mind your speed

I’ve wanted to talk for So Long about the portrayal of anxiety in YOI but I’ve been having so much trouble putting together what I want to say in the most effective manner. I kept trying to come at this in a more analytical fashion, but considering that this is such a personally important topic to me, I’m going to try a more emotional approach. Something I don’t normally do.

So really, to start off, I wanna say that I’m so damn thankful for the way Yuuri is written. Really, seriously. I don’t think I’ve ever had the ability to relate more to character; Yuuri is close to a mirror of my own experiences with anxiety and it’s so fantastic to have a model of development and growth for me and people like me. I found the portrayal to be frighteningly accurate, from types of thoughts, behaviors, mannerisms… I think the episode that stood out to me the most in terms of Yuuri’s anxiety was ep7, aka Yuuri’s on-screen panic attack episode. 

The first thing I noticed was this: 

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve found myself in that exact position. I bounce my legs when I panic, just like Yuuri is doing here. Head in his hands, breathing heavily, bouncing and jostling limbs. This isn’t the Mary-Sue cutesy portrayal of anxiety–this is a real anxiety disorder. It’s not pretty. It’s not easy. It can’t be fixed with a single word or a touch or a person. Quite frankly, it’s ugly and you lose control of your body. 

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Thought I would post this separately. I might try and actually do these more often, though not much. No one wants to see me get 1/3 the way through a build and demolish it because I am not happy with the direction. 

I do have raw footage of a MCM ranch home too that I need to process as well. However the time it takes to upload videos just annoys me. My net is so slow -_-

anonymous asked:

for the love of God i cannot write witty characters. all my dialogue comes off as SUPER cheesy. any advice?

Thanks for your question, darling!  That’s an issue I’m sure we’ve all faced, especially for those of us with different senses of humor (I’m much more a sarcastic/goofy person – not quite wit).  And what makes this worse: there really isn’t advice for us out there!  I always try to research other methods before answering these questions, but I just couldn’t find anything!

So obviously, I don’t have all the answers, but here are a few tips I’ve learned from experience:

  • Decide how they use their wit.  Every witty person does not use their wit in the same situations or for the same reasons.  For each “witty” character, ask yourself: do they use their wit for humor?  Do they use it as protection or a barrier between them and others?  Do they use it to ease social anxiety?  You should also decide if they’re extroverted or introverted – and therefore, do they make an effort to speak up and share their wit, or is it something that slips out?
  • Decide the tone of their wit.  This largely has to do with their personality, but also to do with the questions above.  Are they more sarcastic?  Flirtatious?  Argumentative?  Performative?  Is their tone comforting and open to interplay, or more private and final?  Are they mean-spirited, purposefully or accidentally?  How do others perceive their tone?

Once you’ve discerned what kind of wit your characters use, consider the following:

  • Witty people think quickly.  This doesn’t mean they jump on everything they hear with a quip – but speed is what sets conventionally “clever” people apart.  There are many of us who can think of hilarious, sharp things to say… hours after we’ve gone home.  This may be why you’re struggling.  It’s a lot of pressure to come up with quick, funny comments on the spot if that isn’t how you naturally work.  So try to work with your mind, at your speed.  If it takes you a couple hours to think of a response for your character, take a couple hours.  Type in the gist of what they’re saying and come back for it later.
  • Witty characters are a tool to be used sparingly.  A snarky/overeducated character can easily become annoying if they speak too much – and it’ll stall your writing, too.  So don’t try to make everything that comes out of their mouth a brilliant insight.  Let them speak normally (in their voice, of course), so that their shining moments don’t become glaring.
  • Learn from real-life examples.  My personal favorites: autobiographies of novelists, poets, and comedians.  Watching improv can also be a good resource; going out and meeting new people can expose you to new kinds of wit and humor.  Any method of getting into the mind of naturally witty people will be good research.
  • A witty character isn’t the key to your story.  Unless your plot literally revolves around the wit of a character, you don’t have to try to follow the trend of the funny, brilliant, philosophical/pop-culture-referencing protagonist (or comic relief character).  Every writer has their own strengths and weaknesses!  If it’s really causing you trouble and it’s not necessary to the plot, it may be better for your story to change the character.  There are plenty of other character traits – many of which are less overdone in modern literature, and that’s only a good thing.

That’s all I can really think of for you!  It’s really something to figure out on a scene-to-scene basis, and it varies between characters.  If you need help with certain scenes, feel free to message me and I’ll get back to you soon :)  Good luck!

If you need advice on general writing or fanfiction, you should maybe ask me!

Night Walks - Part 2

Part 1 here

Summary: You like to take late night walks to de-stress, you meet a stranger named Bucky who does the same. 

Prompt(s): Okay I’m combining two: pandarosita: 93 and 94… but Reader being upset rather than Bucky? and an anon request for 64.

93.“I’m telling you. I’m haunted.”
94. “I had a bad dream again.”
Bonus: 64 “Here, take my blanket.”

Warnings: angsty reader

Word Count: 2539

Author’s Note: Okaaay here you go!

Originally posted by jamesbhrnesvevo

You started meeting with Bucky in the park pretty regularly after that.

Sometimes it was light and fun, and you’d maybe meet in time to catch a drink together before the bars closed. Sometimes you’d be brave enough to lean up on your toes to kiss him, or he’d playfully pull you incredibly close, his fingers digging into your side when he discovered just how ticklish you were. Finally, he’d walk you to your door with half-hidden smiles and hushed laughter. On those nights the closeness was tentative and teasing, like a first kiss or an early not-yet-date.

Other times felt heavier. After all, the reason you were out so late, had met at all, was to escape the ghosts that haunted you both in the quiet dark, and some nights they were inescapable, even beneath his comforting gaze or for him the promise of your gentle laughter.

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incolumitas; jungkook

genre: angst, mild fluff, triggering? (action au)

words: 3.3K

summary: incolumitas - freedom from harm. the only kind of feeling you truly felt with jungkook.

member: jungkook from bts

Originally posted by jengkook

A/N: hello baby stars! yes, i have returned after a tremendously long hiatus. in all honesty, it feels good to be back and updating and hopefully getting this blog back on track. while on hiatus, i took some time to really look at myself as a writer and see what needed to be improved, what needed to be changed and what are my goals. i do hope that this new change isn’t too scary, and is better than the way things were before and i hope that you precious baby stars continue to support this blog and all the writers on this blog. as for this scenario, this is really a scenario i wrote a while ago that i felt the need to improve since there was a lot of things that could of been added to the idea, which is why this will be more than one part. anyways thank you so much and happy reading! x  

yours truly, admin tina.

The world in which we all know now had undergone a handful of drastic changes since the age of selfies, social media and other aspects that once were familiar to others.

A series of wars that weren’t taken too seriously around those times had gotten out of hand, their wicked leaders turning out victorious in bloody wars that were fought for the safety of others. Gradually, these wicked leaders that were the main representatives for groups of people who were nothing but brainwashed or forced to undergo those horrific experiences for the sake of their family were taking over the world country by country. This was the start of what you would like to call the loss of humanity.

Then, just when things couldn’t get much worse, with countries all over the world being ruled by a government that only spoke of empty promises of a better tomorrow, the Virus broke out.

You weren’t sure where the Virus originated from, with fear of your itty bitty country being taken over by those rebellious, brainwash-enthusiast leaders running through your mind at the speed of light. However, that did not matter when a seemingly small disease that weakened the lives of three people turned to a serious, life-threatening disease that was killing off your human race thousands by thousands each day.

Your country was one of the lucky ones; the very few countries that those evil leaders had taken over last, or not at all since there wasn’t many resources that certain piece of land could provide. Therefore, people of those countries, including you, were given more time to prepare yourselves for the hell that was about to come. It wasn’t that nobody had initially thought of putting a stop to those leaders, or discovering a cure for the Virus, but they easily outnumbered the remaining untouched countries and no one had come up with a cure quick enough. Therefore, all there was to do, was to hope. To pray for a better day, or at least prepare yourself for what tragic events were to come.

But, no one was prepared for what was to happen next.


It was all too vivid in your mind. Gunshots were fired at a constant pace, and the screams of angered men awoke you from the enjoyable slumber you were attempting to fully immerse yourself in, for it could be your last. In a haste, you peeked outside your window, your thoughts proven to be correct as rebels belonging to those evil leaders littered the streets of your quiet neighbourhood. Being prepared for a situation such as this, the first thing you grabbed was the M9 hand-gun that was typed underneath your bed.

The object felt cold against your skin, as it did the first day your father trained you how to use it, if you ever needed to protect yourself.

Heavy footsteps were hammering themselves on the floor of your bedroom, arising goosebumps against your exposed skin but nevertheless, with no time to quietly escape, you hid in your closet, crammed inside the tight space with a gun in hand and your survival backpack digging into your right side.

Then, when you were just about to let out a pained whimper, you heard your mother screech at the top of her lungs and a deep, distant and mumbled, “don’t kill her,”.Two gunshots were fired, echoing throughout the entire floor. It was one of the gunshot sounds that you could never allow yourself to forget, for those were the gunshots that brutally murdered your parents. The house was silent afterwards, despite your mouth that begged to let out a whimper — one of despair rather than pain. The rebels who had invaded your home murdered your parents. They had to pay for what they did, one way or another.

As you attempted to hold back your whimpers and hiccups, those exact rebels who murdered your parents in cold blood invaded your bedroom, searching for any signs of life. Although, when your eyes laid on those rebels that you could see through small holes in your closet door and you wanted nothing more but to avenge the death of your parents, you refrained from doing so and let them get on with their business.

  “There’s no one here,” One of the rebels grunted in a husky voice.

“But there is some skippy underwear,” Another one of the rebels observed, presumably picking through your underwear drawer. The thought nauseated you. “Guess this one was a whore.”

The rebels shared a brief laugh before footsteps started approaching your closet. It was now or never.

Either you surrender yourself to those rebels who will murder you like they did your parents, or you could fight for your life. Fight like your parents wanted you to do.

The door opened and before the rebel could even comprehend you were squashed in the tight space, a bullet went through his head, right between where his furry eyebrows should be.

  That was for my father, you told yourself if the ugly monster of guilt started to creep up on you for killing a living soul.

You sprung into action, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you spotted the other rebel by your underwear drawer, shooting him exactly where his private parts were before he could give himself to adapt to the sudden change in plans. You proceeded towards the man lying on your carpeted floor, your foot pressing against his throat, evoking gurgling sounds out of him instead of pleas of help.

“You are sick and the one of the reasons why our world is like this,” You added more weight onto your foot, a chorus of gurgles following your action. Tears brimmed in your eyes as you gazed into the rebels eyes, not seeing him but your mother, laid beneath your foot with a look of content. “Shoot me,” she said.

“I can’t.” You wanted to argue, a if you were convinced that this was your mother beneath you. However, it wasn’t. She was laying in a pool of her own blood, having died right next to one of the people she loved most. You shook your head, and without looking, fired, pausing the gurgling sounds all together.

And that, was for your mother.

A month after your life changed for the better or worse, depending on how you viewed your current situation, you were breathing what you considered to be your last breaths.

By some miracle, you managed to getaway from your home that was no longer  safe, taking one last look at your parents laying in bed. You pretended like they were sleeping for the sake of your sanity. From then on, you were on your own. Nobody in your quiet neighbourhood were anticipating such an attack, with the rebels stating officially that weren’t intending on invading your country anytime soon. Therefore, many of them, if not all of them, were dead, hopefully passing while they were asleep, so they wouldn’t have to experience such traumatic events during the last minutes or seconds of their lives.

Following through with the plan your parents engraved into your mind if this were to ever happen, you ventured towards the next city by foot instead of by car, since that would be a little too obvious to rebels you feared still lurked around your city. In the next city that remained untouched by rebels, you found the last of any type of family you had.

Your uncle, Jisoo, was surprised by your presence, but quickly straightened himself out and provided you with whatever could keep you alive while the thought of his brother and who he thought was a real sister to him being murdered lingering at the back of his mind. In spite of your desperate pleads for him to accompany you on a trek towards some safe houses for people like you, individuals, he remained where you had first seen him standing in his bicycle store, claiming that he would be fine where he was, even though he was well aware he wasn’t.

You left his shop with tears welling in your eyes, the monster of grief clawing at your throat, leaving bleeding, raw scratches in its trail as you hopped onto a bicycle your uncle Jisoo gifted you with and peddled away. 

The rebels had merely assumed the place you were travelling to was another abandoned factory but was in fact what some people called home, so it was safer there for you than wondering the streets and just waiting to be killed. Your uncle Jisoo enlightened you with the information that the settlement provide shelter, food, water, clothing; all the essentials in your bag that were bound to run out if you didn’t venture towards the safe house.

  In addition to supplying basic human needs, uncle Jisoo told you that they taught self-defence lessons there, if people were to leave their compounds and travel to who knows where for whatever reasons. But, you weren’t intending on leaving the safe house — for a little while, at least.

To get to the safe house, you were forced with having to cross a mini desert that separated you from feeling safe again. Well, as safe as someone could feel living in a world like yours. At first, you were doing well and only consumed your resources when it was necessary, aware that you had to be rational with them. But, fast forward thirteen days after you started walking the scorching desert, and you were clinging onto your life, coughing up sand, shrivelled up in the sand like something left outside to dry and as stated before, breathing your last breaths.

  You heard what sounded like a car which you right off the bat assumed was owned by rebels. Your will to survive had long gone, and you were ready. Ready to join your parents in heaven, where you could finally feel at peace with yourself again, where you could live a life different from the one you were slowly leaving, where your parents could forgive you for giving up on your life.

The engine was cut and large tires belonging to what looked like a 1940’s styled Jeep dug into the sand near your fingers. You removed your cheek from the desert sand, feeling some of the grains sticking to your cheeks as you squinted your eyes, placing your hand in front of you to shield your precious eyes from the blazing sun. The car door opened and the first thing your eyes saw were a pair of black combat boots that managed to slightly dig their way into the desert sand.

This was it. These were your last moments of life on this dreaded planet.

Please,” You rasped, coughing up some sand that managed to lodge itself in your wind pipe, thinking of how frail and pathetic you appeared to the person who stood before you. “Just kill me quickly.”

The person kneeled downwards, and the more you gazed at person, the more you learned that this was no rebel. This was a survivor. But were you going to be one too?

“The name is Jeon Jungkook, and no, I’m not with the rebels but am stationed in Safe House 9, candidate number 0970901.” Safe House 9? That’s where you were headed to. “Can you stand?”

You shook your head no. Jungkook chuckled to himself, amused by the stupid question he asked. He then scooped your feeble and delicate body off the sand bed, cradling you in his muscular arms as he stomped his way over towards the other side of the Jeep, placing you in the passenger’s seat before he shut the door, jogging to get into his side of the car and immediately started the engine, the engine roaring similar to a lion’s.

“If you can, you can reach for some of the water in the cubbyhole in front of you.” Jungkook briefed you as his eyes remained solely focused on the desert ahead.

You reached for the cubbyhole, opening the door and you almost started drooling at the sight of the sparkling water. You grabbed the bottle of water in an instant, gulping down the plain liquid goodness, unconscious of how Jungkook would steal glances at you and smile to himself.

“How long did you go without water?” Jungkook attempted to make conversation as he drove past points you remember marking as you travelled towards the safe house…in the opposite direction.

You wiped your dry lips with the back of your hand. “Three days,” You spoke with hesitation, not particularly used to interacting with others anymore. “Hey, isn’t the Safehouse in the other direction?”

“It is,” Jungkook nodded. “But, I still need to patrol the area to see if there is any others like yourself walking the dessert. As well as be kind of like, a lookout if you will, for rebels.”

It was silent after Jungkook had spoken, the man who you noted couldn’t be much older than you, most likely being two years older than you were if you were to guess with his young features and eyes that held the slightest shimmer of something rare in those days, hope. Jungkook patrolled the area, aware of how far he could drive out before he had to make his way back like he had been doing this all his life. Two hours of pure silence passed and Jungkook entered the new city you hadn’t visited before, only driving a short distance into the city before nearing a car park by the factory AKA Safe House, the space in which Jungkook parked the Jeep in shuffling a little bit before the ground it was parked on began to lower itself into the ground where a much more guarded car park was located.

As the car was brought to halt, Jungkook pressed down on a button on his car door and in a few seconds, young ladies dressed in nurse uniforms were rushing towards the Jeep, bringing along a stroller with them as you were helped out of the Jeep, your body laying helplessly in a stretcher that was surrounded by panicked nurses.

  “You’re going to take care of me, right?” You quizzed one of the nurses by your side as your eyes blinked rapidly underneath the bright lights attached to the ceiling.

One of them, with milk chocolate rich skin and an abundant amount of big curls, smiled behind her surgical mask, grabbing your hand and assuring you, “Absolutely.”

You smiled weakly before your eyelids felt heavy, your body falling limb and the frantic screams of nurses disappeared.

You woke up three days after your arrival, according to your doctor’s knowledge. Nothing was seriously wrong with you, it was just having to survive with minimal water and food to snack on, as well as walking the stormy desert in the blazing sun wasn’t exactly the greatest combination for your body, which explains why you blacked out.

Moreover, your doctor advised you to eat regularly, mostly foods belonging to the protein food group, so you can regain your strength and that he would provide you with prescription tablets that you could receive at a counter that was outside the dinning hall. Therefore, that day, after you took a warm shower in a small cubicle that had many other naked people of the same sex along it and put on a shirt with black sweatpants and a matching hoodie that were left on your single bed out of what you observed to be twenty beds in one space, you made your way to the medication counter.

  As you waited in the semi-long line, to keep yourself entertained, you settled for observing the people around you. Many people had a look of content in their eyes, but other people eyes, you noticed, shook with fear for the future, as you were. Still, you kept your expression light and unbothered, repeating to yourself hundred times over that everything was going to be okay.

Everything is going to be okay.

Once you collected your medication and swallowed the pills it in front of the nurse at the window, since the founders of the settlement were extremely strict with ensuring that whoever was injured or ill was consuming whatever could assist them, you walked into the dinning hall.

The dinning hall, you noticed, was similar to the one at your previous school. The food line where young adults such as yourself served food was near the door, on your right. On the left, was something like an area racked with sweet and salty treats while the rest of the space was filled with metal chairs and tables. Anxiousness coursed through your veins at the scene. You were new here, you knew no one here—


You knew him, all you had to do was locate wherever he sat, if he was here, and you would have someone to sit with. Even with the world slowly ripping itself to shreds, you still cared about what people thought of you and what would they think if the new edition to their Safehouse was some loner type person.

Again, you stood in a line and waited patiently to receive your dinner that night, which happened to be rice and mince, a chicken quarter with a side of vegetables. As you slowly left the line, retrieving a carton of milk for yourself, your eyes looked over the entire room, the buzzing conversations in the dinning hall only a murmur in your ears. Your eyes looked to the right, and low and behold, sat Jungkook. Alone. By himself.

You took hesitant steps towards the table he sat it, your skin suddenly feeling immensely uncomfortable as you could hear whispers about you and who you were. You tried to keep your eyes ahead of you, pretending as though you couldn’t hear every one of their conversations, for the sake of your own happiness.

You stood behind Jungkook, struggling to find your voice as your eyes watched the older boy eat what you saw was famous ramen that could undoubtably set your mouth and everything inside it on fire. Ultimately, since you were at a loss for words apparently, you cleared your voice, drawing attention to yourself as Jungkook turned around to face you with flushed cheeks filled with ramen.

“C-can I sit with you?” You stuttered, thankful that you didn't stumble over your words like you did when you were nervous.

Jungkook merely nodded, turning back around as you took your seat opposite him, poking your food with your utensils before digging in, never once glancing in Jungkook’s direction.

Until he slammed his fist against the table, the impact of his fist and the vibrations of the desk startling you as you jumped slightly in your seat, staring at the boy who was clearly suffering because of the extremely spicy ramen noodles he ate.

Fuck, that’s hot.” He cursed bluntly, helplessly reaching for his bottle of water and chugging it, only to still hiss because of his fire red tongue.

“Drink this,” You handed him your carton of milk. “It will help.” Jungkook didn’t question you as he ripped the carton open, chugging the dairy liquid and letting out a pleased sigh at the burning sensation that simmered down.

“Thanks,” He began handing the carton over to you, but you cut his action off with the words, “Keep it.”

“Ha, right.” Jungkook awkwardly responded with an even more awkward smile, drawing his hand back and scratching the back of his neck.

Despite the slight awkwardness that started to settle in the air, you felt bad for Jungkook because he wasn’t eating food that he could properly enjoy or that could make him full. Therefore, to make yourself feel a little better, you asked Jungkook, “Are you still hungry?" 

 Jungkook looked up at you at lightning speed, the sight of his deep brown doe eyes and watermelon pink cheeks cracking a smile onto the surface of your face. "If you are, we can share my food.”

“No, I’m okay, thanks.” Jungkook attempted to kindly refuse your offer, but was interrupted by the growl of his stomach which made you let out a single laugh.

You pushed your dish into the middle of the table, scooping up some rice mixed with mice and playfully teased, “It’s really good.”

  Now it was Jungkook’s turn to laugh. He looked over at you with an amused smile, watching you over-exaggerate as you ate your spoonful of food and groaned at how ‘good’ it tasted. Jungkook rolled his eyes, well aware that the food served here wasn’t that good since he’s been here long enough to know such things. Jungkook gave in when you held a piece of chicken in between your chop sticks, waving it around and unexpectedly, before you could put the chicken into your mouth, Jungkook leaned over the table and ate it, his unexpected actions widening your eyes.

Jungkook chuckled at your reaction as he chewed the piece of chicken, placing his hand over his mouth as he uttered out a, “You’re right. It does taste good.”

A geniune smile spread across your face, for the first time in weeks, and you shook your head while Jungkook just laughed at your behaviour like everything was alright and well with the world again, which it felt like in the presence of Jungkook.


Just wanted to let you all know - I’m sure I’m not the only one who has been getting inbox spam lately - starts with ‘hi’ or similar and if you reply you quickly end up with a request for photos or private chat. They have blogs with nothing on, fairly nondescript urls and a selfie of a young woman as their avatar.
I wanted to give my advice for younger/vulnerable people on here, so I hope you’ll forgive me sounding like your mum.
Here’s my suggestion, if you get a message from someone you don’t know and who isn’t following you, with an empty blog:
Don’t reply to the message.
Mark it as spam if you want to - I’ve started doing that.
Don’t ever send pictures of yourself.
Don’t feel pressured into chatting with someone you don’t know or sharing anything personal.
I have no clue what the gain is for people doing this but I guess they are hoping people will get talked into sharing images.
Stay safe. If you’re not sure something is a good idea, it probably isn’t - trust your instinct. If you feel uncomfortable, stop. Ask someone in real life that you trust - a parent, a responsible adult..
Look after yourselves and avoid nonsense.


A/N: A little graphic if you’re squeamish, but there aren’t too many details. Not medically accurate, written for dramatic effect.

Why did you even agree to go on this ridiculous hike? Probably because you were more than two weeks past your due date. You had tried to bring your labour on by other means but none of them had worked. 

That morning, your darling husband - even if he is the one who did this to you! - suggested that a nice long walk might clear your mind and help speed things up. And sped things up, it had. You were halfway up a mountain when the cramps started and you turned back, but it seemed like your baby was in a sudden hurry. You hadn’t even walked ten steps when your waters had broken and a contraction hit.

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Romantic Getaway | Ichigo Kurosaki One-Shot
by imagineverything-anything

Who: Ichigo Kurosaki x Gender Neutral!Reader

Summary: Ichigo has been busy with work that it’s created a distance between the two of you.

Word Count: 1,524

Genre(s): Fluff, some angst, sfw

Warning(s): None

Note(s): None

Ichigo’s tired eyes rested on your curled up figure after the thud of the door closing rang through the air. With soft movements, he lifted your fully clothed body from the couch and moved you to the bed. He brought the blue comforter up to your shoulders, and your undecipherable words barely reached his ears. His fingers caressed your warm cheeks lightly before pulling away.

He sighed when he saw the cold plate of food that was placed on the kitchen table. And after heating it up in the microwave, his thoughts wandered. The meat didn’t heat up all the way, and the rice felt dry and hard in his mouth. He threw the remains of the lonely dinner in the trash, tired of eating heat-up food after working long hours or days completing his shinigami duties.

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8:14 am 4/6/17

I used my heart as a signal flare
I thought you would rescue me
from this forest of
I’m a borderline bad friend
we’re toxic for each other
you know how to twist the knife
you speak of love
as if you’re empty
you say you want it
that its lovely
I try to bite my tongue
I bite until it bleeds
I want it to dribble down my chin
a stop sign
for your speeding mind
instead I choke it down
because I know you’re hurt
but so am I
which one of us will break first?


30 min speed painting exercises from this week so far – and a look at the world of the DM’s!  Their country is a sprawling, diverse place, and I hope to bring as much of that to life as the characters themselves.

Daddy’s Girl

This is going to be a multi-part fic based on two different prompts.

@sissyannegaye asked: “Could it be where reader is the daughter (or son, doesn’t matter) of an original JP character. And reader gets a job at JW (much to their parent’s dismay) and meets Owen in an embarrassing situation. At first, the reader doesn’t like Owen (because he/she thinks Owen thinks ill of him/her because of the way they met) but eventually comes around and they form a relationship.”

Anon asked: “could I request a one-shot where Owen is going to meet the readers parents but he doesn’t know is that they’re Ellie Sattler or/and Alan Grant (the reader changed their name) and there’s like a giant rumour that they’re going to go the park so everyone is kind of freaking out bc of who they are and Owen’s super excited to meet them bc he’s secretly a giant nerd. and when meets them it’s just a giant cute surprise???”

Dad said that the park was dangerous; he said that it’s going to eventually have an accident and that if you worked there, he could lose you. But your dad hasn’t seen this place. It’s huge: an exciting dinosaur filled theme park and they have every dinosaur you could ever imagine. As a child, Dad tried to scare your interest in dinosaurs out of you with near-death stories from his past, but that only made you more interested. You grew up talking about dinosaurs to your friends and as you got older, you studied paleontology and took classes in evolutionary biology, zoology, genetics, geology and petrology. You thought that with your studies in genetics that you would earn a place in the lab, but everyone has to start somewhere.

After orientation, you were stopped in a hallway by a professional looking woman. She wore a white dress and carried a clipboard and you could tell that she was important.

“Ah, you must be Miss Grant.” She smiles at you warmly, but you can tell her mind is somewhere else.

“Um, just Y/f/n,” You correct her. “I don’t want everyone thinking I got the job because of who my dad is.”

“I can respect that.” She responds looking almost impressed. “Well I wanted to welcome you to the park and give you your assignment personally.”

She hands you her clipboard and looks down at you expectantly. “I noticed the emphasis on genetics in your resume, but we really don’t have any openings in the lab right now.  Besides, Mr. Masrani believes that you would enjoy getting your hands dirty.”

“Masrani?” You ask, surprised. “Does everyone get their job placement by him?” You look up at her, knowing the answer.

“Well, no.” She says, but puts on a smile and tries to sound excited. “But it’s not everyday that we get a second generation dinosaur enthusiast.”

You sigh exasperatedly. “Sooo… about that position?” You press her to change the subject. Your dad didn’t even want you to come here in the first place.

“Oh right. Mr. Masrani has put you at one of our paddocks that isn’t currently on show. The assets are in training right now with one of our most capable trainers.”

“Assets?” You ask skeptically. She definitely doesn’t work hands on with any of the dinosaurs with that attitude.

“Yes, the velociraptors.” You suppress a shudder. It’s not that you’re afraid of them, really. It’s just the second she said “Velociraptor,” every story your father ever told you came back into your mind. Their speed and intelligence and ability to communicate. Raptors are pack animals. They don’t follow anyone else’s commands.

“Are you okay Miss Gra- I mean Y/n?” Claire looks at you as if you’re about to pass out and you right yourself quickly. The last thing you want her to think is that you’re afraid of dinosaurs.

“Yes, I’m fine, sorry.”

“Nothing to worry about. I’ve got a map of the park here and your keycard. It will get you into pretty much anywhere with your clearance.” You raise your eyebrow in response to this and she shrugs. “Mr. Masrani thinks very highly of you.” She says it fondly as if she does too and the thought makes you smile.

“Thanks. I really am glad to be here.” You give her a warm smile and look down at the clipboard in your hands. “So this trainer, is she really that good?” You ask and if you hadn’t looked up at that exact moment you might have missed the look of disgust that crossed her face before she could stop herself.  

“He,” She corrects you, “Well, he knows what he’s doing.” The tone of her voice lets you know she really doesn’t want to talk about it anymore and you give her a nod of understanding.

“Ms. Dearing?” You ask, and she focuses her eyes back on you. “I know we don’t really know each other, but I’d love to hear the story behind that look.” You smirk at her and she lets out a soft laugh.

“I will tell you one day.” She gives you one more smile before looking down at her watch. “Oh, I have to get going, I have a meeting. But I hope you don’t have any problems settling in. I wrote my cell number there,” She adds, pointing to the corner of the assignment page she just gave you. “If you need me for anything just give me a call.”

“Thanks, I will.” You say your goodbyes and part ways. You smile down at the paper in your hands. It’s not the lab, but it sure is going to be exciting; however, you think you’ll wait a little while to call dad and tell him. The last thing you need is him reminding you about his terrifying encounters with raptors and scaring you out of a job.

These raptors are nothing like the one’s at Jurassic Park, you tell yourself. Everything is going to be just fine.

Request: Joking Around

Request: can you please write a sam x reader with some dean and cas where the reader is feeling a little down because of her past before meeting the boys (her father was an alcoholic or something and he became a demon so the boys killed him), so sam and the boys try to make her feel better and it’s just fluff and cute please?

Word Count: 517

Sorry this is a bit short. I bumped this one up and wrote it quickly because it looked like you needed a bit of a pick me up. I hope it’s okay:)

Warning: Mention of alcoholism and death.

The memories race through your mind at the speed of light, but they remain as clear as day.

The drinking, the drunkenness. The threats. The random moments of happiness. But soon enough, he’d turn back to the vodka, or the whiskey, or whatever he had on hand and he’d be drinking his way to the bottom of the bottle again.

Then that fateful day when the black smoke wormed its way through your kitchen window and found itself inside your father. It wasn’t long after when the black eyed monster nearly killed you, until two guys stormed their way into your home. They put a bullet in your father’s head and chanted a weird Latin incantation. It shoved the demon from your father’s body, taking his life with it. He was gone.

“Hey, Y/N-“ Sam stops when he sees the wistful look on your face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing.” You say, shaking your head as if to shake off the bad thoughts.

“It’s your dad, isn’t it?” He says gently, sitting beside you. You shrug.

“I just miss him.” You say nonchalantly, with a small shrug.

“I know, it’s hard. I’m sorry.” He says, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “But don’t worry. You’ve got us, right?” He says encouragingly.

You smile, “I guess I do.”

“You’ve got me and Dean, and you’ve got a freaking angel for friends. We can’t be that bad. Not to mention the hundreds of people you make like you on cases and stuff.”

You laugh, “You’re right.” Sam smiles and presses a kiss to your cheek.

At that point, Dean comes into the room with Cas. “Sup.” Dean says, coming to sit on your other side.

“She’s just feeling a little down, that’s all.” Sam says.

“Dad?” Dean asks, and you both nod. “Aw, nuts, Y/N. He’s not worth your tears.”

“I’m not crying!” You insist with a laugh.

“Y/N, whatever your problem is, I assure you that it is not worth any worry.” Cas offers, making you smile.

“Thanks, Cas.” You smile. Sam gives you a supportive squeeze.

“Y/N- you want to hear a joke?” Dean asks, and you nod.


“What do you call a cold hotdog?” He asks, grinning.


“A chilli dog.”

You let out a laugh, “That’s terrible.”

“Shh, you love it. Sam, you got one?”

“Uh…sure.” He pauses for a second. “Why do vampires believe everything you say?”

You look at him quizzically. “Why?”

“Because they’re suckers.”

You laugh. Having faced vampires yourself, vampire jokes become so much funnier.

“How do angels look behind them?” Cas asks. You turn to him and shrug.

“I don’t know. How do angels look behind them?”

“With their wing mirrors.”

You laugh, but Cas stays straight faced. He obviously doesn’t get his own joke.

“Where did you hear that?” Dean asks, grinning.

“I heard someone tell it once. I thought you might appreciate it.” He says, and you nod.

“I really do appreciate this. You guys are the best, you know that?” You grin, and Sam kisses you gently.

“Oh, we know.” Dean grins, making you laugh again.

Peter Pan Imagine: I'm Not Them

Requested by @m-e-gg-a-n  : “Hi, can you do a Peter Pan x reader imagine where the reader dealt with abuse back home and Peter doesn’t know, so one time he throws her over his shoulder and starts freaking out and it’s all fluff and sweet please?”



Being loud and crazy was something that the Pan and his Lost Boys seemed to do best. All day, every single day, that seemed to be the only thing they knew. You want some peace and quiet for a while? Yeah, good luck with that; one would have to go pretty far into the woods for that. It was simply in their nature, and you had no plans to change that; they were who they were, and the way they were was actually pretty fun to be around.

The crackle of the fire in front of you was constant, something you’d grown quiet used to, but so was the yelping and hollering of the boys. It had grown dark, a few random beams of moonlight showing through the trees. The Lost Boys were circled around the blazing fire, flipping and hopping around in a wild looking dance.

You smiled gently to yourself at the sight of them all having fun, wishing that one of them would invite you in on the playful dances. They looked like they were having so much fun, and you didn’t want to barge in without an invitation from one of them, so you stayed put and let them have their own fun.

Although you were too hesitant to actually go have fun with the boys around the fire, you took some joy in simply watching them; their faces aglow and their eyes glimmering with happiness. It made you feel much more at home than you did in your actual home; there, they treated you like…a slave, or some sort of nuisance. In Neverland, it’s like you’re free to do…well, anything.

“Hey, why don’t you join us?” Sounded a voice in front of you.

You hadn’t even noticed him walking up to you because your eyes were practically glazed over, your head too caught up in it’s own thoughts. You shut your eyes for a few moments to wipe the tiredness from them, and then opened then once again, only for them to land on one of Pan’s most prized lost boys.

“No, no, I’m fine here! Thanks, but I’d rather watch you guys, it is rather…entertaining…” you replied with a small smile, denying the invitation you’d been waiting for.

Felix sighed before replying, “Oh, come on! I know you want to!”

You gave him an awkward shrug, waving him back to his activities with the others. You’d told him time and time again that you didn’t want to intrude, but he always insisted that you were as much a lost boy as him. In all honesty, you didn’t feel the same; you felt somewhat…disconnected from them, like you didn’t fit in very well.

He had a disappointed look on his face, but he walked away, not wanting to bug you too much about the topic. You glanced back up and around when his footsteps faded, watching the boys once again in wonder and second-hand happiness.

You smiled widely as you looked down and fiddled with your hands. The thought of them being so happy made your stomach feel fuzzy and warm.

You didn’t have the feeling because you felt like a mother to them, nor was it because you had a huge crush on any of them (even though you thought most of them were pretty attractive.) No, the feeling came with hope, hope that maybe someday you’d be able to feel as happy as they are, with no regret, or worry that you weren’t pleasing somebody or not making them happy.


You thought about things like this for a while, so long that you didn’t even take notice when the boys retired to their tents. You didn’t hear them stop shouting, too lost in your own head. The pounding footsteps they took to get to their ‘rooms’ didn’t even faze you, and soon enough they were all in their warm tents getting ready to sleep, all except for you.

You continued to stare at the fire, keenly listening in on every sound it made. Your thoughts ran wild, jumping from one topic to the next on their own will.

Everytime you opened your eyes the fire had died down a bit, until the only thing left was a few red hot, glowing ashes that hissed and popped at you.

The thing that finally broke you from your thoughts was when the boys began blowing their light out from inside their tents. It started out only a few, and then the rest followed, leaving you stranded in the one thing you hate most: the dark. The glow that showed from the inside of their tents was now nonexistent, and you were stuck with only a bit of glow from the a lit coals of the fire.

You shivered a bit as a cool wind nipped at your bare arms, making you wish that you had at least a jacket with you. Goosebumps rose from your arms, your hair standing on end to try and warm you up.

The boys almost always left a mess when they were done doing whatever they did around the fire, and this time was no exception. There were various pieces of trash and articles of those creepy animal costumes strewn lazily about, as if the boys hadn’t had enough time to put them away properly.

You sighed, slowly getting to your feet. A few pops came from your spine as you did so, reminding you just how long you had been sitting there watching things go on around you. You stretched you arms over your head with a quiet grunt, earning a few more of the crackling sounds.

After fully stretching you limbs, you hobbled tiredly towards the messy pile of items. By now, you were sure the boys had realized you had been picking up after them, even if it had only been a couple weeks. The reason you waited to pick up after them was because that’s the only way you could make yourself feel useful; you could hunt, and fight just as good as the others, but that didn’t make you feel like you were helping them. Cleaning for them was your way of saying “hey, thanks for saving me from my abusive home.”

As you reached the mess, the only thought going through your head was where to start. The various piles of junk would have made you groan in despair if the boys wouldn’t have been asleep, and if you didn’t feel like you needed to do this.

You took in a deep sigh, and then bent over to grab a bow that had probably been thrown carelessly by one of the boys. How it hadn’t broken or been at least damaged was out of your knowing.

Your eyes begged for you to close them and go to bed, but you forced yourself to keep picking things up…for the boys. The thought of going back to your small tent for hours was definitely tempting, so tempting that you had to make yourself focus on picking things even harder. Your movements were sluggish and you were sure that you would be going to bed MUCH later than you intended.

Just as you were about to pick up another item, a deep voice sounded from behind you. It was low, and had a distinct accent laced in its tone.

You stood up straight in less than a second, spinning around and dropping the thing in your hand. It was extremely dark now, only a bit of moonlight shining through the dark canopies of the trees. Even without any light, however, you knew very well who the voice belonged to.

“You know, you don’t have to do that.”

You took a moment to calm your pounding heart, and then muttered a short reply of, “I know.”

He took a few steps towards you, to which you, in return, took a few discrete steps back. He did take notice to these actions, but decided to ignore them and stop after a few more.

“Then…” he stopped, tilting his head, “why do you?”

You shrugged, quickly glancing towards him for a moment before bending back over to pick up the item you had dropped. You clutched it tightly to your chest, scurrying towards the place where it was supposed to go.

He watched you walk back towards the mess after dropping the thing where it was meant to be, studying you as if you were a difficult math problem. Just as you were about to pick up something else from the ground, he spoke again, humor laced in his tone.

“I said you didn’t have to do that, sweetheart.”

The chuckle in his voice irritated you, it made you feel as if he was speaking to a small child. The way he decided to pet name you like he did, it made you feel like you were stuck back at home with the people who didn’t even have time to learn your name…so they gave you despicable tag names like the one he had just called you. You discarded his comment, continuing to pick stuff up.

“I didn’t bring you here to be a servant.”

Again you left him with no reply, turning your back to him and trying not to fall asleep in front of him. You bent down and grabbed onto another unidentifiable object, lifting the thing onto your shoulder and standing back up.

Stop.” He demanded, grabbing onto your wrist and tugging on it to get you to turn to him.

You frowned, dropping the heavy item, and tried to pull your arm back to your side, but he wasn’t having it. He caught your other wrist that was behind you balancing yourself out so that you didn’t stumble as you tried to tug your arm back.

Your breath picked up a little as you tried continuously to rid yourself of his hands. He held a firm, yet not painful, grip on your arms, being extra careful not to pull too hard. He tried to make eye contact with you, but for the millionth time this night you denied him.

“Let go.” you gasped out, pulling more furiously to break free.

“You need to calm down, and stop doing stuff for the boys. They know damn well how to do things for themselves and- would you look at me?!”

You shook your head no, thoughts of the past rushing through your mind at the speed of light. He looked at you in frustration, but then his eyes softened when he realized your fear. Your eyes were shut tightly, nose crunched up to control the tears in your eyes from falling.

“Come on, you aren’t cleaning up any more, I’ll get the boys to do that in the morning. Right now, you’re going to bed.”

As soon as he was finished, he bent down and placed his head near your left hip. One of his shoulders was suddenly pressed up against your stomach, and then one of his arms swung around to meet the backs of your knees. Then, faster than you could tell him no, he had you lifted on his shoulder and had started marching towards your tent.

Suddenly, the boy holding you was no longer a boy, but a fully grown man that reeked of alcohol. His gentle hands weren’t so gentle to you in that moment, and were, in your mind, now rough and covered in dirty remnants of the nasty bar he’d just arrived home from.

In your scared state his face was no longer a button nose and good eyebrows, but a chubby face with messy stubble adorning his puffy jawline. His eyes were not full of the usual mischievous glint, but now full of hate and pure, unfiltered anger. He was no longer Peter Pan in your tear filled eyes, but one of the monsters he had saved you from; he was your abuser in that moment, and that frightened you to no end.

You pounded on his back, “No! Put me down, please!”

He jumped slightly at the sudden outburst from your usually quiet self. The way you were struggling away from him, not in a joking way, worried him. Sure, he’d seen you get sassy and irritated about things, but he’d never really seen you get truly terrified.

Your feet kicked near his face, and he had to hold them away so that he could let you down from his shoulder. You landed a bit harder on the ground than he had meant, and as soon as your body met the ground, you backed away, covering your face with your arms. This was your only defense against him, for your eyes were too drowned in tears to see well enough to get up and fight him away.

You kept backing away with your hands out in surrender, until your back met the firm surface of a hut. You shrunk yourself into the corner as much as you could, your chest heaving in front of you desperately.

“Please, please, no…no…please don’t hurt me!” Was yelped as he crouched down in front of you, his hands gently taking your face into them.

“Shhh, I won’t hurt you, dove. I promise, just listen to me…”

You blindly tried to push him away, your hands connecting with the hard surface of his upper chest and shoulders. He quickly grabbed your hands in his own, holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm you. One hand let go, the other keeping yours in his hold, while the other went to cradle your jaw once again.

You tried harder now, using your feet to try to push his hands off. He only continued to get closer, his body practically radiating heat onto yours. You could feel his warm breath on your wet face, and his eyes burning into your own closed ones.

“No, no, no!” You cried, “Please, please, just stop!”

“Hey, shhh, look at me…” he cooed.

The pad of his thumb glided along the skin on your cheekbone, almost so softly that you could barely feel it. The sensation gave you goosebumps.

You slowly cracked one eyelid open, cautiously. You were almost completely sure that you would be face to face with one of them, one of those evil people you had lived with before Neverland. But…he wasn’t, not even…close.

When your eyes opened, you were surprised to see him, Peter Pan, sitting right in front of you. The breath on your face was his, and it didn’t reek of beer. His hands were not rough, but extremely soft and…gentle. He wasn’t them, he was Pan.

He smiled lightly at you, “There you go, that’s it. See, it’s just me.”

You stared at him with wide eyes for a few seconds, your hands halting there swats all together. The adrenaline in your veins was so vigorous that you shook like a chihuahua.

You focused on his hands, one on your waist and one on your face. They weren’t hurting you, and it was almost as if they were protecting you. The closeness of his body wasn’t a threatening gesture anymore, but was now comforting.

You furrowed your brows, a new wave of tears rushing down your face. Your body, as if without thinking, lunged towards him and wrapped around his. Your arms flung around his waist and your chest hit his rather hard, making him fall back from the unexpected action. His back hit the ground with a grunt, and you continued to hug onto him like a koala.

“Pan, I’m so, so sorry! I-I don’t even k-know came over me, I just…I thought for a s-second that y-you were–” he cut you off before you could say anything else.

“Shhh, don’t blame yourself. I should’ve known…”

After a few moments of silence, you felt one of his arms hook around your back. You tensed for a moment, before he tugged you down a bit so that your face was burried in his neck. He wrapped both arms securely behind you, sighing peacefully.

“You know, you give really good hugs…”

A heart and a soul.

So, this was inspired by the beautiful song, 18

Hope you guys like it! xx


You were just about to write the first sentence of your English Essay, pencil pressed to the white paper sheet, mentally preparing yourself for the long three hours ahead, when the sound of a key turning a lock startled you, followed by the sound of boots padding hurriedly towards your small apartment room. A soft knock on your door. “It’s Harry.” A low raspy voice said.

He didn’t wait until you said he could come in, already opening the door and stumbling inside with Niall’s guitar in hand and a crumpled sheet of paper on the other. He’d borrowed Niall’s guitar a few times over the past months and you and Niall were the only ones who’s heard him play it. Harry wasn’t a pro yet, clumsily strumming the chords here and there, but he was getting there; he was a quick learner.

“There’s a song I want you to hear. I wrote it!” Harry smiled widely and sat crossed legged on your small bed. You were sitting on your desk chair, pencil still in hand. It took you a moment to pay attention to what he was saying. All you could notice was how comfortable he looked and sat on your bed. You’d been best friends for 2 years now, but it felt like a lifetime. You did everything together; watched movies, rode bikes together, ate the leftovers on each other’s apartments together. You always wondered how or why he chose you, out of all people, to be his friend. Sometimes you’d give in and look at what people said about you on twitter. And everyone kept asking how Harry could be friends with a fat, curvy girl. You wondered the same thing.

Long fingers snapped in front of your face.

“Wha- what?” you shook your head.

“I…wrote a song. I want to play it to you.” Harry whispered, his fingers gently tracing the guitar chords.

“Is it from the new album?”

“Yes. I mean, I hope so. It probably will be in it…Yes, I guess.”

“No!” you gasped.

Harry’s face fell, hands going slack on his sides. “What? Why?” his brows furrowed. 

Keep reading

21 Days (1/4)

Sehun I Angst, Romance, Mild Smut (in later parts) I 1,763 words

When your older brother got in trouble you didn’t think you would become the collateral damage in such situation, but somehow you did and who would have thought there would be someone to repair the damage his people have caused piece by piece.

Please read the author’s note at the end. It’s very important!

19 Hours before the kidnapping

‘You’re gonna get yourself killed if you keep acting this way!’

Heavy breathing and frustrated sighs resounded from the wall of the small living room as you glared at each other from different sides of the room.

'Why don’t you understand that this is the only option we have right no?!’ Jaehyun, your older brother by five years yelled back at you, his voice husky from all the shouts you two had exchanged in the past twenty minutes. 'This is the only way I can take care of you okay?!’

You bit down on your lower lip harshly, fighting back your tears and cries of desperation that were threatening to escape. 'There are other options and every single one of them is better that your interactions with these guys, Jaehyun.’

With a small bitter laugh, he crossed his muscular arms in front of his broad chest. 'Pumpkin, I am a 24-year-old sentenced delinquent who has spent one and a half years of his life behind bars. Furthermore, I didn’t graduate from university and nor do I have a proper schooling in something. So tell me, what exactly are these options you were talking about?’

'First of all-’ You began to respond, although you were more that aware that you stated the cruel yet undeniable facts. 'You had been falsely accused back then and-’

'That doesn’t matter,’ He interrupted you halfway through your weak argument. 'I’ve been sentenced anyways, which is the first and only thing employers find out about me.’ Jaehyun had never been an optimist, yet nor had he ever been a pessimist. He had always been a realist, accepting the reality with all its cruelty.

You, on the other hand, had always been a dreamer and optimist, denying the reality as much as possible. 'But it’s still not too late to go to university, if you graduate from university you would have way more possibilities.’ Inhaling exhaustively, you let yourself fall onto the old worn-out couch. 'For God’s sake, Jaehyun, you’re a clever guy. Any university would be lucky to have you. You could do so much more with your intelligence.’

'For the last time, y/n!’ He growled and kicked against a wooden chair angrily. It was with enough force to completely destroy the cheap item. Yet, you  weren’t startled in the slightest you’ve had always had the talent to make your always calm and  well-balanced brother loose his temper. 'My intelligence won’t pay for your freaking expensive medication! The medication that makes this fight between us even possible, because it protects you from freaking dying, you little Idiot. Goddammit!’

Well, now that took you off guard for sure.

9 Hours before the kidnapping

Silently Jaehyun and you sat at the small kitchen table, eating your breakfast without exchanging a single word. After yesterday’s argument, he had simply given you a light kiss on the forehead and sent you to bed , saying that he would do the same. But you weren’t stupid like that and nor were you deaf since you heard the sound of the front door closing very clearly as he left the apartment to do his 'deliveries’. Yet, you stayed quiet about it, not wanting to break off another fight.

'You should really iron your uniform.’ Jaehyun’s random statement broke the heavy silence lingering between the both of you suddenly. His eyes fixed on his hands, obviously avoiding to make I contact with you.

Confused you looked down where the over-sized crinkly white blouse and the crinkly beige skirt were hugging your body in all their glory. Your brother had purposely bought you a uniform that one or two sizes too big in case you would 'grow some more’, but there hadn’t been much growing ever since.

With a sly smirk on your lips, you got up from your seat. 'You call it crinkly. I call it fashion.’ You stated with fake pride, successfully making him laugh since he knew very well that you did not give a single damn about fashion.

'I’ll get on my way to school now. Take care, Idiot.’

The Kidnapping

'Wanna go to that Kimbap place I told you about earlier?’ Jisoo, your best friend and besides Jaehyun the most important person in your life, asked.

'I’d love to, but I have to the hospital for some checkups.’ You explained disappointed, giving the shorter girl a small apologetic smile.

She simply said that you would to that another time, as you said your goodbyes and parted ways. Sighing guiltily, you looked after her for a short moment. You hated lying to her, but only this excuse didn’t make her feel bad for you, so you preferred using that little lie rather than stating that money was more than low at the moment.

Pushing you guilty thought aside, you made your way home as well.

'Um excuse me, Miss?’ A young man, appearing to be in his late twenties stopped you as you were about to walk into an alley that leads to your home. 'Do you have a minute by any chance?’

'Of course, what can I do for-’ You stopped talking abruptly and your eyes widened in terror when you caught glimpse of a Glock that was poorly hidden under his pitch-black jacket. ’Minute’s over.’

Taking him by surprise, you landed a well-calculated kick right against is sternum that made him stumble backward and drop to the cold ground harshly while clutching his chest in agony. But before you even had the chance to start running away from the danger another pair of strong arms circled around your shoulders and pulled you backward forcefully. 'Let go of me or I will end-’ Your screams were cut off by a large sweaty hand that clutched over your mouth, successfully muffling your shout and curses.

'Just get the anesthetics, Hongseok, will you?’ Clawing and hitting against the stranger’s arms keeping you captive, the seriousness of the situation kicked in. These guys weren’t joking around which meant you were in serious trouble.

When the other man, Hongseok, slowly got up again and pulled out a small see-through case with a single syringe in it, it was a rather easy task to conclude who it was meant for. You’re eyes were silently begging the stranger to stop as he was stepping closer towards your trembling form and flailed weak kicks towards him.

You had never been one to give up easily, but when the burning sensation of the injected anesthetics spread through your neck and you felt the numbness taking over, you had to somewhat accept your failure.

At least for now.

7 Hours after the Kidnapping I Day 1

'She hasn’t woken up yet, sir. I’ll inform you when she does…Yes, I understand.’

A deep raspy voice pulled you out of the darkness, out of the frightening nothingness that had held you captive, and back into consciousness. Tortuously slow you came back to your senses, slowly gaining back the control over your sore and exhausted limbs. Carefully you attempted to open your eyes, but as soon as you had lifted your heavy eyelids they dropped back down. You had to give it a couple of tries until  you finally succeeded in keeping your burning eyes open. In fear you held onto to the firm material of your skirt, as you looked around carefully, taking in the environment.

A dim light was illuminating the classic looking furniture in the large room, with high walls and large windows. You were laying on a couch. A couch that appeared to be worth more that everything in your home combined.

'Sir, I think she’s awake.’ You heard the deep masculine voice again as your breathing became more and more uneven with every passing second. A large soft hand gently grabbed the back of your neck and helped you into an upright position, before you even had the chance to react and stop him.

The stranger let himself fall onto the couch table right in front of you and suddenly you were face to face with a young raven-haired man that gave you a sympathetic yet somewhat cold smile.

Still trying to progress everything that was going on at the moment, you just stared numbly at the young man who was wordlessly looking back at you with his dark brown eyes.

He was tall, had broad shoulders, a torso with a broad chest yet rather a slim waist that connected to his small hips and long slim legs clothed in simple black jeans. The soft features of his handsome face were an odd contrast to his sharp defined jawline and in general, his face had something oddly soothing to it.

'y/n, isn’t it?’ He broke the tensed silence, his eyes never leaving yours. 'I would tell that it’s nice to meet you, but that wouldn’t really be appropriate, now would it?’

Your terrified face was his only answer.

Nervously you looked down to your hands that were cuffed, a detail that you hadn’t noticed yet. Your thoughts were running through your mind at remarkable speed, trying to find a way to get you out of the situation.

As if he was attempting to do some small talk he kept talking. 'I must say, you and Jaehyun really look alike.’ His words took you by surprise, but at the same time, they gave you at least one hint to figure things out.

He knew your brother, which meant he was for sure part of that organization Jaehyun was working for. And that could only mean one thing your brother was in serious trouble and the same regarded you.

'What no screaming, no attempts of running away?’ His sarcastic tone ripped you out of your thoughts once again and as you looked up at him again he raised one of his perfectly arched eyebrows in mockery.

Clenching your fists in anger, you gave him a sweet smile. 'Oh, I’m sorry this is my first kidnapping. Hopefully, I will do better next time to meet your expectations.’ You returned with even more sarcasm, but as soon as the confidence came it left you when you came back to your senses. One thin was for sure, you were in no position to give them a taste of your attitude.

The man tried to cover his laughter with a cough. 'A sassy one, aren’t you?’

Do not answer. Keep quiet, you told yourself, trying to figure out what to do, when an unfamiliar voice appeared all of the sudden.

'Sehun, what’s taking you so long. We gotta go now, man.’

A/N As you guys might have noticed, this story builds upon a kidnapping, but I feel like I have to state a couple of things before I’ll publish the next parts. This story won’t include Stockholm Syndrome because I am against it to write such a horrible thing as romantic. Nor will it include Abuse, because once again that is simply horrible and not romantic. The story will include violence, but not from Sehun towards the reader. To conclude, the reader won’t fall in love with her abuser and Sehun isn’t an abuser.

See this chapter as a little introduction to the actual story and anticipate a lot of Sehun x Reader interactions in the following much longer parts. 

Other than that I got nothing more to say than I hope you enjoyed the first part and stay tuned for what coming next.