webnovel

Masa-masa SMA

Auteur: Rezadimas20
Fiksi Realistik
Actuel · 6.1K Affichage
  • 1 Shc
    Contenu
  • audimat
  • N/A
    SOUTIEN

What is Masa-masa SMA

Lisez le roman Masa-masa SMA écrit par l'auteur Rezadimas20 publié sur WebNovel. Kisah perjalanan masa-masa SMA dan sampai dengan sekarang?...

Synopsis

Kisah perjalanan masa-masa SMA dan sampai dengan sekarang?

Vous aimerez aussi

The Trillionaire Spoiled Wife

## The Trillionaire Spoilt Wife: A Tale of Love and Extravagance The air in the Bangtan studio crackled with tension, thick with the sting of harsh words and simmering resentment. Jimin, clad in a loose-fitting t-shirt and sweatpants, wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, his heart a heavy weight in his chest. Another grueling practice session had ended, and with it came the inevitable barrage of insults. "Come on, Jimin," a trainee sneered, his voice dripping with condescension. "How can you even call yourself a dancer when you move like a girl?" The jibe echoed the taunts that had become a constant in Jimin's life. His journey to becoming a K-Pop idol was paved with challenges far greater than mastering choreography or belting out high notes. As a transgender boy, navigating the rigid world of Korean entertainment felt like walking on a tightrope. The expectations of masculinity clashed with his naturally feminine physique – his rounded hips, his ample chest, and his full, inviting backside. Jimin gritted his teeth, forcing a smile onto his face. "I'm working on it," he mumbled, his voice tight with unshed tears. The other trainees scoffed, their laughter a cruel melody that mocked his dreams. It wasn't just the trainees. Even some of the instructors, blinded by prejudice, questioned his place in the industry. "Too feminine," they'd say, their words like a knife twisting in his gut. But Jimin refused to give up. He clung to the dream of performing on stage, of sharing his passion with the world. He practiced harder than anyone else, his movements infused with a raw determination that defied expectations. He poured his emotions into his dance, his vulnerability becoming his strength. One evening, as the last of the trainees filtered out, a deep voice startled him from his reverie. "You're still here." Jimin turned to see Min Yoongi, the enigmatic owner of MinCorp, leaning against the doorway. Yoongi, a celebrated musician himself, was a frequent visitor to the studio, his presence a source of both awe and trepidation. Jimin nodded, his voice barely a whisper. "Couldn't sleep. Just… practicing." Yoongi pushed himself away from the door and walked towards him, his gaze unwavering. He stopped a few feet away, his dark eyes searching Jimin's face. "You're talented, Jimin," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Jimin's breath hitched. In all his time at the studio, this was the first time anyone, besides his closest friends in BTS, had acknowledged his talent without a qualifier. Tears welled up in his eyes, threatening to spill over. Yoongi saw the vulnerability in his eyes, the flicker of self-doubt. He crossed the remaining distance and placed a hand on Jimin's shoulder, the touch surprisingly gentle. "They don't see what I see," Yoongi continued, his voice laced with conviction. "They don't see the fire in your eyes, the passion in your dance. You, Jimin, are a diamond in the rough." His words struck a chord deep within Jimin. A spark of hope ignited in his chest, a flicker of belief that he might actually achieve his dreams. In that moment, a connection bloomed between them, a silent understanding forged in the crucible of shared passion and resilience. Little did Jimin know that this chance encounter would be the catalyst for a love story unlike any other. Yoongi, captivated by Jimin's talent and his unwavering spirit, would become his fiercest advocate, his mentor, and eventually, his husband. He would shower Jimin with a life of unimaginable luxury, but more importantly, he would offer him unwavering love and acceptance, a love story that would redefine the meaning of 'The Trillionaire Spoilt Wife'.

jojopeach7 · LGBT+
Pas assez d’évaluations
4 Chs

The death of a flower

Railcrossing. The cars on either side are waiting for the train. High speed train will come at any moment. Linemen have lowered obstacles on both sides of the level crossing. But no one frowned at that. At the risk of his life, he is crossing like that. This scene is always seen in almost all the rail crossings of the capital. Mr. Anis is sitting in the car. It is very hot. This summer he is wearing a cute suit again. The driver stopped the car and lit a cigarette. The smell of cigarettes is taking his breath away. Mr. Anis wants to get the driver out of the car by the collar and slap him hard Maybe even a little peace could be found. But the problem is, drivers can't say a word now. He left the job as soon as he was told. Those who can't go, they say for two days in a row, sir, the car is broken, it's broken. It may take at least tens of thousands to survive. Unbearably hot! Nah, not being tolerated anymore. Due to the low vegetation, the level of scorching heat is higher in urban areas. Mr. Anis sometimes thinks that if he ever becomes a minister of the country, he will fill the city with trees. Two consecutive trees 7 People in the shade of trees will stand and wait for the bus. What a beautiful sight! It's good to think about all this. It started raining. It started to rain. It's ten minutes. There is no news of the train coming. A girl is walking. Basket of roses in hand. Raindrops are falling on rose petals. The flowers are smiling. Slowly becoming alive. The girl is standing in front of the car window saying something. No one is buying her flowers. The girl is coming forward with the shadow of Maya's twilight on her sad face. Walking randomly. If one foot touches the other, it may fall to the ground. The speed at which the girl was walking did not change. He is trying hard to survive with the drizzle on his head. It has become very wet. 'Sir took a flower. Only ten teha. ' 'What's your name?' 'Flowers.' 'Your name is also a flower?' 'Yes, sir. Giya Moshammat Phulphulia is a good name. Tay Amma caresses and burns flowers. ' 'How many flowers have you sold all day?' 'Eyes are not good. Rainy days. There is no trade. Theika Mela fever-cold last night. It seems a little less, so I went out with flowers. ' 'Won't the wet fever increase in this rain?' 'Even if the fever increases, it is good. Stay at home I don't want to eat anything. It feels so comfortable, so hunger is pressing. This is a palette of flowers. There was no need to feed the lost days. ' 'How many flowers are in your basket?' '12 flowers. 120 teha. If you take it all, give it to Duida for free. ' 'Keep this 500, how?' Fulphulia is staring. Blind fish sight. He has never seen such an incident. This is the first time he saw a 500 rupees note. 'Where do you live?' 'Sir, isn't there a big slum near Malibagh railway gate? That's where Thahi is. ' No rain. Wet wet air is coming from far away. Fulphulia's face has become brighter. What a sweet look of the girl! Long eyelids, shady eyes. Those eyes are smiling all the time. Her curly hair is also flying in the wind. The train is coming forward with a long whistle. Fulphulia is looking at the 500 rupees note upside down. Seeing the train crossing the line. The melody of the lineman's flute, the terrible whistle of the train he can't hear. Maybe you will never hear again. * Author: saidul Robin

Saidul_Robin_8408 · Sports, voyage et activités
Pas assez d’évaluations
1 Chs
Table des matières
Latest Update
Volume 1

audimat

  • Tarif global
  • Qualité de l’écriture
  • Mise à jour de la stabilité
  • Développement de l’histoire
  • Conception des personnages
  • Contexte mondial
Critiques

SOUTIEN

En savoir plus sur ce livre

General Audiencesmature rating
Rapport