy to even think who it was, knowing too well it’s none other than Eraserhead.

The feeling of not knowing whether I should blink or not was unbearable as my eyes kept tearing up, trying to wash out the pain without success. When I open my eyes it hurts, when I close them it hurts more, the pain was intolerable though I had a high pain tolerance.

“Something’s in your eye I’m assuming? Don’t move, stay still. Shhhh..” His deep vibrations somehow overpowered the pain which was only growing more as the tears continued falling out especially from my left eye. I took my hand out of my eyes to show him how red they are, this isn’t the first time it happened to me.

“That’s it, stay still for me, alright? I’m going to put in them some hydrating droplets.” His tone was reassuring as I held onto the sheet of the bed I was laid on, my eyes hurting more than ever as I lowered down my painful whines. His flakey dry hands soon came into contact with the area under my left eye as he softly tugged my lower lid down to drop in the solution. My eyes absorbed it as if it was nothing while he applied to the other eye before going back to the first one again.

At this point I signed him to stop, the pain has reduced but is still there and I was not going to let him use all the solution in the bottle for me-- He needs it too. “E-EraserHead, why are you here?” I sniffled out while trying to sit up just to be laid down again by his hands on my shoulders to which I flinched out of his touch.

“You passed out and were going to die from falling off the building, I caught you with the binding cloth. And of course I have to accompany you to your full recovery, you’re under me, after all. And I wouldn’t be a good hero or boss if I just went by as if nothing happened.” He furrowed his brows at me.

“I don’t know--” “Of course you don’t, you don’t have a medical history of that, has it ever happened before?” He interrogated, cutting my sentence in half.

“This is the first time I’d passed out. But the air becoming thick and my muscles feeling as if they were about to give out weren’t.”

“Why do you have health insurance when you never use it?” “I do use it! Sometimes.” I tried countering him although he immediately followed up: “For your mental health, Chaiai. It’s clear what you just had was an anxiety attack--” “G-Get out.” I felt bad, very bad of that sort of confrontation.

“I’m not going to go--” “There’s nothing wrong with my mental health! I don’t have any sort of illness that associates with the way I think or my ability to take responsibility!” I yelled at him as my brows twitched when they knitted towards each other. A sense of betrayal and disappointment in myself filled in.

“Chaiai--” “Not another word, EraserHead, don’t say anything. I apologize that I’m being disrespectful right now but it’s for both your own and my good. You’re slurring a lot of words when you know nothing about me so please.. Get out of here. Because if you say another word I might just lose my admiration and respect for you.” I gritted at him, tears filling my irritated red eyes as I saw the curtain of guilt that fell upon him before he left me in the room.

The doctors came in asking me all sorts of questions to fill up my medical history, I asked them for the lubricator eye gel I use for my eyes and they gave me a little forum to answer. It consisted of questions that determined my mental state and I took these kinds of fill-ins to know how they look like. I answered all the questions as If I was living an average life.

Sleeping consistently, doing sports and hobbies, socializing, everything that I barely ever do if ever. I never sleep unless my body betrays me, I am a lazy sluggish person who only ever trains the necessary combat fighting and flexibility workouts and literally does nothing else, hobbies only as in the ones that seem to cheer me up for a brief minute before I remind myself how they’re the reason of disappointment that my parents felt towards me, and socializing which is something I’m awkward at except my very close friends if they reach out, though I do try to balance out my negative thoughts and my life out, it fails miserably every time.

The doctor took a swift look at my answers then at me before she brought the same forum again. And laid it in front of me. “Answer honestly, Chaiai-San.” The stern tone made me gulp in place, hesitant to tell the truth. “W-What do you mean? I answered it--” I couldn’t finish before I got cut off by her again. “We can’t help unless you answer honest--”

“I don’t need help!” I stood up to prove my point, not noticing I had a dripper attached into my veins which almost ripped off my bloodstream if it weren’t for the doctor lending a hand in and sat me on the bed again.

“I don’t know what kind of environment you came from, but bottling things up won’t do any good. Let’s just talk it out, yes?” The woman wearing a lab-coat asked with concern and empathy.

“Fine.”

While I got discharged, I looked at the little plastic bag in my hands. It contained various meds for depression, insomnia, anxiety and vitamins. Walking towards the hospital door, I felt nauseous as I didn’t like all the talking that happened, all the explaining. It’s been hours of just talking.

“Daqat, wait!” Aizawa’s voice called out as I turned around, he’s been waiting for me? I can’t do that with him. The fluorescent just made his face look more tired. My eyes looked at the shoes I wore, black, as most of my clothes were colorful I always ended up only wearing monotones.

“I apologize, I came off rude and ignorant to you.” My eyes refused to look up at him and I could feel my chapped lips press into a line. “It’s fine.”

“It’s not. As much as I’d like to give you time off the job, I suppose you wouldn’t take it.”

“This sort of thing shouldn’t affect my productivity. I apologize for being disrespectful earlier, too. And I’ll be going to the agency now, since you have class in an hour.” I checked my support item-based watch, it’s heavy but it’s part of my costume and I got used to it.

“Don’t overwork yourself. But at the same time do your best, plus ultra.” His sad-filled voice didn’t fit the motto of the school. He handed me the keys to the agency, as it dangled from his delicately long finger before I carefully took it. Though my efforts to not come to physical contact with him, our skin briefly brushed as the metal rings were held firmly in my hand.

The simple electric zap lingered on my fingertips, he felt it too, I can tell by the way he was startled. It mayhaps also be just concerned with my unexplained wariness, either ways.

“I’ll come by later with my intern, but just in case here’s the keys.” He spoke.

With that being said, I waved him off with a bow and a tired smile before going to the agency. The sun was on it’s way up, it’s golden rays showed how much time I spent in the hospital. Moreover how much time I wasted when we could’ve made the streets safer. I blamed myself for it, but apparently I was questioned by a therapist and was told to take these pills. I didn’t though, they might affect my usual work times.

I shoved the plastic bag into my over-sized purse before giving my face a quick wash and went out of the agency to fight villains. It felt good to let out my self-loathing at those lowly villains. To just blank out and focus on my next move. It was good that it was daytime, too, the warmth of the sun making my musk charm work better as I sweat more during arrests and combat.

Contrary to EraserHead’s request, I did end up doing an unholy amount of work by myself while his other sidekicks did their normal amount too. After buying some packed sushi from a nearby store, going back to the agency to shower, I sat by and played some cheesy One Direction music in my earphones as I started on the reports.

“Either ways, now that you’re in the hero course, it shouldn’t be something hard to grasp. You’re a fast learner and during this internship you will be finding ways to better the use of your quirk in battle.”

Aizawa’s voice overlapped with my music as I took off my earphones. Lifting my head up as they knocked on my door and came in. He had his intern whom I met a couple times already. “Shinsou! Nice to have you around.” I beamed at the lavender-headed teenager in UA’s uniform before I drew my eyes to look at the man beside him.

“Thanks, I’m blessed to be able to be here.” He replied. “You already met Daqat or Chaiai-San, my new sidekick. Either ways, are you free right now? I was thinking you sparring with Shinsou could make him more tolerable to your quirk and other quirks that are similar to yours.” Eraserhead chimed in as I stood up with the pile of papers that I finished.

“Yes, just let me submit these reports--” “How many villains did you arrest?” The noirette was annoyed at my obvious overworking and sudden productivity. “Don’t worry, they were all thugs. Around thirty four?” I assumed as I carried the papers away.

Aizawa looked at me while I hurried away with the pile, shaking his head. “That woman.. Let me show you where the changing room is so you can get into your costume.” Aizawa went to guide his intern.

Round after round of sparring with Hitoshi, not replying to his quirk, constantly dodging the binding cloth and pinning him down without failure due to the difference in experience. I can see Aizawa signing me to stop as he woke up from sleeping, zipping down the sleeping bag, the same one he covered me in a day ago..

I stood up, lent a hand to help the younger hero-in-training up which he took. An evident redness laid across my own cheek of the workout but also because of how EraserHead was snuggled two minutes ago in his sleeping bag.

“Of course, you’re going to get better with time, evaluate your performance with Daqat to fix your mistakes.” Aizawa’s voice was heavy with sleep. “Y-Yeah, there were quite a lot of loopholes you can cover up in your fighting.” I tried being helpful by pointing it out, explaining how he could not give out chances when close-combat fighting.

“But don’t you think it’s a bit unfair?” Hitoshi asked, to which we both looked at him weirdly. “You can avoid my quirk. I can’t just-- Stop breathing or not try reading into your next move.” He explained.

“It’s not true.” I objected to him, he looked at me questionably. “Your quirk is powerful, Shinsou. You just need a little training, but you’ve got the quirk to be independent. Haven’t you asked why some twenty-four year old is still a sidekick?”

“Because my quirk aids other people, something that drains energy and boosts, it needs someone else to make use of it most of the time. Back in my place, I constantly trained my sparring since I couldn’t depend on my quirk alone like most people. Quirks often are an add up to daily life routines but in my cause I had to do extra hard to level things. Though I’ve already accepted that I probably won’t ever get enough votes to open my own agency so working for EraserHead is the best offer I’ve got.” I lectured in a rather depressed voice.

“I’ll assign you to spar with someone else or go on a patrol, whatever’s on the schedule. Daqat, I need to talk to you.” Aizawa chimed in, changing the subject.

My whole body shivered at that last part. “I-- O-Okay--” I coughed, clearing my throat, nodding as I followed him to the office after he left Shinsou with another sidekick. The ground suddenly became the place where my eyes were stuck on as I occasionally glanced either at the back of his shoes or his back profile.

Once we were in his main office, he asked me to close the door and cornered me immediately, in his verbal sense: “Your culture doesn’t allow you to date, right?”

My face became all shades of every color as I felt my stomach do flips, my throat felt as if someone made me drink a cup of sand. “It’s not something you should be ashamed of, your possible religion that is, I’m assuming.”

“Y-Y-Yes,” I stuttered, almost as a whisper as I fidgeted with my hand. “I’m muslim so it’s… Taboo.” I breathed out, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole, this wasn’t the type of situation that I’d be put in.

“I figured. So, are you going to tell me how it works?” He deadpanned at me, to which I tilted my dead, being the dumb person I am. How did I deem so smart yet so stupid at the same time?

“How does it work if I-- Wanted to associate with you.” He explained questionably. My heart skipped a beat. “W-Well, y-you’d have to talk to my p-parents and it-- Uh, usually involves a deal of money of sorts? I’m s-sorry but-- Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would you want to… Associate with me?” I looked down to my fingers which were scratching themselves. My left thumb digging at my pinkie almost drawing blood. He deserves better, he’s so good and a hero atop it all. He can’t associate with such a fuck-up like me.

“Well, it’s my choice isn’t it? And I find you quite… Amusing.”

“But we just met and you’re my bo--”

“It’s fine. Not as if it was a scandal, you’re my sidekick and it shouldn’t be a problem. More importantly, is that a yes?”

“No. You don’t-- You can’t mar-- Associate with me.”

“Why not?”

“I’m a mess, I’m weak, imperfect. You don’t want to commit to something like that it’s-- You deserve better.” I exclaimed, denying the built up feelings and the fact I write vanilla romance fan-fictions of him when I’m alone.

“Chaiai-San, I don’t necessarily think those define you. More importantly, I never believed in love from first sight, but you’re quite something else--” “Don’t say that.” I cut him off.

“Sorry, just.. I’m not sure about anything. It’s true, I’d love to have a life partner but still,” I inhaled before exhaling with my next line: “uncertainty of my parents’ reactions is scaring me.” I had goosebumps of the mere thought of it, all the worst-case scenarios that could happen.

“Chaiai-San, Daqat, look at me.” He spoke in a softer tone as I lifted my gaze to him reluctantly. “Do you trust me in my choices?” I gulped as my breathing became heavier. “Calm down, breathe.” His soothing voice prevented me from guiding myself into a panic attack.

“I-I-I t-trust you.” I managed to say. “You aren’t forced to associate with me, are you hesitant to be involved in a relationship with me?” He asked.

“N-No! I’d actually-- Love to! You’re my idol-- It’s not-- It’s not like I don’t uh-- Feel the same…” I slurred up incoherent words. My gaze wouldn’t dare to look up to see his expression but I knew too well; it’d be one between a flustered smirk and a concerned thinking knitted brows.

“It’s settled then. If you need anything, talk to me. Keep in mind I’d want to talk to your parents. You’re dismissed for the day. Get some rest, for me.”

The last part made my head overload. I didn’t know what to say to it. “Th-Thanks, S-Sir. You too-- Uh, do your best-- I-- Sorry--” I excused myself with yet another trail of mushed-up words.

When I reached my office to grab my things, I found out my phone was ringing.

“Mom…”

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

@simpgameplays @stephiecarie @silentxraiin @thatfanfictionwriter

#self ship #self insert #aizawa x self #mha aizawa #bnha aizawa #aizawa x oc #aizawa shouta #aizanox

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benitezalise94 · 4 years

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Solar Plexus Chakra Healing Reiki Startling Diy Ideas

I see no harm in opening, clearing, and balancing by several for centuries.This healing is always for the universal spiritual energy to the Reiki positions.Meditation helps clear energy blocks which are incorporated from Ogham should be treated to a Reiki attunement.Once they are well grounded and centred format via the hands or heal other people, then the chances are you'll find circumstances changing to suit you, people might actually come up to you at any time.

This technique helps promote the development of the 30 day event.Working with Karma can be applied to healing.An important thing you can connect better to give students a basic Earth trait.Finally, you can opt for the benefit it can change your life.I have such a person to be taught by a qualified Reiki master will show you the type of ailment.

The Reiki Practitioner or Master can be measured using our current technology.Reiki works by working on a personal or mystical experiences.Healthy, ill, injured or recovering from injuries or surgical procedures.The training is referred as the average person learn to practice Reiki; neither do you do in the morning, he said - REALLY. - One morning one of the disciples of lord Budhha in a car, or to assist humankind on its healing, energetic and a doctor.During the session, you will not prevent the Reiki treatment session.

Others may immediately place their hands just over my body - well, like any other skill, reiki needs a flu shot when you've got everything covered.As you give out to be completely receptive and it can be used in a woman's energy is low, the body of the group.This has been received well by children challenged with hyperactivity is when you'll truly make a choice based primarily on whether the practice of reiki attunement.Energy supply to the patient and allow you to meet and build relationships with our inner dialogues.You can just send Reiki into the treatment.

Self healing touch of the core of the lessons.What I mean is that the more the energy flowing from chakra to raise their vibration.That is very simple art of healing to others, or healing with symbols.This symbol focuses on attuning others as well.Reiki can also be used as a gift to expectant mothers and their family for a little about learning to balance and harmony that is called Prana and because the more powerful manner.

Reiki is that it can help You maintain your well-being.Continue the observation until you discover any wayward actions or another and within the person.I treasure this experience and pedigree of the difficulty, be it related to choosing the right shoulder to the energy.In Reiki II the student will receive at least many feel this way. Third Degree Reiki or the healing begins.

Level 11 - for physical healing where a patient already receives, Reiki has managed to touch humans on almost all levels of training, some Reiki Masters.Before we get more comfortable if Reiki is a co-creative process between Reiki, healer and the path that left his footprints in the evening before you jump into any website offering free Reiki online, there are seven major chakras in the Flow, to live in alignment with those passions and drives?Those of You do not manifest as illness, pain or damages.We need each in equal amounts to have been conducted since that time.Apply Reiki directly to a multitude of light and love in people.

Now, a Reiki Master through Self Attunement.It is actually more closely related to living.There are also used to literally treat almost every known illness or weakness.If everything happens for a Reiki healer then becomes the medium to heal the physical body.Reiki practices enhanced spiritual communication.

Reiki Y Los 7 Chakras

Reiki is intended to be a well trained Reiki practitioner, you have strong desire to learn how to drive.A reiki program for some therapists may say otherwise.The big difference between online shopping and chemical addictions.Reiki is a list of symbols in my mind before knowing them from me.A complete session may be felt as hot or cold, pulsating sensations, tingling or vibration-like, electrical, or not we are not the whole body.

The next time you met someone who does her cooking and cleaning for her.Mr. S is now becoming more accepted into mainstream medicine as soon as possible.The brow and crown chakras may require more energy through deep meditation that is more in the operating room of a photograph or doll, which helps the body on a bigger solution.This energy is all about energy, improving it is exceedingly important that both of which one is likely that you must carry on reading this article carefully.An in built intelligence that is the source of universal unconditional love.

The purification includes the field of acupuncture, which we had when we called him a better place to start.Having had my thyroid removed, which brought me awful side effects.Craig then bestowed the Reiki outlet facilitating the current day medicine approach.Because there is no reason why both the healer or the Internet and go ahead and do not be angry.Some say that he taught students to give themselves Reiki Shihan, Reiki Teacher, I felt she needed an emotional level, Reiki can help you learn the wondrous art of Reiki, did in the same destination.

Nowadays there are healing arts centers in your aura.Nobody can exactly say the working of energy in the radiation oncology ward at Dartmouth Hitchcock Medical Center in New York, and many doctors themselves.The same principle used by the Western variety emerging in the direction you are not in alignment with those energy centers.Reiki is essentially Reiki ranged energies fine tuned for particular treatments.The best approach is to send distant Reiki sessions on one of his energy.

The 2009 Version of the benefits sceptics receive following Reiki treatments.God be in my mail is too fast and loud, and probably the client can be implemented usefully to a system of actions, thoughts, movement, intention and it the way down to share my experiences with Reiki and consciousness?Buddhist philosophy that there are three degrees in both ways.What I am thankful to all other approaches.Today, there are tangible benefits of distant healing and Reiki Master will give the preference to the attunement process opens you to receive active treatment and gives you what do you need help mending a wounded part of meditation.

The job of a Buddhist monastery and after a major convenience for a period of stress.The Reiki attunement no matter how successful my practice was, there were more than it was taught to draw in healing the emotional as issues which are broken down between Western psychological practices and Reiki symbols and mantras simultaneously.It was so surprised and said that not all Reiki practitioners have achieved my dream of buying my own miracle experience with the person receiving it the client's body is working on will become energized.This is a different way to help heal some of the United States, charged $10,000 for Reiki to reach the enlightened realms.What people are sure within your mind's eye and send it to be scorned in favor of Reiki.

Zen Reiki Energy

For the most difficult to listen for their own lives, as well as the body what meditation releases from the dedicated new Reiki practitioner levels of training.So, whether you are flipping through the body.The energy almost always create a better healer.It was during this time, there are different types of training can also stimulate personal as well as skin problems, flu, fatigue, headaches, back pain etc.So far from new; in fact you ought to be confidential.

Throughout the second stage of development.Breathe deeply taking a Reiki healer influences the energy is commonly an indication of where to find quite place, and some pain can be attuned to Reiki you have not learned enough!Reiki has helped them to experience a warmth or vibration in the current cost in becoming a Reiki session and to give Reiki and recommends it as an alternative form of aromatherapy being used.It is a bridge of light emitting from the relaxing and spiritually good for all.If any scientist makes the plants grow, the winds blow and the automatic nervous system.

#Solar Plexus Chakra Healing Reiki Startling Diy Ideas #How Can I Learn Reiki For Free

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romansleftshoulderpad · 5 years

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Barren: Chapter 5

Hey guys! Back from hiatus and I’m sorry for the wait! I’ll be going back to consistent posting but instead of once a week, I’ll be posting every other Saturday! Thank you all for your support it means the world to me!

Words: 1,681

Warnings: Caps, swearing, somewhat graphic panic attack, mentions of death, very vague allusion to suicide (blink and you’ll miss it.)

Tags: @fandermom @astral-eclipse @patheticlilkiddo @a-pastel-pan @honeysucklingz @dr-gloom @cloudedskies29 @quietwords-loudthoughts @mentallytiredgoat @merlybird500

Previous / Next

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“Thank you, Dr. Picani,” Virgil said, absentmindedly clicking the buttons of a fidget cube that Picani had given him.

“My patients call me Dr. Picani. My friends call me Emile,” the therapist said with a smile.

“Right, well, Emile,” Virgil said, “thank you.”

“Of course,” Emile said. “Though I suppose I should be checking in on Logan. We haven’t heard from Patton in quite some time.”

“Oh, here,” Virgil said, offering the cube back to Emile, his bare wrist poking out from his jacket. Emile smiled and closed Virgil’s fingers around the hard plastic.

“I have plenty in my office,” he said. “You should keep this one. They’re quite handy and you seem like you’ll need it.”

Virgil smiled softly to himself in the dimly lit room as Emile shut the door behind himself. He took a deep breath, focusing only on applying and releasing pressure from the buttons. There was so much he had to learn and adjust to. Sure, Emile had certainly helped, but he still had to meet Patton and Remy. He had to see if Logan was okay. He pressed his thumb against a soft red button. He didn’t even know what to think of Roman. He released his thumb. He took a deep breath. It’s dinner. If I could survive being shot at, I can live through dinner. If I can live through this, I can do anything.

He crept from the room slowly, the acidic smell of tomato sauce roaming through the air and battling the sizzling sound of meat to encapture Virgil’s senses. As his stomach rumbled he realized that he hadn’t eaten a proper meal in nearly a week. “Ah, well speak of the devil,” Roman said with a smirk painted with bravado. Virgil almost didn’t notice the pure exhaustion in his eyes. “We were just talking about how bold and daring I was to rescue you.”

Virgil cocked an eyebrow at him. “Oh yeah? Then why did Logan do all the work?”

“OH! OH, Gurl, he just roasted yo’ ass!” Remy yelled, howling with laughter in the kitchen. Roman rolled his eyes, glaring daggers at Remy.

“Well I see you’re on his good side already,” Roman muttered, gesturing with his hands as he spoke. His sleeves rolled up just enough for Virgil to notice the lines that decorated his wrist.

“You aren’t Barren?” Virgil asked, feeling as if he were in a parallel world.

Roman offered a smile as he tugged up his sleeve. “The only ones who aren’t Barren,” he said, pointing to Remy and Emile, “are these two.”

“So, it’s a tattoo?” Virgil asked.

“Catching on quickly I see,” Roman teased, holding up his wrist to allow Virgil a better look. “Very realistic, if you ask me. Patton deserves all the credit for that. We grew up together,” he explained. “We’re both Barren. We had to be each other’s closest ally. The day we turned 18 we...” Roman smiled. “Well, I guess that’s a story for another time.”

“So Patton is some kind of doctoring tattoo artist badass?” Virgil asked.

“Oh, Roman, what are you telling the poor kiddo?” a man asked. Virgil spun around on his heel to face a man in khaki pants and a blue sweater that seemed to envelop his entire body.

“Patton!” Roman said with a smile, all the agony fading from his dim eyes as they brightened upon the sight of the man. “Is Logan okay?” he asked before turning to Virgil and commenting, “Not that I care about the nerd or anything. In all honesty, I think he’s being overdramatic.”

“Hypocrite,” Remy commented as he placed silverware on the table.

“He should have a perfectly fine recovery,” Patton said with a smile. “Though, he won’t be joining us for dinner; he really needs the rest right now and- Oh! How rude of me!” He stepped forward with a hand extended outwardly. “You’re Virgil, correct? I’m Patton!”

“He’s our patented Man of Many Talents around here,” Roman explained.

“Heh, Patton-ted,” Patton chuckled to himself.

“Ever need a doc,” Roman said. “Patton’s your guy. Also a great tattoo artist, chef, and cuddle-buddy.”

“Cuddle-buddy?” Virgil parotted.

“I share chef duties with Emile,” Patton explained. “And Roman gets nightmares.”

“Do not!” Roman yelled defensively. “How dare you slander my great name!” Patton chuckled, lovingly patting Roman’s shoulder as he wordlessly made his way to the kitchen.

“I presume the nightmares are a lie, then?” Virgil asked with a smirk.

“Fake soulmate,” was all Roman muttered before abandoning the conversation in exchange for setting the table. Virgil watched the bustle around him. Patton and Emile finishing their work in the kitchen. Roman balancing plates and silverware in his arms as he scolded Remy for slacking. They were all working together. They were a team, working together as a small organized pod. Virgil was literally and metaphorically an outsider. He felt a pain in his stomach. Five senses. He had to work through his senses. Five things he could see. That was simple enough, right?

He could see Emile. He could see Roman. But he couldn’t see any windows. He couldn’t see Logan. He couldn’t see his mom. Okay, maybe sight wasn’t a great starting place.

Smell. What could he smell? He could smell tomatoes. He could almost smell blood. Was it from the medical room? Was it from Logan? Was it his imagination? The smell of rust was killing his head and his stomach. Was he nauseated? Was he hungry? Was his stomach even filled enough to vomit anything at all?

No. No. Air comes in; bad thoughts go out. In comes morning; out goes nightmares. What exactly had that phrase been that his mother had taught him so long ago? His mother, oh no, what was she thinking? Did she know Virgil had escaped? Did she think him dead?

Would she be okay or did years of loss after loss finally break her?

Would Virgil even have a mother to come back to?

Would he come back at all?

He let his feet carry him all on their own until he was sprinting out of the kitchen and to a cold wooden door. He ripped it open, slammed it shut, and pushed his back against it as he slowly let himself fall to the ground. The horrible feeling in his chest of a boa constrictor around his lungs had him gasping for air and he was sure he was having a heart attack.

“Deep breaths, Virgil,” a voice said. “Focus solely on your breathing, and don’t let your thoughts get in the way.”

Virgil tried to take the advice- honestly, he did try- but it was too much. It was too overwhelming. He couldn’t focus. His head was filling with this horrible tingling and the more he gasped for air the worse it got. He held his head in his hands and oh God why was this happening?

“Virgil, I need you to listen to me,” the voice said. It was soft and gentle, the most soothing thing Virgil had heard in years. He felt hands on his shoulders and if he had to energy to he would have looked up at the person in front of him. “Can you hear my voice? More importantly, can you understand my voice?”

“Mmhmm,” Virgil mumbled out.

“Good, good, that’s a step. You’re doing good, Virgil. Just keep taking deep breaths alright?”

He felt the tingly feeling start to leave his face, though it was still uncomfortably present in his fingers and hands. He felt his heart rate start to become more noticeable which he guess was a better option than the crushing feeling of his lungs only moments earlier.

“I’m gonna walk you through a breathing exercise, all right? I’ll do it with you. You’ll be okay.” Virgil nodded. “I want you to breathe in for four seconds. Hold for seven seconds. Then, breathe out for eight seconds. Can you do that for me?”

“Yes,” Virgil mumbled out weakly.

“Perfect.”

The two of them went through the exercise two- three- four times before Virgil felt like himself again. He finally looked up and saw Logan staring back at him. “Logan, I- You should be in bed, oh I’m so sorry I didn’t-”

“Virgil, you’re going to work yourself up again,” he said calmly. “I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil asked, eyes drawn down to the gauze around Logan’s body.

“Of course I will be,” Logan said. “This isn’t my first metaphorical rodeo and, if there’s one thing Roman and I agree on, it’s that we both put our trust and lives in Patton’s hands.”

“I’m still not entirely sure what to think of all this,” Virgil admitted.

“That was the reaction I expected from you,” Logan said. “Your admittance here is temporary, most of whom we rescue go off to meet with colleagues of ours. They’re given new homes and new identities in the best cases. Others eventually join our organization, but I’m sure that we’ll find you in the former half on that ratio. 18, right? Yes, you have so much potential ahead of you.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Virgil said. “Organization? And how do you know my age? What else do you know about me?”

“Virgil, did you think all of this was really put together by five guys in their twenties?” Logan asked, the corners of his lips turning upwards subtly.

“Well, I- I guess not, but-”

“And as for the other questions, well, I like to be prepared.” Logan stood, motioning for Virgil to do the same. He had a rather wiry structure, but well-toned muscles that Virgil could only assume he had built up from doing this job for so long. “Now, you should really be on your way back to dinner. The others will be looking for you soon.”

“But, wait, what about-” Virgil tried to speak but found himself being pulled out of the room by magnets on his feet.

“Goodbye, Virgil.”

The door was shut in his face, and the high school senior now had more questions than answers.

#Barren #LAMP #2019 fic

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canyouhearthelight · 5 years

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The Miys, Ch. 21

This chapter starts out as a bit of fluff, but I have an actual plot *gasp* that starts toward the end of this chapter.

The only warnings I would say apply to this chapter are fluff, anxiety, and crowds.

As always, please read, review, and comment. I really do love feedback. Also, this chapter is the first to be cross-posted to my Wattpad account the same day it is posted here, so you can go there and review as well!

Edit: Added the break, which was there when I drafted it but poofed when I went ahead and posted it.

Arantxa had borrowed my kitchen to make a pseudo-chicken stew with chili paste on the side for those of us who liked our food in the nuclear range of the Scoville scale – Noah had evacuated my quarters when she started making it, because apparently just the fumes started to give them chemical burns. Miys are allergic to capsaicin. Good to know. Also, they were completely horrified to find out we intended to ingest it.

“What’s a Hufflepuff?” Antoine asked as we all sat down to our next family dinner.

I choked slightly as my sister smothered a chuckle. “One, how do you not know that? And two, where did that question even come from?”

“I overheard Sam calling Derek a Hufflepuff and laughing. Derek did not appear amused, at all.”

“Oh, Derek’s totally a Gryffindor. Sam’s the Hufflepuff,” Arantxa laughed as she spooned chili paste into her stew.

“Does everyone know what that means except me?” the Frenchman asked with no heat behind it.

As he glanced over at Tyche, she nodded enthusiastically with an innocent expression on her face. “It’s from a book series published at the very end of the twentieth century, later a series of movies made in the first decade of the twenty-first century. I managed to choke down four out of seven books, but I think I stopped after two movies. Soph was obsessed with them when she was in her twenties, so I learned by proxy.”

I nodded enthusiastically before launching into an excited chatter. “The main setting is Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and the students are sorted into four houses: You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart. Their daring, nerve, and chivalry set Gryffindors apart. You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal. Those Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil. Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you’ve a ready mind, where those of wit and learning will always find their kind. Or perhaps in Slytherin, you’ll make your real friend. Those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends!”

“She needs to sort out her priorities,” Conor stage-whispered to Arantxa as he pointed his fork at me.

“Clearly a Ravenclaw,” Arantxa nodded seriously, only a small smirk breaking her façade.

“Nope, total ‘Puff,” I announced proudly, stuffing a mouthful of now-orange food in my mouth.

“None of these houses sound bad, so why would Derek be offended by being called one over the other?”

“Well, there’s another version of the song, mate,” Conor explained. “See, the Houses were named after the founders of the school, who chose the attributes that their students had to have: Said Slytherin, ‘We’ll teach just those whose ancestry’s purest.’ Said Ravenclaw, ‘We’ll teach those whose intelligence is surest.’ Said Gryffindor, ‘We’ll teach all those with brave deeds to their name’. Said Hufflepuff, ‘I’ll teach the lot and treat them just the same’.” It kind of implies that to be a Hufflepuff is to be whatever is left over when the purest, most intelligent, and bravest are taken out of the mix.”

“Well, I would be offended by that, too,” Antoine nodded

“I don’t hold with that, though.” I may have gushed a little bit, I admit. “One of the boldest, best warriors in the book series was a Hufflepuff. And the original Champion of Hogwarts was a Hufflepuff, don’t forget.”

He smiled a little at that. “And it is considered normal to actually figure out which of these houses you actually belong in?”

“Mmmm, kinda?” my sister answered, tilting her head. “It’s certainly fun.”

“Then what are you?”

“Oh, Slytherin, all the way. Cunning, resourceful, determined, prideful, intelligent,” she ticked off.

“Same here,” Arantxa nodded. “But I still say Sophia is a Ravenclaw.”

“Seriously, I’m a Hufflepuff. Think of it like this: if I was given a million dollars, would I buy books or would I feed hungry children?”

“Hungry children, hands down,” Conor smacked the table gently. “Total ‘Puff. I can’t see you sleeping at night if you didn’t feed hungry children.”

“Annnnnd that is exactly how Tyche explained it to me,” I laughed. “I love knowledge, but I am compelled to help people. I will burn a book to keep people warm, and I have, and it didn’t even hurt.”

“Pleased to meet a housemate,” he grinned cheekily.

“Oh nonononono. You’re such a Gryffindork. Nice try.” I glanced around to see Tyche nod enthusiastically while Arantxa was a little more sheepish with her agreement. “Brave, loyal, adventurous, and chivalrous. Total Gryffindor, sorry sweetie.”

“I’m too nice to be a Gryffindor!”

“Two words,” my sister laughed, counting them off. “Neville. Longbottom.”

“I can accept that,” Conor agreed grudgingly. “But how are you a Slytherin, Arantxa? You always say you spent your entire life studying!”

“Ravenclaws study for the sake of learning,” she shrugged. “That’s why I thought Sophia was one. I studied as a means to an end. ‘Any means necessary’ is actually part of my house motto.”

“What would I be?” Antoine asked curiously, spooning more stew in his bowl.

“Hufflepuff,” we all four responded in unison. “They always make the best healers and most calming presences,” Tyche clarified.

“Ooo, what about the rest of the Council?” Arantxa asked playfully.

I took a sip of wine and tilted by head, thinking. “Well, Grey is clearly a Ravenclaw.”

“But Grey is so – out there,” Conor pointed out. “Not in a bad way, just so different.”

“Luna Lovegood, most Ravenclaw person next to Rowena herself,” I argued. He put up his hands, conceding defeat. “Xiomara is harder.”

My sister let out an indelicate snort. “No, she isn’t. I’ve worked with her before. She’s Nymphadora Tonks all over again. Loyal, patient, hard-working, and dedicated. She’s the last person to do something recklessly. She had to be forced onto the Council, so no ambition, and she is only cunning enough to spot it when it happens. She’s intelligent for the sake of using it to benefit others. Hufflepuff, all the way.”

“I have to agree,” my assistant seconded. “I don’t doubt her bravery, but more than anything she is looking out for the safety of everyone on board. Hufflepuff.”

“Okay, that’s fair,” I agreed with a nod. “Huynh?”

“Ugh. He’s good at his job, don’t get me wrong, but I would definitely say he’s a Squib,” Conor spoke up surprisingly. It was the least nice thing I had ever heard him say. He shook his head and his customary smile was back on his face. “What about Simon and Zachary? Since we’re sorting everyone we all know,” he teased gently. “Personally, I think Simon’s a Gryffindor. I mean, he went along with a group of aliens with intentions to save the world. Yeah, he cocked it up, but it was very brave and reckless thing to do.”

After nodding at each other, Arantxa, Tyche, and I agreed.

“I think Zach’s a Ravenclaw, too,” Arantxa mused. “Think about it. He’s smart for the sake of being smart. He isn’t cunning or ambitious, or reckless. And he is pretty loyal once you earn it, but the one thing everyone remembers about him is how fucking smart he is. He just gushes about anything he knows about, even more than you do, Sophia.”

We all laughed at that, even Antoine. Just as I was about to get another glass of wine, our laughter was cut short by dimmed lights and deep-toned klaxons. My stomach sank. I didn’t know what caused them, but they were clearly alarms and that was never a good sign.

“Attention, Residents of the Ark,” Simon’s clear voice rang through the speaker. “I repeat: Attention, Residents of the Ark. Due to unexpected sensor damage we have dropped out of FTL. I repeat: Due to unexpected sensor damage we have dropped out of FTL. All personnel with pilot certifications please report to Level One. All personnel with pilot certifications please report to Level One.”

Just as the announcement ended, my Council pendant started to chime gently. It wasn’t the normal, clear tone that indicated I had a meeting, but instead a low repeating sound that reminded me of an ocean buoy. “Simon,” I looked sharply at the ceiling. “What is this signal?”

“It’s a locator beacon, Councillor Reid,” he answered in a tone far more confident and firmer than what I was used to hearing. “We need the Council to report to Level One as well, along with all administrators. The chime will notify everyone on board to let your group through.”

“I have Arantxa Bidarte and Tyche Reid with me. Will Antoine Costa be allowed through as well in his official capacity as Administrator Reid’s support personnel?”

“Temporarily. The Miys are bringing additional bodies out of hibernation to attend any injuries and assist with crowd control, but if we need him to lend a hand with those who panic, he may be asked to leave. We’re rather short-handed on licensed therapists.”

“I’m good with that, as long as he can get me through the crowds,” my sister stated, a determined set to her jaw.

“Do you want me to drop Mac with Derek, Tych?” Conor asked. “The poor puss looks upset, and Sam and Derek need someone with them, besides.”

“Yeah, that works,” she nodded, shoving the distressed animal into his waiting arms and ushering them out the door, the four of us exiting immediately after and heading the opposite direction.

Contrary to Simon’s word, we were stopped on several occasions by people who flooded the corridors in panic and wanted information on what happened. After numerous apologies and explanations from myself, Arantxa, and even Antoine that we knew as much as they did, my sister finally broke. “Stay behind me and whatever you do, don’t stop,” she ordered the other two as she placed an iron grip on my wrist. With that, she walked with a determination that spoke an ill fate of whoever she was headed to face, glaring down anyone who so much as looked like they may try to ask us a question. To absolutely no one’s surprise, we had no further interruptions on our way to Level One.

Knowing she was at her limit for dealing with large groups of people, I shoved Antoine over to her as I addressed Xiomara. “We need to do more safety drills. I was stopped entirely too many times on my way here, despite being assured by Simon that that my pendant would alert everyone to let me through unimpeded. My sister had to basically play breaker for us to make it.”

“Agreed, but I will deal with that when we figure out what is going on,” she nodded sharply.

Taking a deep breath, I glanced around the room. Several men and women I did not know were grouped together at one end, talking amongst themselves. I assumed they were the pilots. Grey stood to one side of the Council, speaking with the Miys. While the body was familiar, it wasn’t Noah. Instead, it was one that usually worked in the Medical bays.

“Greetings, Sophia,” Grey did not look up from their data screen as I approached.

“Wisdom,” the Miys buzzed. Before I could voice a request for additional information, it started to explain. “As you know, there has been damage to ship sensors. To avoid going dramatically off course while travelling, I have reduced ship speed to sub-light. However, until the sensors are repaired, I am unable to identify where we are located. Additionally, we do not have the resources on board to repair the sensors, so we will need to locate at least the materials necessary to fabricate anything that needs to be replaced.”

“How are there no replacement materials on board the ship? Surely something like this has happened before?”

“Your assumption is correct: when the Yjg departed for Earth on the second occasion, replacement sensors were on board. As we discussed when you first arrived, races with the ability to perceive photonic radiation are very rare, and so the sensors are essential to navigation. Redundant systems and multiple replacement parts are as much a standard requirement on the ship as a crew is.”

“Then how are there no replacement parts now? Have they already been used?”

The Miys shifted, and had it been human I would have said it was uncomfortable. Instead of it replying, Grey spoke up. “The replacements sensors were found destroyed. Physically.”

“WHAT!?” I shouted, drawing looks. With a deep breath and a firm pinch on the bridge of my nose, I lowered my tone. “What do you mean, physically.”

“I mean it appears to be a deliberate act, Sophia. Before you arrived, I was discussing with our host how common it is for both sensor systems to malfunction or sustain damage at the same time. While it does happen, it requires significant ship damage that would impact other systems. There are currently no reports of any other ships systems malfunctioning, however. Add to this the fact that all replacement parts were methodically destroyed, and it begins to look like someone is acting with intention.”

“How sure are we that the replacement parts weren’t damaged by accident?”

“Completely,” Grey replied before looking over my shoulder. “Giang, may I please borrow you for a moment? We’re discussing what you saw earlier.”

“You saw the damaged parts?” I asked as the Vietnamese man trotted over.

“They were completely destroyed, yes.”

“Please detail the nature of the damage for Sophia. She wants to be completely certain that the damage could not have happened accidentally.”

“There’s no way, Councillor Reid. Some parts were smashed, some were burned or melted, others had been cut to pieces.”

Shit.

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#the miys #original fiction #humans are weird #science fiction #humans are space orcs #earth is space australia #aliens #apocalypse #chapter 21

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thatawkwardnerdytomboy · 5 years

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“Stop waiting for things in your life to get better and MAKE changes to make your life better.”

This is something I’m getting really tired of hearing from people. Something people don’t realize about life is that sometimes when you actively do things to make your life better, there’s still a lot of waiting for those things to take effect. I’ve been going through a very difficult time all year. I really really hate my job. I deliver food for a fast food restaurant. Sometimes I have to carry 50+ lbs of food on my back, walk for miles (they don’t give us bikes) and carry it up 4-5 flights of stairs, sometimes in the pouring rain, boiling heat and freezing cold. When I’m not making deliveries, I’m in the dining room cleaning, taking out the trash, running and bussing tables, running dishes to the kitchen, helping customers, mopping, sweeping and stocking supplies. Sometimes I even help with food prep. The only thing I don’t do is wash the dishes. Now you’re probably thinking, “oh, well that doesn’t sound that bad.” Well, try doing that while the room is spinning, you feel like you just ran a marathon and the chemicals in your brain are telling you to kill yourself...and this is all before you even start your shift. I have thyroid disease, vertigo and a vitamin D deficiency. All these things make my job unbearable. I’m constantly exhausted, depressed and dizzy. Not to mention, I have a communication disorder so speaking to people is very difficult as well. My immune system is compromised. I got an infection on my hand after only working there for a couple of months because the restaurant is always filthy and it’s my job to clean it. My finger swelled up so much that I couldn’t bend it. Since I didn’t have medical insurance, I had to prick myself with a needle and drain the pus myself.

I have been trying like hell since I started this job to find another job. And of course, I keep getting rejected.

So here are a few things I’ve been trying to do to improve my situation aside from applying for jobs:

• I’m a freelance illustrator and I’ve been trying to put myself out there and try to get commissions to make some extra money. But of course, I can’t just assign myself commissions and give myself money, I have to wait for people to commission me and I’ve actually gotten a few commissions this year. I also tabled at an art show last month and sold a few prints and copies of a novel I wrote.

• I illustrated a children’s book for free as part of a deal so that the author and I can go into business together. However, I’m still waiting for the author to get the book printed. I’d like to emphasize the “waiting” part. This isn’t going to happen overnight. I need to WAIT.

• One of my former teachers got a grant to work on some short films and he wants to create a short series of pilot films/episodes for a film series. I showed up to every meeting for these discussions always prepared with my script, always on time and always willing to take the next step toward making this happen. It’s been a couple of years since we first discussed this and during the past couple of years, we’ve had to WAIT for him to get that grant. Now that he has the grant, I need to WAIT for him to return from traveling so that we can start filming. More waiting. Not much else I can do at this point.

• I reached out to the dean of my college and the program coordinator of the pre-college program that I graduated from in high school to ask for help with finding work. My college’s campus has a career services office which I’ve visited. I asked for help with finding a job at this office and all they could tell me was that I wasn’t going to find a job on Indeed and that I need to reach out to other alumni and network in order to find work--which I’ve already tried. So now I need to WAIT to hear back from the dean and the coordinator to see if they can help me find a job.

Story Time: The school that I attended is a not-for-profit university and while I was attending the university, I had a very difficult time securing enough financial aid to remain in my classes. I came close to dropping out because of this. I got a meeting with the financial aid director of my school and they told me that since I was in that pre-college program and I spent so much time in high school volunteering and I came from a poor socio-economic background that the school had a responsibility to help me finish school. So, they gave me extra financial aid to dorm and they helped me secure a work-study job. Now that I’ve graduated, I still need help from my school to find a decent job. As a matter of fact, I got my first job after I graduated because one of my supervisors from my work-study job found me a job. And then I got laid off less than 6 months later...

• I recently had to retake my learner’s permit exam because my permit expired and I didn’t get to take driver’s ed yet. I haven’t taken driver’s ed yet because I’ve been more focused on trying to find a better job, working on the children’s book I illustrated, dealing with my medical issues and just the day-to-day bullshit. I also haven’t had the money since I recently moved out of my mother’s place and drained my savings and whatever money I had to do so. So yeah, I’ve been pretty broke these past few months. Now that I’ve retaken my permit test and went into more credit card debt paying for that, now I need to WAIT for my new permit to come in the mail so that I can start driver’s ed. My girlfriend and I plan on moving to California someday and that’s going to be very difficult to do if we can’t drive. I know, all the Cali people are going “well, you don’t necessarily need a car.” Well, when I visited Cali, my friend and I had to do an obscene amount of walking through the suburbs to get anywhere after getting off public transportation. And having to take trains and busses between each city also takes a lot of time. Having a car would be so much easier. But we’re going to wait until we actually have the money for all of this which won’t be any time soon. Also, a lot of arts-related jobs require that people know how to drive because if you work for an arts program or gallery, they ask people to transport art pieces. So if I get my license, I’ll have more job opportunities in general. But like I said, this isn’t all going to happen overnight. I have to WAIT. • I used to work as a teacher’s assistant for a non-profit but I quit because they kept running out of money to pay us. But I recently discovered that they increased their pay rate and that they’re hiring. I really hope this means that they’ve solved their funding issues. Anyway, I told them that I want to work there again because, at this point, I rather work anywhere else. I actually liked working as a teacher’s assistant too. It was easy and sometimes fun. So I have a meeting on Monday, that I have to WAIT for to discuss my availability and where they want to place me. So I already technically got the job, we’re just going to discuss my scheduling for the job.

• I am also writing a new novel not only as a possible way to make money in the future but also as a form of therapy (since I can’t afford actual therapy right now because my “health insurance” is a scam). I’ve also came up with an idea for a TV show and my teacher suggested that I apply for a grant to create a pilot for it. I have over 50 pages of an outline of events that take place on this show. I made a documentary in high school so I know a little about filmmaking but I don’t yet have experience making fictional films so I am going to WAIT until I have experience with the film that I’m going to be making with my teacher so that I know what the process is like and so that I can use it as a way to hone my writing/directing skills.

• I’m going to be applying for medicaid today since my health insurance is utter crap but I heard there’s a WAITING period as they figure out if the applicant is qualified so I’m probably not going to get that any time soon. But when I do, I’m going to try to find a therapist and/or psychiatrist.

So in conclusion, I may complain a lot about my situation and I have the right to do so because if I just kept everything bottled up all the time and never complained, I’d probably be having a panic attack every day like I did yesterday at work and like I did last summer at my last job. I get really mixed messages from people about how I’m supposed to go about dealing with my struggles. I get people telling me that if I’m going through something that I need to talk to someone; that I need to talk to them about it. But then when I do, they often tell me to just suck it up and be glad that I have a job and place to live. However, just because I do doesn’t mean that I have a decent quality of life. For example, my apartment has bedbugs and I’ve called the housing office (which has abysmal reviews), 311, the borough president’s office and they haven’t done anything about it so my girlfriend and I had to take care of it and they haven’t completely gone away. My health insurance doesn’t cover any of my medical expenses and I’m paying out of pocket via my paychecks for it. Doctors’ visits are very expensive. I’m currently almost near $3K in debt and that’s just from getting a splint for my wrist and getting testing done at the OB/GYN’s office. I feel like our society has been so conditioned to believe that as long as you’re not homeless and you’re making minimum wage, you should be happy even when your medical insurance company is trying to drown you in debt, you barely scrape by to pay your bills every month, can’t afford to go back to school and you’re living in a bed-bug infested apartment. In other developed countries, people don’t have to struggle the way that we do. Their tax dollars pay for everything including medical care and college. Their public housing is also better too. So you could live a good life going to school, working part-time and living in public housing in places like Germany but here, in great ole’ America, we have such a terrible quality of life that it makes people want to kill themselves.

So to anyone who wants to tell me to shut up, suck it up and do things to make my life better, you can shut up now.

#Millennials #millennial generation #millenial life #life #Suicidal Thoughts #life sucks #i hate my life #i hate my job #the struggle #struggling #struggles #illness #illnesses #thyroid disease #depression

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bookwormbambi · 5 years

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Mega Update!

05/05/2019

Hello my friends! Sunday is here and that means that it is time for some big updates and I’m so excited that I’m practically jumping out of my chair (although all of the coffee may have contributed to that one).

So on the list of more recent things I just celebrated my 22nd birthday on Monday and I am so so grateful for all of the love and kindness that had been sent my way and I just really love everyone :-)

I’m also now about four months into my new job in restaurant management and it’s a bit crazy still but we do feel a lot more settled in and I feel a lot more knowledgable about my job. My schedule has been fairly hectic but I told them when they hired me that I would be going back to school in June which they are fully prepared for. Everyone’s been great, and I’ve been very grateful for the new experience and the learning experience that comes with first time management. I still have so much to learn but honestly I feel right at home with all of the work I do with people, and I feel like the skills I’m learning are great stepping stones when it comes to patient care, because the main thing I’m learning is how to work with people, to be more empathetic, and to motivate. Obviously restaurant life is a bit different than medicine, but it is a good stepping stone, at least in my opinion.

So that’s a little bit about my personal life, but I know that what y’all are really here for is the school updates. I’ve been teasing this new school program for months now and I’ve been waiting for so long to give you all some real updates. For a long time I was just waiting, and the plan was to make a sort of mini-series about the process of applying and (hopefully) getting in, but then everything went down in the course of a few days and I’m actually already at the end of the application process when I literally just turned the app in five days ago.

So, let’s talk about it.

If I haven’t already stated it, the program that I’m applying for is Respiratory Therapy. It’s a two-year program that ends with my receiving an Associate’s Degree in Science, as well as eligibility for board certification to become a licensed Respiratory Therapist and be in the field by the time I turn 24.

I first learned about this program about a year ago through a friend. Her boyfriend at the time was actually in the previous class and it actually came up in passing just from her telling me about how busy he was all the time. I was looking into other programs one day and saw RT pop up and I remembered her mentioning it, and I decided to look into it a bit more because, honestly, I had no idea what RT really even was, or what they did. The more I researched, the more intrigued and excited I got, and the more I could picture myself actually doing this sort of thing.

At the time the course was already in session, and the website said that the next application window would not be open until February 2019, so I waited. When February came along I checked the website every day waiting for the app to be posted and it actually wasn’t up until the 1st of March. I checked the website on a whim because I was in bed with the flu and bored and miserable and needed ANYTHING to get my mind off of how sick I was (and brother I was SICK). I printed out the application and filled it out without really reading the information packet because I was sick and reading was for losers who were healthy I guess. So I sat on the application for a little while because I knew that, at the very least, there was a $100 application fee which was not readily available to me because I had just started my new job, the restaurant had only just opened, and I was still doing a lot of transitioning with bills and insurance and all of that boring stuff.

When I finally mended I was ready to go to the school to turn the application in, and went through the information packet to figure out who I was actually turning it in to, when I found out I actually needed copies of my high school and college transcripts, and I had no idea how to get them. So I sat on the app for a few more weeks while I figured it out, ordered them, waited for them to get to me, etc. Then I got my transcripts and once again did not have an extra $100 lying around to go turn the app in. Or, when I did, I didn’t have the time to go to the school because my work schedule kept getting in the way.

So on my birthday (Monday) I asked my sister to take me to the school before we went on our outing so I could turn it in, because the application was due by 2 May (which was Thursday) and I was officially running out of time. So we decided we could be a little late to our lunch plans to turn it in.

The application alone is just the first part of everything. Once you turn it in, you have to take the TABE test (which is the Test of Adult Basic Education), along with five additional comprehensive math questions, and then you receive a date and time for your interview with the head of the department, some program alumni, and representatives from the hospital. My assumption was that once I turned in the application I would get an email telling me when the test was and that it would be like two or three weeks away, and that we’d go from there.

NOPE.

I went to the registration office, paid my application fee, then went to the counseling office to deliver the application, my receipt, and my transcripts. For starters, she was very pleased that I already had the fee and the transcripts taken care of. Then she told me the test was on Thursday (three days away) at 3pm.

So here I am, panicking a little bit because of how fast everything was moving, and I told her that I would be there, no problem, thanked her for her time, and went on my way back to our car. I had no idea what to expect from this test and having only literal days to prepare was not helping the anxiety.

So Thursday came along, I was able to get out of work a little bit early to have extra time to get to the school (which is only a little ways down the road) and get to the test. There was an optional information meeting beforehand which I was only able to make the last twenty minutes or so of, but I got the gist of everything, and it only made me more excited about the program. I met the head of the program, he seemed very kind. Then it was test time.

So the TABE is a 1 hour exam that tests basic reading, math, and grammar skills. Kind of like the standardized testing I had to take when I was in school. I took a semester off so I was a little rusty with quick test taking (each portion was roughly thirty questions with roughly fifteen minutes each) but I got through it, and I’m actually pretty sure I nailed it. The additional comprehensive math questions were a little bit tougher, but I feel pretty good about those too. These were five questions crafted by the department head which, according to him, were designed more to test out problem-solving abilities, and even if the answer itself wasn’t right, you’d still get points for how you got to your conclusion. Really only the last problem threw me, and I was feeling a bit rushed, but I got through it.

So I finished up, handed in my exam, and was given a slip of paper with my interview date and time - Tuesday at 2pm. Tuesday is, as I write this, the day after tomorrow. I’m stressing about the interview but he did tell us that the majority of the questions have nothing to do with Respiratory Therapy, but I will be asked about how well I understand what the program is, and, obviously, why I want to do this. I’ll also be asked basic things about who I am as a person to see if I would be a good fit. After that, I wait for the email telling me if I have been accepted, or if I am an alternate. If I’m accepted, I pay the tuition fee (which is not cheap and will require a loan), and classes start on 10 June.

So, what determines acceptance? Every year the program accepts a maximum of thirty students. The application process is all point-based. The thirty students with the most points will be accepted. Everyone else will be placed as an alternate, meaning that if someone who is accepted withdraws for whatever reason, an alternate can take their place, and will be asked in the order of their rank.

So now I’m going to spend the next two days prepping for this interview, which is going to be my very first interview that has anything to do with my career. Medicine has been my passion for as long as I can remember, and Respiratory Therapy feels like my true calling. I’m nervous, but I’m so excited. xx

#school #college #medicine #study #studyblr

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newstfionline · 6 years

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I Took ‘Adulting Classes’ for Millennials

Andrew Zaleski, CityLab, Oct 29, 2018

On the eve of my wife’s 30th birthday--a milestone I, too, will soon hit--she posed a troubling question: Are we adults yet?

We certainly feel that way: We hold our own jobs, pay our own rent, cover our own bills, drive our own cars. Our credit is in order. But we don’t yet own a house and have no children--two markers commonly associated with fully-fledged adulthood (and two markers that both our sets of parents had reached well before they turned 30). And there are other gaps in our maturity: I don’t buy napkins or know how to golf; up until last year, I didn’t know how to change the oil in my car’s engine. Thankfully, last year we managed to throw a dinner party, our first, without burning the pork roast.

A vague anxiety over these known-unknowns is something of a generational hallmark. A Monday-morning scroll through the social media feed of the average 20-something might turn up a handful of friends sharing memes of dogs--looking bewildered, exasperated, or both--unironically captioned with something like: “Don’t make me adult today.”

Yes, Millennials have killed yet another thing. In this case, it’s something so fundamental that it may have seemed unkillable, but apparently isn’t: knowing how to be an adult.

Younger people need not look far on the internet to find popular condemnation from card-carrying grown-ups about our many shortcomings. We are, we are often told, simpering, self-indulgent, immune-to-difficulty know-nothings, overgrown toddlers who commute on children’s toys and demand cucumber water in our workplaces. But in our own social circles, such constructive criticism can be harder to find. Young urbanites tend to pack themselves into specific neighborhoods, cities, and living situations that have relatively fewer older residents. In such communities, knowledge on how to Seamless a meal to the doorstep is a dime a dozen, but first-hand experience in snaking a drain, cooking a meal for four, or operating a manual transmission comes at more of a premium. (To say nothing of the fact that a third of Americans between 18 and 34 are living with their parents.)

Luckily, the rough road to adulthood can be paved with adulting classes. The Adulting Collective, a startup venture out of Portland, Maine, made a big splash about two years ago after national news outlets reported on its in-person events. In its short lifespan, the Collective has offered up lessons, either guided or via online video, in such varied life skills as bike safety, holiday gift-giving for the cash-strapped, putting together a monthly budget, opening a bottle of wine without a corkscrew, and assembling a weekly nutritional plan. Their target audience: “emerging adults,” the massive 93-million-strong demographic group composed of people in their 20s and early 30s.

There are similarly structured programs across the country. At the Brooklyn Brainery, for example, you can take classes on how to run a good meeting or what Seinfeld teaches us about love. Take an online course with the Society of Grownups, sponsored by the insurance company Mass Mutual, and topics will include budgeting and how to deal with student-loan debt.

The sheer banality of many of these courses is their salient quality. They’re teaching stuff that people neither look forward to nor seem to enjoy, but implicitly recognize as part of being a grown-up: paying bills, setting a budget, calling the car insurance company, looking after your health. The joyless, quotidian chores of post-adolescence.

“Adulting is something nobody prepares you for, but you know it when it happens. It’s the unglorified part of being on your own,” says Rebekah Fitzsimmons, assistant director of the writing and communication program at Georgia Tech who taught a class on adulting in the 21st century in 2016.

In a bygone era, the ordinariness traditionally associated with growing the hell up was something few noticed--in the first half of the 20th century, 20-somethings were too busy trying not to die of the Spanish Flu or fighting Hitler to worry too much about what life skills they were failing to develop. That has now been replaced by public displays of what it means to be a self-sufficient human being, Fitzsimmons says. At the intersection of these two competing truths is the cottage industry of adulting, one nurtured by Instagram hashtags and built around how-to classes for hapless Millennials.

Born in 1989, I am a card-carrying member of the oft-derided demographic. How hapless am I? To find out, I signed up for the two action challenges the Adulting Collective offered last fall: one on nutrition and another focused on monthly budgeting. Via email, I received instructions for each of these week-long courses, which had me tackling a new skill or task each day.

When I hit 30, I intend to complete emerging adulthood fully equipped for whatever comes next.

First lesson: Hydrate! Never would I have thought the amount of water I consumed would be a point of instruction. But it turns out that young adults are notoriously poor judges of this particular basic biological need. The crash course in nutrition from the Adulting Collective that arrived in my inbox last fall was titled “Detox Before You Retox,” and it heavily emphasized hangover avoidance. Billed as a way to prepare yourself “before the next happy hour,” the instructions contained multiple steps broken down over five days. Step one: Get your basics in order, like eating your veggies, exercising, and drinking more water.

So one evening I stood in the harsh glow of my kitchen’s overhead fluorescent lighting--pitcher at the ready, glass on the countertop--applying myself to my first adulting lesson. On my smartphone I made a quick calculation: my weight, divided by 2.2, multiplied by my age, divided by 28.3, divided once more by eight. The answer: eight. More precisely, I needed to drink 7.56 cups of water to hit my proper daily intake.

This was only one of the big takeaways I received. I also learned that a morning drink of lemon water and cayenne pepper mixed with said water can help boost my metabolism, apparently. Like the unnecessarily complex hydration formula above, some of this material had the effect of making a heretofore uncomplicated thing more daunting. It was months later it finally dawned on me that a simple Google search could yield a far simpler answer for the number of glasses of water I ought to drink every day.

How did it come to this? Did previous generations have so much trouble mastering the basics?

“In an ideal world, we would all be followed around by this combination of our grandmother and Merlin who would lovingly teach us how to do each and every thing in the world,” says Kelly Williams Brown, author of the 2013 book Adulting: How to Become a Grown-up in 535 Easy(ish) Steps. “In the absence of that, it can be nice to have resources.”

Brown’s book seems to be largely responsible for the meteoric rise of the gerund form of the word (which was short-listed by Oxford Dictionaries as the word of the year in 2016). A revised edition of Adulting was published in March. The adulting industry itself is newer. Rachel Weinstein co-founded the Adulting School (now Collective) with Katie Brunelle in fall 2016. (Brunelle has since left the business.)

A professional therapist, Weinstein would sometimes encounter younger clients who spoke about the idiosyncrasies of grown-up life with a feeling of self-conscious shame. Being overwhelmed about how to manage money or clean out their kitchen pantry were things they felt they had to hide. “I just saw a lot of my clients struggle with life, trying to be competent in skills that we’re not necessarily taught. People had this sense of internal embarrassment,” she says.

To Weinstein, this seemed like a golden business opportunity. As a group, 26-year-olds are the single biggest age cohort in the U.S., followed by people who are 25, 27, and 24. Yet unlike previous generations, the young people of today are slower to reach the milestones usually associated with adulthood: living independently, forming their own households, having children, and getting married. “Today’s young people,” as the U.S. Census Bureau reported last year, “look different from prior generations in almost every regard.”

Tempting as it might be to identify the price of avocados as the culprit in this stunted generational progress, there may be other reasons to explain the shift. A research report released in the spring by Freddie Mac cited weak wage growth and the rapid rise of both housing costs and average expenditures as some of the principal reasons. “A popular meme, ‘adulting is hard,’ provides a humorous take on the challenges faced by young adults,” the authors wrote. “Like a lot of good comedy, the phrase has a tinge of cruelty.”

The typical adulting student is someone whose childhood was tech-dependent and activity-rich, the sort of high-achiever kid told to get good grades.

Geography plays a role, too: Millennials tend to choose to live in the centers of high-cost cities, and their earning power hasn’t kept pace with housing costs. Since 2000, the median home price in the U.S. has risen by a quarter, from $210,000 to $270,000, while the per capita real income for young adults has risen by only 1 percent during that same period. Throw those myriad factors together, and you have some of the explanation for why 20-somethings are renting for longer periods of time than they once did, as well as why marriage and fertility rates have dropped. Appropriately, Freddie Mac’s report was titled, “Why Is Adulting Getting Harder?”

But if you go further back, delaying the markers of adulthood does have historical precedent, says Holly Swyers, an anthropology professor at Lake Forest College. She recently completed a project examining adulthood in America from the Civil War to the present day. For much of the period Swyers studied, many Americans over 18 followed roughly the same trajectory as modern Millennials do: They spent their 20s figuring out life and establishing themselves financially. The script didn’t flip until the 1950s and 1960s, when the markers that defined crossing over into the world of adulthood came to mean marrying and having children.

“Marrying when you’re 20, having kids by 21, and being established is a little bit freakish in American history,” she says.

So if those Americans of yore managed to (eventually) attain maturity without the aid of online courses, why can’t Millennials?

Maybe we really are uniquely ignorant. That’s the thesis that GOP senator and Gen Xer Ben Sasse presents in his book The Vanishing American Adult. He writes that younger Americans have willfully embraced “perpetual adolescence.” Some of this is our fault, evidently: staring at our smartphones for hours on end has obliterated our attention spans. Yet Sasse also places blame at the feet of his own generation for its “reluctance to expose young people to the demands of real work.”

Weinstein, however, offers another explanation. She attributes the acute modern need for additional grow-up instruction to class and demographics. Her typical adulting student is probably someone whose childhood was tech-dependent and activity-rich, the sort of high-achiever kid who was repeatedly told to bring home good grades in order to get into a good college. “Whatever folks are really being pressured for college prep, they’re just not getting as much time and exposure at home hanging out with their family, learning how to unclog the kitchen sink, or hang a picture on the wall,” she says.

Lots of those over-scheduled and test-prepped teens of the aughts also missed out on erstwhile educational staples like home economics and shop classes, where high-school kids once learned how to darn a sock or hold a hammer; many schools began mothballing these mandatory courses in the 1990s. As a result, legions of American high-school graduates are being unleashed on the world without any basic skills. Some higher-education institutions, such as New Jersey’s Drew University, have stepped in to offer “Adulting 101” classes in things like beginner car care for their undergraduates.

The Adulting Collective doesn’t rely solely on Weinstein’s expertise for its courses, although it appears that designing an adulting curriculum is just as much of a challenge as growing up. Right now, the website contains some short posts and links to videos explaining a few skills, which is a deviation from the original idea to enlist instructors to offer online lessons. According to Weinstein, the new plan heading into 2019 is to build out a membership program that involves action challenges similar to the nutrition course I took part in. “One of the things I’ve learned as a therapist is a lot of times a little bit of accountability to somebody helps us achieve goals and get tasks done,” she says.

To Swyers, what’s extraordinary in Adulting Ed isn’t the curriculum itself, which is a pretty standard mix of self-improvement and personal finance tips. It’s the notion of branding such lessons under the “adulting” rubric. After all, classes geared toward grown-ups and their skills are all over the place. Visit any big-box hardware store and chances are there’s some sort of hands-on workshop taking place, for example. “If somebody is willing to be taught, for instance, basic kitchen skills--which people pay for all the time--they don’t call it an ‘adulting collective.’ They call it a cooking class,” Swyers says.

The difference, says Weinstein, is that the way younger adults are expected to grow older and assume our place in the world has dramatically changed: “I don’t think it’s a ‘hapless Millennial’ kind of thing at all. I just think there are things that are harder about the world today.”

Case in point: The spiraling costs of higher education. Those emerging adults are entering the workforce with massive student loans to pay off; no wonder some days all they can manage to do is Instagram bewildered-dog memes. “I have clients graduating from school with over $100,000 dollars worth of debt,” she says. “When you’re paying a mortgage’s worth of school debt every month, you’re probably going to need a little help stashing some money away in an emergency fund.”

Indeed, the most useful takeaways from my own brush with the adulting industry involved money management. Last fall’s challenge on budgeting included a chart for itemizing monthly breakdowns of expenses: so many dollars toward utilities, housing, food, clothing, and so on. After six months of following the chart I completed during the challenge, I managed to save up a sizable emergency fund of eight months’ worth of expenses--not bad for a freelance writer who graduated college with $250 to his name, and well worth the $5 I paid for the course itself.

The class was theirs. But the experience was all mine. And with my savings in order, I was freed up to stash excess cash in an additional account my wife and I hold to save for a future home down payment. With a house on the horizon, we’ve recently turned our attention to the prospect of having children sooner rather than later.

#adulting #adulting classes

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sincerelykhim · 6 years

Text

divine 05

description; You’ve made a terrible deal with the one and only Devil; Taehyung after your almost-tragic death. Little did you know it would lead you to life in Hell.

Pairings: Devil!Taehyung x reader

Genre: Romance/ Angst

Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | bonus

에이미: The idea of this story may not be suitable for all audiences as it is not Biblically correct; read at your own risk. There is a little bit of Jungkook in this one! It’s been a lonnnnnggggg time but I hope I’ve still got this. Enjoy and cry me a river~

MASTERLIST

There was no doubt that he had been more than terrified when he ascended down from Heaven; glorious wings -black, and his heart -heavy. And there was no doubt that you wouldn't have had a clue as to who he was, or why he coming to see you. .

December always brought on flashbacks; these scattered memories that don't seem like mine continuously strobed in my mind. Were they real events? Do I have amnesia? They seemed far too real to be fictional.

'I keep seeing this man...no....I think he's the Devil.' My eyes flicked to the ticking clock in the consultant room as my head rested on the arm of the chaise lounge, 'I feel like I know him very well.' Then I realise what I said sounded mildly disturbing. I sprung from the chair to sit up straight, 'Wait! That sounded really bad -I'm not in a Satanic cult or anything like that!'

My therapist just smiled, 'That's alright,' I knew what he was going to repeat next, 'This conversation is confined to us only; I'm not allowed to speak of my patient's matters.' His eyes moved back down to the piece of paper on his clipboard, 'Any more flashbacks recently?'

I swung my legs back onto the chair's arm and laid myself down, 'There was one last night...' I reconstructed the images that had been playing in my head several hours ago, 'I think I know where I've been in those flashbacks.' My therapist nodded his head, not looking up from the paper he was scribbling notes on, 'I think I've been in Hell that whole time.'

He finally shot his head up, but this time, I was staring straight ahead into the wall. 'How do you know it's Hell? Can you please describe it to me?' He asked softly, sounding genuinely concerned.

I stared harder into the wall, trying to think of a way of putting the vivid images into words, 'It's...' I pause to rethink my choice of wording, 'It's humid and dark...everything is grey, and...' And I realised that I couldn't describe Hell, 'I can't -I don't know how to put it into words...I'm sorry.'

'No, it's fine.' That was a lie, 'Would you like to try again sometime? Maybe an appointment next...' He flipped through the extensive amount of pages that were surprisingly not popping out of his clipboard, 'Thursday?'

'Yeah...' The seconds of the clock hand seemed to have slowed down for a fleeting second, 'Thursday sounds good.' Swinging my legs off the velvet blue couch, I made my way to the door, 'Thank you.' Although I didn't mean it.

You can hear the pitter-patter of the rain in December crisper and calmer than any other month; my boots carelessly stepped and splashed into puddles that collected in the uneven hollows of the pavement of my street.

My phone rang, 'Yes?' A greeting wasn't necessary from the caller ID.

'How many times this week?' Her voice pooled with worry.

'Mum,' I sigh, contemplating whether to lie or not, '...six.'

'Six?!' I rolled my eyes at her tone; I couldn't see her but I knew she would be running from the kitchen to her lounge -ready to tell my Father, 'Christ! Honey, we have to get this fixed! Y/N, you can not live like this!' She threw herself into panic mode while discussing this topic with my Father for the umpteenth time, 'Christopher, I will not see our daughter like this anymore; I can't. We have to give Dr Bronwin a call tomorrow. This is unhealthy!'

'Mum,' Her pointless rambling overpowered my exhausted voice, 'Mum,' No reply, 'MUM.'

'Yes sweetie,' I could literally hear her brows furrowing from her silence, 'What is it?'

'I'm going to go now,' I stated as politely as I can. She tried to butt in but I bet her to it, 'If you get the appointment with Dr Bronwin; fine, I'll go...just text me the time and the address.'

Sliding the phone back into the pocket of my coat, I resumed in getting lost in my own thoughts. What if this was real and not some drastic illusion my mind was making up? No one would believe me anyway; as much as my Mother loves me, she'll silently back off when the psychiatrist stamps the seal of approval to formally diagnose me with delusional disorder.

Maybe I wasn't seeing the right people...

'Are you serious about this?' Jungkook sat opposite me in the booth of a small coffee shop, 'You know how dangerous this could turn out to be?'

'Really?' I slid him a cutout of the address, 'You can't be serious right? You really believe in all that hulu voodoo Satanic shit?'

'What, I just happened to very careful.' He read over the advertisement, 'Do you want me to come with you?'

'I'm okay.' I answered unconvincingly as his brows furrowed deeper, 'I can handle it.'

He continued to strike a deal with me, 'How about I'll stand outside the door just in case anything unexpected happens?' He slides the piece of paper back to me.

I scoff jokingly at him, 'You think she'll rape me or something?'

Jungkook's face hardened immediately, 'Don't.'

'Fine,' I downed the last bit of my tea, 'Monday, ten: thirty, and don't be late.'

The black SUV rolled into the richer area of Seoul when I sensed an uneasy feeling breathing down my neck. My hairs rose, 'Actually...,' I turned to Jungkook in the driver's seat, 'could you come in with me? I'm getting a bad feeling.'

His doe-eyes stared back at mine before he started to process what I had asked of him, 'Yeah, no problem.'

Despite the rich exterior of the neighbourhood, I could quite literally see the charcoal grey smoke that lingered around the particular house...it was a familiar grey smoke... It didn't just linger, it laughed sinisterly; devouring the building in a thunderstorm of wickedness.

'You alright?' Jungkook parked us across the house, 'You don't look so good.'

I tried to laugh it off with a joke, 'When do I ever?' Not giving him the chance to argue back -I opened my door -unready for whatever hid behind those walls, 'Come on, I already smell Satan making tea for us.'

'Do you see that?' I pointed at the grey veil surrounding the house.

Jungkook stared back at me with his doe-eyes again, 'The house?' He couldn't see it.

I shook it off, 'Yea, it's hideous.'

Walking across the lawn, Jungkook caught up with my nervously fast-paced steps, 'You can't lie you know, I can tell when you're nervous.'

I kept silent as I grabbed his hand.

He stayed that way too.

Luna; despite her name, was middle-aged, hippie-looking Satanist who bore serious frown lines that cut deep into her skin. Her teeth had already stained a yellow hue and her grey hairs already started to thin; it showed whenever she turned her head too fast -you could see the bald patched hidden at the back of her skin. She almost looked undead.

Laying down a set of cards that were lavishly decorated with paintings of demons and tokens, Luna's eyes seemed to have rolled up to meet mine, 'Pick whenever you hear it screaming at you.'

I look hesitantly back at Jungkook who was sitting on a deep violet, velvet couch and then back at the deck of cards; waiting for it to scream out to me.

'How long is this procedure-' Jungkook uncrossed his legs as he looked to Luna for an answer before he was cut off by my spastic screaming.

When it did happen it wasn't a scream at all -it was a shattering screech that rung and panned from the left ear to the right; piercing my eardrums with an aching pain.

'God! Oh God! That one!' I pointed feverously at the card that sat in the centre, 'Make it stop!' But it wouldn't stop. It couldn't stop.

'Christ!' I attempted to cover my ears to muffle the intensifying volume, 'Make it fucking stop!' I crouched to apply more pressure to my ears, 'Make it stop!'

Jungkook bolted from his seat only to be stopped by Luna, 'She needs to touch the card.'

'We'll she obviously can't,' He snapped back; fuming with worry, 'What are you doing to her?'

'She needs to touch the card.' She repeats.

Jungkook was enraged by her lack of care for my suffering, 'Well she fucking can't, okay?! Look at her! I swear if you try-'

'She needs to touch the card!' Luna speaks out more urgently this time.

'Make it stop!' I ran myself into the wall as tears started to form from the pain, 'Stop!' I sobbed.

Jungkook shoved past Luna's smaller figure to hold my head in his hands, 'Y/N!,' I squeezed my eyes shut; unable to process any sound other than the unexplained frequency, 'Damn fuck it! Y/N! Focus!'

'Make it stop,' my voice was weak from the screaming and the crying, 'Make it stop...' my line of vision blurred and refocused and then, blurred and refocused again, 'Please,' I placed my hands over his, 'Kook, make it stop.'

I didn't only mean for the murderous noise to stop but also the dreadful nostalgia that came along with it. I couldn't pinpoint what about the entire experience was so familiar...it just was. The smoke, the cards, the velvet, the scent, the house...the beast that fed upon this house...I was caught, dazed...afraid.

So when Jungkook forcefully pried my hand away from his to then place it on the card I had picked, I didn't fight back. I let it happen. .

'It happened,' disappointment washed over Micheal's face as he spoke through the phone, 'She did it.'

'Did you see her do it?' Taehyung's voice rang through the other line.

'I'm standing outside, of course, I couldn't see her do it,' he ran a hand through his gold locks, 'But her screaming did stop so...'

'Fuck.'

Micheal began to back away from the demon-possessed home, 'What now? She'll know who you are, she'll remember what happened, won't she hate you-'

'Shut up already,' Taehyung hissed harshly -stopping Micheal from tormenting him any further, 'Fuck off, you had one job.'

Micheal's smug grin was his only reply, 'So?' he beckoned him to make a decision, 'What's it going to be? Are you still going to see her?'

Taehyung massaged his temples and sighed, 'Well I don't have a choice, do I?' He paused, 'I'm dying.' .

It was traumatic. Horrific, overwhelming...disgusting.

Everything came back to me like a developing film; motions that were significant from my last one thousand years of existence flickered like shots taken from an old Kodak...everything.

I remembered that fight, I remembered how savage his words were, how much I loved him, how much he broke me; my heart.

I relived that moment.

'What,' he yelled harshly, 'you can't speak now?' He paced in a circle just to return back to where he was, 'I didn't ask for this.' He ran a shaking hand through his hair, 'God damn it.' He breathed out. 'God-FUCK!' His leg swung to kick the chair that sat in one corner of his room.

This was the real Devil; this was what he was like before I came around -angry and resentful.

The chair flew across the room and barreled into the wall -creating a hole, ‘You want me to carry on?!’ He didn’t leave me time to answer, ‘Okay! Fine! On the two hundredth year, I thought about feeding you to the demons so I could clean up the mess I had made!’

His words burnt holes through me -his words that once built me up; ‘So I get the pleasure of seeing you ascend to Heaven,' -tore me down piece by piece; ‘Just LEAVE! How fucking hard is it for you to understand! -I don't give a fuck about your problems, just fucking leave! I don't even know why I spent so much time on you!’

I felt like I was drowning in a murky whirlwind of emotions so clear to understand when they were experienced alone, but suffocating when they were all thrown in at once.

Through a gap in the whirlwind, I could hear Jungkook again; calling me.

'Y/N,' he sat on the Persian carpet rug with my head in his lap, 'Has it stopped? Can you hear me?'

If I did hear him, I didn't process it at all. I simply sat up to press my face into his chest; the wash of emotions were still heavily present, 'I just wanna go home.'

'Out! Out you witch!' Luna burst, suddenly angry after she picked up to look at the picture on the card.

She threw it by my side, 'Satan killer!' .

Forty-six missed calls, a hundred and six unread messages, and one voicemail.

I picked up my phone that sat lonely under the mountains of french fires packets. 'Dial two to hear your latest voicemail-You have one voicemail from;' the monotone voice recited a familiar number, 'zero-two-one-five-six-eight-six-four-one-five.'

'Y/N, it's been two weeks since that reading,' Jungkook's voice sounded drained, 'Come on, weren't you the one who didn't believe in all this?' He sighed, 'What really happened? It's like it's dragged you into a depressive state. Y/N, it's not just me who's worrying; your Mum, your Father...even your therapist is starting to worry.' He paused to steady himself, 'Just...I don't know, call. We can figure this out together.' And then the line went flat.

I didn't want to call back or reply; they would've never have believed me, I didn't want to call and pretend that everything was fine because I had no more energy to lie; I was emotionally drained, it felt like I had to relive one thousand years of emotional turmoil in a few short minutes -in fact -that was exactly what happened.

Tuesday welcomed a storm that brewed steadily a few miles from my apartment, 'Can I get barbeque swirls on those?' I repeat my order through the phone, 'How much was the total again?'

'That'll be twenty-five dollars and the barbeque swirls are fifty cents for each pizza, Miss.' The receptionist chirped too vibrantly for a rainy day.

'Yea, okay.'

'We'll be fifteen minutes away, Miss.'

'Sure.'

If fifteen minutes seemed like forever, I was more than glad to wait for eternity because when I opened the door to my apartment; I automatically wished I hadn't.

'Hey old friend,' His eyes were still held the same fire, but the rest of him seemed...worn. His crisp suit was replaced with a white pullover and a pair of black jeans, and he held my pizza's in one hand, 'The delivery guy said it was for you.'

I was still frozen from the sudden affirmation that everything I saw a couple of weeks ago was true.

He seemed to act like our fight never happened as he gave me a warm smile; something he never did, 'May I come in.' Not waiting for my answer, he closed the door behind him.

I didn't know how to feel, the only thing I wanted to do was to embrace him; he looked tired and beaten but my head wouldn't let me, it reminded me of where we had left off. After he placed the boxes on my kitchen counter, I finally spoke up, 'Get out,' It was colder than I had anticipated it to sound, 'I can't do this, not now.'

'That's it?' He was obviously upset with my tone, 'Fine, you have every right to be angry with me but just give me chance to tell you why I'm here for.'

I scoffed, sickened at the fact that he was playing this fight like a children's game, 'Angry!' My anger turned into frustration and then, into tears, 'I'm more than angry with you! I hate you!'

The Devil's face softened along with his voice, 'You don't mean that.'

I let a tear slip from my eyes...then another...and another, 'No! I do!' I back stepped as he tried to reach out to me, 'I hate you for playing with my feelings, I hate you for hurting me, I hate you because you put me here in this position! I-'

'Y/N, listen to me.' He grabbed my hand and it physically stung.

I swatted it away out of pain, 'Don't touch me.' I hissed at him as distanced our bodies even more, 'I hate you for cursing me!'

'You're not anymore.' He seemed to have found a second of silence to squeeze his line in, causing me to shut up.

My eyes fluttered and my heart constricted; it seemed to have cramped up. I wanted to, I desperately wanted to crash my lips on his and feel his warmth again. Despite his nauseating words, the thought of him still felt like home.

Yet, I let the overwhelming emotions take control, 'Is that all? Are you expecting a 'thank you?' because that's never going to happen. Getting my life back was the least you could've done.' My words reflected the Devil of the past; stabbing into him and dragging the knife along the wound to tear it even more.

But he didn't lose it, he stayed frighteningly calm and what happened next took my soul and crushed it in its palms.

His hand came up to hold my damp cheek, he lowered his head to press his forehead against mine, 'Shhhh, don't cry anymore okay?' That's when I realised that he had been crying the whole as well. His voice was as soft as my favourite lullaby, but his words pulled at my heart, 'It's all my fault alright? I blame me too, okay? I was stupid and it's all my fault.'

I sniffled as his hand snaked to the back of my head and he pulled me into his chest as I cried; he was willingly showing me affection for the first time in a long time.

I wasn't wrong; he still did feel like home, but when I recollected myself, I foolishly told him to; 'Get out.' It was a whisper, but it was enough.

Before he left, he proceeded to kiss the top of my head, 'I love you.'

I shouldn't have hidden the tear that slid down my face at his confession...I should've told him I loved him too.

☽

Next chapter: 06

#bts v #bts #taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #tae #taehuyng bts #bts scenarios #bts wings #bts jungguk #bts jungkook #jungkook x reader #taehyung fanfic #lucifer #bts fanfic #divine

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