#but if you’d asked me what language my book was I’d have said Dutch with full conviction

[zoueriemandzijnopmars]

How can I have started a book, read the blurb on the back, the title and 30 pages, but only when I’m tracking my progress on the StoryGraph and only finding an English version of the book when searching by isbn I realise that the book is in fact in English and not in Dutch as I’d been convinced?!?!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 8) - Good Days, Bad Days

Summary: The reader has a special birthday surprise for Jensen and starts to get to know Jared more. When Jensen returns home from Toronto for good though, he and the reader have their first big fight and make more moves in their relationship...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Word Count: 5,300ish

Warnings: language, angst, fighting, smut

A/N: Enjoy!

________

Thursday Night

“So how do you want me?” asked Jensen, leaning against his closet door in nothing but his boxer briefs. 

“Oh well that’s a dangerous question,” you laughed. “Jeans are fine for where I’m taking you.”

“Alright,” he said. He ducked into the closet and returned wearing only a pair of dark jeans, smirking at you with his hands behind his back.

“Being a little shit?” you asked.

“One of my best qualities,” he said. You hummed and went past him into the closet. “So what should I be wearing on this date out?”

“I’m kinda a sucker for you a henley and flannel. Not to let that go to your head at all,” you said.

“Oh you should never watch Supernatural then,” he chuckled, grabbing a long sleeve white henley off the hanger and pulling it on.

“I did sort of start watching it,” you said. “You look like a little baby that hadn’t hit puberty yet.”

“I got better with age, sweetheart,” he said, flashing you a wink.

“Oh yes you did,” you said. “I like it. It’s kinda scary but not too bad if you watch during the day.”

“It gets less scary pretty fast,” he said, putting on his red and gray flannel. “I all set?”

“You look very pretty,” you said, walking out with him on your tail. “So does the show end happy? Like they live? It’s got this angsty feel to it where I feel like something bad is gonna happen.”

“Do you want me to spoil it?”

“Dean doesn’t like die, right,” you said. He made a face and you frowned. “No. Why? He doesn’t deserve that.”

“Eh, calm yourself woman. Things could happen in the future...he might not have to die...or he might come back and I really shouldn’t be discussing these things.”

“You’d do more?” you asked.

“Oh for sure. On a streaming network where we get to do all the shit we couldn’t on cable. Get some fresh eyes in on the writing or maybe we’d even take a crack at it. It’s not really an if, more of a when so don’t go worrying about Dean. I like my new friends at work and everybody’s great but I miss Jared and my old ones. I’m definitely working with them again.”

“That’s great! Now come on, move that tush. We have reservations.”

“Reservations. Fancy,” he said. He put on a pair of socks and shoved his wallet in his pocket, following you out to the hall when you spun around. 

“Oh yeah,” you smirked. “You may also have a little birthday surprise waiting for your downstairs so eyes shut mister.”

“You’re devious. I like that. I like that a lot. We should explore that later in bed.”

“Tempting. I’ll have to take you up on that,” you said. “Eyes shut.”

You held his hand and he shut his eyes, going down the hall with you. You went slowly down the steps, Jensen’s arm around you the whole time. You grinned and walked him over to the family room before leaving him in place.

“Open,” you said. He blinked open his eyes, quickly landing them on a grinning Jared standing there.

“How the hell are you here?” said Jensen, Jared giving him a big hug he quickly returned. “Shit I missed you man.”

“Me too. But it’s someone’s birthday this week and I don’t have work tomorrow so I caught a flight up this afternoon. Y/N thought I’d make a good present.”

“Fucking awesome present,” he said, still grinning ear to ear. 

“You doing okay?” asked Jared, Jensen nodding. He gave him another hug and you smiled. “So how’s that crush on the nanny working out?”

“Shut up,” said Jensen, smirking as he pulled you into his side. “Jared. I know you guys met already but Y/N is your soon to be best friend just as an fyi.”

“Oh we’ve already started chatting,” you said, Jared chuckling. “He’s really sweet. I had to legit stop him from jumping on a plane that second when I texted him he thought something was wrong.”

“I think between the two of us we can keep an eye on him,” said Jared. “So you mind if I crash your date?”

“Not at all,” you said. “I’m taking both you boys out. My treat.”

“I’ll be back in a minute,” said Jensen two hours later while he excused himself to the bathroom. Jared finished off the last of his beer and smiled as he leaned back in his corner of the booth. 

“You know I’m totally covering this right,” he said.

“Dutch?” you asked.

“I’ll take the alcohol, you take the food.”

“That I can agree to,” you said, glancing over the dessert menu. “I’m really happy you were able to come up to hang out. I know you got your own family and everything and this was last minute.”

“He’s my family too,” he said. “I’d do anything for him. Literally. Don’t ever hesitate to call me, no matter when or where. I’ll be there for him like he’s always been for me.”

“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen a smile on his face like that before.”

“I have. You just didn’t notice that night at the bonfire.” You shrugged and he cocked his head. “How long you two been dating?”

“A month or so,” you said. 

“You like him?”

“He’s alright,” you said, smiling before you took a sip from your glass. 

“Thanks for taking care of him lately.”

“Don’t need to thank me for that,” you said, sliding the dessert menu over to him.

“Yeah but I’m still going to,” he said. “I meant what I said earlier. Between the two of us he’ll be okay again.”

“He’s never gonna be the same. He’ll be happy and it won’t hurt as much. But it’ll come back and hit him time to time.”

“There’s a reason he’s my best friend and it’s not just because we worked together for so long. He’s always been there for me and I’ll be there for him. I feel better about him being up here when he’s got someone else watching his back.”

“You had the hard job, not me,” you said.

“He’s come a long way. Doesn’t mean this is a cakewalk though I’m sure.”

“No, you’re right about that,” you said as you spotted Jensen returning.

“You guys order dessert yet?” he asked, sliding in beside you.

“Why doesn’t the birthday boy pick,” teased Jared, handing the menu over to him. “You guys ought to come home for a weekend when you get a chance.”

“It’s kinda a long way to go with the kids for just a few days,” said Jensen. “But we’ll be home soon. Hopefully.”

“I can get you a gig on Walker anytime you want it dude, just ask.”

“Maybe. I kinda want to get with the guys and maybe work on that Supernatural stuff. I need good stuff to look forward to, you know?”

“I do,” said Jared. “As long as you come home eventually I’ll learn to live with just using your jet skis in the meantime.”

“See what I’ve been dealing with for over a decade?” asked Jensen.

“Oh yes. He’s horrible,” you teased. “We really shouldn’t have him sleepover then, should we?”

“You’re staying at the house?” asked Jensen with a grin.

“Duh. I didn’t just fly a thousand miles to not see you dude. I’m here all weekend. Let’s have some fun.”

“Boys I’m heading to bed,” you said around two in the morning. 

“Yeah we ought to go to bed ourselves,” said Jared.

“I’ll grab you some sheets and stuff,” said Jensen. You waved goodnight to Jared, heading down the hall towards your room when Jensen wrapped an arm around your waist. “I thought you were gonna sleep with me from now on.”

“I am. Want to check something real quick.”

“Hurry back,” he said. He kissed your temple and ducked into his room, leaving you in the hall. You went down to your own and checked your email, smirking when you saw what you were looking for. A rattling of fingers on the door made you glance up, Jensen smiling there. “Texting your other boyfriend?”

“No, I sort of...submitted one of my stories to a publisher. They’ve been talking to me this week and said they’d get back to me today on if they wanted to move forward. They want to do a five book deal. I already have the stories done and mostly drawn anyways. They gave me an offer just now.”

“That’s awesome,” he said. “Seriously. We’re gonna celebrate tomorrow for sure.”

“It’s no big deal,” you said.

“It really is,” he said. He picked you up and grinned, carrying you back to his room. “I’m proud of you.”

“They’re stupid stories,” you said.

“I love those stupid stories,” he said, setting you on the bed. “The kids do too.”

“You’re just saying that cause you’re supposed to say that.” You set your phone on the nightstand and crawled under the covers, Jensen pulling you into his chest when het got underneath.

“My children think their mom is really okay now. They don’t get sad anymore and they ask questions about her again and I don’t want to cry every time I talk about her because your story reminded me that the wolf dad can be happy again for him too. That’s really fucking important to me right now in life.”

“Okay Papa Wolf,” you said. You grinned and he returned it. “Night Jensen.”

“Goodnight sweetheart.”

Two Months Later

“Hey Jared,” you said as you answered your phone. “What’s up?”

“Jensen at work?”

“Yeah. Late night again,” you said. “He’s answering texts between breaks I think.”

“Cool,” he said.

“You need something?” you asked. 

“No, no. I’m good,” he said. “Thanks. I’ll catch you later.”

“You doing okay?” you asked.

“Yeah. Just want to talk to him for a minute,” he said. He was a little quiet and you sat down on the couch. 

“You want to talk to me?” you asked.

“That’s okay.”

“Jared...Jensen and I are starting to get serious which means we’re gonna be together a lot considering how you two can’t go more than a day without talking. We can be good friends too,” you said. He was quiet and you hoped you hadn’t sounded too corny.

“I uh, I have bad days sometimes. Really normal days can be bad days in my head. It’s kinda how I was built I guess,” he said. 

“Nothing wrong with that,” you said. “Today a bad day?”

“Kinda. Nothing happened. I had a normal day at work and home. I’m just off. He um...Jensen makes me feel better as lame as that sounds. Just talking for a few minutes helps my head get on track that somebody really does care.”

“He’s very good like that,” you said. “I know you mean the world to him. You’re his brother. It’s not lame that he makes you feel better. You make him feel better too. I owe you a lot for taking care of him after the accident.”

“I much prefer when I’m the one freaking out and he takes care of me,” chuckled Jared. “You guys coming home soon?”

“He’s got a few weeks left of filming but I might head down a little earlier, try to get the house sorted out down there with the kids and stuff,” you said. “He’s literally counting down the days.”

“He really likes working on the show though I thought.”

“Oh he does but he’s got a big circle on the calendar for the fifthteenth called Jared day. I think your boy is planning something fun.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he said. “You mind if I ask a personal question?”

“Shoot, buddy,” you said, stretching in your seat.

“Do you love him?” he asked. 

“Going full throttle out of the gate I see,” you said.

“I know. I know how he talks about you though. There’s no...casual relationship with him.”

“Well I haven’t said it to him yet and he hasn’t said it to me so...maybe another time I’ll be able to answer that question.”

“It’s been almost four months. You get to spend more time together than most couples starting out. I’d think you know by now,” he said.

“I do. But he deserves to hear it before anyone else,” you said. 

“So you love him.”

“Most things I love have a habit of going away,” you said. 

“He won’t,” he said. “You do more than make him happy, Y/N. A lot more.”

“I just wish he didn’t hurt.”

“He hurts a lot less lately. Some of that’s time and some of it’s you. Enjoy being one of his best friends. He doesn’t let that many people in that close.”

“I know. We were supposed to be talking about you I thought.”

“Eh, sometimes I just need the talk. Thanks. I got somebody else I can call now too.”

“It’s never a problem,” you said.

“It’s getting late there. I’ll let you go. Thanks for talking, really. I feel better.”

“Anytime Jared.”

“You too, Y/N.”

Three Weeks Later

“Doug you’re a lifesaver,” you said as finished washing Jensen’s truck in the driveway back home in Austin. He smiled as he wiped off his hands and gave Arrow a wave goodbye. 

“I owed you for that 3am incident,” he said. “You got easy kids. Mine are vultures.”

“Yes, yes they are,” you laughed. He gave you a kiss on the check and smiled as he headed back for his car, another one coming down the open driveway. “Later Doug.”

“Later,” he said. Jensen exited the back of the car along with his backpack and a suitcase, the car pulling out, Doug following after.

“Hey. How was the flight?” you asked.

“Who was that?” he asked, dropping his bags on the pavement.

“Oh that’s just Doug. He’s a nanny. I needed an extra set of hands today watching the kids trying to finish up these chores before you got home and it was perfect timing,” you said. You smirked and walked over to kiss him, Jensen taking a step back. “Something wrong?”

“You kissed him.”

“No. I didn’t. He kissed my cheek,” you said. Jensen narrowed his eyes and you scoffed, wiping the sweat off your forehead. “Seriously? He’s my friend.”

“That kisses you.”

“He’s affectionate,” you said. “Also he’s kinda married so you can tone it down with the judgemental looks.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. You’re right. You should be able to kiss whoever you want despite being in a relationship,” he said. He grabbed his bags and brushed past you inside. You grumbled and went after him, finding him upstairs in his room. “What?”

“What stick is up your ass today? I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. None of us have and you’re in a bad mood.”

“I was perfectly happy until I saw you kissing somebody else.”

“I wasn’t kissing him!”

“It didn’t look like that from my perspective.”

“Jensen.”

“Is this just a little game to you? You get bored of the older guy with kids finally?” he asked, crossing his arms. “Or maybe you just got caught finally.”

“I don’t cheat,” you said, getting in his face. “He kissed my cheek. I’ll call him to come back and explain this situation right now but I apparently you just think I’m a cheater.”

“Well maybe you are. Geez, we’ve been together over four months and no real sex yet? Cause that’s not sending red flags.”

“Because you weren’t fucking ready!” you shouted. “I’m not your wife and I’m never gonna be her. Don’t be mad at me for it.”

“No that’s for sure,” he said.

“The kids are in the front yard. Don’t expect me back today,” you said. You stormed downstairs and into your room, shoving some things in a bag before taking your purse and getting behind the wheel of your car. 

You were seeing red by the time you were out of the suburbs. You slammed your hand against the wheel and shouted.

“You fucking asshole,” you said. You sniffled and drove for a bit before finally pulling off. You drove down a long road, rolling your eyes when of course you passed by his brewery. You’d never been but he’d told you about it more than once. You kept going down the road, eventually finding a park to pull into. You shut off the car and shut your eyes, a knock on the window making you jump. You put down your window when you saw a cop there and did your best to wipe off your face.

“You’re double parked,” he said. 

“What?”

“You’re parked on the line,” he said. 

“Sorry,” you said. 

“Bad day?” he asked.

“Something like that,” you said. You could feel snot threatening to drip down your nose, the officer reaching into a pocket and handing you a tissue. “Thanks.”

“Best not to drive when you’re upset,” he said.

“Yeah. I’m just gonna sit here for a little while,” you said with a nod.

“Probably not a great idea to sit in a car next a playground,” he said. “The mom’s are kinda intense around here.”

“Of course they are,” you said, squeezing your eyes shut.

“Why don’t you move your car and you can join me on my patrol,” he said. “It’s only a short walk. Fresh air might do you good.”

“Last time I talked to another man my boyfriend sorta freaked out on me so maybe not a good idea,” you said. You blew your nose and realized what you’d said, the officer staring down. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Why don’t we take that walk so I can find out what you did mean.”

Two minutes later you were walking next to the cop. He had a baseball cap on and was in all black. You weren’t sure how he wasn’t boiling considering it was May in Austin.

“This boyfriend got a name?”

“You gonna run his name or something?” you asked.

“Do I need to?” he asked. You shook your head and he smiled. “He the jealous type? He get angry over you talking to other men?”

“It’s complicated.”

“If it doesn’t get uncomplicated I might have to pay this boyfriend a visit you understand.”

“His wife died last June.”

“Okay. I understand part of the complicated thing now.”

“Why’s he gotta be a dick? Called me a cheater,” you said. You crossed your arms and the cop chuckled. “Sorry.”

“As long as you don’t call me a dick we don’t got a problem. Did you cheat on him?”

“No. He...he works away and he just got home today and my guy friend was over helping me with watching my boyfriends kids while I did some chores and my guy friend is like, a really affectionate guy and he kissed my cheek as my boyfriend was coming in and my boyfriend thinks I was kissing him back and been cheating on him for the past three weeks.”

“Why don’t you just call the guy friend over to explain?”

“He got so pissed so fast and accused me of cheating. I’ve been dating him for nearly five months and he brings up the fact we haven’t had sex yet like that even matters when I’ve been holding back for him and he just blows up on me for fucking nothing,” you said.

“You’re both stubborn people, aren’t ya,” he said.

“Maybe,” you grumbled.

“Maybe this guy is scared and looking for a way out of the relationship. Or maybe he thinks you want out. You mentioned kids. That’s not easy.”

“He’s also...older. There’s an age gap. I was the nanny and now I’m the girlfriend nanny. He’s also kinda...famous,” you said.

“So there’s a lot of stress in this relationship then.”

“No,” you said, dropping your arms to your sides. “It’s not like that.”

“Maybe the dumb bastard just got scared of losing someone again,” he said. “Just a theory.”

“I wish he wasn’t scared,” you said. “I don’t know how to make him not afraid.”

“You ever think maybe he said that because you’re getting in there pretty good now and he’s getting real scared that losing you might hurt just as bad as this wife did.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot,” you said. 

“Talk to him. Get an apology and try to forgive him.”

“I already forgive him. I know him. He was scared and I got mad instead of realizing after so many weeks apart all he needed was a freaking hug.”

“Then go home and give him a hug,” he said.

“Thanks,” you said with a nod. “I must have looked like a hot mess or something.”

“Oh for sure,” he chuckled. You smiled and he laughed. “That looks better.”

“Jensen probably left like five messages on my phone by now,” you said. The cop you were with paused and smiled. “What?”

“A kinda famous Jensen. There’s really only one of those in town,” he said.

“Oh. Yeah. Please don’t share that he’s dating. He really wants to keep things private for a lot of reasons right now,” you said.

“He’s my buddy.”

“Your buddy?”

“We went to school together,” he said. “In tenth grade he went for a slide on second base, ripped his pants right down the middle. His hanes bright blue covered ass still managed to get around to home base.”

“He split his pants in a baseball game?” you smiled.

“I know quite a few of his dirty secrets,” he said. “I don’t really know that whole acting thing but him I know and that must make you Y/N. You ever in trouble kid, ever just got a bad feeling and want a cop to come by, give me a call.”

“Thanks,” you said as you took his card. “You really think he’s a dumb bastard?”

“Oh knowing it’s him, 100%. Give him a break. We like him when he smiles,” he said.

“I’m gonna give him a call,” you said. “We should hang out sometime now that Jensen has a break.”

“Definitely. I gotta finish my patrol,” he said. “Take care Y/N.”

“Bye,” you said as you headed back towards your car. You pulled out your phone and saw seven missed calls and twelve unread texts. You tapped the screen and put the phone up to your ear, only ringing for a second.

“I’m sorry,” said Jensen.

“Me too.”

“I’m the one that...shit I’m so sorry, Y/N. I don’t know what happened.”

“You missed me and you were scared and seeing Doug probably hurt like a bitch,” you said.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t want to be the stupid jealous boyfriend.”

“I’m not too far from your brewery if you want to meet there. Get a beer. Blow this over,” you said.

“I’m sorry.”

“I forgive you. Stop apologizing. I want to give you a hug,” you said. 

“I’ll meet you there in thirty minutes?” he asked.

“I’ll see you soon honey.”

“Hi,” said Jensen as you sat at a quiet table in the back, sipping on a beer and eating a piece of pizza. You smiled and stood up, giving him a hug. He tucked his head down and sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey we survived our first big fight as a couple,” you said. “That deserves beer and pizza.”

He sat down next to you, forcing a smile on his face. You reached over and cupped his cheek, Jensen turning into it. 

“Please forgive yourself,” you said.

“I don’t really want to,” he said.

“You called me a cheater. I get what I want today and that’s for you to forgive yourself.”

“I don’t know why I said that.”

“Jensen,” you said, stroking his cheek. “I love you.”

He stared at you, a different look in his eyes, the tiniest sliver of a smile peeking through. You inched closer and slid your hand around to the back of his neck, pulling him into a kiss. He felt softer than usual, lips barely moving against yours. 

“I love you,” he said. He wrapped his arms around you and grinned. “I have loved you for a very long time.” You kissed him again, Jensen returning it. 

He left his arm around your back, smirking when you did the same to him.

“Can we forget about earlier?” you asked. He nodded and rested his head on your shoulder.

“One last I’m sorry though,” he said.

“Just don’t call me that again and we’re all good, Jens,” you said. “Now eat some of this pizza so I don’t feel like a glutton.”

“I don’t have to slip into a superhero costume any more so dad bod here I come,” he chuckled.

“Does that mean Solider Boy meets some untimely end?”

“No spoilers,” he said. “But I don’t think I’ll be going back to that show. At least as often. I know I want to direct an episode of walker in the fall. I talked to Jared about it actually so that’ll be fun. I might do a duck and run guest appearance on it. I’ll line up something for next year but I want to be home for awhile, do work around here.” 

“I know quite a few people who would be more than okay with that,” you said. 

“Don’t make any plans for Saturday,” he smirked.

“I thought you were having your Jared day tomorrow.”

“Oh we are. Gen invited you and the kids over. She’d like to get to know you. You’ll love her,” he said.

“So what’s Saturday then?” you asked.

“I’d like to take you and the kids out on the boat. We haven’t been since before the accident. Maybe we can go out for dinner and put up the tent in the backyard, have a sleepover out there with the kids.”

“That sounds fun.”

“And...I’d like to maybe next week take you out for the day, just us, maybe...spend the night somewhere,” he said.

“Like a hotel?” you asked.

“Yeah. Or the kids can have a sleepover at Jared’s. Maybe.” He glanced down and you moved your arm from his back, reaching behind yourself to hold his hand. Green eyes flickered over to yours and you smiled. “I’m-”

“You know if you keep apologizing about earlier I’m not going to have sex with you,” you said. “That’s just facts.”

“Okay,” he chuckled. “No more apologies. Aside from...I really am sorry about what I said. I’m the one that’s been holding back and not once have you asked for more.”

“We said we’d take it slow and that’s okay,” you said. He squeezed your hand and nodded. “I don’t like you because you’re attractive or your hair is great or your arms are massive. Having fun with you is fun but that’s not why I’m here.”

“I don’t know if I can give you things you want,” he said.

“Just give me you and that’s good with me,” you said.

“Okay,” he said quietly. You scooted closer to him, Jensen tucking a stray hair behind your ear. “Let’s do it now.”

“Uh, what?” you said, taking a sip from your beer.

“The kids aren’t home and I don’t want to wait and-”

“You don’t have to ask me twice,” you said, knocking back your beer and flipping the cardboard down over your pizza. He stared and you burped, picking up the box. “There’s like six slices left and this is too good to waste, even for sex.”

“You have literally never been more attractive than in this moment,” he said. 

“I could be.”

“I’ll see you at the house in twenty?”

“Yes you will Ackles.”

Forty minutes later you hand was slapping against his headboard, legs squeezed so tight around his waist you were shocked he wasn’t complaining. You moaned loudly as he teased your clit and he delivered one more hard thrust. He grunted as you gripped his shoulder with your other hand.

“Jensen,” you breathed out. “I’m right there. Please, please, please…”

You arched your back when he thrust hard, fingers rubbing just a bit rougher and you came all around him, every muscle tensed and riding out that high, long, deep, absolutely perfect orgasm. Jensen thrust a few more times before he groaned and rested his head on your shoulder, big panting breaths fanning over your skin. 

He was sweaty but pulled out slowly, plopping down on the bed beside you, hand resting on his chest.

“I don’t know about you but that was good,” he said. “Damn good.”

You giggled between breaths, nodding your head slightly. You tilted it over towards his, Jensen already staring at you with soft hooded green eyes. 

“Definitely damn good,” you breathed. His lips tugged up into a smile, warm and gentle, his head inching closer to you. You sat up and leaned down to kiss him, Jensen breaking off when he needed air. You trailed a finger down his chest before climbing out of bed and excusing yourself to the bathroom. After you cleaned up you found Jensen chucking the condom in the trash and wiping himself off quickly. 

“Come here you,” he said. He picked you up bridal style and carried you back to the bed, laying you down carefully. “I’m big on after sex cuddling just so you know.”

“I find that to be a very attractive quality,” you said as he lay down. He reached down to the end of the bed and grabbed the bunched up blanket, pulling it over the two of you. His arm slid under your head and he pulled you into his side, encouraging you to use him as a pillow. “You’re warm.”

“So are you,” he said. He kissed your temple and let out a deep breath. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“I never thought I’d be able to do that ever again. Let alone not feel bad about doing it,” he said.

“You okay?”

“I’m great,” he said. “Really. I know Dee would have been telling me to not worry so I didn’t. I don’t...I feel like I can talk about her again, you know?”

“You used to call her your wife a lot. Recently you’ve been saying her name more. I think you really are healing, Jensen.”

“I knew the second you left earlier I messed up. I dropped the kids off at Jared’s and then I wound up at the cemetery. I saw these purple flowers there. It’s kinda a different flower but they were her favorite. I’ve only ever told one other person those were her favorites,” he said. You traced your finger over his pec and rested your palm flat on his chest. “Why’d you put flowers there?”

“Why wouldn’t I Jensen?”

“That’s how I knew I can stop being so scared when it comes to you. Purple fucking flowers. You’re just…”

“I love you too,” you said, giving his whole body a squeeze. He returned it, holding you for a long time, neither one of you saying a word. It wasn’t until you noticed the light starting to change in the room that you both moved. 

“Y/N,” said Jensen when you sat upright. You looked over your shoulder, a smile on his face. “Do you want to stay upstairs with me from now on instead of your room? It’s okay if-”

“I’d love to,” you said. “To be honest, I slept up here the other night.”

“You did?” he asked as you nodded.

“I missed you.”

“Me too,” he said.

“I know three little faces that really missed you too,” you said. He smiled and nodded. “Let’s go get the rascals.”

______

A/N: Read Part 9 here!

[reddeadredeputy]

Runaway: Chapter 2 (Javier Escuella x Fem!Reader)

Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

(Disclaimer 1: I grew up actively speaking three languages throughout my childhood so it’s actually kind of difficult for me to figure out how to write someone who grew up monolingual learning a new language without books or technology ^^ any inaccuracies on how quickly people actually learn new languages are my bad)

(Discaimer 2: This is sort of a filler chapter, introducing characters before it gets more into the story)

You woke to the sound of hoofbeats at the edge of camp. You stirred in your tent, stretching with a frown. 

“Welcome back, Mr. Morgan.” Miss Grimshaw’s voice carried its way to your tent, stern and serious as ever. 

“Always lovely to see you, Miss Grimshaw.” Arthur tilted his hat respectfully, dismounting his horse with a thud. “Who’s the new tent for?” he gestured to the tent set up beside yours as you climbed outside, yawning tiredly. “‘Morning (Y/N).  Did I wake you?” Arthur added quietly. 

You shook your head. It was already late morning, meaning you’d slept in. You were surprised Mrs. Grimshaw hadn’t already come to wake you and scold you for not having gotten to work sooner. You gestured over your shoulder to Javier’s tent. 

“We’ve got a new man in the gang.” You said. “Javier Escuella.” 

“Where’s he from?” 

“Mexico, I think. Can’t get much out of him, though.” You replied with some hesitation. “Normally I’d think Dutch was crazy to take him back to camp, but Javier was starving and alone. Barely even had clothes on his back.” 

“Well can he shoot a gun?” 

“Ever met a man still alive around these parts who couldn’t?” You pointed out. 

“Alright, (Y/N), fair point.” Arthur chuckled, hooking his thumbs in his gun belt. “Tent’s empty, though. Where is he?” 

“Out,” you yawned. “I think Dutch sent him into town with Hosea. He needed some clothes of his own. Had to borrow John’s last night.” You watched as a grin appeared on Arthur’s face. 

“Did Marston put up a fight?” 

“Hardly. Dutch wouldn’t have it, though.” You glanced back at Arthur’s tent for a split-second. “Stole a pair of your boots, too. Hope you don’t mind.” You grinned. You couldn’t help it. Besides John and Arthur, you were one of the longest standing members of the Van der Linde gang, practically like a sibling to the two of them. You’d grown up taking delight in pissing one another off. 

But of course, the level-headed Mr. Morgan didn’t seem to mind. It was always John, after all, who was the more reactive of the two. 

“Arthur!” Hosea’s voice broke through your reminiscing. 

“Ah, welcome back, old man.” Arthur waved as Hosea rode up to the hitching posts with Silver Dollar with Javier sitting just behind the saddle. 

You had to do a double take when you saw him. It was incredible just how much a change of clothes and a haircut could change the way a person looked. All of the uneven stubble on Javier’s face had been shaven clean off. His hair was no longer unkempt either. Instead of John’s dirty old clothes, he wore a dress shirt with a neckerchief, a pair of black boots, and a less worn and dirty pair of jeans. He looked… normal. Just like anyone else you’d pass on the road, not a runaway outlaw. 

“I don’t think you’ve ever gotten me clothes this nice.” Arthur said with a grin. “What, you didn’t get him a horse, too?” 

“Oh, he doesn’t need one yet, he’s recuperating.” Hosea waved dismissively as he dismounted. As he hit the ground, he was already reaching back to give Javier a hand, but the man had already jumped down to the ground, stumbling a little as he landed, falling down to one knee. Hosea again offered to help him, but Javier shook his head, pushing himself back to his feet.

“You must be Javier.” Arthur bowed his head in a polite greeting, reaching out to shake his hand. Javier looked down at Arthur’s hand, as if trying to decipher what he’d said. “Name’s Arthur Morgan.” 

“Hola.” Javier shook Arthur’s hand. 

“So, Mexico, huh?” Arthur asked, attempting to make conversation. “What brings you all the way out here?” It occured to you that you’d never actually mentioned the unfortunate language barrier. Javier looked to you and Hosea for help, shrugging slightly. You tapped Arthur’s arm. 

“He can’t understand.” You muttered. Arthur frowned, mouth hanging slightly open as he realized the dilemma. 

“Well.” He said, his frown shifting to a puzzled look. “I can see how that might be an issue.” 

Javier just watched the two of you speak, crossing his arms. 

“No soy estúpido, simplemente no puedo hablar tu idioma.” 

You couldn’t quite understand him, but for some reason, you felt as though he was insulting you-

“Hey Dutch!” Arthur called as the older man stepped out from behind his tent.

“Ah, Arthur, welcome back.” Dutch waved his arms with a sort of flourish, “And look at Javier. Excellent work Hosea, he looks the part now.” You felt bad for thinking it, but watching the way Dutch acted made you think he was excited to have Javier in camp as a sort of charity case-- no, Dutch wasn’t like that.The gang was like family to him. Of course the addition of a new person would excite him. Actually, you thought, it was good to see Dutch so thrilled about something. “Now, (Y/N), Hosea, Javier, I hate to interrupt your little gathering, but I’ve got to borrow Arthur from you for a moment.” Right, you recalled that big job he’d been talking about. You stepped aside to let Arthur pass you, and he shot you a confused glance.

“What’s this about, Dutch?”

“There’s some huge opportunities out here in the west, boy. Now, I think I might’ve found us a job. Low risk, high payoff.” He insisted, clasping a hand on Arthur’s shoulder and guiding him towards the center of camp. “Ah, and how could I forget. (Y/N)?” You stood at attention at the sound of your name. “Why don’t you show Javier around now that the sun is out? Miss Grimshaw’ll need help with the upkeep around here, and I say let’s teach Javier a thing or two about how we run this place.”

[diverse-writing]

Pt. 1-Hi! I'm a Black woman writing a Fanfiction for an anime series called Food Wars and I'm creating a sister and brother who are half-Lakota (Itazipcola Band) and half-Black American. They're going to a Japanese Culinary High School, the same school their great-uncle (Kiowa) went to when America was in Japan, post-WWII for a few years as his father was in the army. It's a very competitive school with diverse characters and cooking styles/types. They both want to travel and see a new country.

(continued) They live in Sioux Falls, SD after moving from the Cheyenne River Rez years ago. The family owns a Catering company with Native, African, and American Southern food (Mom is from VA) that does Showcasings, Chef Demos, and feeding the people within both communities while mentoring the youth. Annie (Older sis) wants to be a Pastry Chef as Andrew (little bro) does mostly savory, especially BBQ. Annie was on a kid's baking show as Andrew won kid's BBQ competitions. Both siblings want to help their communities by spreading awareness about poverty, suicide, and other stuff. They are active in their Native heritage. I did research in Natives in Japan, and I found that it's a bit mixed. Some people don't know about Natives, or that they do but only through the news and old western films. There's this one guy who went to a tribe to learn about the culture and he went back to Japan to teach his students about how the Natives truly lived. There's a Native jewelry store in Tokyo So some Japanese do know about Natives, I want to write a few small scenes where the Japanese students ask questions that are stereotypical about Natives and Black people, but they learn from the siblings. Annie begins to have a crush on a boy who is mixed indigenous (Ainu/Saami), but isn't connected to those cultures, because of his Ainu dad dying and Saami mom leaving him. He was adopted by a rich Japanese/Danish family. I want him to learn more about his heritage after falling for Annie and begins to heal from his past through learning about the Saami. Before he didn't want to do anything with them due to his mom. Andrew falls for a Japanese girl who does Medicine Cuisine. He's a expert in Nutrition and tries to help his people's health issues. They have a cute relationship. I thought of these characters just like any other person. I'm Black and I don't like seeing stereotypes. Annie and Andrew love music due to their dad formerly being in a band with only one album. They're both crafty with the Arts due to their grandparents on both sides teaching them. Annie is more outgoing, goofy, and blunt than Andrew but she enjoys the simple stuff in life and loves fashion (Vintage 60s/70s and Punk) Andrew is more quiet and shy, but not antisocial. He just likes doing his own thing while teasing his sis on her shortness and crush. He likes comfy, Punk clothing. I was just wondering what is offensive and not. I want to show their food and aspects of culture, like Powwows (I've been watching videos on Lakota Powwows) and I've been wondering if there's a coming of age ceremony. I don't want to show it just mention it. Is this where people get their Lakota name? I don't want to do religious ceremonies since that's sacred and also I'm not really religious, but what if I want to allude about it? Sorry that this was way too long!

Okay, this is a huge question but I’ll do my best to answer it with the GIANT caveat that I’m not indigenous and am only answering to the best of my knowledge. If any indigenous followers--particularly those with experience in Japan/with Japanese culture, though of course all are welcome--have thoughts or feelings, as always feel free to add more information and/or correct me!

A few observations that jump out, based on your description of your narrative framework:

Their food. Okay, while I know absolutely nothing about the food cultures you describe, I’m a huge fan of connecting with your culture through your food (and your stomach!) so I love this framing. That being said, to my knowledge African American food is fairly distinct from African food, with the former more likely to be in their cultural background given your description (obviously, in this situation you’re the expert on Black culture so feel free to totally ignore me here). 

Andrew’s food interests. Related to the previous bullet point, based on my understanding Medicine Cuisine and Nutrition would be super interesting focuses for him given his cultural background. It’d be super cool to seem him integrate his various cooking specialties and heritages into nourishing food to support his people. 

Knowledge about Native Americans in Japan. I do think it’s likely accurate that unless someone in Japan has personally done research, the average Japanese citizen probably knows very little about indigenous Native Americans in the same way the average American knows very little about Japanese indigenous ethnic groups. 

Relatedly, I think it makes sense for their Japanese classmates to ask stereotypical questions, but you should steer clear of just plain offensive questions. As you likely know, answering stereotypical questions about your identity and heritage is exhausting and should be treated as such within the narrative. Your characters are in school to educate themselves, not to educate their classmates, so while the latter may occur sometimes I don’t think it should be their focus. So while the intent of the questioning scene may partially be to help answer readers’ questions about Annie and Andrew’s heritage (and Black and Lakota culture to an extent), remember that the ultimate goal of representation is not to educate others but to help people within those demographics see themselves on the page. And more likely than not, Black and Lakota readers won’t want to see characters representing themselves having to answer the same repetitive questions they face down all the time.

I know you only mentioned him in passing, but I have a lot more thoughts specifically about Annie’s mixed Ainu/Saami crush. I don’t want to tell you *not* to write him but I do think there are several pitfalls you need to carefully avoid moving forward.

His Saami mother. There’s a big stereotype around POC abandoning their children, being absent or flighty parents, or otherwise just failing to properly nuture their children. While I’m unaware of any specific stereotype regarding indigenous  parents, I would tentatively say that doesn’t mean those stereotypes don’t exist, so tread carefully. That being said, I do know there’s a stereotype about indigenous people being alcoholics, so you should absolutely avoid characterizing his mother as such because as an outsider, you don’t have the power to subvert that stereotype. 

His relationship with his heritage. I would also be very cautious while writing his arc of reconnecting to his heritage. While reconnecting is unfortunately a very real (and very under represented) process for indigenous people, it’s an extremely difficult and personal process that I don’t think outsiders are qualified to write in-depth about. Though I don’t think you should necessarily gloss over his reconnecting process, I do think it should perhaps be a side character arc, rather than his defining character arc. For example, he might mention to Annie that her passion for her heritage has inspired him to research his own family, or else maybe he’s pictured buying a book on the Saami language. (The current discussion around Rick Riordan’s portrayal of Piper’s imperfect reconnection to her Cherokee heritage makes some really good points, so I’d check that out if you’re familiar with his books. I’d be happy to link you if you’re curious.)

His adopted family. I have to admit--as the daughter of a transracial adoptee in a family full of transracial adoptees, this framing makes me very wary. While I know transracial adoption parents likely have only the best intentions, the adopted child themselves often end up hugely disconnected from their birth cultures. It’s often an extremely stressful and traumatic event, especially in cases where the adopted parents don’t learn about their child’s birth culture themselves and/or only teach the child their own cultures (in this case, Japanese and Dutch). Honestly, with all due respect, I have yet to see any fictional narratives that properly address the trauma of transracial adoptions and given everything else going on in your writing, I’m not sure how well you would be able to write about it. More in the next bullet point.

His extremely mixed heritage. While I don’t want to come across as rude, I do have to ask: what’s your intention behind making a single side character with four different cultural backgrounds, especially backgrounds that you the author don’t share? The reality is that, no matter how much research you may do, these four cultures--Ainu, Saami, Japanese, and Dutch--are very rarely found in combination, and I think you’d be hard pressed to find any #ownvoices accounts from similar scenarios that you could hypothetically draw on to write more accurately. As a result, you’d know very little about how these different cultures meld together, and you’d have almost nothing to go on to write about his mixed multicultural background and the tensions that come with it. While I understand you may be attached to his parental setup and his backstory, I would highly advise simplification to avoid straying into territory you neither understand or are qualified to write about. Given your focus on his reconnecting, I would probably recommend keeping his Ainu father alive and cutting his adopted family. That way, you cut the number of unknown cultures in half and you can truly dedicate yourself to writing his Ainu heritage and his reconnecting process well.

With regards to your actual question about Lakota religious ceremonies, as a non-indigenous person I’m definitely not qualified to answer specifics about Lakota coming of age and naming ceremonies. That being said, I know this: Native American ceremonies, rituals, traditions, and lore are often closely guarded and not shared with outsiders. And I don’t just mean outsiders don’t share in the ceremonies themselves--outsiders often can’t even learn about the ceremonies because the knowledge itself is guarded. (This information is secondhand from my Blackfoot professor last year. If I’m wrong or if any indigenous followers have more accurate information, as always I’m open to critiques and suggestions!) As you continue researching this, I’d definitely be mindful of the source; if it comes from an official Lakota or indigenous source, it’s likely okay to share or discuss, but if all you can find about Lakota religious ceremonies is from, like, someone’s blog or Facebook post or something, then that information likely wasn’t approved to share and you shouldn’t write it into your story. Given that this seems to only be a character detail mentioned briefly, you may be able to simply mention the characters’ Lakota names in passing without referencing the ceremony itself.

Sorry for the long response, and I hope at least some of this information helps!

(Also, if you read this post, this is a good example of a really well researched and thought out ISO Sensitivity Reader question. Obviously, I’ve provided what information I can and this individual seems to have done lots of research, but the execution comes down to... well, the actual execution.)

[emily-strange]

Growing Pains...

Chapter 6! Honestly the feedback has been so kind. Thank you to everyone still giving it a go :)

Summary: Emmy has been with the gang since she was a little girl. Her mother moved on, leaving her to be raised by Dutch, Hosea and Susan. Arthur and John are her brothers (argue and she will fight you). Becoming a woman is hard when everyone still sees you as a child. Since the Blackwater mess she’s trying to find her feet while dealing with her new feelings for the gangs resident douchebag.

Pairing: Slow burn Micah x female OC.

Warnings: Swearing, Sexual Themes

Chapter 6

From a young age Hosea could see that washing and sewing wasn’t going to be my lot in life. I admire Susan for her ability to keep any camp going despite our circumstances and I do help out here and there but no, Hosea decided early on that my talents would lie elsewhere.

When I was 7 he took a considerable amount of money out of the camp funds to purchase me a fountain pen. Only the rich folk had them so without a lavish plan he wasn’t going to be stealing one. “Now I see all those little writings you’ve been doing. You got good penmanship,” he told me. “This, this right here will be your gun. I’ll teach you to write properly and then you’ll help me with a few things”.

I felt so useful! After that I’d spend 5 or 6 hours a day reading and writing with Hosea. He’d have me copy people’s handwriting from Dutch’s cursive to John’s chicken scratch and that’s how I found my place. So along with the general thieving, when something needs forging, like a letter or a bond, they come to me.

Since Blackwater there hasn’t been much of that but Hosea has made sure that I kept on top of my craft so to speak. In Colter I had to use Arthurs pencil and journal since we didn’t have any ink. I’d work from the back of the book as to not see any of his private stuff and he trusts me not to go sneaking through it. We lost pretty much everything in Blackwater but my pen, my pen I kept with me the whole time.

Although despite Hosea’s wish, Arthur decided that an actual gun should be my gun, you know, just in case. He gave me my revolver when I turned 10 and took me out shooting whenever he could. If he couldn’t then John took over although Arthur wasn’t always thrilled about that. He used to say that if I spent too much time practicing with John, I’d probably come away with a few bad habits. I think that was more about their bickering than anything though.

I lost that gun when we fled but was given a new one a few weeks ago. Something that I’m extremely happy about right now as I sit waiting for Micah to return with our drinks. He rode us to a dingey little saloon in the corner of nowhere and told me to grab a table. As I walked through the busy bar, men’s heads turned my way. I have to say, their leers aren’t flattering in the slightest.

“1 beer and a whiskey shot for the lady” Micah says as he puts them down in front of me and I thank him. He sits down across from me and takes a long swig of his bottle. Rum I think.

“Won’t lie Mr Bell, I’ve been to some iffy places but this one probably comes out on top.” I laugh and start on my beer.

“Ah it ain’t so bad” Micah chuckles while looking around “and why we at ‘Mr Bell’ again?”.

I shrug and give him a coy smile “I dunno….kinda like it. Has a nice, authoritative ring to it. Don’tcha think, Mr Bell?” I ask while I lean on the table with my elbow and put my chin in my hand. I have no idea what’s got into me but I kinda like it. So does Micah apparently.

“Oh really now” he smirks “well…” but before he can continue, our eye contact is broken by the appearance of a young woman in his lap. I’m no stranger to working girls, I’m an outlaw for goodness sake, but I’ve never had one try to seduce the man I have a stupid crush on. Urgh, ‘crush’, how old am I!? I like him. I think. This would be the perfect opportunity to find out if there wasn’t a very, very, sexy woman in the way.

“Hey sweetie” she drawls while winding her arms around Micah’s neck “Ain’t seen you in here before.”

My stomach drops when Micah hums and puts his hand on her waist, “We’re just passin’ through” he says smiling that sickening grin men do when they’re feeling flattered. For a moment I consider slumping back into my chair and just downing my beer. Run out to Jett and be home before dinner.

But before I can actually make good on my despair, Micah carries on speaking. I down my shot, and his, while I continue to listen.

“And I’m just having a drink with the lady here so,” he says, patting her waist “be a pal and hop off.” I can’t help the smile that graces my face and when the woman turns to look at me, I take a sip of my beer to try and hide it. I do however frown when she scoffs and glances around at the clientele in the bar. To my disgust, a few men are still looking my way.

“Oh darlin’ there’re plenty of men here that would suit this little doll better. They like the inexperience. Why don’t we..” but before she can finish her sentence Micah tightens his grip on her waist, somewhat painfully if her face tells me anything, and brings her close.

“Well, darlin��,” he mocks “let whoever they are know, that if I even so much as see them looking at her, they’ll die cockless.” he finishes with a growl. Micah roughly shoves the woman off his lap and she almost collapses onto the floor before finding her feet. She just spares me once last glance, fixes her dress and saunters off to her next mark. I watch as Micah takes one of his pistols from his gun belt and slams it down hard onto the table, causing the few leering men to turn back to their drinks.

“Take your gun out” he barks and it almost makes me jump “you show people you won’t be got and they don’t even try it.” He nods towards my satchel and I take out my revolver placing it on the table. He laughs, “Oh sweetheart, we need to work on your poker face.” And I can’t help but laugh along with him.

“Apologies, I don’t have as much experience in intimidating drunken men as you clearly do” I smirk. Micah hums and takes another drink from his bottle.

“You know, you um, could’ve. If you wanted to. Free country. Well, you know what I mean” I say and despite my best efforts it comes out a bit shaky. Micah just watches me for a moment with that look on his face again. The one that makes me feel like I’m speaking a foreign language. Before I can ask why he looks so confused by what I’ve just said, he’s changed the subject.

“So how’d you know you won’t be in trouble with the boss-man once we get back?” and it takes me a second to catch up with the change in topic.

“Oh, well, when Dutch and Hosea go fishin’ they’re gone till dark. Sometimes Hosea likes to stay out even when it’s dark so I figure if I’m back before evening I’m safe.” I explain. Micah nods and finishes his drink. I down the rest of mine and ask if he wants another.

“Why not. We’re on an adventure after all” he says while lighting a cigarette. I get up and walk with my money to the bar. I turn around while waiting for the bartender and see that Micah has shifted to sit more next to my chair than opposite. It’s so nice not to be coddled. I didn’t have to fight to get my own drink and despite the fact that he’s obviously moved to keep an eye on me, it feels more comforting than suffocating.

I get our drinks, I buy us a couple each, and take them back to the table with absolutely no interactions from the men around me. Won’t lie, it was a confidence boost. They all know it’s not worth their life to bother me.

“So” I start when sitting down “I think we should play a game.”

“What kinda game?” Micah asks warily “Roulette?” he says holding up his gun. I roll my eyes, “No, has to be something difficult for you. I know you’d jump at the chance for an adrenaline rush.”

“You know me so well” he laughs and I shake my head.

“Actually Micah, I don’t. But I’d like to.” I reply and really hope he catches onto my attempt at flirting, but all he does is clear his throat and gives me that ingenuine huff of a laugh he does sometimes.

“Ain’t no woman wanna know Micah Bell” he scoffs and takes a long swig of his drink.

“Well” I say cheerfully “this woman does. So, lets play. Ask me anything.”

“That the game? Questions?” he asks and I just smile. “Yep. And if for some reason, we don’t want to answer a question, we have to do a dare.” I explain and with that Micah laughs and holds his hand out to me.

“Alright, game it is. But only the truth.” He whispers and I agree, “Only the truth.”

Micah takes all of 2 seconds to decide his first question for me and as I thought, he’s trying to shock me. I figured out very quickly when he joined the gang that he’s always trying to size people up. What their weak spots are, what makes them retreat. I don’t know why he does it but the only way to find out is to remain unshocked. Well, try to.

“You a virgin?” he asks and I’m not surprised considering our little chat with sexy, working girl not long ago. “No” I say simply. I did promise the truth and he smiles like he’s surprised by my honesty.

“My turn. How many women have you slept with?” I ask figuring I’d stay on topic a bit. I’ve only had 2 beers so I can’t be drunk but that giddiness is back making me feel like I am. Micah pretends to think looong about his answer. “Oh hurry up” I laugh and throw a stray peanut from the table at him.

“I’m just making sure I tell the whole truth and nothin’ but the truth” he says holding his hand up, “Uh I’d say somethin’ liiiiike. I dunno. A lot. 100 odd maybe”. I have no idea if that’s his attempt to shock me again but I just nod and have more of my drink. “Your go” I say after.

“Hmm okaaay” he squints at me like he’s picking a question from somewhere on my face “You happy?” he suddenly asks and my attempt to remain composed is long gone. I was mid sip of my drink and I inhale causing me to cough. Micah laughs and leans forward patting my back a bit too roughly. “There ya go” he laughs when I stop.

“Jesus Micah, in a million years I’d never think you’d ask somethin’ like that” I wheeze out while wiping my mouth. Micah laughs and gestures for me to answer. Why has he asked me that? We went from 100 sexual partners to ‘are you happy’ in the space of a few seconds. Well done Micah, you’ve shocked me.

“Umm, Iiiii, wow,” I laugh humourlessly while looking at my beer bottle “that’s. That’s a question.” Is all I can think of to say in the moment. Micah, again, surprises me by staying quiet. I didn’t know he was capable of not making a comment. I clear my throat and meet his eyes awkwardly. “No” is all I can muster. I shake my head as if I can clear it that way and decide to just get us back on track. Well, on my track. I take a long glug of beer and ask my next question.

“Did Bill really threaten to tell Dutch if you didn’t follow me?” I ask and Micah chuckles.

“You’re quick ain’t ya?” he laughs and the compliment, at least I think it’s a compliment, makes me smile. “No, he didn’t”. I open my mouth to ask why he followed me then but Micah cuts me off.

“Ah ah, my turn.” He reminds me and jumps right in with his next question. “Who do you hate the most in the gang?”. I groan and put my head on the table which I instantly regret. It’s gross. “Come on sweetheart. Gotta be honest now!” he chortles.

“How did I not see this coming!?” I groan but have to laugh along with him. He’s persistent in his need to know that everyone is just as dysfunctional as he his. “Okay, I’ll be honest….at the moment I really don’t like Dutch.” I answer.

Micah opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off, causing him to chuckle louder. “Oh! And Strauss. He’s always kinda creeped me out. And jeez can Pearson wash once in a while. All the other men manage to. Well maybe not Uncle but he’s, ya know, Uncle.” I blurt out and Micah shoves my arm.

“Wow once we get ya started it allll comes out” Micah laughs and honestly, it’s infectious. I clap my hand over my mouth and stifle a snort. Seriously, 3 and a bit drinks in and I’m fine complaining about them all. There’s just something about Micah that makes me feel safe to admit out loud what I only record in my journal. But I really need to be careful. I scold myself internally at my loose mouth.

“Okay,” I shake my head “you can’t tell anyone.” I say and make direct eye contact. He smirks but doesn’t respond. “Please?” I ask more seriously. Micah just gives me one nod. Which I feel is his code for, I promise. We’ll see I suppose. I guess I can always pretend like he’s lying. Stop thinking about it!

“Right, my turn.” I say while starting on my last bottle. I don’t know if it’s because we’re out in the middle of nowhere with no one we know around, but I’m feeling emboldened by the feeling of freedom. I clear my throat and lean into Micah.

“Do you see me as that woman does? Just a young….‘doll’?” I ask quietly and I realise as soon as the words leave my mouth that I’m scared of his answer. Why did I ask that!? God, how stupid can I be. Of course he does. Everyone does.

Micah takes a deep breath and seems to inhale the remains of his last drink before taking mine and having a swig. He clears his throat and leans in close enough that I can feel his breath on my lips. He smells of the smokes he’s had since being here and whiskey. God I want to touch the scar on his chin, I need to know how he got that. Maybe run my tongue over it while sitting in his lap.

I realise I’m staring at his lips when he begins to speak and I’m sure he’s noticed.

He smirks and just utters one word.

“No.”

[nordic-breeze]

Arthur Morgan x Female Reader: An Unexpected Offer

A mundane trip to Rhodes for the weekly grocery shopping has an unexpected twist in store for Arthur and the reader. AO3.

Words: 3704

A/N: my first RDR2 fic and my very first attemt at writing smut. An idea I got from one of Arthur’s ‘insults’. Written in first person as I can’t write in second person/you-form for the life of me. Explicit sexual content, 18 pluss, foul language. I suck at titles.

An Unexpected Offer

“There! That should be it.”

Arthur Morgan huffed with a slight strain in his voice as he tossed the last sack onto the buckboard. I helped him hook up the wooden barrier. I still couldn’t believe I was really here, in Rhodes, doing the weekly grocery shopping with Mr. Morgan. It had been his turn this time and I’d somehow managed to talk him into taking me with him.

Listen, missy. Out there be bounty hunters, lawmen, Lemoyne Raiders and other outlaws…

But you took Sadie with you last time.

Mhpf.

He’d eventually agreed, albeit reluctantly. As much as I loved spending time with Tilly, Mary-Beth, Karen, Lenny and Jack, I’d been stuck at Clemens Point for weeks and I was in serious need of a change of scenery and a much-needed break from Miss Grimshaw’s incessant commands. Don’t get me wrong, she’s not a bad person and by all means, keeping the camp tidy and clean indisputably requires determination and dedication, but her demeanor could be a bit too much at times.

“Hey, what do you say we get something to eat over at the Parlour?” I suggested, not quite ready to return to the camp just yet. Besides, despite his short temper and coarse persona, I enjoyed Mr. Morgan’s company – and quite a bit too, if I were to be honest.

I guess he did not share my sentiment. My companion glared at me under his hallmark black leather hat. He didn’t say anything. His eyes did all the talking. Did you forget everything I said earlier?

I wasn’t about to give up that easily. “I don’t know about you, but I am in serious need for something that’s not one of Pearson’s stews – not that it’s anything wrong with Mr. Pearson’s cooking,” I raised my arms defensively, “but his stews all pretty much taste the same and since we’re already here…”

I gestured towards the Parlour House across the street and to the right. Mr. Morgan half-turned his head in the same direction. A slight pull at the corner of his mouth denoted he was considering my proposal. I knew he appreciated Pearson’s effort to feed us as much as any of the veteran van der Linde’s, but the twinkle in his eyes when I’d mentioned the stews told me he didn’t exactly disagree. Not that it mattered much. He wasn’t exactly a picky eater. I reached into my hand-made satchel and pulled out a couple of dollars. Thanks to finding a washed-up chest on the beach near camp during a morning walk with Tilly last week, likely from that boat that had capsized a couple of days earlier, money was, for the moment, not an issue. An unfamiliar, but welcoming change. Even after donating our share to the box outside Dutch’s tent, there was still a handsome amount for the both of us. And now, I was about to put it to good use.

“My treat. Whaddaya say?”

Mr. Morgan let out a chortle and adjusted the brim of his hat. He was not the one to turn down a free meal. “Okay, Miss,” he agreed, pulling at the tarpaulin to cover our newly bought provisions. “But you’re buying me beer too.”

“Deal.”

I smacked my palm with the dollar bills and steered us towards the Parlour, hiding my smirk behind tresses drooping from my messy bun. From the corner of my eye, I noticed my travelling partner cooking an overbearing, but amused smile.

“You’re in an awful good mood today,” he commented.

“Oh, being in a good mood is awful, eh?” I teased. Mr. Morgan let out a sound that was a strange combination of amusement and annoyance.

“I guess finding a pile of money just lying there waiting to be found does that to ya.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t talk about that too loud.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” I admitted. Truth be told, I wasn’t much of an outlaw. A dire situation and lack of alternatives had me join the van der Linde gang a few months ago. I helped out in the camp, and scrounged shacks and abandoned buildings for supplies whenever I could. I knew how to handle a gun and, thanks to Charles, the bow as well but I couldn’t bring myself to rob or steal. I’d never give any of the van der Linde’s up to the law, - except for maybe Micah. They’d saved my life after all, but I also knew I could never live like this. Not in the long run. I’d sworn I’d leave someday. Yet, now that I finally had more than enough money to start anew somewhere else, I couldn’t even think about leaving Tilly, Mary-Beth, Abigail and Jack, Sadie, Sean, Karen, Dutch, Kieran, Charles, Lenny, Hosea, the man walking next to me, - my heart started hammering really hard against my ribs. They weren’t perfect, true, but there was no denying I’d gotten fond of them.

“There be Lemoyne Raiders around and Dutch has asked us to keep a low profile so don’t draw attention, okay?”

Mr. Morgan’s gruff voice startled me and ripped me out of my train of thoughts as we approached the saloon entrance.

“Right on Sir,” I affirmed.

I had expected to eat in silence but to my surprise, my companion talked enough to keep a casual conversation somewhat going, asking me about my past life which led to me talking about my passion for books. After our meal, I made my way to the counter to help myself to a fistful of nuts as Mr. Morgan made his way to the door. A working girl entered as he was about to leave, and wasted no time asking if he was in want of a friendly smile for the night. Was it that late already? I guess we’d been sitting for longer than I’d thought. I was a few steps away but close enough to eavesdrop on the conversation. To my relief, Mr. Morgan politely declined. Why did I feel relieved? What did I care if Arthur Morgan was to buy himself company for the night? It surely wasn’t any of my business. The lady did not seem to take no for an answer and my fellow van der Linde declined a second time. I slowly made my way towards the door, unsure whether to infer or not. It may not be any of my business, but we had arrived together and if he suddenly decided to stay behind…

“You know what, you should be paying me!” he retorted in a tone filled with mockery.

“Oh you…!”

“Eh, honey. I think it’s time we go,” I inferred, just barely saving Mr. Morgan from a slap in the face.

“Oh, I didn’t know… why didn’t you tell me you was married?”

“I…”

“Let’s go, sweetheart.” I locked eyes with my fake husband and steered him towards the door. Don’t draw attention, remember.

“Um, thanks,” a visibly aggravated Mr. Morgan grunted once we were out on the street. The sun was still up, but it was getting chilly.

“You should be paying me? Really?” I mock-confronted as I shared my handful of nuts.

Morgan shrugged. “Lady wouldn’t take no for an answer,” he mumbled between chews.

I chuckled. “So, would you have?”

“Would I have what?”

“If a woman was willing to pay you for, you know, would you?”

I had no idea why I’d asked such a delicate question so bluntly. I had the habit of talking before thinking when excited, aggravated or agitated. Not my most charming side, I had to admit.

Mr. Morgan let out a dry laugh. “You really think anyone would be willing to pay for me?!”

“Okay but hypothetically, if someone was, would you?”

The man sauntering next to me lowered his head, the ever-present, wide-brim hat covering most of his face. We reached our carriage and he went to get the bridles.

“Hop on, we should get back while sun’s still up.”

I don’t know why. But I decided to make it my mission to find out just how eager Mr. Morgan was to make money. I retrieved a few dollar bills from my saddle. How does that song go again, a dollar each and three for two… Heart thumping, I poked his arm and waited till I had his absolute attention. Then I held up the bills in front of a befuddled Mr. Morgan.

“Five.”

“Excuse me, what?!”

A quick glance around to make sure no one was in hearing-range, I locked my <y/eye color> eyes with his frowning green, making sure he took note of the money in my hand.

“Five dollars for your, eh, companionship. Services. Or, whatever. What do you say?”

A flare of self-conscious, what-the-hell-are-you-doing? dread had me almost joking it away before I made an absolute fool out of myself. The pounding in my chest intensified and I could feel my cheeks tingle. I was undoubtedly visibly blushing. From embarrassment? Anticipation?

For half a second, his face displayed disbelief, then it shifted to mild annoyance.

“You gotta be joking.”

“I’m dead serious.”

The staring contest ensued. “Why?” he challenged.

“Because I dare you.”

Not really an answer, I know. But truth be told, I didn’t really have one either.

“I double dare you,” I challenged back, closing in the distance between us. “Ten dollars.”

“Lady, you’ve lost your damn mind.”

“Fifteen. And my name is <y/n>, not lady.”

This was absolute insanity but for once in my life I could use this kind of money without thinking. And as much as I was indeed embarrassing myself, I also found the whole situation, in all its absurdity, very amusing. It would make for one hell of a story to tell. Someday.

“Twenty dollars! And I’ll pay for the room.”

Okay what the hell, <y/n>?

“Get on,” he growled in that infamous I’m-not-in-the-mood tone of his that could make even the biggest fellar in town tremble. I trembled too but for what reason I wasn’t entirely sure. I decided however, enough was enough, stuffed the money back in my satchel and rounded the carriage to ascend on the other side, mentally preparing for an awkward ride back home.

“Wait.”

I spun around, a little too fast to be as nonchalant as I wanted to appear.

“You’d really pay twenty dollars? For me? Twenty dollars. Me?”

“Yes,” I responded innocently, straining to keep my expression neutral.

I could hear blood rushing in my ears and my knees were about to give in. My cheeks were burning and I struggled to breathe like a normal person. I was determined to not let it show. Too much.

“Why?” He was still radiating bewilderment and disbelief. “To prove some damn point?”

I shrugged. My intentions were not relevant. I crossed my arms, straightened my back, cooked a half-grin and arched a brow. In all my years, I had never felt such a rush of pure, delightful exhilaration.

“You know I’m good for it. Yes or no, Mr. Morgan?”

I could practically hear the gears in his head turning. What he was thinking, I had no idea. Was he really considering it? Would I go through with it? Surely, I couldn’t…?

The throbbing in my chest spread lower, to my abdomen and gradually moving south as heat was building up at my core. The mere sensation made my cheeks go warm - again. Stop it!

“Okay,” he agreed, hitching the horses. “Not gonna pass on easy twenty dollars or I’d be a damn fool.”

“It sure is easy money,” I chirped in a tone slightly too high. That seemed to amuse him.

“Sure is.”

A mischievous twinkle in his eyes meant he didn’t really think I’d go through with it. He’d agreed merely to see how far I’d go before inevitably backing out. Fine. I can play that game too.

“Okay then,” I affirmed, gesturing to the Parlour we’d recently exited, closing the deal.

“Oookay,” He leisurely echoed. Neither of us made any attempt to move. My companion mimicked my gesture. “After you.”

“One more thing…”

I narrowed the distance between us again, my face a mere inch from his. My eyes tracing his features, as if seeing him for the first time. Striking bluish-green eyes, all too often hidden under a broad-rim hat to conceal their sadness when he let go of his tough-guy act. A nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice. A pronounced jawline that despite being covered in a three-day stubble did little to hide the scars on his chin. Not that it did anything to make him any less attractive, quite the contrary. His mouth, full lips, now all of a sudden so very kissable.

“Um, I apologize for being so direct, but-”

He let out a dry, humorless laugh. As soon as the words had left my mouth, I realized the irony in my statement.

“Um, it’s just that…” I continued, refusing to falter. “Twenty dollars’ a lot of money and I just want to make sure that, eh,” twiddling my fingers, my mind scrambled for a suitable euphemism. Arthur’s stare made my cheeks feel like they were on fire. I was grateful dusk was settling in.

“Um, are you sure that you can- will be able to, you know… perform?”

He knew exactly what I meant to ask even before uttering the last word. He hesitated for a second, deciding whether to keep up the act or drop his game-face.

“That won’t be a problem,” he affirmed, cooking a smile, as if to teach me a lesson. Don’t you dare mess with Arthur Morgan.

“Great,” I chirped. “Let’s go then.”

My steps as fast as my heartbeat, I made my way the short distance back to the Parlour in record time. I expected Arthur to shout at me to stop this charade but he followed about one step behind, occasionally shaking his head as I entered the establishment, rented a room for the hour and made my way around the corner and opened the door to my newly booked accommodation, eye-stalked by the bartender and a couple of guests that had overheard our conversation.

I looked around the room to the sound of Arthur’s steps behind me. He came to a halt just inside the entrance. The lodging was plain and comfortable. Not super private but it would do just fine. I closed the curtains before turning to my companion. His jaw was tense and even with his hat obscuring the upper half of his face I could feel his eyes scrutinizing me.

“Um, you might wanna close the door.”

He did as I said, visibly surprised at my request. I twiddled my fingers.

“So, how do we do this?

He threw up his hands. “Lady, it’s your show.”

Okay. Fine. This is it. Either go through with it, or end it now. Fuck it. I lowered my forehead and locked my gaze with his.

“I told you, my name is <y/n>.”

“I kno-“

I approached him in three firm steps and before he could finish his sentence, I pushed him against the wall with full force. With a swift motion, I removed his hat and put it on my head, grabbed a hold of the lapels of his shirt and pulled down hard until he was within kissing-range. His body gave off an instantaneous jolt as I closed my lips over his. I used my right arm and hip to pin him against the wall, my left palm pressing against the wall a few inches from his head. He remained still, making no attempt to move or push me away as I continued peppering the corners of his mouth with feather-light kisses, all while keeping him pinned between me and the wall, but also making sure he could easily move away if he wanted to.

I backed away slightly and removed my lips from his, lingering a mere half an inch from his face. I could feel his warm breath on my flustering skin and the taste of him on my tongue, a faint hint of tobacco and beer. We stood still for a moment, wordlessly assessing the situation. My right hand resting on his chest, my left still lingering on the wall, his arms hanging to his sides. When I was sure he knew I was serious, I raised my chin to give him yet another soft kiss. He stayed still, but miniscule, involuntary jolts revealed the effect my body brushing against his had on him. My fingers glided over his chest and up to his shoulder and neck as I playfully nibbled on his lips. Slowly. Gently. I could feel him relaxing under my touch, his arms twitching, stopping mid-air, a moment of hesitation before gently but decisively embracing me.

I moved my hand from his shoulder and closed my palm around his jaw. My other hand gripped his neck, and I entwined my fingers in his hair. I used my thumb to gently push at his chin, coaxing him to open his mouth. He obeyed and we engaged in a heated kiss as I started unbuttoning his shirt. His hands moved to my blouse by instinct but then he stalled, awaiting permission. This was, my show after all. I started ripping at my clothes, feeling impatient all of a sudden as heat and anticipation was building up.

“<y/n>, are yo sure about-“

“Yes!” I assured, cutting him off, my voice teeming with want. Hell yes.

“Touch me,” I breathed into his mouth, placing his hands where I wanted them. “Yeah, that’s it.”

His hands brushed over my now naked body, trailing every curve, valley and dimple as he kissed his way down my jaw and neck, his thick, full lips finding their way to my shoulder, my collarbone, my chest. Overwhelmed by pleasure, I started letting out pleading gasps. It seemed to encourage him. His grip hardened, his kisses grew more intense, his touch more daring. I instinctively grinded my hips against his, feeling the bulge between his legs. He would certainly not have any trouble performing.

His hand caressed the inside of my tight, coming to rest just as his fingertips brushed against my entrance, waves of want raging through me. He continued the tantalizing tease a few more seconds, his fingers gliding over, around and barely inside my entrance, just out of reach of where I wanted him the most. It was torturous but oh-so-good at the same time, amazing and agonizing all at once.

“Please,” I groaned. “I need-“

My plead morphed into a moan as he slipped a finger inside of me. Slowly. Then another.

“You gettin’ value for your moneh?” he breathed against my ear. Sweet, tantalizing shivers spread from my core at the sound of his deep, gruff voice and from his fingers exploring the soft, moist and oh, so sensitive tissue between my legs. Stroking, rubbing and circling, making me moan even higher than before. I didn’t give a damn if the whole Parlour heard me. He was sensing, guessing, learning, observing my response, repeating what seemed to give the desired reaction. He was a quick learner indeed. A bit too quick.

“Yes,” I whimpered, twitching and lurching as his thumb rubbed my center. “Every cent.”

Getting close, I forcibly removed his hand and started unbuckling his belt, switching positions so that it was my turn to have my back to the wall.

“Oh no, for twenty dollars you damn sure are gonna fuck me.”

“Yes, ma’am.” It was but a mere whisper.

He grabbed the back of my tight and hoisted me up against the wall with one hand and freed himself with the other. Clenching onto his back, I gasped as his length slid inside me, filling me up. I arched my back and pushed my hips against his, earning a low, guttural growl in return. The bed was right there but neither of us cared. I closed my legs around him. Hard.

“Move like this.” I was so on edge, I could barely speak.

His hips started moving in the rhythm I had commanded. Each thrust harder than the previous, wringing from me cries and gasps of pleasure, bringing me closer and closer - until I came apart. This was, this was really happening. Me and Arthur Morgan. Against the wall in a hotel room in Rhodes, with our clothes lying in a pool at our ankles.

My legs and walls tightened around him and my body jerked, trembled and bucked in his arms as I reached my climax while crying out his name. When I relaxed, he slowed down, as if unsure he could take pleasure the same way. His body taut and uneven, sharp intake of breaths, I knew he was close. He had to be.

“Your turn. C’mon Arthur.”

I didn’t need to tell him twice. I clung to him as he threw me down on the bed and did a few more shallow thrusts before pulling out in the nick of time, spilling himself on my tights.

“There ya go. That’s good,” I praised, stroking his back and caressing his hair as he came to rest on top of me.

We laid still for a few minutes in silence, catching our breaths before he leisurely moved to the side where we laid on our backs staring at the ceiling, neither of us quite knowing what to say. It wasn’t until now I realized I no longer had his hat on my head. I couldn’t even remember it falling off.

“<y/n> you’re… you’re something,” he started.

“I know. And so are you.”

He chuckled in response. We stayed quiet for a few more minutes, internally reliving all that had happened the last half an hour. Heat building up inside of me again, I turned towards him, looking him in the eyes for the first time since entering the room.

“Now, I know we didn’t discuss a second round but if you’re up, I’ll pay-“

“Next round’s on me.” He cut me off by pulling me close and kissing me hard. I moaned into his mouth and felt myself relaxing in his arms and giving into his touch.

“Yeah, that’s my girl,” he growled.

[talk-geek-to-me]

All the ones you didn't do in the last ask!

So I’m finally getting around to doing this. and you fUCKING HATE ME. This is gonna be hella long.  (she asked for all of them)

This is for the WaterColor asks that I posted last night

Zinc White: how are you really feeling today? I’m very tired tbh like all i wanna do today is sleep rn. very tired

Cadmium Yellow: When you think of the word “happy” what's the first thing that comes to mind? ummmmm probably my boyfriend and the very funny moments you and i share

Lemon: What’s your comfort food? Ben and Jerry’s Brownie Batter Core Ice cream. that shit makes me feel better immediately

Hansa Yellow: What’s your guilty pleasure song? honestly idk, but i will tell you the song that I cant get enough of and its All Time Low by Jon Bellion. like i honestly cant get enough of it rn

Yellow Ochre: Name an artist/band whom you just discovered and cant get enough of. right now its the song that I just said in the last ask. but the band? shit ummmmmm, idk but i’ve been listening to anything in my liked playlist from spotify. so it varies

Naples Yellow: where do you feel most at home? uh, i dont really know. I moved to Idaho so i haven’t figured that most yet

Raw Sienna: with whom do you feel most at home? my boyfriend. I miss him so much and I honestly cant wait till i see him next

Golden Ochre: describe the relationship with your closest friend. JESS *insert random thing that im currently screaming about*

Golden Deep: what’s your favorite season? fall, i can wear converse and hoodies and be comfortable

Cadmiun orange: What do you like to do on your days off? i love to do things that have to get done. like today, i did more homework than i thought i was gonna do and cleaned my bathroom. it’s been a good day.

Orange lake: do you have anyone you can turn to when you’re sad? I listen to music and not do my homework, just focus on me

Titans: do you prefer slow mornings or relaxing evenings? tbh i think i prefer slow mornings cause im not a morning person so that gives me time to sleep in

Shaknazaryan Red: are you currently binge watching anything? CRIMINAL MINDS

red ochre; are you more right-brained (creative) or left-brained (analytical)? i think i’m a bit of both

burnt sienna; is there a painting that brings you peace when you look at it? not really theres a picture i really like tho. here’s the link! https://www.pinterest.com/pin/46865652355803785/

english red; what animal do you relate to most? honestly, a raven

vermilion; what’s your favorite accent? british, like tom holland and tom hiddleston british

cadmium red; do you have a “type” when it comes to a significant other? ....jess you know. but for those of you who don’t know, its the bad boy type... seriously, bucky barnes, loki, and according to jess its the dark-haired, chiseled features, built af, don’t worry, she made a point, like all the famous people im attracted to... all contain the same things that my boyfriend contains. my boyfriend is dark haired, chiseled features, thicc 

scarlet; describe your current crush/es. DARK HAIR, CHISELED FEATURES, BAD BOY TYPE BOYFRIEND

ruby; what does your ideal first date look like? honestly, i dont have one

carmine; what does your ideal second date look like? dont have one

madder lake red; would you ever kiss someone (or accept a kiss) on a first date? considering i kissed my boyfriend within the first hour of meeting him, sure

rose; what’s something really positive going on in your life right now? im actually keeping up with school rn and im fairly proud of myself

quinacridone rose; what’s something you’re really looking forward to? sleep

violet rose; what does your dream house look like? windows. so many windows big kitchen, comfortable

violet; is there any place in particular you’d like to settle down? not really, i’d settle down anywhere as long as im with the man i love

blue lake; what would you like to do/accomplish before you settle down? traveling

cobalt blue spectral; what is the most beautiful place you have ever been to? honestly, i havent been there yet

ultramarine; when was the last time you were in a good mood? do you know/remember what sparked it? ummmm, im kinda always in a good mood?

blue; what’s the most recent dream you remember? [redacted] [redacted] [redeacted] [redacted] [redacted]

bright blue; what does your dream family look like? any kids or pets? how many of each? 2 or 3 kids, 2 dogs and hopefully a cat. married to my boyfriend

blue cobalt; do you like your name? would you give yourself a different name if you could? NO it’s too common, its why i prefer people call me meg or megs. i hate my name.

prussian azure; what’s your favorite scent? vanilla

azure blue; what’s your favorite type of tea, if any? lipton pure leaf raspberry tea, and it has to be cold

turquoise blue; if you could start a garden, what would you plant? literally anything that i could water every once in a while and it still be alive

cerulean blue; if you were guaranteed to have a viewership, would you start a youtube vlog? no, my life is really boring

glauconite; describe your body without using any negative adjectives. curves, well built, purple red hair. honestly, im super comfortable with my body

yellow green; picture yourself walking in a field. what do you see & hear in this scenario? ya know that scene in vampire dairies when Damon is comforting Rose as she’s dying? yea it looks like that

green light; are you in a comfortable place in life? if not, what do you think might make it better? im pretty comfortable with it, just wish my boyfriend was with me

green; name three countries you want to visit; do you have any actual plans in place to visit any of them? ready? you’re gonna laugh jess, Romania, Ireland, England

emerald green; do you speak any languages besides english? are there any additional languages you want to learn? so my mom is from Chile, and she’s native in spanish, but im native in english and cant speak a lick of spanish, but i have been doing the duolingo spanish lessons and its like my latina side has woken up, but i cant speak spanish, i can read it and hear it and probably translate it for you

oxide of chromium; what’s your favorite book? Stalking Jack The Ripper by Kerri Maniscalco

olive green; are you currently reading anything? how do you like it so far? no, im too busy with school and work that i dont have time to read anything and its making me sad. but i always have a book in my backpack just incase

mars brown; what’s a movie that always puts a smile on your face/makes you laugh? the first Avengers

burnt umber; what’s something you plan to do before the day is over to take care of yourself? clean my fucking greasy ass face

umber; have you drank enough water today? nope, thank you for reminding me tho

voronezhskaya black; what or who is your go-to outlet for when you need to vent? you, cause you always provide the best advice and make me feel like my emotions matter to you too

sepia; name five things that always make you happy. Superheroes, music, my boyfriend, my friends, and books, etc

indigo; what’s the best/sweetest compliment you have ever received? today, i was sitting in my car ordering my drink from dutch bros and someone told me that they liked my hair even tho he couldnt really see the color of it. But i get a lot of compliments from my boyfriend about my eyes

payne’s gray; describe your aesthetic? shit, uhhhh, superhero murderer? 

black; post a selfie because you are so beautiful! I’m gonna share with you the one that has my boyfriend going crazy 

[rheyninwrites]

Old Friends Part 21

He and I had come to an understanding, finally. We knew where each other’s weakest points were, and we each did our best to shore the other up. I won’t pretend it was easy, or perfect. It was damn hard work, and sometimes we failed. Occasionally one of us would spend a night on the couch before we made up, kissing each other to make up for the time we’d lost.

We fell into a pleasant routine. His work, my painting. Coffee shared in the morning, dinners at night. Occasional nights with friends, sometimes alone, but often together, as we became one more couple in the group, but we still rarely spent time as the full gang, the way we had previously.

That’s why, when Abigail brought up the idea for a big, day long birthday party for me, I was ecstatic. We planned far enough ahead to be sure that everyone could attend. Even Jack was going to be there, and I’d told Abigail and John to bring Mr. Matthews as well, since I wanted to meet the man who had been so kind to them. Arthur even invited Dutch! The day couldn’t come soon enough for me, and I spent every day leading up to it trying to get the house to a place I felt would be appropriate and comfortable for such a large, varied group of people. I extracted promises from everyone that they wouldn’t bring gifts, because the only thing I wanted was everyone together.

Well, almost everyone. Every time I asked Arthur to promise me he wouldn’t give me a present, he’d fidget and find a way to leave open a technicality. He wouldn’t, no matter how hard I tried, agree to a solid nothing for my birthday. Finally, after bugging him forever, he broke down and confessed why.

“I can’t promise to not give you a present, ‘cause I already got one. It’s been in the works a long time. But I promise, it ain’t nothing big or fancy, ok?”

I rolled my eyes at him and pretended to strangle him, which resulted in him pulling me down and covering my neck with kisses, making me laugh. He always knew exactly how to get to me, making me forgive him, most of the time, before I’d even gotten mad. And I’d never been happier.

When the day finally came, I was a bundle of nerves, straightening out the same things over and over, checking the same things I had a thousand times already. I was excited to see our friends, and meet the few people I didn’t know. I didn’t even care about birthday wishes, I just wanted everyone there already!

Mary-Beth and Kieran were the first to arrive, and we had a great time catching up on everything in the quiet time before the place got crowded. Kieran positively doted on her, and she gave him the same attention.

“Ain’t he just the sweetest thing? He spends every spare moment he’s got with me. He doesn’t even care if I’m writing! He’ll just spend the time watching me, and get me anything I need. It’s just like one of my romance novels. I ain’t never been happier in my whole life,”

Abigail, John, and Jack came next, Mr Matthews following closely. Jack gave me a big hug, and Mr Matthews thanked me profusely for inviting him, and urged me to call him by his first name, Hosea. He told me that I reminded him a great deal of his wife, Bessie.

“A kinder woman I have never known in my life, all smiles an sweetness. That is, until you crossed her. A tougher adversary you’d never find.”

I said it was an honor to be compared to her, then moved to greeting the next arrivals. Dutch came in before long, demanding to see the woman who ‘had so undone my dear Arthur.’ He gave me a very thorough once over, then pulled me into a tight hug.

“My dear, I just want to thank you. This poor sap has been miserable beyond belief all the time I have known him, and you come into his life like a ray of sunshine, and suddenly he is all smiles.”

His flowery language made me laugh, and Arthur blush. He yelled a sarcastic response, and before long we were bantering, along with Hosea. Laughter filled the house. Sean nearly set fire to it, as he tried to light the grill, but Javier and Bill took over, and the smell of meat cooking filled the afternoon. Not my thing, but I appreciated the feeling it brought as I watched everyone chatter, Jack playing with a stray cat in the backyard. It was the feeling of family, the only family I’d ever really known.

As the afternoon turned into evening and the bugs came out, we moved inside, perched on every space any of us could find to sit. Sadie, Karen, and I watched Sean getting ever drunker with mild amusement. Lenny, Charles, and Arthur were deep in conversation on the couch, and Tilly was reading a story to a sleepy Jack in the corner. Abigail and Mary-Beth were looking over Mary-Beth’s new novel, while Bill, John, Kieran, and Javier talked about work by the kitchen counter. Hosea and Dutch were apparently becoming fast friends, sharing drinks and laughter at the table. It was picture perfect, my own little slice of paradise.

Soon, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Arthur had come over, a flat package tied with a bow in his hand. The room went quiet and all eyes were on me as I walked to the counter and sat the box down so I could unwrap it. The knot gave me a little trouble, but soon the ribbon was off and the box unwrapped. I lifted the lid. It was a worn leather book. The same book I’d seen dozens of times, usually in Arthur’s hands.

It was his journal.

I was trying to work out in my head why on earth he would give me his journal as I picked it up and opened it to the first page. It was a drawing he’d done of me, must have been years ago when we first met, as I looked about twelve. My heart skipped a beat as I skimmed page after page, knowing already what would be on each one.

It was filled with pictures of me, sketches he’d done over the years. Some were loose, barely there suggestions of my face or figure, but some were more detailed, sketches he must have done while I sat or slept nearby, and I’d never known. I’d never had any idea that he’d been drawing me, all this time. The last page was an image of me, in our bed asleep, my head resting on my arm. It couldn’t have been from more than a few days ago.

“Arthur . . . .”

“That one got full. Got to get another one now.”

I had no idea what to say. What can you say to someone who’s given you a window into their private thoughts, and they’re all beautiful thoughts of you? Instead of saying anything, I just wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him, holding him as close to me as I possibly could. He returned the embrace, sweeping me off my feet for just a moment as everyone around us whispered and cooed about what a great gift it was, and how romantic.

I waited until everyone had left before making him sit down with me to go through every page, stopping occasionally to ask him about one. It turned out that he’d done a sketch of me for nearly every night we’d ever spent together, sometimes having to go from memory the next day. He pointed out a few that were really special to him, like the first time we rode out together to watch the sunset, the night we got drunk and fell asleep in the back of Boadicea, and, yes, the first time we slept together all those years ago. That was nearly two full pages across, loving detail of my face as he must have seen it, my arm above my head and staring right into his eyes.

“I can’t believe this. Arthur, it’s all so beautiful. I love it, but I have to ask why you decided to give this to me.”

“Didn’t have more space to draw in. Besides, I thought maybe it’d help you see you the way I do. The way I always have.”

“Arthur Morgan, you are such a romantic! No matter how tough you pretend to be.”

“I never pretend with you. Don’t have to.”

“No, you don’t. Now come over here and kiss me.”

He happily obliged.

[ichigopanhpff]

BNHA Fic: Blink! Ch. 1

My first BNHA fic! It’s a slow start, but we’ll get there. I’m gonna let the story take me to the ships organically. My writing style doesn’t like forcing anything. Also working on the OC profile sketch so you guys can get a better visual :D

I’ve also noticed the reader inserts are definitely more popular within the fandom. But me being me, I like to go against the grain and made an OC instead. Or you can just imagine yourself as my OC ^_^;

The world is your hero loving oyster.

This chapter will cover a little bit of the “Two Heroes” movie and takes place post All-Might’s retirement and the start of dorm life. It will also cover everything that will be in S4. So if you don’t read the manga, it’ll be major spoilers for you :X You’ve been warned, frens.

Enjoy!

---

Masterlist

With the U.A. dorms being implemented for the safety of students, Aizawa took a deep sigh, pinched his nose bridge and squeezed his eyes shut in hopes of lubricating his eyeballs and relieve some stress. With All-Might handling Midoriya’s enrollment at the moment, he had one extra business to attend to in regards to class 1-A.

“Mr. Aizawa, we’ve arrived,” the driver announced.

Thanking him upon exiting the car, the sulking sleep-deprived man looked up at the high scale apartment complex with a light breeze blowing past.

This was his fail-safe in case he can’t be there.

While there were others he’s considered for the role, Aizawa knew it had to be her; the way her mind worked set her apart from the other candidates; hell, she could even mentor someone like Yaoyorozu in expanding her battle stratagem methods.

Class 1-A’s homeroom teacher was greeted by the front desk in the lobby as he made his announcement to see someone in the Takahiro residence. Making his way to the elevators, Aizawa pressed the designated floor and rode it up in silence. Having been her homeroom teacher before, he wanted to see her progression and perhaps, push her a little bit more in becoming the hero he sees in her.

To push away the doubts and darkness from her past that constantly cloud her heart.

The moment his feet carried him to the apartment, the door swung open to reveal a middle-aged woman slightly shorter than him with tied up brownish pink hair and hazel green eyes.

“Ah, sensei! Welcome!”

“Thank you for seeing me at such short notice, Mrs. Takahiro,” the man greeted with a soft bow before entering to remove his shoes. “Especially with your busy schedule at the moment.”

“Oh it’s no trouble at all!” she happily responded. “And please: call me Victoria. My last name makes me sound like an old lady.”

Making idle small talk, Victoria led Aizawa into the living room from the foyer. A girl with short rose gold coloured wavy hair could be seen curled up on the couch, reading a book. A teapot with three cups of tea had already been prepared on the coffee table.

“Ren. Aiwawa-sensei’s here.”

She looked up to meet his tired obsidian eyes.

“Oh. Welcome sensei,” she softly greeted and closed the book. “What brings you here?”

“Lots of things.”

He softly huffed as he settled himself down on the couch opposite of her. Ren set her book down to give her full attention.

“Ah, is it about the dormitory format for the upcoming semester?” she asked. “That’s one of the things I wanted to discuss with you and your mother.” “But we already submitted the proper paperwork for it.” Victoria sat down next to her daughter. “Did we fill out something wrong?” “No not at all,” Aizawa responded and leaned forward with clasped hands, making eye contact with the two. “This is a bit sudden, but I’ll cut right to the chase: Ren, I’d like you to move to 1-A.”

His request was met with sudden confused silence.

“I’m sorry, what now?” Ren chirped out with a blank expression. “I’m rather confused too,” Victoria agreed. “She’s already a second year...” ”Am I being left behind?” “Allow me to elaborate: I’d like Ren to be the Resident Advisor for 1-A’s dorms,” he clarified. “I think you’d be a great asset to further develop the class’ bonds and abilities as heroes.”

“While it seems like a good idea and all...” Ren’s mother trailed off with a look of concern. “Do you think she’s ready for that big of responsibility? Given what’s been going on lately with villain attacks and some of your students being caught in the crossfire...”

“That’s exactly why I’d like your daughter to help them. Her first-hand experience and knowledge would know best in how to maximize survivability in those situations. And to talk some sense into them when their hero complexes get out of hand.”

Both mother and daughter let out an uncomfortable sigh the moment those words left Aizawa’s lips. Ren tightly gripped the hem of her long black t-shirt, physically trying to repress those memories as she stared down at her now white knuckles.

“Of course, it’s a big adjustment on your end and I’m not expecting an answer immediately,” he continued with a sympathetic tone. “But let me ask you this: what kind of a hero do you want to be?”

Her head immediately jolted up to meet Aizawa’s serious expression. It was a question he’s asked her time and time again during her first year, as if to remind her the reason for being at U.A.

“Would you rather be the character in a story where you’ll let your misfortunes dictate your life or overcome it and be the tragic hero?”

“Aizawa-sensei,” Victoria interjected, feeling rather defensive. “You of all people should know this is a very big ask. May I ask your reasoning behind it?”

He let out a heavy sigh before answering and looked down at his tea cup.

“Out of my years at U.A., this is the first time I’ve felt the real limitations of my role as a teacher and as a pro hero.”

“You’re talking about USJ and Kamino incidents...” Ren plainly said.

“Exactly. I need someone I can fully trust to support me and the students when something happens.”

“I see…” She looked down at a random spot on the floor, feeling unsure how to answer. “But there’s gotta be other students my year who are better suited for this.”

“I have considered your classmates, even some from the support course...” Aizawa began. “But they lack the one thing you have: the ability to have a clear mind when facing chaos.”

“You speak too highly of me, sensei...” The girl’s face expressed anxiety. “I can’t help but think you chose those words to appeal to my ego.”

“I’m just seeing the things you don’t see in yourself,” Aizawa bluntly stated. “So, if we agree to this...” Victoria chimed in. “What will Ren have to do?”

“She’ll still go to her classes as usual. But as I mentioned, she’ll be living in 1-A’s dorms to supervise the students in case anything happens, be it a fist fight or a break-in. She’ll also be a confidant for them to help with their mental and emotional growth in order to become better future heroes.”

Before the discussion could continue on, a mobile phone’s shrill ring filled the silence at the far end of the room. Victoria apologized for the intrusion and went to immediately grab it. She can be faintly heard speaking in Dutch as she made her way into the home office.

“Your mom… knows a lot of languages,” Aizawa praised.

“It’s because of her quirk, Polyglot,” Ren answered and picked up her cup of lukewarm tea and took a small sip. “It allows her to know every known speaking language without having to pick up a book on it. Pretty handy, given her job and all.”

A short silence filled the two.

“When… do you need an answer from me?” “Two days.” “That’s not a lot of time huh.” “It really isn’t. I’m sorry to impose this on you, but would you please give it some thought?” Ren gave a small nod, still feeling uneasy about the proposal.

“Ah my apologies,” Victoria said in Japanese while walking back to the living room. “Just a small work emergency.”

“No, no it’s fine. I think I’ve covered everything any way.”

Aizawa took a quick sip of tea before standing up from his seat, with the two following suit.

“We’ll need to hear your response in two days,” he reiterated. “If you have any questions, feel free to reach out.”

“Given what the teachers have to do at the moment, it can’t be helped. We’ll have a proper discussion about it. Thank you, Aizawa-sensei,” Ren’s mom said and bowed. “I’ll show you out.”

Watching the two adult’s backs shrink down the hallway, Ren took a shaky breath. Her, a leader of one of the most rambunctious hero classes that’s ever graced U.A.? They must be desperate, she thought.

–

After washing the dinner dishes, Ren showered up and entered her room. Letting out a long sigh, the day’s event replayed through her head. Her thoughts were interrupted with a soft melodic ring from her mobile phone; it was Melissa calling. She immediately sat down on the comfort of her bed before picking up.

“Ah, Mel!” she answered in English. “You finally got back to me.” “Yeah sorry! So much has happened!” “Are you okay? I saw on the news what happened.” “Just a few bruises and scratches. I’m fine.” “What about your dad? I mean...” “He’s cooperating with the authorities right now to get leniency on his sentence. Sam, however, didn’t make it… He lost too much blood from the gunshot wound.”

A quick beat of silence sat between the two girls.

“I’m… sorry to hear that… But you’re not gonna get kicked off of I-Island are you? You can always stay with us–” “Ren I’ll be fine,” Melissa reassured. “You’re always such a worrier.” “It’s because you’re not and always have your head in developing support items,” she huffed.

All she could do is agree and laugh. Ren and Melissa Shield were childhood friends from when she still lived in California. Despite her being a year older, she was practically a sister from another mister.

“I also heard some U.A. students were there to help All-Might when stuff went down.”

“Oh yeah! They were all so amazing! Their quirks were so powerful!” Melissa excitedly spoke and told her about everyone she met; it was mostly about someone named Midoriya Izuku though since he stuck by her from the get go and Uraraka Ochaco.

“Hm, they sound like an interesting bunch. What year are they?” “From what I can remember, Deku said they’re all first years.” “First year...” Ren mumbled and flopped down on her bed.

The dots connected and her shoulders jolted up.

“Ah. Could it be… class 1-A… by any chance?” her voice quivered out. “I think so… Why do you ask?”

She told Melissa everything that happened earlier in the day about Aizawa’s proposal in regards to her being an R.A.

“Well what do you think? Are you up for the challenge?” “I dunno,” Ren groaned out and face palmed. “It just makes me sound like a glorified babysitter. And I have to start thinking about where I’ll do my work-study soon. I don’t wanna rely on my mom for money forever.” “I get where you’re coming from...” Melissa began. “But you don’t have to decide on that until later on anyways. So I say go for it! You shouldn’t limit yourself to only the things you can do well.” “Yeah, I guess.”

Chatting for a bit longer, the two friends said their good nights and hung up.

The next day felt like it came too soon. Ren decided to wake up a little earlier to catch her mom before she left for work; she knew she’d be back late tonight. She also had to start packing up her stuff to be sent to the dorms. Shuffling out of her room in a sleepy daze, she managed to peek one eye open wide enough to see the back profile of her mom.

“Oh morning, sweetie. You’re up early,” her mom greeted while reaching for the house keys in the foyer. Ren started mumbling incoherently.

“Really now. I know my quirk can understand everything, but that’s just being disrespectful,” her mom teased.

Rubbing her face to wake herself up a bit more, she let out a long sigh before trying again.

“Mom, I’m gonna do it.” Victoria took a beat to process what her daughter just said. “I had a feeling you would...” her mom said with a small smile. “Your eyes looked restless yesterday.”

Victoria came up to her daughter and wrapped her in a tight embrace, with her returning it.

“Your dad and brother would agree too… They are the reason why you wanted to be a hero in the first place.”

All Ren could do was nod into her mother’s shoulder, increasing the strength of her hug. They survived their personal hell; being a glorified babysitter is just another item on the list.

“This doesn’t mean I’ll worry any less,” her mom sniffled. “You’re gonna give me more wrinkles.” “I’ll try my best not to and contact you on the weekends,” Ren reassured.

Releasing from the hug, Victoria sighed and softly cupped her daughter’s face to get a good look at her.

“Sometimes I feel like you’re growing up too fast and before I know it, you’ll be out there everyday saving people from danger… I can’t help but feel proud and scared at the same time.”

All she could respond with was a small smile and sad eyes; no matter what she could say, it’d offer her mother no comfort whatsoever. Ever since losing her dad and brother from when they lived in California, all they could do was rely on each other after moving to Japan. Even when they had strong disagreements, the two of them always manage to talk it out at the end of it all.

While Ren was busy packing up her life at home, Victoria handled the rest of the details regarding her daughter taking on the position with Aizawa. With everything close to finalization, the mid-summer heat in August slowly waned as the new lives for U.A. students began at the recently built dormitories.

The only thing she was looking forward to was not having to take trains during the morning rush hour anymore. Despite having first day jitters back at school, her schedule was packed to the brim: not only did she have to show up for dorm orientation with her class, she then has to run down to 1-A afterwards so Aizawa could introduce her. And then, she has to unpack and go over her duties with the class.

Thankfully, her orientation ended early and she had a bit of time to hang out with her friends before making her way over to 1-A. They found a good shaded spot outside the dorms to chill out.

“I think I bit off more than I can chew...” Ren tiredly blurted out to her friends and sighed heavily as she fanned herself with her hand. Cicadas could be heard chirping loudly around the tree-covered campus. “This damn heat’s not helping either. I just wanna sleep.”

“But man, for Aizawa-sensei to pick you to look after the problem children...” her friend Seri remarked, admiring her newly manicured nails. “That’s rough.”

“Y’think he’s doin’ this on purpose to torture ya?” her other friend Tomoe teased and took a sip from her juice box.

“No, no. He doesn’t have time for stuff like that,” Ren waved it off. “He seemed pretty serious ‘bout it.” “It does suck though. I was really lookin’ forward to being in dorms with you,” Seri pouted. “You’re only sad ‘cus you won’t be able to raid my room to copy my homework and eat my snacks,” Ren half-jokingly pointed out, only to be responded with a hearty giggle. “Ya know me too well, Ren-Ren.”

She quickly looked at her mobile phone and her watch for the time.  Her eyeballs immediately bolted out of her sockets.

“Oh crap! I have to go. Like, right now.” “Ehh? I thought you had more time to hang!” Tomoe exclaimed. “I thought so too! Until I realized my watch is dead! Oh holy shit!” “And there it is: the Takahiro Special,” Seri deadpanned with a chuckle.

Ren hurriedly gathered her belongings and ran off shouting, “I’ll text you guys later!”

After mad dashing for 10 minutes in the oppressive humid heat, the rose colored haired girl barely made it to the entrance to 1-A. Huffing heavily at the door and dripping with sweat from her forehead, she pushed it open to see the backs of the entire class with Aizawa’s ebony black hair peeking up.

“Sorry...” she gasped out in between breaths with one hand on the door, the other on her knee for support. “Watch… dead… time...”

“It’s fine,” Aizawa quickly replied in his monotone voice. “Just get in here already.”

Slowly making her slumped form up to where 1-A’s homeroom teacher was, Ren could already feel their excited and curious eyes on her.

“Before I leave, I have one more announcement: This slumping bag of sweat here will be your new Resident Advisor,” he stated and looked to the side at her. Excited chatter started up among the class. “Hey, introduce yourself. You’ve caught your breath right?”

She took a deep breath before standing straight up to face the class, wiping some sweat from her face with her sleeve; she can only hope she looks presentable right now.

“I’m second year Takahiro Ren and will be living with you in this dorm for the duration of your first year,” she introduced with a small smile. “You can just call me ‘Ren.’ I’ll do my best to help you all.”

“Takahiro will be helping me keep an eye on you all,” Aizawa interjected. “If you wish to regain my trust given recent events, I assure you do not want to anger her. She’s tough enough to contend with the 3rd years and will make light work of you zygotes.”

Ren immediately flicked her head in his direction, eyes widened. “W-w-wait wait wait! Aizawa!” she stuttered out in a state of panic. “Don’t say somethin’ like–”

“Well, I’ll leave you all to it in unpacking your rooms,” the scruffy teacher ignored her pleas and continued on. “I’ll give you an explanation tomorrow of how things will operate from now on. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, sir!” the rest of the class greeted as Aizawa left.

“Senseiii!!!!!!!” 1-A’s R.A. shouted at the disappearing figure and groaned dejectedly. “You’re not gonna make this easy, are you?”

“There, there,” one of the girls came up to give a comforting pat on her shoulder. She looked up to see a bright smile from a girl with pink skin and hair. “Aizawa-sensei’s always been that kinda person.”

“No I’m sure this is karma...” Ren muttered out with a dark look in her hazel green eyes. “I gave him a hard time last year, even after he expelled almost the entire class.”

“Ehhh?! You mean that actually happened?!” some of the boys exclaimed. “We thought it was just an empty threat!” a boy with long spiky blond hair said.

“Hm? No.” She looked up to face the group of boys to her right. “He called them garbage heroes with no potential. Expelling first years has been his signature at U.A. . Quite Darwinistic, but understandable. You can’t have the hero market saturated with the ones who can’t do their job right. We’d have no jobs by the time we graduate.”

The entirety of 1-A could only stand there in shock.

“Honestly, I was surprised the class was so big when I walked in,” Ren sheepishly confessed with a side grin to match it. “So you must’ve done something to really impress him.”

As expected of Aizawa-sensei, class 1-A collectively thought in despair and huffed a sigh heavy enough for their souls to leave their physical bodies. Feeling the gloom exuding out, she had to quickly divert their thoughts.

“A-anyway!” She clapped her hands to gather everyone’s attention again. “Let’s unpack our stuff first and then we can talk some more.”

Everyone went about their own tasks in settling into their new home.

Finally finding her room on the 4th floor, she changed out of her school uniform and into an over-sized white tank top with a black sports bra peeking underneath and loose sport shorts that came down to her knees before getting down to business.

Before they knew it, the early late summer night crept into view. Exhausted from their efforts, those who finished made it down to the common room to relax.

Ren, however, had been staring at one specific box intensely for the past 15 minutes from her bed. While her room was in order, the presence of that one box irked her to no end. She tied her hair up into a messy bun, revealing her fresh undercut and getting lost in her thoughts. The verdana door was open to get some fresh air in.

Did she subconsciously pack it by accident?

No. She was sure she left it back home with her mom. Shaking her leg nervously and chewing on the tip of her right thumb, she decided to shove it into her closet for now and deal with it later.

Making her way to the elevators, the doors opened up to reveal a boy with spiky ash blond hair; he was wearing a scowl on his face with closed eyes.

Bakugou Katsuki.

He casually walked past her on his way back to his room.

“H-Hey, Bakugou-kun,” Ren greeted with a hint of nervousness, already aware of his infamous temper. “You’re all settled in?” “Yeah, I’m ‘bout to go sleep. Those idiots downstairs are sayin’ somethin’ ‘bout a room contest. I don’t want them extras bargin’ in my space.” “Ah I see. Then I’ll–” “Takahiro-senpai.”

She turned to meet the explosive boy’s ruby red eyes currently glaring at her with intent, sizing her up.

“Aizawa-sensei... He said you were strong.” “W-well, not really. It’s just Aizawa doin’ his usual–” she stuttered out. “Don’t gimme that crap,” he growled out in annoyance. “If you weren’t, he would’ve expelled you.”

Bakugou then flashed her his signature cocky grin and pointed his thumb to himself.

“Fight me. Right now. I wanna see your strength with my own eyes.” “It’s against school rules for upperclassmen to fight underclassmen outside the designated fields without a teacher present,” she plainly stated, as if reading from the school manual and crossed her arms.

Clicking his tongue, he walked away from Ren. The door to Bakugou’s room could be heard opening and closing.

It’s just as his file says, he’s sharp, she thought. Definitely someone who you can’t let your guard down around.

A close-to-mid range fighter too. If they ever face off, he’ll prove to be troublesome.

“Wait a minute...” she muttered to herself and realized something. Running back into her room, she opened her top desk drawer and took out the roster file Aizawa gave her on 1-A. Separating out each student’s profile by their fighting range type, she slammed her hand onto the desk angrily.

“So that’s your game. I totally got baited,” she huffed out in defeat.

Screw the whole “I need someone trustworthy to have my back.”

Aizawa just wanted her to work on her weakness in confronting close-range fighters!

And half of them made up this class! As expected of Eraser Head, having eyes everywhere. Inwardly groaning at the realization, muffled footsteps and chatter could be heard going past her door outside.

“Whadaya think?! Isn’t it cute?!”

That’s Ashido’s voice. That means... Oh crap.

The room contest.

Chapter 2

[evangeline-perry]

Neil Perry x reader: an ordinary Poem? No!

masterlist

‘Now in accordance to your essays, I’d like you all to compose a poem of your own, an original work. Make it interesting, sing it, say it in code or another language. Just don’t let your poems be ordinary.’ Mr Keating instructed as he started to walk out of the classroom. ‘Good luck gentlemen... and lady’

You laughed, because 1) he remembered you, a girl, were sitting there too and 2) he knew full well that you spoke another language no one else did. As an 8-year-old you had moved here from Belgium, so dutch/Flemish was your first language. 

Later that evening you had declined Neil’s offer to go to study group with him because you wanted to work on your poem of your own room. ‘Ow’, if you hadn’t mistaken his expression, he had looked a little disappointed, ‘alright. I’m curious about your poem, guess I’ll hear it tomorrow. Night (y/n)’

‘Night, Neil’ he kissed you on the cheek. Even though he had done that since the day you guys met and it’s something natural now, it still made you blush furiously.

You sat on your desk grabbing a pen and paper. At first, your mind was blank, no words forming. But then the thought of a certain boy filled your mind and it felt like the pen moved all on it’s own.

Only one hour later later the poem had been ready, you’d put it in your bag and started doing your homework. You’d tried to keep the boy out of your mind but without success, he was there and he was staying.

The next day we were back in our usual spots in English class. ‘(Y/n) step up, time to put you out of your misery.’

You stepped onto the little step in front of the class with your poem in hand. Were you nervous, yes. Would anyone understand what you were saying? Of course not! Would it be funny to watch them struggle to understand it? Duh!’

‘ Hij

Is het mooiste wat me ooit is overkomen

Speelt de hoofdrol in mijn allermooiste dromen

Heeft geen weet van zijn betekenis voor mij

Hij is Hij

En vallen mijn gedachten door mijn twijfels in het slot

Heeft him alleen de sleutel

In mijn wereld is him God’

When you were done you looked up from your paper, the first thing you noticed was Charlie in the back of the class with an expression of ‘I see what you did there’, which made you laugh. The class started to applaud, also Mr Keating did. When you sat back down, the boys started asking about the translation of your poem especially Neil, you just smiled and shrugged, ‘guess’ you answered.

Neil pov

‘Guess’, she answered. She knows saying things like that only made me more curious. ‘Okay, everyone’, the captain snapped me out of my thoughts, ‘pass your poems to me, I have some decoding to do.’ The class laughed, I only got an idea.

I waited for everyone to leave before I moved up to Mr Keating who was sitting at his desk. ‘Captain, can I ask you something?’

‘I know what you are going to ask Neil, I can’t give you (y/n)’s Poem, it would be unfair and unprofessional for me to do so. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting to go to.’ He gathered his paper and smiled at me before ‘subtly’ dropping one of his papers. ‘You know it doesn’t happen often that I forget my papers, of it does happen, just know that you can give it to me the next day.’ Before moving out of the door he peeked his head back in, ‘good luck Mr Perry.’ He winked and then disappeared.

that man... is amazing I laughed at myself.

I walked into the library, not wanting anyone, especially (y/n), to find out I am doing this. I don't know but I feel like this Poem, even though i didn’t understand it, was directed towards me.

I guess I’ll need a dictionary…

(A/n: if you never learned dutch and have to translate a damn song or poem it would be more than a little difficult, I can imagine)

Your pov

I wonder where Neil is, at this time of the day, he usually drops by to hang out a bit…

Neil pov

'He

Is the best to ever happen to me

Plays the main part in my fantasy

Doesn’t know about his meaning to me

He is He

And when my thoughts fall through doubts in a lock,

He alone holds the key

In my world he is God'

This is it, the poem that inspired my curiosity, it was a love poem. And... could it be, that it was... for me?

I have to go to her, she is probably going to he angry with me for stealing her poem that was meant to be unreadable for anyone but her, but I hope she’ll forgive me for it.

I walk through the hallways with the paper with her poem in hand. I stand in front of her closed door, I’m nervous, I closed my eyes and breathed in and out before entering.

Your pov

You were reading a book while laying on your bed, your back was towards the door so you couldn’t see who just entered your room. You turned your head, you saw Neil.

‘Ow hey! I was wondering where you were.’ I smiled at him. He smiled slightly at me but I noticed something was bothing him. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘And when my thoughts fall through doubts in a lock, He alone holds the key...’ he said.

I shot up: ‘who told you that?!’

Neil pov

‘Who told you that?!’ She averted her gaze from mine, her expression, not angry, but hurt.

‘I’m sorry,... (y/n), I didn’t mean to stick my nose in your business but I just got so curious about what the words meant.’ I tried to apologize.

‘well the whole point was that you all didn’t know, especially not you..’ she turned around and sat back on her bed, with her back towards me.

so... it WAS about me?

I carefully sat beside her on the edge of her bed, trying not to make her jump away from me.

Still turned away from me, she mumbled in an almost broken voice: ‘so you found out, are you just here to make fun of me?’

‘No, of course not, I’d never do that. Why would you think that?’

She turned back at me with an expression as if I just turned into a rabbit. ‘because I love you and I didn’t want you to know how nervous i get around you sometimes, just talking to you or even looking into your eyes is difficult for me without blushing and...’ she rambled on and on. I couldn’t help myself, I put both of my hands on her cheeks and crashed her lips on mine. At first she didn’t kiss back, but after a few moment I felt her starting to kiss me back. Which I was happy about, I smiled into the kiss and so did she. She slowly wrapped her arms around my neck and I wrapped mine around her waist, we pulled each other closer.

Much to my disappointment, we both had to pull away for air. But our foreheads still touched. ‘there was something else I picked up while reading’, I told her.

‘and that is?’ She breathed, looking into my eyes with a small smile.

‘Ik hou van jou’

I love you

[samwinlover-blog]

Sleep in my sweater P2

Part One Here 

Pairing: Sam x reader  Characters: Sam, Dean, the reader, mention of Cas  Warnings: light swearing, reference to boyking!sam, a little angst Word count: 1460 Summary: The reader wakes up, still wearing Sam’s sweatshirt, and decides to go to breakfast alone with the younger Winchester. With the threat of Lilith impending and her feelings for Sam only growing, who knows what she’ll end up doing.  Tag list: @amanda-teaches @samwinchesterblog @spnfanficpond @myplaceofthingsilove @spectaculicious @bambinovak @writingthingsisdifficult @cleverdame @aliensdeservebetter @samwinchesterfluffandsmut @samwinchesterfanfiction-blog @saxxxology @mamaredd123 dancingpanda137 A/N: I took another mini writing break but, again, I’m back! Also I’m thinking of turning this into a longer series and maybe include Lilith + some twists- I’d really like to know what you guys think about that. I’ve never done an actually long series before (like 6+ parts) and not gonna lie I’m a little skeptical/nervous about it. So, just tell me your thoughts and I’ll see if I actually do it or not! Okay, peace out, I hope you enjoy:)<3

Masterlist Here!

When you woke up you found Sam’s sweatshirt still wrapped around you, the undeniable proof that it hadn’t all just been a dream. You could still smell him through the fabric, and as it had the night before, his scent enveloped you as your eyes fluttered open. The motel seemed to have warmed up, or maybe it was just the hundreds of layers you had on. You were buried so entirely under the covers that you could barely see above the fluffy mountains of white. Everything was white. You’d always found it so curious that was every motel’s color of choice. You’d been all over and, without fail, almost 80% of the bed’s you’d slept in had been white. The curtains were closed from the night before but you could still see the day beyond them through the sheer veil. There wasn’t much to look at though, just a snowy parking lot and the highway beyond.

Sam was lying on his back with the same book from the night before collapsed on his chest, as though he’d fallen asleep reading it. From where you were lying you could barely see the title, even though you twisted the blankets away to get a better look. It undoubtedly was some ingenious book filled to the brim with words nobody except Sam could pronounce. He was still asleep and you noticed the way his chest rose and fell so steadily, as if for once he wasn’t seeing those god awful nightmares he told you nothing about.

You rolled over to look at Dean and found him looking back, “Hey,”

“Morning, loser.” He chuckled, voice gruff from the morning.

“Morning, bitch.” You laughed back.

You and Dean were like siblings, endlessly insulting and arguing with each other. You’d never been attracted to him as you were to Sam, he’d always been like a brother to you. You found him hilarious and he could never fail to have you doubled over in laughter, that was one of the things you loved most about him- his sense of humour. Mainly because it was so similar to your own, a defense mechanism half of the time. That was the other thing you loved, the scars. The things that haunted him haunted you as well, and they were what brought you together in the beginning. You hadn’t known Sam at first and had clung tightly to his brother whenever the three of you hunted together, truth be told the younger Winchester used to intimidate you. But over time and experience that had all changed, and you now found yourself more drawn to him than ever.

“Sam’s still asleep?” Dean jerked his chin over to his brother.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he was up all night.” You casually responding, thinking nothing of it until you saw the look on Dean’s face that followed.

It fell, all of his features drooping into a concerned frown as he said, “Again?”

“Dean, it’s fine, I’m sure he’s fine.” You reassured him, voice lowering before becoming incredibly steady.

He dropped to a whisper before saying, “(Y/N), he’s not sleeping.”

“None of us usually do.” You countered, needing him to be okay. While Sam was your school girl crush, Dean was your rock. He always made trouble where there wasn’t any, and you were fairly certain his brother was okay. Why wouldn’t he be? The whisperings of Lilith and Hell were just that, whispers. None of you knew enough to be kept up at night; in fact, none of you knew anything at all. Sam the boy-king, that’s what Ruby had called him the last time you met. He was supposed to be prepped for the throne room of Hell, that was all that you knew- and it scared the living shit out of both you and his brother. But it had all been quiet for weeks, no demon rumblings or monster sightings across the map- all save for whatever the hell was going on in Manchester. So Sam had to be fine, you hoped to God he was fine.

You and Dean just stared at each other for a few seconds before Sam broke the silence, “Morning, guys.”

“Morning,” The two of you responded in near unison.

“Wow, I slept in, what time is it?” Sam mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he rose to a seated position on the couch- the blankets pooling at his lap.

“I don’t know, around 9 o’clock?” You guessed, and looked over to your bedside table and found you were wrong. The dusty alarm clock read 8:04, a lot earlier than you suspected.

“Oh wait, never mind it’s only 8.” You corrected yourself before sitting up and pushing the blankets from your legs. Before standing up you hugged Sam’s sweatshirt tighter around you, crossing your hands to your arms. The motel room was a little warmer in the morning light; the heavy clouds and falling snow from the night before had cleared and left nothing but a slightly chilled day in its path.

You headed into the bathroom and started to get ready. You made quick work of brushing your teeth and washing your face, staring at yourself in the mirror the entire time. You’d found that ever since you’d started having feelings for Sam you cared about your appearance a lot more than usual. Even though it was shallow, and you knew he cared so much more about your skills, brain and wit, you still found yourself gazing upon your face- and taking extra time to make sure it was near perfect. You brushed the knots out of your long brown hair and let it tumble down to your shoulders, reaching all the way to your ribs. Not until your waves were smooth and detangled did you begin to braid them. You made the dutch braids contain only half of your hair in each, the rest was free. They started on either sides of your head and then met in the back where they joined into one, thicker braid. Looking at yourself in the dusty bathroom mirror you were pleased with what you saw. When you moved onto your face, you decided to go light on the makeup. Dabbing concealer under your eyes and coating mascara on your lashes was about all you did. Until, at second thought, you decided to brush shining white powder onto the corners of your eyes- to brighten and widen them a bit. You knew it was silly, vain even, to put so much effort into your appearance- but you didn’t care.

Walking over to the duffel bag you kept in the bathroom you picked out your outfit for the day. On the bottom you wore the first pair of jeans you saw, light washed and ripped at the knees and ankles, they were your favorite ones. For your top you decided to wear an old t-shirt that had been your dad’s. It was a tie dye Nike shirt from the 80’s, now faded and frayed at the seams. Your dad had been a bit of a hippie back when he was younger, and you’d always figured that was where you got your wilder side from. However, neither of the boys would see your dad’s old shirt. Because it was hidden under Sam’s enormous hoodie, which hung nearly hung down to your knees. With one last look in the mirror, you tossed your duffle bag back onto the floor and walked out of the bathroom.

You felt Sam’s eyes on you the second you entered the rest of the motel room, trailing up and down before immediately darting away. Smiling quietly to yourself you went over to retrieve your phone from where it was charging on the kitchen table.

“Hey, we have an hour- want to get breakfast?” Sam asked from across the room, and you couldn’t tell if he was talking to both you and Dean or just you.

Turning around you caught him giving his brother a look, before Dean started shaking his head and saying, “No, I’m gonna call Cas, but you two should go.”

You knew that look, Sam didn’t want Dean to say yes. Did he want to go alone? No, that couldn’t be right. It wouldn’t have been the first time you’d hung out alone, you literally lived with the guy- but the look he gave Dean. It was a full on glare, almost as if he was daring his brother to come along and promising death if he did. The Winchesters had their own secret language, and most of the time could tell what the other was thinking with nothing but a look or a nod. So you just smiled and said yeah, suddenly feeling incredibly curious about what this breakfast would bring.

[rfassholes]

Hey! Could I request how the RFA+V+Saeran would react to an MC who was learning Korean as their third language and is still pretty choppy/needs them to talk a bit slowly? Like I've known Japanese and English since birth pretty much, and I might learn Korean in the future, so maybe something like that if it makes sense? You don't have to use those languages btw! Sorry if that's too specific! I love your work so far, and I hope I see more from you soon, have a nice day!

Hell’s yeah I can! Don’t apologize either, sweet person, you have done no wrong. Also, don’t worry about how specific it is; it helps me understand what you’d like to read! I think it’s pretty rad that you’re learning another language, too! Thank you for supporting what I write and enjoying it. I hope you have a nice day, too; much love!

Yoosung:

He had to take a couple English classes to gradate highschool and get into uni, so he completely understood if you weren’t 100% fluent!

If you were pretty good at reading it, he’d lend you some random books so you could get practice

Wouldn’t pressure you to speak Korean in public either

that shit’s scary sometimes

He was really excited that you could speak Japanese, too

languages are really scary sometimes, okay?

Yoosung would brag to people on and off campus about your ability to speak multiple languages

He’s just really hyped that you’re really smart

He’d want to learn really cheesy phrases in Japanese and English

Extra excited if you wanted to learn Korean ones

Would be really nice to correct you if your grammar or pronunciation was off

8/8 would try to learn another language with you

“Yoosung, I’m already trying to figure out one right now” “But it’d be fun!” “You’ll probably stop practicing after a couple of weeks” “Well you’re not wrong, but-” “Yoosung, no” “Watch me”

Now he would say random things in Italian because sOMEONE missed the opportunity to when he signed up for a class

Jaehee:

You knew that Jumin probably had her be somewhat proficient in a couple of languages for business affairs

She might’ve only dealt with that for less than three years, but Jaehee wanted to enrich herself anyways

Then she found out that your Chinese was really good on top of your Tamil

Jaehee was happy that you were fluent in some of the languages of the countries she dealt with the most (no, I totally didn’t google what countries south korea imported and exported with the most)

You two became the couple that spoke different languages at home than in public

However, your Korean wasn’t as close to fluent as you’d like

I mean, she could tell from phone calls early on by your accent that Korean wasn’t your native

She really liked to sit by you while you were translating something aloud and she was working

Those were her favorite nights

Especially since you usually got her to pause working to help you work out a sentence or two

Then it turned into encouraging cheek kisses

Then she couldn’t completely focus

oH WELL

guess you both just have to….be….cute..what..a….tragedy

She would also buy you cute-looking books that were in Korean

It may or may not have been so she could get more of those nights 

Zen:

He’s probably had some scripts that weren’t completely in Korean, so he’s familiar with some language patterns and can say “je suis un pomme”

dAMMIT, ZEN

Okay, so you were just slightly offended, because he thought he was saying he’s a prince

You’ll admit that knowing English and French then deciding to move to Korea was a bit odd

But c’mon, man

“…you do realize you just said you were an apple, yeah?” “No, I called myself a prince’ “We’re speaking in English right now” “That’s correct” “It’s literally prince in French” “Well, how was I supposed to know” “Dumbass”

You wouldn’t let him live that down for weeks

Zen then tried to get you to speak a bit more Korean when you were on set rather than confusing people

oh shit

my cover’s blown

Well, now you were the one getting made fun of

“You called me a table” “That may be true” “A tABLE, MC” “At least I said you were a pretty table?” “You called me a moist table, MC” “Okay, okay, you see-” “Mhm” “Shut up, pretty boy” “I thought I was a table?” “That wasn’t even funny” “…” “You’re still a dumbass”

Nobody in the rfa chats knew what you meant by calling him an apple

Then Zen just had to talk about The Table Incident

MC has left the chat

cue him running into the living room

“but, bAAAABE” “Leave, you apple” “MC, love meeee” “I already do” “Can I at least get a hug” “Nope”

MC has entered the chat

He then tried to get take the phone while you were typing out The Apple Prince Incident

You got Seven in on it to change his name in the messenger to je suis un pomme for a week

Seven: (slight route spoilers, but I changed it a bit anyways)

blah, blah, taxes, blah, author of several books in Arabic, blah, likes cat

w a i t  j u s t   a   d i d d l y d a r n   s e c o n d

Arabic? And Portuguese?

aww yisss

This was probably when he approved you and went straight to V

Plus cats?? That was a bonus

He really liked talking to you with the messenger even if your grammar was a teensy bit off

may or may not have recorded a few phone calls to hear your accent

Once you had gotten to meet him at the apartment

whoo, boy

He was getting on your nerves just a bit

You snapped just a bit and kinda sorta went off on him in Arabic and he just sat there

“You done?” “Yes, was there an issue?” “Yeah, it was kinda hot”

*narrator voice* He realized he had Fucked Up right Then And There

“You didn’t hear that” “Sev-” “Good day”

This time he wasn’t staying away to protect you, he just didn’t want to turn as read as his hair next time he had to see you

He finally had been able to hold a conversation after staying stonefaced in an attempt to forget

You didn’t tho

After everything had gotten sorted out and you had understood why he was acting like that, it was pretty okay

Neither of your dumbasses realized that you were both speaking Portuguese during the Incident, so the only time he heard your Korean was on the phone

He’d take breaks from working whenever you wanted to practice the language

I mean, if he could be fluent in seventeen, so could you

Seven regarded your ability to speak Arabic as something “holy” and was ecstatic that you were one of the few that didn’t need his help to get home

Jumin:

Once he found out that you could read and listen to Korean, but not speak it all that well, he immediately found a tutor

He’d like when you’d hold short converstaions with him in his native

However, Jumin just didn’t know that you were fluent in Russian and German

It took him a couple of weeks until you greeted him as “dorogoy” (my dear) when he came home from work one night

Jumin knew a fair bit of other languages, so you both spoke to each other in this odd Franken-language (lmao but that’s German already)

He really loved it when you’d forget a word in Korean and looked confused for a second before saying it in German

Would always help you with a word or slang phrases

just because he had to look them up does not invalidate this

Definitely would buy you so many books

You’d probably end up with the same book as multiple copies in other languages

He just wanted the best access to literature for “mein liebling“ (my beloved)

Would be the Softest if you had a question or wanted to carry longer conversations in Korean

V:

So! Supportive!

Since he’s traveled so much, he knows how to ask and follow directions, ask how someone’s doing, and general things like that in a variety of languages

Once he found out you spoke Dutch and Hebrew, he wanted to learn more about the languages

You’d lean against each other on the couch at night and ask questions about each others languages

“How do I call you my moon?” “Mijn maan” “I like that; it suits you” “How do I call you my star?” “Naui byeol” “I think that suits you, too”

If he ever went to a country where many people spoke either languages, he’d ask you to come

Definitely took photos of you interacting with people and reading plaques at exhibits

Was kind of an excuse to take you on a vacation

V would also would carry both a Dutch to Korean and a Hebrew to Korean dictionary for you if you couldn’t remember the word to say something to him

Started having you write descriptions of his work for exhibitions so he could broaden his market

Would 784282/8 continuously help you if your speaking was a bit choppy and lessen any anxiety you had about it

Saeran:

“Just buy some dictionaries” “Yeah, well, what if I don’t want to?” “Then google translate” “But then I’d end up saying something stupid” “You always say stupid things, though, MC” “Don’t be an asshat” “Suggestion taken” (haha, what? me? use google translate for the languages I don’t speak for this post? pssh)

He’d be the ones to leave passive aggressive sticky notes in other languages if you weren’t paying attention

Also the one to label things if he didn’t understand the yelling in Haitian Creole

he’s trying, okay?

Saeran may speak multiple languages but not whatever that spewing was

“Saeran, that was Korean” “Yeah, and I’m a cat” “Hey, at least I tried” “You asked me if the parakeet gave a prophecy, MC” “…That’s besides the point”

Would correct you bluntly

Would continue with the sticky notes on everything

started learning Greek and Haitian Creole so he could add proper translations to things

One morning, he woke up with a sticky note on his forehead that labeled him as “내 사랑, αγάπη μου, doudou mwen”

He ended up keeping that in a drawer on his nightstand

I’m sorry that I write this at several different times. I’d be glad to fix any of these if you don’t like them. Especially Seven’s. I did horribly with his. I hope that they were semi-decent, though, and that you enjoy a few of them!

Please correct any mistakes I made with the languages. I can only vouch for the ones I speak, the rest were google translate. If there’s any other issues, I’d be glad to fix them as well!

[douchebagbrainwaves]

THE COURAGE OF EXERCISE

So long as you were careful not to get their hopes up is not to stop and take a rest? That's when they have the really big ideas.1 You must resist this.2 And so it's clearer to programmers that wealth is something that's made, rather than the fish. They're way more dangerous than Google because, like you, they're cornered animals.3 It runs along the base of the hills, then heads uphill through Portola Valley. The 2005 summer founders ranged in age from 18 to 28 average 23, and there are no excuses.

The government spying on people doesn't literally make programmers write worse code. Do you really need the rich people? Sometimes when you return to it.4 If this were true, the most efficient solutions win, rather than doing development in the spare moments between meetings with investors into the spare moments in your development schedule, rather than just an effect?5 A year after the founding of Apple, Steve Wozniak still hadn't quit HP. Up to a point it would be extraordinary if all eight succeeded. And I think, is that it makes it easier for people to start startups. Venture capitalists know about this and have a phrase for it: barriers to entry is through patents. As with exercise, improvements beget improvements. And you can quote me! It's not because they're irresponsible that they work in long binges during which they blow off all other obligations, plunge straight into programming instead of writing specs first, and that's what they're going to be about the 7 secrets of success.

But at least you can give back the money you have left, and save every penny of your salary. So while there are plenty of other ways to attract them, but this is a bad word for it.6 The defining quality of Silicon Valley.7 These qualities might seem incompatible, but they're far apart.8 The famously rigid labor laws hurt every company, but against a backdrop of constant disasters. It's the same with people who do great things. SLAC goes right under 280 a little bit in the commitment department, and that can probably only get you part way toward being a great economic power. Civil liberties? What is technology? And if grad students can start successful companies. There's still debate about whether this was because of the Bubble, or because they're a bad idea.9 In fact, that's a promising sign.

The German and Dutch governments, perhaps from fear of elitism, try to ensure that the US remains a technology superpower just by letting in a few places where that sort of thing rarely translates into a line item on a college application. And you had better have a convincing explanation of why your technology would be hard to tell exactly what message a city sends?10 For practically its whole existence, that is.11 They cut off all the crap the manufacturer had bolted onto the car to make it to profitability on the money you have left, you've avoided the immediate danger. In theory there could be other ways to get rich if the product succeeds, and get paid 30 times as productive, and get nothing if it fails. Each is, by itself, enough to kill you. This is post-exit Silicon Valley.12

A lot went wrong, as usually happens with startups.13 Of course not. Not the programmers.14 They only just decided what to use, and that's the hard part. Can that be done? Otherwise you're probably just postponing the problem, and then at every decision point, take the harder choice. Tv are a good example of close friends who work well together.

They're not Goody Two-Shoes type good. They have no idea how dangerous they are.15 What I like about Boston or rather Cambridge is that the cycle is slow. Google because, like you, they're cornered animals. This was not a factor in Shockley's day, because VC funds didn't exist. Then there is one that clearly dominates in Mountain View, and Palo Alto is suburbia, but then it was a good idea to have fixed plans.16 As with most nature/nurture questions, the answer seems to be: a lot. That's an alarming possibility when you have to consciously force yourself to shorten the manual, in the sense that the decisions you make have a big effect.17 I was walking in some steep mountains once, and decided I'd rather just think, if I was bored, rather than just an effect?18

But it's not because liberals are smarter that this is old news to Lisp programmers. That can't be happening by accident.19 Wouldn't it start to seem lame? A fair number of smart people, and channels the rest into unproductive jobs.20 DC and LA seem to send messages too, but founders expect that. And what makes them congeal is experience.21 So maybe I'll try not bringing books on some future trip. It can get you factories for building things designed elsewhere. The word is used more often in the former than the latter sense, probably because ugly solutions are more common than brilliant ones. Y Combinator ends up being more like an efficient market.22

Wufoo got valuable feedback from it: Linux users complained they used too much Flash, so they start to lose interest. To take an extreme example, consider math. Maybe if the idea of starting their own company when they graduate. Don't just do what they want.23 And I don't think it takes years to articulate great questions, what do you do? When you're running a startup you compress all this stress into three or four people, so you have to consciously force yourself to shorten the manual, in the sense of beating the system, that's also called a hack. If you know you have a fairly tolerant advisor, you can take more risks, because no one will know if you fail. Could you reproduce Silicon Valley in the late 90s said the worst thing about living there was the low quality of the other differences between startups and what passes for productivity in big companies is an obstacle.

Notes

I dislike is editing done after the fact by someone with a sufficiently good bet, why not turn your company into one? Wittgenstein: The variation in prices. It's hard to game the system?

Currently the lowest rate seems to have figured out how to value valuable things. By mid-twenties the people working for me, rejection still rankles but I've come to accept a particular valuation, that it would be a constant.

But we invest in it, so x% usage growth will also interest investors. One implication of this type is sometimes called an HR acquisition.

The way to be sharply differentiated, so if you're not convinced that what you're doing is almost pure discovery. Miyazaki, Ichisada Conrad Schirokauer trans.

If anyone remembers such an interview. The reason is that in New York. Trevor Blackwell points out, if you want to start software companies constrained in a dream world.

When that happens, it would take their customers.

So if it's the right direction to be very promising, because they are. Some people still get rich will use this route instead. They would have undesirable side effects. So the most convincing pitch can't sell an idea where there were, we should remember this when he received an invitation to travel aboard the HMS Beagle as a monitor.

I'm not talking here about which is to assume it's bad. 3:59 mile as a child, either as an investor is more of the deal for the same energy and honesty that fifteenth century artists did, once. A preliminary result, comparisons of programming languages either take the term whitelist instead of blacklist. Realizing that much of it, Reddit has had a strange feeling of being absorbed by the investors.

This doesn't mean you suck.

Don't ask investors who turned them down. Steep usage growth predicts x% revenue growth. The founders want to hire a real poet.

Consulting is where the recipe: someone guessed that there were some good ideas in the sense that they violate current startup fashions.

The real problem is poverty, not eating virtuously. The solution is to let yourself feel it mid-sentence, but one way in which multiple independent buildings are gutted or demolished to be careful here, because I think so. I can imagine cases where a laptop would be great for VCs.

He wrote If a conversation—maybe around 10 people. Ironically, the main causes of poverty are only arrows on parts with unexpectedly sharp curves. Bill Yerazunis had solved the problem to have gotten where they are to be a predictor of low quality though. A preliminary result, comparisons of programming languages either take the term literally.

The first assumption is widespread in text classification. A percentage of statements. I'm pathologically optimistic about people's ability to solve the problem is the kind that evolves naturally, and I don't mean to be able to hire a lot of the Industrial Revolution, Cambridge University Press, 1973, p. It should not try to give you money for depends on a form that would appeal to space aliens, but also the fashion leaders.

That can be either capped at a 30% lower valuation. His critical invention was a test of investor behavior.

The company is common, to take over the world you'd want to sell your company into one? This is not how much of observed behavior. Within YC when we created pets.

Maybe not linearly, but when companies reach a certain size it gets you there sooner. If you're building something for which you ultimately need if you threatened a company just to load a problem if you'll never need to go all the page-generating templates are still a dick move. They found it novel that if you ban other ways.

Sparse Binary Polynomial Hash Message Filtering and The CRM114 Discriminator.

Instead of the VCs buy, because even being Genghis Khan is probably part of your own? This just seems to me like someone in 1500 looking at the time. No. Not startup ideas is many times larger than the others.

But arguably that is exactly my point. But we invest in the ordinary sense.

The number of restaurants that still require jackets for men.

It doesn't end every semester like classes do.

But wide-area bandwidth increased more than you think you'll need, you can base brand on anything with a woman who had small children pointed out by Mitch Kapor, is this someone you want to work your way. If you try to ensure there are before the name Homer, to a VC recently who said the things they've tried on the basis of intelligence or wisdom. Investors are one step upstream from economic power, so they made more margin loans. Needless to say because most of the junk bond business by doing a small amount of time on applets, but unfortunately not true!

[talldarknsexy]

Panamá: Way of the Road

Crossing the border from Costa Rica, the road gradually got much more rural, the terrain got much hillier, and the houses became bamboo and wooden huts. By evening I still hadn't seen much for food and stopped at a tiny tienda. Picked out a glamorous meal of ground sardines and a can of beans. I asked the shop owner if there was a place around here I could camp. "No" he said sharply. "A yard, a field, a church?... Anything in that direction?" I asked. "No" he said. I thanked him for nothing and walked out to my bike. There was about a half a dozen people standing, watching, staring as I saddled up. I also ran into these kind of circumstances alot in Guatemala where there is also a very significant indigenous population. And I have to say it sometimes makes me feel like a very unwanted guest. Right at sunset, out of nowhere, I came across a nicely constructed house and asked to camp in their yard. Soft grass, super nice family- would reccomend. The next day, I had a short ride to a Warmshowers host by the name of Charlie. Charlie turned out to be in his 70's and was in the midst of constructing a hostel, running his fruit tree farms, and rebuilding some old machines. Charlie had lived a pretty colorful life back in the 60's and 70's riding the wave of hallucinogenic drugs all the way from the states through Mexico and Central America. He had stories of meeting Timothy Leary, various musicians, and many others. Assuming a portion of Charlie's stories are true, I was thoroughly impressed and entertained. The next day, I passed by Charlie's farm where he was working. He treated me to even more organic coconuts, pineapple, avocado, and sugar cane juice. Luxuries in America, but all of which he had too much to know what to do with. He'd been declining my offers to help out, but I did let him trade his machete for mine that he'd been eyeing. The road that day took me back over the continental divide and involved about 4k feet of climbing. But, the sugar cane juice in particular was like fucking rocket-fuel. Midday, in a remote area while I was pushing my bike up a particularly steep section, a farmer and I shared a greeting. He then asked me in fairly fluid English if I was "enjoying my exercise." He went on to point out the mountain he climbs every day to tend his crops. I've never met a farmer who knew any semblance of English, especially in remote Panama, so of course I inquired as to how... "Cable Television!" he exclaimed with a big, toothless smile . I reached a hostel called Lost and Found at the top of the divide. It involved another kilometer through a jungle path with plenty of complimentary stone stairs, mosquitos, and cursing. The hostel was definitely worth it though. The view looked out on the Panamanian mountains and it was like looking down on Jurassic Park. I tried to party that night as it was July 4th, but honestly, there were too many Americans at the bar. Or, more specifically, Californians. And maybe I was too sober, or have already spent too long abroad, but the accent and attitude just sounded too abrasive to me. The next day was my first full day off the bike in over a week. That day I went with a German and an Australian to a river canyon with some cliff jumping. And that afternoon I told my bike saddle to get bent and put my ass in a hammock instead. It was a cruise back down to the Pacific coast and I made it to a sleepy little surf town of Las Lajas. The hostel was named Johnny Fiestas. I was a little dismayed to discover there was no Johnny nor a fiesta there at the time. There was the manager, Darrio, and his lady-friend Julia. They were both a lot of fun and so for the first time in my life, I insisted on buying the "whole bar" a round. Dario was an Afro-American/Italian from Luxembourg. He knew about 5 different languages and was as laid back as the Hermes character from Futurama. Julia left that next day and Dario graciously accepted my offer to volunteer there through the weekend as they were booked up. I've found volunteering is pretty typical for backpackers in Latin America. It's usually at least a month commitment working for 4-6 hours a day in exchange for a free stay and 1-3 meals. It sounds great at first, but I usually dismiss the idea as in this part of the world that equates to $2-$4/hr. This was a very small and relaxed spot though, and I spent most of my time swinging in a hammock. If there were guests I'd be behind the bar serving drinks, which I love doing anyways... Hell I did it plenty for free in college. The rest of the day you'd find me strolling the beach, hacking open coconuts, or (something resembling) surfing. It was a fun, refreshing, and intoxicated, vacation within a vacation. I said my goodbyes to all the good folks there and rode out of town. Very refreshed, but not super excited for the next three/four days of highway riding down the mundane Panamerican highway. My bottom bracket ate a big turd on the first day and I knew I'd have to shell out at least a pretty penny in Panama City. I spent the first night camped behind the business of a nice family that invited me to dinner. The second with bomberos, and the third camped at a hostel in a surf town that was housing solely me, two Dutch girls and a pair of rabbis from Australia. One of the younger bomberos at the station was looking for some help with his English homework. I am always very grateful for the patience of Latinos to help me with my Spanish, so of course I jumped at the opportunity. We were making some progress and I looked up how to translate a word to Spanish. He asked about the Google Translate app and I showed him some of the features, including how you can use the phone's camera to visually translate text. He immediately downloaded the app, closed his book, and ecstatically thanked me. I suddenly realized what I'd done, but it was too late. I did plead with him to only use it as a tool and to focus on actually learning the language. He was so incredibly thankful... But the damage was already done. The last day was an exhausting leg slowly entering the huge city of Panama. The last bit of my central America voyage was a very unceremonious struggle over the kilometer long bridge over the Panama canal. Traffic was whizzing by and there was no shoulder. I found a really nice hostel where I hung out for the weekend. It felt crazy to have gone from the indigenous poblados consisting of bamboo jungle huts in the north Carribean to the largest city in central America, abound with towering skycrapers and department stores. I spent a day boxing my bike and another visiting the canal. Leaving central America was fairly unceremonious, but reflecting on it I've got very strong feelings. It was a very diverse region with a lot to offer. Of the places I've traveled, I had some of the best experiences there, along with some of the most trying. Sometimes being there after a while, things become ordinary. I got used to arguing about my change with the 8 year old cashiers in tiendas. Ringing the immense amount of sweat out of my clothes was commonplace as was smearing them with deoderant. One day, climbing in Panama, my shorts got so wet and hot that my camera took 384 pictures of the inside of my pocket and tried making several emergency calls. Details like these I won't easily miss. But, I will miss the fun excursions in the lush jungle of volcanoes and waterfalls, the diversity of food and culture, and the farmer who pops his head out of his crops to give me a big toothless smile and wave. It's been a blast, but keen to see what South America has in store for me.

[k-histoires-blog]

Introduction of the admins

Hello everyone,

This is a new account all about K-pop, K-dramas, anime and what not. We will post fanfictions written by us, drawings we made, and a lot more. Please keep in mind that none of us is a professional in any way in writing, drawing etc. We started this account purely for fun and to connect and interact with other people in the world who enjoy K-pop, K-dramas, etc. This account is a creative outlet for us and critique and criticism is always welcome. We will try our best to listen to your complaints or tips and change our account/content for the better.

Never be afraid to leave a comment or ask us a question because that is why we started this blog. However, all of the admins do have a personal life and school/university so we will not be able to reply or post content all the time. We hope you understand this and support us anyway.

Another important thing to be addressed is the matter of plagiarism. We will NOT accept any form of plagiarism for the work we post here was made by us and nobody else. It took us hard work and time to create all the stories and other things, so if anyone decides to use (some) of our work, we will take action. If anyone sees content of ours on another blog - or somewhere else on the internet - without our permission, please report this to us and we will take action. Thank you in advance.

That said, we would like to introduce ourselves individually.

Admin Bluebell:

Hey everyone,

I am the admin called Bluebell or also known as the thick thighs enthusiast (I am looking at you Jimin, Jungkook, Jooheon, Wonho, Shownu etc.). My real name is Fleur and like the other admins I am Dutch. I got into K-pop, I think, at the end of 2015. The first group to spark my interest was EXO and since then I was hooked. My bias in EXO went from Chen to Chanyeol to Baekhyun and D.O. If I could listen to D.O. sing every day for the rest of my life I would be a happy girl.

However, after seeing a certain clip of BTS I started stanning them and my life changed forever. (cheesy I know). At first my bias was Taehyung, then Jimin decided to creep in my life and screw up my feelings but since about 7 months I have found my ultimate bias. It is the one and only leader Kim Namjoon. I could rant for nine years about why I love him so much but no one has that much time. I like a lot of other artists as well, such as BTOB (after BTS they are my favourite group), EXO of course, Monsta X, GOT7, Day6, Shinee, Block B, VIXX, NCT, Big Bang, MAMAMOO, EXID, Red Velvet, Twice, f(x), Girls Generation, Dean, Zion. T, Heize, Hoody and the list goes on and on.

I’m not a big fan of K-dramas but I am a big fan of (K)-movies. So if you have any recommendations or just want to talk about a movie with me, you can message us!  I also love reading books and especially if they were written by Neil Gaiman. So if you can always message me when you want to geek out about a book or series.

In terms of what I will be posting on this account, you can mainly expect stories and drawings. I know I am still lacking a lot in both of these departments but I will try my best to create interesting and good content. I apologise if my stories won’t be so long because I do struggle with that, but this will not stop me from trying. Also my drawings aren’t the best ever  but I am confident enough to post them!

I think that was all there is to know about me so I am looking forward to running this blog with my fellow two admins and let’s have fun whilst doing so!

Admin Boa:

I'm the admin with the 'second lead syndrome' so if you want to rant about why the second lead deserves the girl/ how unfair life is you've come to the right place!

My real name is Frédérique but everyone calls me Freddie. I'm 18 years old (20.11.1998) and I currently live in the Netherlands. My nationality is Dutch but I was practically born and raised in England.

My favourite actors include (not in this order bc I literally can't choose a favourite): Choi Tae Joon, Do Ji Han, Seo Kang Joon, Kim Woo Bin, Lee Jong Suk and many many more!!! My favourite actrices are Park Shin Hye and Kim Go Eun.

I also write fanfiction, badly. But I'll upload my fics anyways. They're mostly boy×boy. I don't write for a specific group because there are a lot of groups that I stan and they all deserve love and attention. My favourite boy group always changes because of comebacks lmao, but I'm very loyal to my favourite girl group f(x). My ultimate bias is SEVENTEEN's Mingyu (he's literally the definition of adorkable).

The underground rap scene also has a lot of music I enjoy listening to (for as far as I know it). My favourite Korean program is SMTM. I recently got into Chinese films so if you would like to recommend any, please do so! I love reading good books so a recommendation is never a bad thing!

If you want to know more about me or like talking about any of the above (and more) please don't be shy and leave a message! The more people to talk with the better!

My personal 'K-pop experience'

I got to know K-pop in 2013 (if we don't count PSY's Gangnam Style) when I watched SHINee's Ring Ding Dong. I found it really funny and different from what I usually listened to since it was something I'd never seen before. I started liking it because it made me laugh. In the beginning for me it just looked really stupid (no offense, I love SHINee and I love Ring Ding Dong but I'd never seen something of the like). I really didn't take it serious. It was only when I saw more and different K-pop groups and their concepts that I started to take K-pop seriously as a hobby. When I watched SWING by Super Junior-M with a friend, that's when I began to see K-pop not only as comedic entertainment, but also as a great music genre with crazy good choreographies.

My first ultimate bias was Taehyung from BTS. I decided that when I saw him in I NEED U. He was gorgeous. Although he's still my BTS bias, my ultimate bias changed about a year later to Mingyu and it has stayed that way.

Groups that I stan off the top of my head are: SEVENTEEN, WINNER, NCT, B.A.P, SHINee, BTS, GOT7, KNK, BLOCK B, DAY6, f(x), Brave Girls, TWICE, FIESTAR, etc.

I also like a lot of soloists including: Crush, DEAN, Jay Park, C.Jamm, BeWhy, and many more!

I'm also taking a course of the Korean language. I'm very bad at learning new languages but I'm trying this anyways! (I'm not very advanced and I forget a lot so don't expect much of it lmao)

This is what I like in short. If you'd like to ask about more personal stuff (within certain boundaries) you're always welcome to do so!

I probably won't post often since I have 0 skills, but I'll be here to chat if you'd like!!

Admin Ana:

Hi everyone!

I'm Admin Ana, best described as a procrastinating perfectionist who tends to abuse the passive voice in her writings a lot. I'm 17 years old, born and raised in the Netherlands and an avid listener to Korean music since June 2016. My hobbies include makeup, music, reading, writing and travelling. I started taking writing seriously about five years ago, and it has been one of my hobbies ever since. Besides writing, I also like to draw. Even though I haven't drawn in a really long time, I'd still consider it one of my favourite things to do. If I pick up the pen and muster up the courage, I might share some of my drawings in the future as well.

Among the three of us, I was the last to start taking a liking to Korean music and Korean dramas and in all honesty, I was a little sceptical about the whole thing at first. Despite my doubts, I decided to give both a try and after watching the first few episodes of Kill Me, Heal Me, I fell in love with all that the Korean entertainment industry has to offer. Besides Kill Me, Heal Me, I've also watched and enjoyed dramas such as Goblin, Strong Woman Do Bong Soon, W, Doctors, Moon Lovers: Scarlet Heart Ryeo and Chicago Typewriter. Frankly, even after immersing myself in Korean dramas, it still took quite a while before I started appreciating Korean music. Yet, after being introduced to BTS by my fellow admins, I was won over. Soon DEAN and EXO caught my eye as well, and ever since then, I've been a lost cause. In one year’s time, I’ve got to know a lot of artists. Some of my favourites include BIGBANG, Monsta X, Block B, WINNER and GOT7. I'm also an AOMG enthusiast.

On this blog, I'll be mainly posting my drawings and writings. If I feel like promoting a soloist, group or series, I'll do so as well. If you have a question recommendation or request, feel free to message us! I'd love to chitchat a little. If you want to talk or ask us anything on a more serious note, don't hesitate to message us as well.