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#this will throw the entire gaming as a hobby back in what 00s?

twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 2 months

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SaShiSu anon here!

Deep down I think I already knew that you would choose suguru but I wanted to ask anyway, because you always give interesting answers lol

I honestly don't know who I would choose, it's just as you say, the three of them would be very good partners!

I am very fond of Satoru but realistically I don't know if I could keep up with him lol, he’s a very active and social person, I don't know if my poor social battery could handle keeping up with him. I wouldn't mind watching digimon with him, because I love digimon, I've seen every season at least 2 times, I've played the games and the tcg and I'm basically a walking encyclopedia of digimon.

I wouldn't mind going with him to pastry shops to try new things, because going to pastry shops is a hobby of mine anyway. Satoru looks like the type of person who likes to tease his friends and his partner just for fun and honestly it would be hypocritical of me to criticize him for that because I'm the same. u.u

I love Shoko, I would do anything for her, cooking, cleaning, cuddles, I would give her everything she asked for and more! my poor baby works too much and she is always tired :( Shoko deserves a lot of love and cuddles! i don't drink or smoke, but if that girl sent me to the store at 2:00 a.m. to buy her a beer, I would do it!

Lastly we have suguru, my love languages are acts of service and quality time. Which I feel fits well with him. For me it would be strange if someone was so attentive to me because that's normally my role in relationships so I would feel lost. I wouldn't mind him judging what I read... because every time he does it, I would make a power point presentation with 50+ slides debating all his points (being a digimon fan is hard work D: )

AAA SASHISU ANON!!! that’s so sweet, i’m happy u enjoy my rambly answers :’3

AND YES I GET U IT’S SOOO HARD TO PICK JUST ONE…. 😔😔 they’re all so lovely and charming……. poly sashisu x reader is the answer always <33 i think a relationship with all three of them would be so sweet and fun !!!

BUT YES YOU’RE SO REAL my social battery is so low it’s kinda embarrassing lmao but i feel like satoru would be very good at knowing his partner’s limits yk… just whisks you away when he can tell you’re getting tired <33 and i also think he would get so smug if your social battery never ran out around him LMAO like he would thrive off being your safe space…. 🥺🥺hhh i adore him. AND HELLOOO FELLOW DIGIMON FAN i was a pkmn kid through and through but i grew up watching all digimon seasons too :33

SO REAL ON SHOKO TOO I WOULD MAKE HER TEA AND COFFEE EVERY SINGLE DAY she could throw a bone and tell me to fetch it like a dog and i would simply Listen <333 she could manipulate me. she wouldn’t do it but she could. but ohhh anon i really do think shoko would benefit sm from having an acts of service s/o !! :( she deserves to be pampered!!

AND OFC SUGUU acts of service and quality time are 100% good fits for him….. AND i think a relationship with someone who’s kind of similar would be good for him!! :’3 two acts of service babies taking care of each other … he would be so attentive all the time and you would be attentive right back!! tbh i understand you anon i think i would be a bit uncomfortable around sugu if he was Too attentive even if i would probably really love it deep down 😭😭 but he’d be so patient !!! aaaa he’s just so perfect…

TYSM FOR INDULGING ME WITH THIS DISCUSSION ANONNN i love these three with my entire soul T_T…. they could fix us

#I HOPE YOU HAVE THE LOVELIEST DAY <333333 tysm again for the ask !! it was so fun to answer !!!#sending u the goodest coziest sashisu vibes mwah mwah mwah #my emotional support trio <33 #i need to take care of them 😞😞#ask tag ✩

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nad-zeta · 3 years

Text

Mitsuhide- The Blind Date

Fandom: Ikesen

Pairings: Mitsuhide x Reader

Genre: Modern Au

Warning: Alcohol

Words: 1800+

Comments: Eeeeep, guess what time it is???? Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤❤😳🥺🥺😳❤🌈 This week gonna be funnnnn!

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ

How in the high heavens did Mitsuhide allow this to happen. Had he truly lost his mind—gone entirely insane— or perhaps he had been drugged, yes, for there was no other logical explanation as to why on earth he would humour his friends so.

Sitting on the high stool at the bar, he checked his phone, 8:53— he would give her seven more minutes and then he was going to yeet out— that way, at least he could tell the other that he ‘tried’. After all, that was all he promised his friends— that he would show up—nothing more, nothing less.

Tracing his finger along the rim of the whiskey glass, Mitsuhide contemplated the events that transpired leading to this rather unfortunate present day.

All his friends were either dating or married—tragic really—and for some or other reason, they felt the need to pry into his personal life. “Don’t you want to share your life with someone,” the mother of the group started, which inevitably only caused the rest of the group to latch onto the idea and turn the once serious board meeting into a game of matchmaking. It certainly didn’t help that he agreed to a blind date willingly— well semi willingly, anything to get them off his back— adding a condition of his own, that the mouse would have to agree to it from her side without intervention from theirs.

He was confident she would refuse, from the words of friends, she certainly sounded like someone of likewise thinking— a fellow workaholic with no time for dating. But she — to his great surprise— accepted.

It made no sense to him. What made even less sense was why his friends thought the two would click, as personalities and hobbies certainly didn't seem to gell well— at least not in his mind.

Not that any of that mattered as time was ticking away, and she had one more minute to show up before he would call it a night.

A myriad of texts illuminated his phone, and Mitsuhide could only release a dejected sigh from the latest of messages plaguing the group chat. “Be nice and behave yourself,” the mother hen had said.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t,” came the instigation from Masamune, followed by an array of winking faces and smirk emojis. Now you can only imagine the chaos that unleashed upon the group chat with each member laying their own little egg and nugget of wisdom.

“M-Mitsu?” a soft unsure voice spoke up from beside him, tapping him gently on the shoulder.

Switching his phone off, he plastered a snek-like smile across his features before turning his sharp eyes onto the unfortunate little victim of his company.

“My, you must be the little mouse I’ve heard so much about," came the sly words from his mouth as he gestured for you to take a seat beside him.

With a slight smile shot his way, you took up residence on the tall barstool, “In the flesh,” came your cheeky voice as you shrugged off your jacket and placed both elbows on the table to rest your chin upon your hands.

“And you must be the detective?” you quipped back.

Mitsuhide smiled at that, eyes taking on a mischievous glint as he leaned in closer to drop his voice to a dangerous whisper, “of sorts,” he quickly looked behind him — to add to the suspicion— before returning his attention to you, “and you, my dear, have unfortunately been set up and caught in the foxes trap.”

He kept your gaze in all seriousness.

He was sure you had heard the rumours of his interrogation methods, being no secret at all in the little town you occupied, people, unfortunately, liked to gossip — and whether the rumours of his wicked ways of getting information out of suspects had been spread intentionally or not, people tend to move with caution around him. It was, unfortunately, the nature of his job, and as such, led him down this long lonely road.

You narrowed your eyes at the man, silence befalling the pair of you as you held his gaze before responding in an equally intimidating voice, “have you now, or is it you who has been caught in my trap.”

After another pause, you threw your head back in a burst of laughter without a care in the world. 'He seems fun,' you thought, shooting a wink in the direction of the bartender in thanks for the whiskey on the rocks. You picked up the crystal glass and swirled the liquid around before taking a long sip. It had been a long day, so much so that you almost wanted to stand the poor man up, yet you came anyway, if only for a stiff drink to ease the tension of the day.

“So, Mr fox detective, sir, what’s wrong with you that your friends felt the need to set you up on a blind date, and with me of all people! Do they hate you or something?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in curiosity.

In the dimly lit bar, you gave Mitsuhide a quick once over— he was handsome, in a dangerous, mysterious kind of way. He reminded you of a creature of myths— a kitsune— with his white hair and golden eyes accompanied by that razor-sharp smile. Perhaps that is why the rumours surrounding him were all so believable to the simpletons of the town who had nothing better to do than gossip— cause heaven forbid they do actual work for a change. Relatively speaking, you had not paid the gossip much mind. Instead, you were in the business of judging a book for yourself and not by what others rated it as.

“I could ask the same of you, little one?” he returned the question back to you, resting his chin on his hands.

“Well, to put it simply, my friends don’t know the difference between being alone and being lonely,” you said with a sigh, taking another sip of the drink in front of you.

Mitsuhide nodded in response, long fingers tracing over his glass thoughtfully with a hum of acknowledgement as you continued. “I knew if I refused to come tonight, they would just pester me until I agreed, so, in the name of some peace and quiet, here I am,” you ended off with a laugh and shake of the head.

Perhaps that was not entirely true; sometimes, you wondered what it would be like to find love— to have company to attend the various friend’s weddings with— after all, you were forever the bridesmaid and never the bride.

On the other hand, he knew the struggles of meddling friends all too well, and of course, the endless headache that accompanied the refusal of their ‘help’. He lifted his glass towards you, features softening as eyes crinkled at the seams in a semi genuine smile, “to meddlesome friends.”

You smiled brightly at that, clinking your glass with his as a comfortable silence befell the two of you—it looks like you had more in common than just your workaholic ways.

After a couple of minutes had passed, both your phones lit up at the same time, with an array of nosy friends asking about the ongoing date. And the two of you couldn’t help but burst into laughter and shake your heads in unison, “Unbelievable,” you spoke, taking another sip, an idea forming in your head to get them off your case for a little while longer.

Mitsuhide raised a curious brow at you as you silently lifted your phone, scrolling between the apps before landing on the camera. You shot him a mischievous smile before throwing your arm around his shoulder to pull him closer to you, “What do you think they would say if we sent a selfie,” you said, looking into the camera smiling brightly as finger spammed the little circle capturing a dozen or so photos before Mitsuhide even had time to rebuff. You never did mind creating a bit of chaos, and what better way to do so than, god forbid, you actually hit it off with the man.

“I wonder,” was all he said with a sly smile, and to your surprise, Mitsuhide actually smiled in a handful of the ones captured.

You quickly edited the picture, posting it onto the group with a cheeky caption; however, before locking your phone once more, something in the image caught your attention—a little sticker on Mitsuhide’s trench coat lapel. Your brows furrowed as you zoomed in to inspect it before they lifted to the man beside you, to see it in person. With a curious smile and finger pointed out to the little fox sticker, you couldn’t help but ask, “What’s with the little fox?”

“It’s a long story, my dear,” he said with an air of mystery, but you persisted, leaning closer to get a better look.

“Well, I have time,” the words fell from your mouth, followed by another round of drinks ordered.

“You truly wish to know, little one?” he replied with glowing eyes. And that was the beginning of the end.

The origin story of the fox sticker led to another, that, then led to another and then another. Until a fun game started between the two of you— a story for a story— each new tale accompanied by a new round of drinks ordered.

It was now your turn to tell yet another exciting story, this time about your childhood of all things, however, time had quickly slipped away, and before you knew it, your eyelids started to grow heavy with sleep, words coming out slower and slower until finally your head fell and landed on Mistuhised shoulder.

“My, my little one, you should not let your guard down so easily with a man like me,” the tender words were spoken; it was one of those rare occasions Mitsihide dropped his foxlike mask and wore a genuine smile.

He looked over to see you sound asleep, and it seemed that his fingers moved to their own accord, reaching up to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingertips. After a moment or two, he shrugged off his trench coat and draped it over your shoulders to keep you warm and protected from the cold night’s chill.

“Come along, little mouse; I believe it is time for sleepy mice to go to bed.”

He then proceeded to gently hook his arm around your legs and waist, picking you up bridal style and cradling you to his chest.

“You truly are a troublesome little one, whatever shall I do with you,” he spoke fondly as he carefully loaded you into the passenger seat of his car before securing the seatbelt around you, while you, completely unstirred, remained fast asleep.

You awoke the next day in your own bed, splitting headache nagging at your temples as unfocused gaze locked onto a glass of water and aspirin left by your bedside. Sitting up, you wasted no time taking the hangover cure, memories of the previous night flooding your head.

“Shit shit shit shit,” you curse under your breath, throwing yourself back and covering your head with a pillow— how very uncool of you to just pass out in front of a stranger like that, never mind how unsafe.

Your phone buzzed on the bedside table beside you, cutting your groans of embarrassment and cringe short, replacing it instead with a broad smile upon reading the text from your mysterious date.

#akechi mitsuhide #ikemen mitsuhide #mitsuhide fanfic #mitsuhide #mitsuhide x reader #ikesen akechi mitsuhide #Hehehe is a new birthday bash afoot?#i wonder?

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kpopfanfictrash · 5 years

Text

Pride and Fidget Spinners (M)

Author: @kpopfanfictrash , as part of the You’ll Never Shop Alone (YNSA) collaboration with @underthejoon and @suga-kookiemonster

Creative Content Contributor: @underthejoon, for this amazing banner

Rating: 18+

Warnings: oral (female receiving), dirty talk, big dick (it’s seokjin, duh), everyone in this fic is a brat, seokjin talks about fair lending

Genre: Rom-Com / Smut / Enemies to Lovers

Word Count: 18,623

Summary: Seokjin has always prided himself on being the top mall kiosk salesman. His turf, the spot nearest to the fountain, is due to him being the undisputed best in the game. At least, until you arrive and throw his world into chaos.

[ cross-posted to Wattpad here ]

I GET KNOCKED DOWN, BUT I GET UP AGAIN

YOU ARE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN

I GET KNO –

SLAP. Seokjin’s hand finds the buzzer, tuning off his alarm to burrow further under the covers. Sunlight streams through the open windows, pricking the back of his eyelids but Seokjin refuses to look. He can sleep for five more minutes. Five more minutes will not kill him.

Somewhere else in his apartment, a bedroom door slams. Wincing, Seokjin pulls his comforter higher. His roommate, Min Yoongi, spends most of his time annoyed with the world – but especially in the morning, and especially before having coffee. Loud banging continues, along with the sound of facial products hitting the sink. Groaning out loud, Seokjin pulls a pillow over his face.

Unfortunately, he is now awake and unable to slip back into his dream. It was a good one, too. Something about Iron Man and that hot barista at the mall Taehyung is crushing on. Squinting into his pillow, Seokjin abruptly sits up and tosses this on the floor.

“Fuck!” he yelps, throwing up a hand.

Every day, Seokjin somehow forgets to close his blinds before sleeping. Groping his way into the bathroom, Seokjin ruffles a hand through mussed morning hair. Turning on both taps in his shower, he waits for the water to warm and stares at himself in the mirror.

Clapping both hands to his face, Seokjin drags down the side of his cheeks. Getting older is weird.

Before he can get too hung up on this fact, Seokjin steps into the tub. “I GET KNOCKED DOWN,” he sings, lathering himself with soap. “BUT I GET UP AGAIN!”

Once out of the shower, dried and with a towel wrapped around his waist, Seokjin wanders into his closet. The sight dims his spirits a bit, seeing rows and rows of neatly pressed suits. Seokjin stares them each down in turn, knowing blinking is a weakness.

Reaching past them, he sighs.

The one at the front is navy, pin-striped and stares at him mockingly. Seokjin remembers wearing that one on his first day of work, nearly three years ago. He remembers how proud his parents were of him when he called them on his way home.

Seokjin’s heart sinks at the memory. That first phone call overlaps with another, less pleasant one. The one after his company decided to move their programming center out of his city. Seokjin was not one of the engineers selected to go. He was – rather unceremoniously – let go.

Let go. Seokjin snorts at the memory. Let go is such a nicer way to say fired. Fired has the ring of burnt smoke to it; it stinks of crumbling foundations and all hell breaking loose. If a company wants to yank one’s livelihood out from under them, Seokjin at least feels they should have the decency to call it what it is. Let go.

Shaking his head, Seokjin pushes past the suit to grab a white button-down. It has been nearly six months since that second call. Four months since his severance ran out and Seokjin realized he needed a job. Three months and three weeks since he began working at the Fidget Funk – even thinking the name makes Seokjin wince.

If someone had told him three years ago that he, Kim Seokjin, with his fancy degree and multiple years of experience, would ever be working a glorified mall job, Seokjin would have laughed in their face. He would have asked what they were smoking and if he could share – and yet. Here he is.

Frowning at himself in the mirror, Seokjin zips up his pants. Perhaps the worst part is that Seokjin was not upset when he was ‘let go.’ He was not actually disappointed by the firing, which disappointed his parents even more. When Bob and Karen from HR sat him down in that tiny, white room and handed him a tiny, white packet, Seokjin could not stop grinning.

His colleagues thought he had been kept when he left the room. That is how much Seokjin hated that company. His pure joy at finally leaving was enough to make up for the sucky way it happened.

Honestly, Seokjin was not surprised when he was fired. His entire last year he worked there, Seokjin spent most of his free time designing apps on his phone. No wonder they let him go, come to think of it. He was hardly their employee of the year.

Grabbing both wallet and keys, Seokjin shoves these into his pockets. Stepping into the hall, he glances at Yoongi’s room. “Yoongi!” he calls. No answer. “Hey! Min Yoongi!”

Continued silence, apart from the harsh thud of bass.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, Seokjin tries again. “MIN YOONGI!”

The door at the end of the hall opens, hitting the wall. “What?” With a yawn, Yoongi drags a hand through his hair. Bleached blond strands fall about his face. “You said 10:00 AM. It’s 10:01.”

“Right.” Seokjin looks at him pointedly. “But I need to have the kiosk set up by 10:30, or else Bertha gets pissed.”

Yoongi walks past him and frowns. “Who’s Bertha? I don’t remember you working with anyone named Bertha.”

“I don’t.” Seokjin shrugs. Today is one of the rare days their work schedules lined up and – amazingly enough – Yoongi agreed to carpool. “Bertha is the name of my fidget spinner display. She’s temperamental.”

Yoongi groans, shutting the door. “Dude, you need to get a hobby.”

“I do have a hobby!”

“Then, get a girlfriend,” says Yoongi, sliding his keys from the lock. “You have way too much free time on your hands.”

“Do not,” Seokjin mutters, shoving both hands in his pockets as they walk to his car. “I’m working on loads of stuff.”

“Oh, really?” Yoongi flips his phone. “Which amazing app is it today? Let me guess. The one which meows every time a cat comes near? Or, the one which ranks all the apps in your phone from most to least used? Or, maybe –”

“Hey!” Cutting him off, Seokjin pulls open his car door. “You left out Alliterate! The handy app which suggests words which start with the same letter as yours – for casual alliteration.”

Yoongi stares over the roof of his car. “Dude, who would buy that?”

“English majors. Dramatic teenagers writing letters in the eighteenth century.”

“Seokjin.” Yoongi slides into the passenger seat. “You don’t give a fuck about any of these ideas, and therein lies your problem.”

“Oh, really?” Seokjin sticks his keys into the ignition. The car is sweltering, baking from having been left in the sun all morning. “Unlike you and your SoundCloud rapping?”

“Exactly unlike me and my SoundCloud rapping.” Grinning, Yoongi buckles his seatbelt and looks over at Seokjin. “Speaking of which – I have a new track to play.”

“No.”

Turning on the engine, Seokjin winces when a red warning light appears. He apparently needs an oil change soon but – with what money?

“Yes.” Yoongi reaches out, already hooking up his phone. “Just these two hooks, okay? Tell me which one you like more.”

Twelve minutes later, Seokjin pulls into his unofficial parking spot at the mall. “Will you look at that?” he says, turning off the engine. “We’re here! Time to go sell those fidgets!”

Rolling his eyes, Yoongi pushes open the door. Shoving his white Auntie Anne’s visor further up on his head, he glances around. “You’ll be sorry,” he says, slamming the door. “You’ll all be sorry!” Yoongi yells at the empty parking lot.

Patting him once on the back, Seokjin walks inside. “You know that I like your music.” Seokjin shivers when they both hit the AC. “More than like it, in fact. You’re too good and you know it – your head is inflated, and I have to take you down a peg.”

Yoongi scoffs. “Yeah, because all this pretzel rolling is inflating my ego. I’m basically Kanye, pre-Kim. Or Kanye, post-Kim. Say what you will about the guy, he’s remarkably consistent about how good he thinks he is.”

Snorting, Seokjin quiets when they pass by Kay Jewelers. Both men swerve to avoid eye contact, since they never know when what’s-her-name will be working. Seokjin makes a face. He always forgets her name, but the Kay Jewelers girl is usually after the dick of someone in the mall. Both he and Yoongi have been on the receiving end of that hunt before.

“Alright.” Coming to a stop at his kiosk, Seokjin lowers his gym bag to the ground. “Here is where I bid thee adieu.”

Yoongi continues walking. “Bye.”

“BYE, BEST FRIEND!” Seokjin yells, waving as Yoongi crosses the food court.

Several heads turn, and Seokjin continues waving until his roommate is gone. Grinning, Seokjin returns to his kiosk. Unlocking the metal grating, he pulls this up to reveal a brightly colored display. The morning routine is standard. Inventory, balancing the register, ensuring all displays are functional. Each time he passes the front, Seokjin sees his name on the register.

The kiosk’s top salesman, three months in a row.

It might seem like a silly thing to be proud of, but Seokjin is at a point in his life where everything has gone wrong. Everything he does seems to become a failure and even though he hates this job and hates these fidget spinners (okay, that’s harsh – no one hates fidget spinners), at least he can succeed at this one, small thing.

Selling shit to people they absolutely do not need.

Leaning against the counter, Seokjin crosses an ankle to wait. The mall opens on weekdays at 11:00 AM, prompt. Some places are open earlier – like Java Joe’s, the coffee shop, and maybe the gym – but Seokjin’s kiosk is standard mall hours. Rubbing his eyes, Seokjin glances longingly in the direction of Java Joe’s, but there are only five minutes until the mall opens. He needs to remain where he is.

Pulling his phone from his jacket, he shoots off a quick text.

Seokjin: yo [10:55 AM]

It takes a moment for Namjoon to respond.

Namjoon: what do you want? [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: nothing!!! [10:56 AM]

Namjoon: … [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: ok fine [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: I’ll come clean [10:56 AM]

Seokjin: are you doing the morning shift at T-Mobile [10:56 AM]

Namjoon: …. Yes [10:57 AM]

Namjoon: why? [10:57 AM]

Seokjin: do u think… on ur next break… u could bring me some coffee?? [10:57 AM]

Namjoon: get it yourself [10:58 AM]

Seokjin: pleaseeee Joon?? I never ask you for anything! [10:58 AM]

Seokjin: Chad called in sick, so I’m here all alone : ( [10:58 AM]

Namjoon: sigh. Fine – can you hang on until 1? [10:58 AM]

Seokjin: : ( [10:58 AM]

Namjoon: ur the worst but fine, I’ll try to get away sooner [10:59 AM]

Seokjin: THANKS JOON [10:59 AM]

Seokjin: grande iced Americano, no milk [10:59 AM]

Namjoon: u wouldn’t treat Yoongi like this [10:59 AM]

Seokjin snorts, shoving his phone in his pocket. He absolutely would treat Yoongi like this – problem is, Yoongi rarely responds. He usually spends his work breaks engrossed in his music. If anything, Seokjin is the one who brings coffee to him.

The first two hours pass by at a glacial pace. Seokjin regularly looks at his watch, wondering why the day is moving so slowly. True, it is a weekday but there is usually steady traffic. Stay at home parents and high school kids with nothing better to do than spend their summers at the mall, drinking Orange Julius’ next to the fountain.

It took Seokjin two months to convince his boss to put in for this spot. Next to the fountain is prime mall real estate, since you need to pass by it in order to reach anywhere else. Which is why it is strange that Seokjin has had zero customers.

He is still frowning when Namjoon appears at his workplace, iced coffee in hand. Namjoon wears his T-Mobile manager uniform, complete with a badge which declares his name and title. Kim Namjoon, Assistant Manager.

“Two?” Seokjin fake gasps, holding out a hand. “All for me?”

“Nope.” Namjoon only gives one to him. “One is for me.”

“Rude.” Seokjin sniffs, turning to survey the mall.

“What is? The fact that I brought you coffee?”

“Sure.”

Namjoon laughs. “What’s up with you today? You seem super distracted.”

Squinting at the fountain, Seokjin shakes his head. “I don’t know. Things have been so quiet today. Is there something going on? A deal at Woodbury mall, or something?”

“Hm.” Namjoon’s brow furrows. “Not that I know of, I – oh, wait.” He straightens, glancing across the food court. “When I was walking over here, I did see a new kiosk. Maybe they’re taking some of your customers?”

“A new kiosk?” Seokjin looks up in alarm. “Where?”

“There.” Namjoon points behind a browning, potted plant.

Seokjin peers in the direction Namjoon is pointing. In his line of vision stands a brand-spanking-new kiosk. The sides are all pristine, gleaming and white, with the kind of bright-colored accents designed to draw people in. Neat boxes of toys line the shelves, almost as pretty as Seokjin’s own display.

Groaning, Seokjin sinks to his kiosk. “Drones?” He glances at Namjoon. “How are fidget spinners supposed to compete with fucking drones?”

“Dunno.” Namjoon takes a sip of his coffee. “I first saw them this morning, but they’re getting pretty good business. Nearly tripped over their salesgirl on my way here. She’s cute,” he adds, glancing at Seokjin.

Seokjin glowers. “Cuter than me?”

“Maybe.” Namjoon shrugs.

“Impossible.” Seokjin glares in the direction of the kiosk. On one side, he can barely make out the shape of a worker and based on what he sees, Seokjin begrudgingly thinks Namjoon might be right. You could be cute.

Namjoon drains the rest of his cup. “Well. Gotta go,” he says cheerfully, clapping Seokjin on the back. “Breaks don’t last forever. Hope the rest of your day picks up.”

“Thanks,” Seokjin mutters. “Hope so, too.”

Namjoon leaves, returning the same way he came towards the T-Mobile store. Seokjin continues to glance at the competing kiosk, staring with envy at its remote-controlled helicopters.

Up until now, the competitive landscape at the mall has been easy. There is a guy on the second floor selling Proactive but other than that, Seokjin has never had real competition. Until now, it would seem.

Rather than be turned off by this fact, Seokjin tilts his head. The only reason he lasted as long as he did at his prior company is because of how competitive he is. Even if Seokjin does not care about the product, he still works tirelessly to be called number one. He should stop by and check out the competition – just to be certain there is no real risk.

Seokjin’s phone buzzes, revealing a text from his boss. Lisa will be here at 5:00 PM, meaning Seokjin only must hold out a few hours before he can see the new kiosk.

Only a few more hours until he knows what he is up against.

Lisa’s arrival at five means Seokjin is afforded a half-hour break. He uses this to grab food, bothering Yoongi at Auntie Anne’s before moving on. Dinnertime at the mall is typically crowded and Yoongi tends to throw mustard if Seokjin overstays his welcome.

Not wanting to ruin his button-down, Seokjin wanders in the direction of your kiosk. He eyes this as he approaches, finding the reality of the situation to be worse than he feared. The drones you stock are cool and what is more – they are all beautifully displayed. The stand might even rival Bertha.

Crossing both arms over his chest, Seokjin examines the kiosk. The products are neat, all of them aligned in carefully placed rows. The fingers on his right hand twitch, really wanting to touch the remote- controlled helicopters, but before he can move –

“Can I help you?” you ask, bright and cheerful. Seokjin flinches, gaze darting to you.

Fuck – seeing you up close, Seokjin’s jaw nearly hits the ground. You are gorgeous. There is no other word for it. The smile you give is infections; it makes him want to smile back. More than that – Seokjin finds himself wanting to be the reason for that smile, but no! Straightening his spine, Seokjin reminds himself that you are the competition.

Looking at you, his scowl deepens.

Your own smile falters. “Did you want me to take that one out?” you ask, pointing at the drone. “Show you how it works?”

Seokjin shrugs, as though he could not care less. “I’m not here to buy, actually.”

Now, it is your turn to look confused. “I – uh, okay.” You squint. “Then, why are you here?”

Seokjin realizes how creepy he sounds. In your eyes, he has wandered over, stared at your merchandise for a prolonged period of time and then announced he was not here to buy. A grade-A creep rivaled only by that one flasher who lurks in female footwear.

“Uh…” Backtracking, Seokjin jerks a thumb over his shoulder. “I work at that kiosk, actually. I’m Seokjin.”

Unimpressed, you glance in this direction. “Y/N. And – uh, okay?”

“I stopped by to say hello. And to see what you’re selling.”

As he speaks, you read the name of his kiosk. Your upper lip twitches as slowly, you return to looking at him. Seokjin is unnerved by your smile. For some reason, he has the sinking suspicion he is the butt of your joke.

“Oh,” you say, tone entirely different. “That kiosk. Brandi mentioned you.”

“Brandi?”

“My boss.” You wave towards the middle-aged woman on the other side of the kiosk. Seokjin thinks he has seen her around before. “She said you’ve been selling pretty well the past couple of months. Great job.”

Seokjin tries not to seem smug – there is an undercurrent to your tone which screams subterfuge. “I mean, yeah,” he says carefully. “Things are going pretty well for us.”

“Strange, then.”

“What is?”

“Strange that we’re doing so much better than you.”

Someone could scrape Seokjin’s jaw off the dirty, child-scuffed floor. You smirk at him, tapping two fingers against the pretty, floral sleeve of your tunic. If Seokjin did not know better, he would think you were flirting with him.

Except you just fucking insulted him.

“I…” Shaking his head, Seokjin’s voice is strangled. “Mall traffic has been slow this morning. No big deal. I guess once you’ve been around longer, you’ll know that.”

“Hm.” You purse your lips. “I don’t know – things have been pretty crazy for us today. We already ran out of a product. Wild, right?”

Seokjin’s mouth dries, his ears starting to buzz – all evidence of his pure hatred of you. Obviously. It could not be anything else.

“You ran… out of something? Already?”

Seokjin’s voice squeaks on the last word, making him cringe.

“Not bad, huh? Although, I guess once we’ve ‘been around longer,’” you mock with a grin, “we’ll get more lulls. Must be nice.”

In the face of his clear disbelief, you have the nerve to wink.

Seokjin begins to see red. “Yeah,” he croaks, recovering himself. “Beginner’s luck is nice, too.”

Your smile disappears. “How long is your break? I don’t think my kiosk could afford to have me gone for so long.”

Not looking away, Seokjin shoves the rest of his pretzel in his mouth. Chewing exaggeratedly, he watches you wince. “Sorry,” he mumbles around cinnamon-sugar bread. “Thanks for the reminder. I do need to be getting back. Can’t have my kiosk without its top salesman.”

Nose wrinkled; you continue to stare. “If that’s your idea of finesse, I think they can manage without you.”

“Please.” Seokjin gives you a pointed look. “I’m literally dripping with finesse.”

Your lips twitch, suppressing the gesture. Seokjin is impressed by your stoicism, since he knows he is a good-looking guy. That much is a non-debatable fact. Even if it were not, he can see by the way your gaze lingers, that you like what you see. And still – when your gaze returns to his face, your expression is artfully composed.

Fuck, Seokjin realizes. You really are going to be competition.

“Is that all?” Blithely, you turn. “Did you just stop by to see how much better we’re doing?”

Seokjin scowls at your arguably perfect behind. “I came to see how much product you have left, yeah.”

Glancing over your shoulder, you grin. “Why? Worried we’ll sell out before you can buy?”

“No.” Undercutting his conviction, Seokjin glances again at the helicopter. “I’ve got my hands full, thanks.”

“Ri-ght.” You draw out the word. “Then, you should probably get back to the, uh – Fidget Funk.”

Seokjin’s ears turn red with embarrassment. “I will,” he blurts, spinning around on his heel. “You have fun at the Drone Dome – fuck,” he mutters, coming to a stop. “That’s actually such a cool name.”

Without waiting for a response, he stalks away. All the way across the food court, your laughter rings out behind him. Upon reaching his kiosk, Seokjin glances over his shoulder. You are not paying attention to him, already engaged with another customer and Seokjin’s stomach slowly sinks.

He might be in trouble – and in more ways than one.

Seokjin arrives the next day ready for battle.

Before, he was unprepared – caught off guard by your wily ways, but no longer! He is Kim Seokjin, crusader of goals and defender of the kiosk. The fact that Seokjin does not care about fidget spinners does not matter. They are his unfortunate chosen weapon and so, he will die upon this metaphorical sword.

Leaning against his kiosk, Seokjin spins a toy in one hand. Smiling and nodding at everyone who passes, he tries not to seem creepy or make eye contact for too long. This is the number one rule of kiosk sales – be deliberate, but approachable.

Most kiosk salespeople fail here, never ascending past the first stage of selling. They leer at shoppers, approaching women with earbuds in, or spraying perfume without asking. Not Seokjin. Seokjin is the very image of class, one ankle crossed over the other.

Seated at the food court is a large group of collegiate girls. At least, Seokjin assumes this based off one girl’s University sweatshirt. They sit clustered around Starbucks drinks (a slap in the face to Java Joe’s!), giggling every so often and glancing at Seokjin. Despite knowing they see him, Seokjin pretends not to care. Every so often, he pushes a hand through his hair and angles himself in the light.

Eventually, he knows one will come over and when they do, Seokjin will whip out the charm. A shadow steps into his path, blocking the sunlight.

Seokjin frowns. “Get out of the way,” he says, bored. “I almost have a sale.”

Arms crossed; you glance over a shoulder. The group of girls glare at you, clearly perturbed at having their view interrupted.

Snorting, you return to Seokjin. “Oh, please. So, what – you’re a pedophile, in addition to creep?”

Jerking upright, Seokjin scowls. “I am not a pedophile. I’m just trying to make a sale.”

“Of what kind?” you ask pleasantly.

“Fidget spinners.”

“Hm. Could’ve fooled me.”

Shrugging, you take a long sip of your coffee. Seokjin tries not to linger on the way your lips wrap around the straw.

I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he says stiffly. “Now, move. You’re blocking my light.”

“Whatever,” you yawn, leaving. As you enter the food court, you give Seokjin an excellent view of your backside walking away. “We’ll still beat your sales target today, anyways!” you call back.

Glaring at your retreating head, Seokjin holds out for as long as he can before dropping his gaze to your ass. Waggling fingers over your shoulder, you disappear behind the potted plant. The college girls resume looking at him but now, Seokjin finds he does not care.

Really, he should be thanking you. As soon as you are gone, three of the girls wander up to his kiosk. Seokjin sells five fidget spinners in one hour, thanks to the jealousy your presence provoked. Rather than be pleased by this fact though, Seokjin becomes even more agitated. He does not like feeling in your debt.

The next time your shifts overlap, determined to get even, Seokjin switches tactics. He parks on the opposite end of the mall, necessitating he should walk by your kiosk. Yoongi complains about this, but Seokjin merely ignores him.

Slowing as he passes your kiosk, Seokjin waits for you to look up.

Both elbows leaned to the counter, you scroll casually through your phone. When your gaze flicks up, taking him in – you blink.

“Oh, come on,” you groan.

Waving to Yoongi, Seokjin veers in your direction. “Oh, hey!” He stops at your display, nonchalantly stretching his arms overhead. “Having a good morning?”

Gaze darting to his pants and back up, you almost seem flustered. “I – how tight are those jeans?”

Seokjin’s grin widens. “What, these old things?”

Turning around, Seokjin checks out his own ass, as though surprised by its appearance. He is rather proud of his legs, actually. There is a reason Seokjin spends so much time in the gym with Jungkook. His newly bought skinny jeans show off his best assets. Not to mention how satisfying it is to see you rendered speechless.

Your gaze returns to his, smoldering. “There’s a tag still in the pocket, genius.”

“Oh.” Grandly, Seokjin plucks this off – fuck, that just cost him an entire week of spending allowance. “Well, there you go. Wouldn’t want to distract from the view.”

Jaw clenched, you seem as though you want to say more, but hold yourself back. “Great.”

Seokjin smirks. “Isn’t it?”

Whirling around, you pretend to be busy but Seokjin can tell your register has already been counted.

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your kiosk?” You glower, glancing over your shoulder. “I’d hate to waste any more of your time standing here.”

Seokjin’s grin broadens. “You’re right,” he agrees. “That’d be a shame. See you around, Y/N!”

Happily, he turns and walks back the food court. With each step his grin widens, imagining you watching him leave. The rest of his day is spent in lazy self-satisfaction.

As it turns out, Seokjin should have been warier. Your silence was not acceptance of defeat, but a determined self-call to arms. The very next day, Seokjin walks past your kiosk and nearly spills his drink down his shirt.

You stand off to the side, bent to display a generous amount of cleavage. Seokjin’s jaw drops, unable to look away. He realizes how inappropriate he is being when you look up and see him.

“Seokjin!” Straightening, you wave.

The action makes your breasts bounce, causing Seokjin’s pants to feel tighter.

Yoongi snorts at his side. “Good luck, man,” he says, patting Seokjin once on the back before walking away.

Seokjin is left alone, facing the wiles of his enemy.

“Hey,” you say, raising both brows. “Seokjin? Are you okay?”

Forcing himself to move, Seokjin walks robotically forward. He does not allow himself to look below your collarbone – fuck, you must be wearing a push-up bra. There is no other way a single day could cause such a dramatic transformation.

Unable to help himself, Seokjin sneaks another peek.

When he looks up, you are smirking at him. “See something you like?”

The tips of Seokjin’s ears turn crimson. “I – what?”

“The merchandise,” you say sweetly, waving a hand. “We just got in a few new toys over the weekend.”

Seokjin has no response to this, having momentarily forgotten what words are.

Your lips twitch. “Is something wrong, Seokjin?”

Seeing the teasing look in your eyes, Seokjin fumes. “Nothing’s wrong,” he says, jaw snapping shut. “I’ll just be on my way, then. Lots of… fidgets to spin.”

Turning around, he dramatically walks off.

He cannot help but feel oddly unsettled, throat burning in a way which does not make sense. Anger, he tells himself. The emotion is merely annoyance. It is completely natural he would hate his competitor. Natural, for him to think about what their lips would look like shut up by his.

It takes two weeks for Seokjin to enact the next phase of his plan. Which is – dramatic entertainment. Basically, phase two involves Seokjin researching fidget spinner hand tricks for hours at a time on YouTube. It reaches to the point where Seokjin is in near hibernation. Jungkook sends him texts every so often, asking when he will return to the gym, but Seokjin is a man on a mission and cannot be stopped.

He starts off slowly, learning the simple fidget spinner hand transfer. Next is the hand twist, rated Difficulty Level Two by the most known YouTube star. From there, learning the around the back is easy. This maneuver is more complex – it involves Seokjin physically throwing the fidget spinner over his shoulder to catch in the other hand.

Once Seokjin can control two fidget spinners at once, he deems himself ready.

Phase two goes into action on a busy Saturday afternoon. Seokjin hijacks the Fidget Funk’s speakers, hooking up his iPhone to the horror of his co-worker, Lisa.

“Oh, no,” she groans. “Please tell me you aren’t doing what I think you’re doing.”

“Are you thinking I’m doing a fidget spinner trick show?” Seokjin adjusts the sweatband on his forehead. “Alright, then. I won’t tell you.”

“God, how embarrassing.” Lisa slumps low in her chair. “Well, at least do it before Chad gets here.”

“Noted. What song should I use?” Seokjin flips through his playlist. “Hero by Enrique Iglesias? Whatcha Say by Jason Derulo? The Cha Cha Slide?”

Lisa stares in disbelief. “What vibe are you going for, exactly?”

“None of those?” Seokjin frowns. “What about All Star by Smash Mouth?”

“How about Cotton Eyed Joe?” Lisa offers. “That seems more fitting with all of… this.”

Ignoring her sarcasm, Seokjin selects a song to press play. The first notes of Everybody by Backstreet Boys plays through the speakers. Lisa groans and slumps even lower.

At first, no one notices Seokjin at all. People sidestep him, focused solely on getting to the food court but then, Seokjin executes a perfect shoulder throw. A kid stops to watch. His mom stops too, trying to drag her kid forward but failing in her mission.

“Hey!” Seokjin beams, switching the spinner from one hand to the other. “Want to see more?”

The boy nods and before long, Seokjin has managed to gather a small crowd. Over the ooh’s and ahs of children, Seokjin converses with their moms.

“Fidget spinners are proven to help concentration in both kids and adults,” Seokjin says with a hand twist. “One of my friends was telling me a story the other day. He and this AVP at his office are both tactile people and remember better while doing something with their hands. So, they end up having this entire meeting while playing with fidget spinners from her office.”

The moms all laugh, moving forward to let their kids pick out a toy. By the time the day ends, Seokjin has beaten all previous sales records. He has also managed to capture the attention of most people in the mall – including you.

And Namjoon, who stops by before closing.

“Dude,” Namjoon laughs, leaning one arm to his kiosk. “Why are you being so extra lately? It’s just a temp job. Who cares?”

“I care, Namjoon.” Seokjin bristles. “Is it so wrong to want to do well at my work? To want to improve the sales of my peers. Frankly, Namjoon, I’m insulted you would –”

“Hey, Kim!” you yell, passing by. “Heard you’re trying to break into show business!”

Seokjin abruptly stops talking. “Trying?” he calls back. “I’m already there. Were you able to catch a performance?”

Rolling your eyes, you walk backwards. “Of course, I did! The whole fucking mall saw you, Seokjin. Your music was so loud, people physically moved in the food court.”

Seokjin’s grin widens. “What’d you think?”

“I think you should stick to sales.” Shaking your head, you try not to smile. “Anyways, just wait until you see what we’re doing this weekend. It’ll make your lame tricks look like nothing!”

“Can’t wait!” Seokjin cups both hands over his mouth. “I love to watch lofty dreams come crashing down!”

Shaking your head, you turn around and disappear into the mall. Once you are gone, Seokjin returns to Namjoon.

“What?” he blinks, seeing his friend’s smug expression.

Namjoon’s smile widens. “Oh, nothing.”

“What?”

Namjoon merely laughs, grabbing his smoothie and turning away. “Good luck with that, man!”

Seokjin stares after, not understanding but deciding it is not worth his while. Namjoon always thinks he knows so much – granted, he usually does, but that is not the point. The point is Seokjin does not and so, he should not worry about it now.

The next day is busy, which means Seokjin barely has time to consider the performance you mentioned. He is again covering for Lisa, who failed to show up. Chad and Seokjin are the only ones covering the kiosk, which Seokjin despises because Chad is his least favorite co-worker. Lisa may be flaky, but at least her presence is tolerable. Chad is always going off on tangents about who wronged him on Twitter that day, and why.

Chad is also terrible at customer service – no surprise – which means Seokjin must handle all returns and exchanges. A tedious task in itself, let alone with Chad’s monotonous voice in his ears. In fact, the morning is so busy, Seokjin barely remembers to eat, let alone visit you.

It is the sound of cheers over the food court which make him look up.

Midway through a transaction, Seokjin pauses to glance at your kiosk. You and your Manager – Brandi – stand before it, navigating two competing drones in the air. It seems several people are betting on which drone will win.

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin returns to his customer. Smiling blandly, he hands the woman her money and ignores the wild cheers growing steadily behind him. It makes Seokjin’s teeth grind, realizing you might be drawing a bigger crowd than he did.

Unable to stop himself, he peers over his shoulder. Seokjin’s eyes widen. Above the food court, a helicopter loops circles around a remote-controlled plane. They no longer seem to be racing, dive- bombing the crowd and swooping up at the last second. Kids squeal in excitement, running around underneath.

Seokjin scowls, slamming shut the register. His mind revolts at the knowledge that your show is better than his – also, there is the maddening fact that Seokjin wants a drone for himself. Huffing under his breath, Seokjin turns away.

Before he can tell Chad he is going on break, a scream pierces the crowd.

“MOVE!” Seokjin hears your voice above the rest. “KIDS, MOVE!”

Seokjin whirls around, spotting the helicopter spinning out of control. Kids duck from its path, their hands held overhead as the helicopter sputters, dips and sputters again. Steam curls from its top, clearly not responding to the remote you hold in one hand.

Worse than that, the drone is headed in their direction.

“Chad, move!” Seokjin yells, diving out of the way.

Chad looks up just in time to see the helicopter crash into their kiosk.

Fidget spinners fly every which way. From his spot on the floor, several hit Seokjin in the back of his legs – he winces, curling into himself. Chad’s sputtering continues above as the slow whir of helicopter blades begins to wind down.

Seokjin hesitantly looks up. The kiosk above him is chaos. Nothing seems to be broken, but his carefully placed display – Bertha! – is entirely out of whack. Brightly colored boxes lie on the floor, shelving hanging precariously off the sides of the kiosk.

You dash into view, skidding to a stop inches away from his nose. “I’m so sorry!” you cry, a useless remote held in one hand. “I don’t know what happened, I swear.”

Your gaze darts to Seokjin’s, still lying prostrate on the floor.

He slowly pushes himself to stand, staring in shock at the disastrous kiosk. Seokjin expects to feel angry. He should feel pissed, since all his hard work was erased and now, he will have to spend several hours cleaning it up, but – nothing.

Well, that is not entirely true.

Seokjin wishes he could wipe that look of distress from your face. “It’s alright,” he says, still looking at you.

Surprise flickers over your expression.

Chad steps out from behind the kiosk. “Oh… my… god,” he says, eyes wide.

“I’m really sorry,” you repeat, face twisted in agony.

Before you can continue, your manager appears. “Go back to the kiosk, Y/N,” she says, sighing. “There are a bunch of customers to take care of. I’ll handle this.”

It appears you wish to say more, but a stern look from Brandi is silencing. Giving Seokjin an apologetic look, you turn on your heel to walk across the food court.

Brandi waits until you are out of earshot before looking at Seokjin. “I’m sorry about the disruption,” she offers.

Seokjin tears his gaze away. “It’s okay.”

“What?!” Chad stomps out to point a finger at Brandi. “It is not okay! You and your dumb drones wrecked our display!”

Brandi looks at his finger, unimpressed. She glances at Seokjin. “You can throw that helicopter away. If anything of yours has been damaged, let me know. We’ll pay for it – just send me an itemized receipt by the end of the day, okay?”

Seokjin nods, a bit thrown by the interaction. “Yeah, alright. Sounds good.”

Brandi looks at him thankfully, turning around to return to her kiosk. Once she is gone, Chad whirls on Seokjin.

“Man, what the fuck?”

Bending, Seokjin picks up a lone fidget spinner. “What do you mean, what the fuck?”

“They should’ve…” Chad trails off, shaking his head. “Done more. I don’t know. They should’ve cleaned up the whole area, or something!”

Seokjin snorts, replacing the toy on the counter. “Relax,” he says. “It’s not like anything is seriously damaged. We just need to re-stock the display and besides, they don’t know how to do that. It’ll be faster if we do it.”

“Even so,” Chad mutters. He begins cleaning up, casting an angry glance in the direction of the Drone Dome. “They should still fucking pay.”

“They will, if anything’s broken,” Seokjin says simply.

He then tunes Chad out, putting himself to work. Re-stocking Bertha takes a while but, in the end, Seokjin is happier with its order. He keeps thinking you will stop by after your shift, but you do not. Perhaps you are too embarrassed to do so, or maybe Brandi warned you not to go near them again.

Whatever the reason, Seokjin cannot leave before closing. When he finally passes kiosk on his way to the gym, everything is closed, and you are nowhere in sight.

Seokjin lingers a moment before he moves on.

SLAM.

Seokjin drops his barbells, the sound echoing through the gym in a satisfying way. Several women on the elliptical look up in annoyance.

“Sorry!” Seokjin calls, wiping sweat from his neck.

Although the women continue to glare, they return to their workout. Jungkook snickers into the sleeve of his t-shirt, biceps bulging beneath the tight fit of his clothes. Pulling a power bar from his pocket, Jungkook waves at the weights Seokjin discarded.

“Give me ten more.”

Seokjin glares. “Go choke.”

“Can’t.” Unwrapping his snack, Jungkook takes a large bite. “Told my current hook-up that was just for her.”

“Gross.” Seokjin groans, bending to grab the weights. “I didn’t need to know that.”

Jungkook grins, displaying chocolate and teeth. “Ten more,” he repeats.

Despite several muttered curse words under his breath, Seokjin obeys. Dropping the weights again on the floor – in direct defiance of the no weight-dropping sign – Seokjin grabs his knees with both hands.

“Alright,” he huffs, squinting at Jungkook. “I don’t care anymore if I’m in shape. I care more about snacks. Snacks and alcohol.”

“I’m choosing to ignore that.” Jungkook takes another bite. “I’m using one of my free guest passes on you, so you better be worth it.”

Rolling his eyes, Seokjin takes a long swig from his water bottle. Despite this, he still follows Jungkook as they walk to the treadmills. Jungkook is right, he is doing Seokjin a favor by letting him work out for free. Truth be told, Seokjin hated Jungkook when he first began at the mall. Jungkook was young, good- looking and got tons of attention – male and female, alike.

He was the competition.

Over time though, this distrust dissolved and somehow, Jungkook is now one of Seokjin’s closest friends. When he is not annoying the hell out of him, that is.

Throwing his wrapper in the trash, Jungkook wipes both palms on his pants. “So.” Stepping onto a treadmill, he turns the speed to three. “How’s it going with drone girl?”

Seokjin follows suit. “She knocked over my display today.”

“Like, on purpose?”

“Nah.” Seokjin shakes his head. “On accident. She was doing a demo and one of the helicopter drones broke. Crashed into my kiosk.”

“Oh.” Jungkook’s brow furrows. “Still – annoying. Increase your speed.”

Seokjin obeys. “Eh,” he huffs, beginning to jog. “I don’t think it was on purpose. But still, she’s just so frustrating.”

“What’s frustrating? Increase your speed again to four.”

“I don’t know,” Seokjin says, following suit. “She’s frustrating. She has this way of looking at me, you know?”

“Looking at you in like, a creepy way?”

“No…” Seokjin’s feet pound the treadmill. “She’s a tease.”

“Sounds hot.”

“She keeps messing with me.”

“You keep messing with her.”

“She made fun of my fidget spinners!”

Jungkook bursts into laughter. To add insult to injury, he barely seems winded at all by their run and Seokjin is panting.

“Dude. Fidget spinners suck. I’ve heard you say that on multiple occasions.”

“Sure, but she doesn’t have to say that!”

“Whatever, bro.” Jungkook grins. “Sounds to me like you want to fuck her.”

Seokjin is so startled, he nearly trips on the treadmill. “I do not.”

“No judgement here! Do it once, get it out of your system.”

“I don’t want to fuck her, Jungkook.” Seokjin glares in his direction. “She hates me. And I hate her!”

“O-h,” Jungkook says knowingly. “So, you’re in love with her. I get it. Increase your speed to five.”

Seokjin obeys, face turning beet-red. “Jungkook,” he growls. “Shut the fuck up.”

“Make me.”

Reaching out, Seokjin turns the speed on Jungkook’s treadmill to eight.

“Hey!” Jungkook yelps, breaking into a sprint. He manages to keep up, pushing a hand through his hair. When Seokjin rolls his eyes, Jungkook grins. “Nailed it.”

Seokjin returns to his machine. “Besides, you’re one to talk,” he mutters. “Aren’t you in love with the juice girl, or something?”

On reflex, Jungkook glances over his shoulder. Seokjin can tell by his lovesick expression he is right. Juice girl only started working recently at the gym and from what Seokjin can tell, Jungkook is entirely smitten. He has never been subtle about the women he likes, but with juice girl, Jungkook seems to have met his match.

She is completely immune to his charms. Seokjin cannot help but feel sympathy for the guy. Or – at least, he does until Jungkook returns to him with a grin.

“So.” He wriggles his eyebrows. “How hot is kiosk girl, anyways?”

“No.” Seokjin reaches out to increase Jungkook’s incline. “You’re not going to fuck my mortal enemy.”

“Well, if you’re not going to.”

“Think about juice girl!” Seokjin yells – entirely unintentional, but he is running out of breath.

Jungkook retaliates by upping his speed. By the end of their sprint, Seokjin feels like collapsing. He steps off his treadmill with wobbly legs, feeling as though he has just run a marathon. Not that Seokjin would ever run a marathon, of course, but he can imagine. Jungkook follows suit, hopping down from his machine.

“Good workout.” Jungkook wipes his forehead with a towel. “Wanna come over and hang? Hoseok from Foot Locker is gonna come, too.”

Seokjin nods, taking a sip from his water bottle. “Yeah, okay.” He glances again at the door, but your kiosk is too far to see. “Sounds good to me.”

As they walk towards the locker rooms, Jungkook chatters aimlessly but Seokjin cannot stop thinking about you. While he showers and changes, Jungkook’s words replay in his mind. The idea of Seokjin having a crush on you is insane. The two of you have barely exchanged one nice word since you met.

Still. Snapping a towel free from his neck, Seokjin continues to wonder. He does think about you an awful lot. Usually, he is thinking of new ways to annoy you, but that is more than he thinks about anyone else. Chad, for instance – or Lisa.

Frowning, Seokjin slams shut his locker. He cannot ignore the initial attraction he had for you. If you had not been his competition, Seokjin would have probably asked you out.

The moment he thinks this, he freezes. Maybe this is why you annoy him so much – Seokjin is attracted to you and can do nothing about it.

Under any other set of circumstances, this fact would be enlightening but things being what they are though, nothing has changed. You still hate him. Seokjin still finds you his competition.

Staring at his locker, Seokjin’s lips twist.

“Seokjin!” Jungkook yells from the door. “You coming, or what?”

Jerking himself free from his thoughts, Seokjin picks up his bag. “Coming!” he yells, pushing you from his mind.

Seokjin has the next two days off work. He uses this mainly to work on his apps, pouring time and energy into working the kinks from his latest round of updates. In between each stroke of his keyboard, he is thinking of you.

Seokjin hates Jungkook a little, for pointing out the obvious fact that he likes you. Before that, Seokjin took his fixation with you at face value. He did not like you; he was just annoyed by you. Now, though.

He cannot help but wonder.

Exhaling loudly, Seokjin slumps against his kiosk. His manager is off once again – honestly, that dude never works – and Seokjin is stuck working with Chad. Absently, Seokjin twirls a spinner around his finger.

“You okay, man?” Chad breaks the silence.

Shaking his head, Seokjin stares into space. “Oh, yeah. Just a bit preoccupied, that’s all.”

“With what?”

Seokjin shrugs, not feeling like talking.

Chad is one of the few people capable of getting under his skin without saying a word. It is something about the way Chad stands – chest puffed, gaze lazy, as though the world owes him something. He always wears a backwards cap, even inside and Seokjin suspects a receding hairline to be the cause. Whatever the reason, Chad always has a chip on his shoulder.

He seems to be compensating for something. Although what he could be compensating for, as a white male in today’s economy, Seokjin has no idea.

“Hey.” Voice lowering, Chad nods towards the food court. “I know something which might cheer you up.”

Seokjin straightens when he realizes Chad is staring at you. Anything which cheers Chad up could only have the opposite effect upon Seokjin.

“What?” Seokjin asks, suspicious.

Chad leans in. “You know the bitch who ruined our display a few days ago?”

Seokjin’s jaw tightens, hearing you called a bitch. “What about it?”

“Ha.” Chad laughs, not hearing the clear warning in Seokjin’s tone. “Don’t worry about paying her back. I got this.”

Alarm bells go off in Seokjin’s mind. “What do you mean by, ‘I got this?’”

“Let’s just say it’s taken care of.”

“No.” Seokjin drops his phone, standing up from his chair. “Let’s say more. What the fuck did you do, Chad?”

Chad blinks at him in surprise. “Whoa – chill, dude. What’re you pissed about?”

Seokjin pauses, uncertain. It is not as though he knows you, not really. But still – Seokjin remembers how sincere you looked that day, apologizing for the display. You did not mean to injure their kiosk; he knows that much.

“Chad…” Seokjin mutters in warning.

He does not get further before screams erupt from the food court. Seokjin’s head whips sideways, spotting the source of the commotion. Once again, a drone is loose in the mall. Like two days prior, a rogue helicopter flies over the food court. It seems out of control, dive-bombing people at random and sending them running.

Seokjin’s mouth drop. Before he can move, the drone careens towards the ground. A girl stands alone next to the frozen yogurt place, holding her cone and staring at it in terror. Her eyes widen, fixed on the drone and Seokjin moves on instinct, darting into the crowd.

Before he can arrive, the girl’s mom appears to yank her to safety. Her cone spills in the process, mint chocolate chip on the ground, but at least the helicopter misses, swooping and diving again. Seokjin’s eyes narrow, realizing the drone moves much too fast to be out of control.

Glancing around, Seokjin realizes Chad is on his phone. When he sees Seokjin looking, Chad waves at him with a grin.

Seokjin’s stomach heaves. Before he can move, you are barreling towards him.

“YOU!” you yell, pointing a finger. Several people between you look up in surprise.

Seokjin blinks, also pointing at himself. “Me?”

“You!” you gasp, skidding to a stop. “What the hell did you do to my drone?”

You are holding several remotes in your fist, Seokjin realizes. Apparently, none of them are working. The helicopter swoops dangerously close to you both and Seokjin ducks out of the way.

“What did I do?” he blurts, staring upwards. “You think I’m the one behind this?”

“No, shit!” you yell, dodging the drone.

“Y/N, I –” The chopper dive-bombs again and Seokjin groans. This is not going to make you believe him, but he needs to do something before someone gets hurt. “Fuck it!” he yells and takes off.

Sprinting away, Seokjin hears you yelling behind him. Ignoring you, Seokjin leaps onto a table. He is not sure how Chad is controlling the helicopter – possibly from his phone, but Seokjin would not put it past him to have someone stationed elsewhere in the mall. Based on the depth of his vengeance on Twitter, Seokjin imagines Chad to be petty.

All Seokjin knows is he needs to stop the drone and a sure-fire way of doing that is getting the drone from the air.

Above, the drone does a loop before dive-bombing a cluster of girls exiting the lingerie store. The girls squeal, scatting in every direction as the helicopter pulls from its spiral. Leaping into the air, Seokjin’s fingers barely brush a wing before falling back to the ground.

“SEOKJIN, GET BACK HERE!”

Ignoring you, Seokjin continues pursuing the drone. “Sorry!” he yells, dodging a woman. “Y/N, this isn’t what it looks like!”

Your footsteps pound behind him, catching up. “It looks like you hijacked one of your drones!”

“See!” Seokjin glances over his shoulder. “I told you it wasn’t what it looks like!”

“Huh?”

“Aha!” Seokjin leaps into the air. Fuck – he barely misses. Crashing again to the ground, Seokjin takes off running. He uses his next jump to leap onto a table.

A guy looks up from his hot dog, mustard dribbled onto his chin. “What the f –”

Seokjin leaps into the air, fingers grazing the wing of the helicopter. Eyes narrowed, Seokjin swears as his heels hit the ground. A mother nearby covers the ears of her child.

“Sorry!” Seokjin yells in response.

A hand grabs his arm. “Kim Seokjin!” you blurt, whirling him sideways to face you.

Seokjin glances over your shoulder in distress. “It’s getting away!” he blurts, shaking free to sprint towards the fro-yo.

Your mouth drops, but you follow. “What are you doing?”

Not having the breath to answer, Seokjin runs faster. For the first time in his life, he is grateful Jungkook pushes him so hard at the gym. Jumping again in the air, Seokjin thinks he has done it – until you jump suddenly in front of him, swatting his hand.

“Hey!” Seokjin yelps, stumbling as he hands. “What the fuck, Y/N?”

“Mine!” you yell, darting forward.

“Wait – Y/N!”

Grumbling, he chases after you. The two of you must look ridiculous, racing around the food court. As you pass Auntie Anne’s pretzels, Seokjin swears he can hear Yoongi cracking up at the register.

One second, you are ahead of him and the next, Seokjin is. He runs faster, pumping his arms as he spots the drone by the fountain. Cutting you off, Seokjin puts on a sudden burst of speed and leaps into the air. His fingers wrap around metal, yanking the helicopter from the sky. As he descends, Seokjin cannot help but laugh – until your hand finds his elbow, pulling him sideways.

Seokjin yelps, stumbling when his feet hit the concrete.

There is a dangerous, teetering moment where you both hover at the edge of the fountain – and then he falls, taking you with. Seokjin yelps, soaked to the skin when a water jet hits his face. A second splash follows as your butt hits the water.

If feels like a scene from a movie; that moment when a song cuts at a party. One second, everything is happening and the next – nothing.

Slowly, Seokjin pushes himself to sit in the water. The trickling sound of the fountain fills his ears, one of his hands resting on something which is definitely not a penny.

“Gross,” Seokjin groans, seeing the wad of pink gum.

His pants are soaked, so is his shirt and Seokjin does not even want to imagine the state of his hair. Removing his hand from the water gum, Seokjin looks up.

You glare back at him, making Seokjin recoil.

At least the drone is down.

Seokjin can see its red wings submerged in the water, bobbing genteelly in the waves of the fountain. Slowly, the sounds of the mall filter back in. Someone nearby snickers and someone else starts to clap. In his peripheral, Seokjin can see a few teenagers recording and slowly, he closes his eyes. If he goes viral, there is no way his manager will keep him.

You seem to realize the same thing, glancing around you in panic. Seokjin realizes your situation is noticeably worse than his, since you were wearing a white t-shirt when you fell. The material sticks to your skin, making each curve of your body apparent.

Seokjin swallows, understanding crashing into him with all the subtlety of a lightning bolt.

He likes you.

Fuck. Seokjin likes you, and he is a giant idiot.

Snickering at the food court grabs Seokjin’s attention. It appears he is not the only one to have noticed your shirt. At least your bra is white, but this does not seem to matter to fifteen-year-old boys.

Glancing down, you inhale and cover your chest. Seokjin awkwardly tries to stand, rushing forward to help but slips in the process, nearly falling again. It does not seem as though you desire his help anyways, springing to your feet with tears in your eyes.

Teeth chattering, you hold one hand before you. “Stay away,” you blurt, wet strands of hair plastered against your face. As though unable to help yourself, your lower lip quivers. “I fucking mean it, Seokjin. Stay away from me.”

Seokjin’s feet falter beneath him. “I…” Staring at you, he slowly nods in defeat. “Okay.”

You bend, scooping the helicopter into your arms before turning away.

Giving him another scowl, you climb from the fountain. Your sneakers make squishing noises against the linoleum as you stalk through the food court. Seokjin continues to stand there, ignoring the water jets which repeatedly hit his kneecaps.

His stomach sinks, watching you disappear.

Logically, Seokjin should go and find mall security. He should explain to them what happened before they find him, or worse – before he goes viral on the web. Less logically, Seokjin wants to run after you. He cannot simply leave things between you like that.

At the very least, he should find you a dry t-shirt. Maybe Hoseok could get him one from Foot Locker.

Because this is partly his fault. Seokjin was not the one who took over the drone and he did not push you into the fountain, but you only reacted that way because of how Seokjin has treated you. It was not a wild leap of thought to assume Seokjin was the culprit.

Before he can think about this further, a laugh breaks through the crowd. Turning around, Seokjin sees Chad running towards him.

“Wow.” Chad skids to a stop at the fountain. “That was incredible. Did you see how wet she was? And guess who got it all on camera?” He winks, waving his phone.

“Did you?” Seokjin speaks pleasantly, although he is starting to see red. “Can I see that?”

“Sure.” Chad grins, handing over the phone.

Accepting the object, Seokjin promptly throws this into the fountain.

Chad’s mouth drops open. “What the fuck?” he blurts, watching the metal sink to the bottom.

Seokjin brushes off his hands. “You’re fired,” he says, stepping out of the fountain. Water drips from his shirt, splashing the ground at his feet.

Chad’s eyes bug. “You can’t fire me, asshole. You’re not my manager.”

“Maybe not.” Seokjin shrugs and walks past. His hands open and close, curling into fists. “But he likes me better than you and he’ll believe me when I say this was your fault.”

“You dick!”

“That’s right,” Seokjin mutters. He glances at your kiosk, only to find it empty – Brandi must be helping you to clean up. Something twinges in his chest, knowing this is partly his fault. “I guess I am.”

One week later, Seokjin cannot stop thinking about you.

He tries to forget. Truly, he does but this proves itself to be more difficult than he realized. Seokjin did not understand before, how deeply you integrated yourself in his life. He did not realize how much he looked forward each day to your banter, to hearing your laugh whenever he passed by your kiosk. The past month has been bearable only because of your presence.

Slumped at the counter of Auntie Anne’s pretzels, Seokjin stares forlornly across the food court.

“Either smile or move.”

Seokjin turns to Yoongi in confusion. “Huh?”

“Either smile,” Yoongi repeats. “Or move. You’re bumming out all my customers.”

Seokjin glances at the empty food court before him. It is 10:00 AM. “What customers?”

“Exactly. All my customers are scared off by how sad you are.”

Seokjin manages a weak chuckle. “Trust me, my face is not what’s driving your customers away. If anything, it’s your latest SoundCloud mix.”

Yoongi frowns, perturbed. “Take that back.”

Seokjin winces, seeing the genuine hurt on his face. “Sorry, man,” he mumbles. “I’m just not in a great mood today.”

“No shit.”

Seokjin cracks a smile. “That obvious, huh?”

“Much in the same way climate change is obvious to everyone but the Cheeto.”

Stifling a laugh, Seokjin quickly sobers. “I just… I don’t know. I thought she’d hear me out, at least.”

The entire past week, Seokjin has parked at the opposite end of the mall from your kiosk. It makes his morning walk shorter, but somehow lonelier.

“So, this is about her, huh?” Yoongi lowers his elbows to the counter. “She’s gone incommunicado.”

“Yeah, it’s about her. I guess I can’t really blame her for being mad at me.”

“No?”

Seokjin shakes his head. “I was kind of a dick.”

Yoongi snorts. “She was a dick, too.”

“Yeah, but I started it.” Seokjin takes a sip of his coffee. “I was the one who approached her all weird, called her the competition. That set a tone.”

“Okay.” Yoongi tilts his head, thinking. “So, what’re you gonna do about it?”

“I’m going to do nothing about it.”

“Then stop complaining to me.”

“I’m not complaining!” Seokjin looks up and sighs. “Alright, maybe I’m complaining a little. I just… wish I’d realized I liked her sooner.”

“Who cares about that? Tell her now!”

“But she hates me.”

“She hated you then!”

Seokjin glares and takes another sip of his coffee – sputtering, he chokes, “Oh, shit – that’s hot.”

“Hey.” Yoongi gives him a look. “She thinks you messed with her job. That’s way different than wearing tight pants, or putting on a fidget show, or whatever.”

“Fidget spinner show, Yoongi. Fidget show sounds like something else.”

“Both are lame,” Yoongi says. “And my point still stands. She’s mad at you now because of something you didn’t do. Now, move your elbow – I need to clean that spot before lunch.”

Seokjin obliges, dutifully removing himself from the counter. Drinking his coffee, he stares out at the food court. Up until now, Seokjin thought he was doing the noble thing. He was respecting your wishes by giving you space. You said you did not wish to see him again.

Yoongi is right, though. You said all that laboring under a misconception. More than respecting the words said in anger, perhaps it is better for Seokjin to tell you the truth. Maybe pretending to be noble is just another way of chickening out.

Because if Seokjin explains everything to you and you still do not care, it means he is alone in all this. His feelings are one-sided and everything before now was merely a rivalry. The spark Seokjin feels when he looks at you, the burning desire to kiss you – if you knew all that and still hated him, then Seokjin would be alone.

Seokjin exhales and looks up. “Gotta go,” he says, slapping the counter. “See you after your shift?’

“Wait!” Yoongi catches his arm before Seokjin can leave. “Bracelet buddies?” he grins, holding up the pink cat charm wound around his wrist.

Seokjin groans, dutifully rolling up his sleeve to showcase the pale pink alpaca. “Bracelet buddies,” he says glumly.

Yoongi gave him the gift several days ago; payback, he said, for all the women Seokjin has sent his way with the promise of a free pretzel. That used to be Seokjin’s way of scoring dates at the mall. At least, before he met you. Seokjin is obligated to wear said bracelet for three months, or else Yoongi will send their friends pictures of him sleeping with his mouth open on the couch.

If he is being honest, Seokjin does not entirely hate the bracelet. The alpaca is kind of cute, but Yoongi cannot ever know that. Waving goodbye, he manages to scowl and keep up appearances when he heads towards his kiosk.

For the next several days, Seokjin continues to wimp out.

Kind of.

While he does not actually explain what happened, he tries to make up for it in other ways. On Monday, he overhears you telling the Kay Jewelers girl the legs of your stool are too short. As a result, Seokjin volunteers to work late and stays long after closing. Before he leaves, he goes to your kiosk and switches your stool for his.

On Thursday morning, your shifts overlap. Seokjin sees you yawn passing his kiosk, mentioning to Brandi you did not sleep well the night prior. Ducking behind his counter, Seokjin does not make eye contact.

Still, he stops by Java Joe’s on his break and begs Taehyung for coffee.

Taking the long way back through the mall, Seokjin visits your kiosk. It is the first time he has tried talking to you since the Great Fountain debacle. As you come into view, Seokjin swallows and forces the words from his lips.

“Hey.” He comes to a stop at the register.

You freeze when you see him. “Um. Hi?”

Seokjin holds the coffee tray out like a shield. “I was at Java Joe’s and Taehyung brewed too much espresso. Lisa doesn’t drink it, so I was wondering if you wanted it?”

Your lips part, staring at him for a moment.

When you do not immediately respond, Seokjin starts to sweat. “You don’t have to take it,” he says quickly. “I can give it to someone else. It’s too much for me though, and you were on the way back from the shop…”

Trailing off, Seokjin wonders if this entire endeavor is foolish. The tray he is holding is full – four, small cups of espresso which cost an hour of pay. Of course, you do not need to know that. You only need to know that he thought of you.

“I – yeah,” you say slowly, reaching out for a cup. “Thanks, Seokjin.”

Seokjin blinks, since your response was almost cordial. Before he can get too excited about this, Brandi appears.

“Wow, thanks!” she enthuses, grabbing a cup. “That was so nice of you to do this.”

“Right.” Seokjin deflates just a little. It is not as if he does not want Brandi to have espresso, but he was hoping for a shared moment with you. “Just spreading the love – or caffeine, as it were. Anyways…” His laughter trails off, gaze darting to you. “Guess I have one more cup to distribute. Enjoy!”

He turns around too fast for you to respond.

Each step he takes, Seokjin half-expects to hear you call out behind him. If this were pre-Fountain Incident, you probably would have. An insult, or horrible pun – something to let Seokjin know you were watching him walk away, but now there is only silence.

This goes on for a week. Seokjin continues to do nice things for you, passing by in the hopes you will say hi. He holds his breath and hopes you will speak first, but it seems you are determined to continue icing him out.

Seokjin supposes he cannot blame you for this. It is not as though you were friends, after all.

He has almost accepted the idea that you will continue being strangers when one day, Seokjin looks up and finds you at the register.

All words instantly die in his throat.

If he thought he was in the process of getting over you, Seokjin was sorely mistaken. The days of silence have not lessened his want, but only intensified it. It makes him swallow, uncertain, which must be a first. Out of all his friends, Seokjin is not the one to call shy.

Tentatively, you smile and Seokjin realizes he still has not spoken.

“H-hi,” he stammers.

Your shoulders seem to relax at his nervousness. “Hi. Is this a bad time?”

“No,” Seokjin says, slamming his register shut. “Lisa is on break, but it’s been a slow afternoon.”

“Yeah,” you exhale. “Same. Guess we finally found those lulls you were on about.”

Seokjin chuckles under his breath. The space between you falls silent again.

“I, uh…” Twisting your hands before you, you seem unsure what to say. “I haven’t seen you around, lately.”

Seokjin’s heart stutters. “Oh. I guess.”

“That’s kind of my fault,” you say. Seokjin’s gaze drops to your hands, which continue to twist. He finds the gesture oddly endearing. “I was the one who told you to stay away.”

Arching a brow, Seokjin turns towards the register. He does not know what to say without being rude. Yes, seems like the most obvious answer, but that could be construed as impolite. Casually, he sneaks a peek sideways. You are right, though – this is partly your fault, also. Even if the other fault is his own.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “I don’t blame you for saying that, though.”

“You don’t?”

Curiosity laces your tone and Seokjin looks up, surprised to see a question mark in your gaze.

“Brandi told me Chad was fired,” you add.

Seokjin stills. “Yeah. He was.”

You pause, as though waiting for an explanation. When none comes, you narrow your eyes. “He was the one who messed with that drone, wasn’t he? Not you.”

“I – yeah, I guess so.”

Exasperation enters your gaze. “Well, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I did!” Seokjin protests. “I told you when we were chasing after the drone and you didn’t believe me!”

“Oh,” you say, wilting a bit. “Right.”

Seeing your face, Seokjin softens. “Look, it’s not a big deal.”

“Is it?” you ask in disbelief. “I yelled at you in front of the entire mall for something you didn’t do, and you’re saying its fine?”

Seokjin’s lips quirk. “Well, when you put it like that.”

When you roll your eyes at the ceiling, he laughs. Weirdly, it feels good to have you disparage him a little. It feels as though you are on even footing again.

“I mean, it’s not like we were friends,” Seokjin continues. “Why wouldn’t you think it was me?”

“Hm.” You blink, taken aback. “I guess you’re right.”

After another long moment, Seokjin adds, “We could try to be friends now, though. If you want.”

You bite down on your lip. “Are you giving me a formal offer, Seokjin? Should I sign on the dotted line somewhere?”

“I can make a contract if you want. All good peace treaties are in writing.”

“Is that what this is? A peace treaty?”

“Of a sort.” Seokjin raises a brow. “I can’t promise to stop kicking your ass in sales, though. I was born talented.”

“Or, maybe it’s Maybelline,” you shoot back. “I wouldn’t want you to stop, though. It’s been too quiet around here without you blasting Backstreet Boys.”

“Liked what you heard?”

“Who doesn’t like Backstreet Boys?”

“Monsters.”

“Agreed.”

“Wow.” Seokjin’s brow furrows. “I think that’s the first time you’ve ever agreed with me.”

“I know.” After a moment, you frown. “It’s oddly unsettling.”

Seokjin laughs – a short, surprised burst which makes you smile. “Well...” Trailing off, he finds himself unsure what more to say. “Is that why you came over?”

“Let’s see.” You lift a hand, ticking things off on your fingers. “Tell you I know you didn’t sabotage my job. Check. Ask to be friends? Check. Oh,” you add, as though only remembering. “There was something else I wanted to say.

Seokjin waits, holding his breath as you start to lean in.

Angelic, you smile. “I lied before,” you say. “We aren’t having a lull. See you around!”

Dropping a wink, you turn to walk across the food court. Seokjin watches you go, legs having effectively turned to jelly in your presence. It is unfair that you have this effect on him. Slowly, he lowers himself onto his stool. It would seem the two of you are friends now.

Dragging a hand through his hair, Seokjin wonders what he has gotten himself into.

Over the next couple of weeks, Seokjin stops by your kiosk more often. He learns your usual morning coffee order – a grande iced Americano – and occasionally brings it along. You seem to have switched to the morning shift, he notices. Before, it was about fifty-fifty which time of the day you showed up.

At some point, Seokjin explains about his former job and current app development side projects. This turns into a running joke of him bouncing ideas off you.

“Okay,” you say, folding your hands across a wan food court table.

Seokjin takes a sip of his coffee. “Okay, what?”

“Okay, what’s today’s app idea?”

Seokjin snorts. It is 10:00 AM and neither of you must be at your shift yet but somehow, you both managed to arrive early.

“What about this?” Seokjin leans back in his chair. “Angry birds, but – instead of birds, its photos of friends that you upload yourself.”

“Pass.”

“Hm. A Bachelorette fantasy league app?”

“Hard no.”

“Okay, so this one is a kid’s game.”

“Go on.”

“A kid’s game where you change the oil of your dad’s car as fast as you can.”

You snort, nearly spilling your drink. “Seokjin! That’s a terrible app idea.”

“Bonus points if you spill no oil on the driveway!”

“Seokjin!”

He grins. “Yeah, Yoongi said it was bad, too. I don’t get it.”

“Please.” Shaking your head, your smile fades the longer you look at him. “I don’t believe any of those are your actual idea, though.”

“Huh?” Seokjin blinks. “What do you mean?”

“Those are just the ideas you tell people to make them laugh,” you observe. “It gets them off your back, so you don’t have to say your actual idea. You know, the one you really care about.”

Seokjin pauses, mouth suddenly dry. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You arch a brow. “I get it. That’s how I am with my writing. Freelance doesn’t exactly pay for dreams, does it? I tend to downplay my favorite ideas, so then if they don’t work out – hey, at least it wasn’t something I cared about. You know?”

Seokjin is not quite sure how to respond. In only a few sentences, you have looked inside him and summarized his thoughts. No one – not even Yoongi, whom Seokjin has known for years – is able to read him as well.

Inhaling gently, Seokjin leans back from the table. “Well,” he admits. “There is this one idea.”

“Oh?”

Nodding, Seokjin considers where to begin. “Do you know what fair lending is?”

“Not really, no.”

“It’s the unbiased treatment of customers by banks.” Seokjin pauses and, when you do not seem bored with the topic, begins to speak freely. “It ensures financial institutions provide uniform services, regardless of bias.”

“Gotcha. So, it’s like equal opportunity but for banks?”

“Kind of, yeah.” Seokjin exhales. “Basically, I want to create a fair lending app. There is a lot out there to help with credit decisions and stuff, but I want to put it all in one place. I want to break down the ‘non-biased metrics’ banks use and warn people how there could be bias involved.”

Your frown. “What do you mean?”

“Take income, for example.” Seokjin grips his cup tighter. “The vast majority of people below the poverty line are minorities. So, if a bank has a hard and fast income requirement for a loan, they inadvertently discriminate. It’s why a variety of factors are mandated to assist in … what?” Seokjin blinks, seeing you staring. “What is it?”

Hiding a smile, you shake your head. “Nothing, it’s just a cool idea. I think you should do it.”

“But then who will make bachelorette fantasy app?” Seokjin jokes, ducking his head.

“Someone else.” You wait until he looks up. “Do the fair lending app.”

Seokjin finds he cannot think of another joke. “Alright,” he says slowly. “It’s a plan.”

You nod, sipping your coffee as silence falls in between you. It is unnerving, how easy it is for Seokjin to talk to you. With most people, it takes him a while to show his true colors but with you, he finds he cannot be anyone else.

Glancing at his watch, Seokjin realizes how late it is. “Shit,” he mutters, jumping out of his seat. “It’s nearly 10:30.”

You wince, standing as well. “Damn, do you have to open today?”

“Unfortunately so.” Seokjin grabs his coffee. “I’ll catch up with you later, okay, Y/N?”

“Okay,” you say, waving when he turns out of sight.

Seokjin does not hesitate to walk away. He curses himself the entire way to his kiosk because he is becoming much too comfortable with being your friend. Enough that he keeps catching himself thinking about more.

It is hard not to think about his hands wrapped around yours on your coffee cup. Hard not to imagine carpooling with you in his car to work. Seokjin tries to be on his best behavior but still, the fantasies worm their way in.

It is why he has created several rules of conduct around you. First and foremost is never stay for too long. The second Seokjin feels himself becoming attached, he leaves. Like now, for instance. Seokjin does not really have to be at the kiosk before eleven but the way you were looking at him made his heart beat out of his chest.

Self-preservation, he reminds himself.

The rules are working until Taehyung throws a party.

“Saturday night,” Taehyung grunts, slamming Seokjin’s coffee order on the counter.

Seokjin blinks, reaching up to take both cups. Lately, Taehyung has been in the worst kind of mood. This mostly seems to stem from his hot co-worker who will not take him seriously. All the guys in the mall gave him shit about it before, but the kid really does seem to like her. Which sucks, since Taehyung has a reputation and the pretty barista clearly has heard of it.

“The party is at your place?” asks Seokjin, glancing up at the counter.

Taehyung nods. Loud enough for his co-worker to hear, he adds, “The party will be at my place this weekend! Can’t wait to see you there, Seokjin!”

Seokjin snorts, shaking his head. “You’re whipped, man,” he whispers. Then, loud enough for the female barista to hear, he adds, “I’ll be there! In fact, everyone should come!”

The girl does not react, busy at the register and Seokjin shrugs.

Sorry man, he mouths to Taehyung before pushing open the door. Making his way through the mall, Seokjin walks past your kiosk – only to see you deep in conversation with another guy. Seokjin does not recognize him as your co-worker, but he does recognize him from the gym.

Occasionally, Jungkook talks to him before they work out. Seokjin never found the guy threatening before.

Seeing him now though, the oddest sensation unfurls in his stomach. He does not want you talking to this guy – the desire flashes through Seokjin’s mind faster than he can stop it. Before he can turn around and leave though, before Seokjin can separate himself from the situation, you look up and smile.

“Hey, Seokjin!”

“Hey, Y/N.” Plastering a smile on his face, Seokjin forces himself to walk towards your kiosk. “And you are…?” he asks, looking at the stranger.

The guy grins, unconcerned. “Hey, I’m Josh.”

“Cool.” Seokjin returns to looking at you. “Are you coming to Taehyung’s party this weekend, Y/N?”

Everyone at the mall knows who Taehyung is. He is a staple for anyone who drinks coffee – and chances are, if you have stopped by Java Joe’s in the past three days, you are invited.

Your eyes widen. “I was thinking about it.”

“Cool.” Seokjin casually leans an elbow against your kiosk. He forgets about the wheels though, and as a result, the entire thing starts to move. Frantically attempting to right this, Seokjin nearly spills his coffee in the process.

“Anyways…” he mutters, ears turning scarlet.

You clamp your lips tightly together. “So, you’re going to be there?”

Seokjin nods. He has no idea what he is doing. He has no idea what Josh is doing, since he has not said a word since introducing himself.

Glancing at him now, Seokjin is reminded of Chad. Not because the two look anything alike, but because they both have that air about them. That condescending, could-bench-press-you-in-seconds look. Seokjin bets that, at some point in the past ten days, Josh has worn a snapback.

You are standing close very close to him, though. Seokjin cannot ignore this fact.

“Cool.” Your gaze lingers on his. “Then, I guess I’ll see you there?”

Seokjin nods. “Guess so. We’ll see!”

He turns, walking away and overhears Josh ask you details about the party. Gritting his teeth, Seokjin uncurls his hands from their fists. You are not his to be jealous of, he reminds himself. He has no right to be angry if you decide to date someone else. But still, Seokjin’s mood remains sour for the rest of the day.

You do not visit at the end of your shift. If could be because you are genuinely busy. Or, it could be something else. Or, someone.

Seokjin has the next two days off. He uses them to work on his fair lending app, getting a good bit of coding done in his apartment. Your voice plays in his mind as he works, telling him to go for what he wants.

Seokjin is tired of working at the Fidget Funk. He is tired of waking up every morning, going to a job he hates and feeling as though he is doing nothing with his life. What was supposed to be a temp job has stretched into months and Seokjin needs to act for anything about this to change.

There is only so long he can complain before doing something about it.

He wants to do what he loves; wants to do something he cares about – not this. Sometimes, making that decision is the hardest part.

The night of the party, Seokjin drives there with Yoongi. Yoongi, surprisingly agrees to come with little coercion. Usually, Seokjin needs to drag his taciturn roommate to social events. He was easily convinced tonight though, which results in Seokjin being more nervous than normal.

As they enter Taehyung’s apartment, he pauses on the threshold.

If he had your number, he would have texted to see if you were coming, but Seokjin does not and so, he could not. Wandering into the room, Seokjin winces when no one removes their shoes. Parties are always strangely barbaric in that regard.

Taehyung’s apartment with his roommate, Jimin, is much larger than his. Seokjin remembers Taehyung saying Jimin came from money but does not remember specifics. Jimin is a night nurse at NorthShore Medical center and often stops by Java Joe’s in the morning for coffee. Other than that, Seokjin does not know much about him.

Walking inside, Seokjin realizes Taehyung has downplayed Jimin’s wealth. There is no way they could afford this place on a nurse and barista salary. A bunch of people are outside – because there is an outside; a large balcony overlooking the city – chatting about nothing over the rims of their drinks.

Yoongi disappears as soon as they enter, heading off to god-knows-where. He leaves Seokjin alone, who shifts his weight about nervously. Glancing up, he spots Namjoon in the kitchen and hastily rushes towards him. Finally, a familiar face.

“Joon!” he calls out.

Namjoon waves, re-filling the cup in his hand. When Seokjin reaches his side, he hands another to Seokjin. “Hey,” Namjoon nods. “You just get here?”

“Yeah.” Seokjin scans the party again, red cup in one hand. “Is everything c –”

Cutting himself off mid-sentence, Seokjin stares when you walk into the room. Everything he wanted to say falls from his brain to the floor. It is not unlike that one scene in She’s All That, when Laney comes down the stairs and Freddie Prinze Jr. loses his mind. Seokjin cannot think, looking at you.

A red cup is in your hand, matching the red gloss on your lips and god, Seokjin cannot stop thinking about kissing it off.

He swallows, hard – and then notices the guy at your side.

You laugh, turning sideways to Josh. Because that is who it is, of course – the same muscle- bound jock you were talking to at the drone kiosk earlier.

Jungkook appears as well, clapping Josh on the shoulder. Seokjin scowls, swallowing a larger sip of his drink than intended. First, this guy tries to steal his girl and now, his best friend. Eyes widening, Seokjin straightens. Shit, you are not his girl. He needs to stop thinking that way.

“Seokjin?”

Seokjin realizes Namjoon is staring at him. “Uh, yeah?”

“You trailed off in the middle of a sentence and have been hard-core staring at that girl ever since. Is – oh!” Namjoon’s eyes light up. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

“That’s who?” Seokjin hastily swallows his drink.

“The girl! Fountain girl!” Namjoon shoves him. “The one you’re head over heels for!”

“Okay, fountain girl is a horrible way of describing her. And yeah, maybe that’s – shit, shut up,” Seokjin hisses. “She’s coming this way.”

Namjoon snorts into his drink. You are, indeed, waking towards them but Josh is no longer beside you. Craning his neck, Seokjin looks over your shoulder but does not see the guy anywhere.

“Hey.” You come to a stop right before them, glancing at Namjoon. “Namjoon, right?”

Namjoon sticks out a hand. “Yep. Y/N?”

You take this, stifling a smile as you shake. “Yeah.”

“And, of course, you know Seokjin.” Namjoon grins at Seokjin’s flustered expression.

“Uh-huh,” you say, offering him a tentative smile. “We go way back.”

Feeling somewhat nauseous, Seokjin takes another sip of his drink. “Y/N and I are friends.”

A flash of something – uncertainty? Annoyance? – crosses your features. “Right,” you say carefully. “Friends.”

Your expression remains stubborn though, and Seokjin wonders if he has done something wrong. Changing the subject, he glances around the apartment. “Have you been here before, Y/N?”

“No,” you confess. “But damn – which roommate won the lottery?”

Seokjin grins. “I know, right? I can show you around if you want.”

You blink, taken aback by his offer and Seokjin wonders if that was too forward. Well, fuck it – he is not getting anywhere by being subtle.

“Yeah,” you say, recovering yourself. “I’d like that.”

Pushing himself off the counter, Seokjin says goodbye to Namjoon and plunges into the party. He continues to look for hot gym guy, Josh, but does not see him anywhere. It is unlikely you came here together, but not impossible. Perhaps the two of you are dating. Perhaps you like him and want to date him in the future.

Seokjin is so busy running through what-if scenarios, he does not notice you looking at him.

“Right, so Taehyung and Jimin’s rooms are that way.” Seokjin leads through the crowd. “Aka, that hall is off limits. This is the living area and well, you already saw the balcony.” Steps faltering, Seokjin looks sideways at you. “Did you see the balcony?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

“Scared of heights?”

“Not really, no.”

“Well, then you’re lucky.” Seokjin mutters, pushing open the sliding glass door. “Luck you never met that dick, Jared Karinsky.”

Laughing, you follow him out on the balcony. There are only a few other people outside and, once the door slides shut, it feels as though you are trapped in another world.

“Who’s Jared Karinksy?”

Glowering, Seokjin takes a sip of his drink. “Some dick who knew I didn’t like heights, but still brought me to the top of the jungle gym. Then, he left me there. It took two hours for my brother to find me and get me back down.”

Laughing, you lean against the railing. “I take it that didn’t help?”

“It did not,” says Seokjin. “If anything, my fear was worse after.”

You grin, draining the rest of your cup as the wind ruffles your hair. It makes Seokjin’s heart ache a bit to look at.

“Well, I have to say –”

The glass door slides open, interrupting whatever you were about to say. Josh’s head pops out. “Y/N!” he grins. “I was looking for you.”

You slowly turn towards the interruption. “I... oh. Hey, Josh.”

“Are you busy?” Josh glances between you and Seokjin.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Seokjin feels oddly foolish. It seems obvious now, that you came here with Josh. You must have been making a beeline for drinks when you ran into Seokjin in the kitchen. Seokjin assumed, then. He thought you were free. When he grabbed you, he was yanking you away from the guy you really wanted to be with.

“Not busy.” Seokjin drains the rest of his cup. “Not busy at all. Have fun,” he mutters, brushing your shoulder as he moves towards the door.

When he leaves, Seokjin does not look back and so, he does not see your lips part. He does not watch you stare after him with equal parts frustration and anger. All Seokjin sees is the kitchen before him, full of alcohol for him to consume. Alcohol he will need to get through the rest of this party.

He is almost to the kitchen when a hand grips his arm, yanking him around. “What the fuck was that?” you say, brows furrowed.

Seokjin stares at you, alarmed you are in such close proximity. “I – huh? What the fuck was what?”

You scowl, leaning in and Seokjin leans back. “That!” you demand, waving vaguely at the balcony. “Why did you run away?”

“Run away?” Seokjin’s gaze darts towards the offending location. “I thought you wanted to talk to that guy?”

“Why would you think that?” you ask, brows furrowing further.

“I…” Seokjin finds himself at a loss. “I don’t know. Didn’t you come here with him?”

“With Josh?” You wrinkle your nose. “You mean – my cousin, Josh?”

“…cousin?”

You nod, looking at him incredulously. “You thought I wanted to talk to my cousin, Josh, as opposed to you?”

A lightbulb clicks in Seokjin’s mind. “I – he’s your cousin?”

“Yes, he’s my cousin.” Scowling, you take a step closer. “But even if he weren’t, why would you just leave like that? We were in the middle of a conversation!”

“I don’t know!” he blurts, gaze narrowing at your tone.

Out of the two of you, Seokjin is the one with the right to be angry. You are the one looking so damn good tonight and currently yelling at him for something he does not understand.

Vaguely aware they should not have this argument in the middle of Taehyung and Jimin’s kitchen, Seokjin grabs your wrist and tugs you into the hall. The forbidden one, next to the bedrooms. Realizing this, Seokjin keeps going and decides to beg forgiveness later.

Dropping your arm, he whirls around to find you mere inches away.

“Why didn’t you ask me to stay?” he accuses, pointing a finger. “For that matter – why didn’t you ask if I was going to the party tonight? If my presence is so important to you.”

Glaring at him, you bat his finger away. “You asked me first! Besides, I thought it was obvious I wanted you here. You know… because of the… and…”

“Because of the what?”

Somehow, you have gotten very close to Seokjin. The tips of your toes are just brushing his. Electricity crackles between you, making Seokjin’s heartbeat oddly erratic.

Glowering, your gaze darts to his lips. “Oh – seriously? Shut up and kiss me, you ass!”

Grabbing your face, Seokjin does just that. His lips crash into yours, the kiss muffled and urgent as he backs you to the wall. You groan, hands fisting in the back of his t-shirt. Seokjin cannot think beyond his hand resting on your jaw, then sliding into your hair, then moving down to your ass.

He cups you against him, head reeling from the sudden warmth of your mouth, your body and the urgency of your touch. Seokjin has never wanted someone so badly. Each brush of your lips leaves him wanting more, an endless desire alight in his veins.

Your mouth opens, tongue flicking with his as Seokjin’s heart nearly explodes. He cannot breathe – each breath mingles with yours, leaving him dizzy and parched.

“Fuck,” he groans, breaking away to lean his arm to the wall.

You stare up at him, breathless and confused. Your chest continues to rise and fall, lips swollen from the wanton press of his mouth. Seokjin cannot look away.

“I…” He exhales, glancing towards the living room. “Do you wanna get out of here?”

You nod so fast, you nearly hit your head on his chin. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Seokjin reaches down, grabbing your hand. “You good with my place? It’s only a few minutes drive.”

“Yeah,” you answer, following him down the hall. “Roommate?”

“Here. At the party.”

“Good.”

Dragging you into the foyer, Seokjin digs his phone from his pocket. Letting go of your fingers, he shoots a text off to Yoongi, telling him not to come home. He can face the consequences of that later. Shoving his phone in his pocket, Seokjin opens the door.

“Do you have a coat?” he asks, looking at you.

“Nope. You?”

“Nope.” Seokjin shuts the door to the hall and the noise of the party fades. “This way?”

“Sounds good.”

When you move to walk past, Seokjin grabs your hand – he cannot help himself. Pushing you against the wall, he relishes your muffled exclamation of surprise and kisses you fiercely. Thoroughly. The way he has wanted to for so long.

Hands sliding into your hair, Seokjin feels you arch against him. Your hand is on his hip, pulling him closer and Seokjin cannot stop thinking about your hand on other places.

When he finally breaks away, you stare at his lips. “That’s…” You swallow, voice sounding strangled. “Fuck.”

Seokjin grins. “Come on.”

Grabbing you again, he pulls you into the elevator. The entire way down, the air between you is electric. Seokjin shifts his weight and you follow suit. Raising a hand, you rub the back of your neck. Seokjin’s skin prickles when he sees.

When the door dings, opening into the lobby, you suddenly come to life. Newly determined, your hand wraps around his and pulls Seokjin outside. He practically throws his keys at the valet, wondering how on earth he is going to survive the drive home without touching you. Thank god he only had that one drink tonight. It would have been torture to be so close to fucking you and then not.

Startled by the thought, Seokjin realizes the truth of the matter. He is going to see you naked. Whirling to face you, Seokjin blurts, “This isn’t some random thing. You know that, right?”

Surprised, you glance at him. “I – what?”

“This.” Seokjin steps closer and his peripheral, sees the valet hop out of his car. “I really like you, Y/N.”

Staring up at him, you blink. “You do?”

“Of course, I do! You thought I didn’t?”

“I thought you hated me.”

“Of course, not!” Grabbing his keys from the valet, Seokjin opens the passenger door. He waits until you sit before crossing to the driver’s side. “Why would you think that?” he asks, sliding into the seat.

You stare at him incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“What?” Seokjin pulls out of the driveway. “I’ve liked you for so long! I just didn’t know how to tell you.”

“Uh! Could’ve fooled me.”

“Are you serious? I was such an idiot in front of you! What other explanation is there?”

“That you’re an idiot!” you answer, scowling. “Are you seriously saying that was your idea of flirting?”

“I mean… well, no, but…”

You snort, facing forward. “You’re so bad at this.”

“At what?”

“This!” you insist, gesturing between you.

“Oh, come on! Like you’re Juliet, or something.”

“Who?”

“Juliet! Of Romeo and Juliet!”

“They… Seokjin, they died in the end!” you say incredulously.

“Well, what do I know?” Seokjin makes a sharp right, pulling into his parking lot. “I never finished reading that play, actually – fell asleep a third of the way in. What I’m trying to say is that you’re also shit at this.”

“Oh, really?”

“You said you never wanted to speak to me again,” Seokjin reminds, throwing the car into park.

Hastily, you unbuckle your seatbelt. “I apologized for that.”

“You were the one who said you wanted to be friends!” Seokjin shoves open his door and exits the vehicle.

You exit as well, slamming the door shut. “Well, it seemed like the next logical step!”

“No.” Seokjin strides forward. Caging you against the car, he growls, “The next logical step would’ve been admitting you liked me, too.”

“Too?” You blink, stuck on the word. “So, you admit you like me?”

“Never said I didn’t.”

These last words are muttered against your lips, Seokjin cutting off further retorts with a kiss.

Arching upwards, your hands twine around his neck. Seokjin’s mind stutters, unsure what to think. His brain is a vague mess of swear words and exclamation points when his lips move against yours. It is hard to grasp the fact that you are here, with him and wanting him the same way he wants you.

Breaking apart, Seokjin rests his forehead to yours. “Okay,” he manages. “I know you said you wanted to leave with me. I know you got in my car and drove all the way here. But – because I want to be sure – do you want to come in?”

Breathlessly, you laugh. “Yes.”

“Okay.” Withdrawing, Seokjin takes your hand. “Then, let’s go.”

Climbing the outdoor stairs to reach his apartment, Seokjin pulls the keys from his pocket so he is prepared to enter. He does not check his phone, certain Yoongi has texted him multiple epithets about where he can stick his ass.

Bracing his hip against his door, Seokjin jiggles the key to shove it open. Once you are both inside, Seokjin half-expects you to wrinkle your nose. It is not as if his and Yoongi’s apartment can ever compete with Jimin and Taehyung’s.

You do none of this, though. Stepping inside, you place your purse on the counter and glance around curiously. “You live with that guy from the food court, right?” you ask, turning around. “Yoongi?”

Stepping forward, Seokjin crushes his mouth to yours.

You inhale, the noise caught by his lips when your hands slide up his back. One of your legs curls around his, rubbing your core against the meat of his thigh. Seokjin’s head spins, gripping your ass to push you against the counter. You make a muffled noise, gasping when Seokjin hardens into your crotch.

It is embarrassing how ready he is for you. All it took where a few whispered words about how badly you want him and here he is, rock-hard and on edge. Admittedly, the noises you make are not helping.

“Shit,” Seokjin breathes, kissing down the slope of your neck.

You arch your throat, allowing more access. Your skin tastes of berries and something else – probably a perfume Seokjin does not know the name of. The warm press of your core to his leg leaves Seokjin reeling.

“My room?” he gasps, hand dragging up your side.

Frantic, you nod. “Yes.”

Bending, Seokjin grips your legs and lifts you against him. He stumbles towards his bedroom, realizing too late you are heavier than he thought. Maybe Jungkook was right about adding weight to his reps. Kissing you again, Seokjin staggers into his bedroom and drops you on the bed.

Laughing, you grab your top to yank overhead. There is some skepticism to your gaze, as though you expected him to fall short in carrying you. Seokjin’s ego flames in response. Growling lowly, he rips off his shirt and descends on the bed. Parting your legs, he presses a kiss to your thigh.

“Take off your jeans.” Seokjin looks up.

You blink. “What?”

“I wanna eat you out.” Seokjin cocks a brow. “Or, is that too much?”

“No,” you glower, undoing your buttons. “Go for it.”

As you shimmy your jeans down your legs, Seokjin’s mouth dries at the sight of your panties. He did not imagine them to be lace. He did not imagine them to be quite as revealing as they are. Slowly, Seokjin reaches out to peel these aside. You inhale, arching on the bed. Seeing your pussy like that, laid out before him, he can hardly breathe.

You are wet for him. Theoretically, this makes sense, but Seokjin did not think he could make you wet. Did not think he would ever see you as drenched as you are, the lace in the middle much damper than the rest. Pressing another kiss to your knee, Seokjin inhales and makes his way higher.

Flicking your clit with his tongue, he teases at more. You mewl, curling inwards and Seokjin pushes your legs down. He sucks the length of your folds, getting you good and wet before he returns to your sex. You arch again, pussy clenching even through there is nothing inside you.

Smirking, Seokjin takes pleasure in this fact. Your folds are glistening, ready even though has not touched you yet. He has not even pushed a finger inside that tight, wet cunt of yours. Lowering his head, Seokjin’s tongue curls over your clit. He turns needy, licking until your hands fist in the sheets on either side of your body.

“Seokjin,” you groan. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Seokjin leisurely sucks on your clit, pulling it between his lips. His other hand drifts to your cunt, tracing in circles.

You moan beneath him on the bed, arching to try and push him inside. Seokjin memorizes the visual – the black lace of your bra barely hiding your nipples, hair splayed on his comforter with his hands on your thighs.

“I need more.”

“Yeah?” Seokjin lazily traces your pussy. “Want me to finger you?’

“Fuck, yes.”

“Mm.” Seokjin sucks your clit until you cry out from pleasure. Releasing you gently, he sits back on his heels to rub with his fingers. “I could probably make you come like this, though.”

Reaching underneath your body, you unhook your bra. Seokjin stares in awe at your chest, bared before him. “Probably,” you agree. “But wouldn’t it be more fun to come inside me?”

Seokjin’s teeth grit, the words going straight to his cock. Already, it pulses against the tight fit of his jeans – when he feels how wet you are, Seokjin cannot stop imagining himself inside you. Grabbing your wrist, he brings your hand to his crotch.

You inhale when you feel how hard he is. “You’re so… big,” you murmur. “Will you even fit?’

Seokjin smirks, bending until his lips cover yours. “Not yet,” he agrees, spreading your legs with one hand. Stroking your center, he wets himself with your arousal. “That’s why I gotta stretch you out first. Get you ready for this dick.”

“O-h,” you gasp, mouth a perfect o as Seokjin’s finger pushes inside.

It is a tight stretch. Seokjin feels a bit light-headed, imagining something so tight and wet wrapped around him. Withdrawing, he pushes a finger inside you again. Rolling your hips, you force Seokjin deeper and he clicks his tongue, hand grabbing your waist.

“You don’t get to be in control,” he instructs, finger sliding back out. Adding another one, he slowly fucks you again. “You just have to lie there and take it.”

“Good,” you breathe, two of his fingers inside you. “Finally. I’ve been wanting you to yank my panties down and fuck me for weeks now.”

Seokjin’s jaw clenches – shaking his head, he is certain he must have misheard. “What?”

A smile curls your lips. “You heard me,” you say sweetly, pussy squelching as Seokjin’s fingers slide in and out. “You’re so hot when you’re mad. Why do you think I teased you so much? Wanted your dick in my mouth to shut me up.”

Heat blazes through Seokjin’s veins. He has never been this turned on in his life – hearing such sinful things from your angelic lips. Sitting back on his heels, Seokjin frantically undoes his jeans.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he mutters, pushing them past his ass.

Yanking out his cock, Seokjin wraps a hand around his girth. He rubs himself roughly, ignoring the pre-cum dripping from his reddened tip. Already, he is steeling himself to not come inside you. Pushing yourself up on your elbows, you watch him touching himself, lips parted in awe. Seokjin stares back, realizing you are as tuned on by him as he is by you.

Your gaze darts to his face. “Condom?” you ask, voice unsteady. “I don’t think I’ll last long once you’re inside me.”

Nodding, Seokjin grabs one from his drawer. Ripping open the packet, he rolls this on. Lowering an arm to the bed, Seokjin positions his cock at your core. As badly as he wants to be inside you, there is something so tantalizing about teasing. Spreading your legs, Seokjin rubs his cock to your clit and watches you twitch in response.

“Seokjin,” you groan, arms sliding around his neck.

“Yeah?”

“Need you to fuck me so good,” you whine.

“Yeah?” Cock at your entrance, Seokjin slowly pushes inside. “Like that?”

“Mhmm.” You nod, breath hitching slightly. “Like that.”

“There?” Seokjin pushes in a bit more, moaning when your walls flutter around him.

You are squeezing him so fucking tight, Seokjin wonders how much more you can take. He is aware of the fact he is big. It would not be the first time a girl could not take him; would not be the first time he gave up and ate the girl out until she came.

“No!” Eyes flying open, you grab Seokjin’s wrist when he starts to withdraw. Lips parted, you stare at him in a daze. “Please keep going,” you beg. “Don’t wanna stop.”

Seokjin arches a brow. “You sure? Sure it feels good?”

“Good?” You stare at him with a fucked-out expression. “Oh my god.” Wrapping both legs around his waist, you push Seokjin in deeper. “You’re stretching me so good, baby. Can’t wait until you’re pounding this pussy.”

“Fuck,” Seokjin hisses, gaze darkening. “I think I somehow got harder.”

“I know,” you laugh, somewhat dreamily. “Felt your cock twitch inside me. So fucking hot.”

Seokjin continues to ease inside you, inch by inch until your eyes start to water. Biting down on your lip, you urge him on and before long, Seokjin bottoms out. He stops there, panting at the feeling of being so deep inside you. Glancing down, Seokjin sees your pussy split by his cock and cannot contain himself any longer. He slowly pulls out.

“What…” Grasping for his ass, you panic a bit. “Seokjin, don’t –”

Grabbing your knee, he slams back inside you. The two of you groan at the same time. Him, because he has never felt anything as tight and wet as your cunt and you because his dick is so large, your body is trembling.

“God.” You fall back on the bed, chest bouncing. “I fucking knew you were big. There was no other way you could be so annoying.”

Seokjin withdraws, reliving the sweet sensation of thrusting his cock in your tight pussy. You are so warm and so wet – now that you have been stretched, you mold easily to him.

“Fuck,” you gasp, lifting your hips to his.

Seokjin toys with you. Slowly sliding in and out, he brings his thumb to your clit and starts rubbing. “You thought I was annoying, huh?” he breathes, lips hot in your ear.

Nodding, your hands fist in the sheets. “Still do.”

Chuckling, Seokjin captures your lobe with his teeth. His hips roll against you, pressing you into the mattress. “Mm. Know what I think?”

“What?”

“You talk too much. Flip over.”

Your eyes widen. “W-what?”

“Thought you wanted me to shut you up?” Seokjin presses a sweet kiss to your mouth. “Now, flip over, so I can fuck you senseless.”

Withdrawing, he ignores every inch of him which screams to stay put. It is worth it though, when you finally flip onto your stomach and stick your ass in the air.

Inhaling, Seokjin runs a hand up your drenched pussy. Your lips are swollen, messy with slick from him eating you out. Lifting himself onto his knees, Seokjin grabs his dick and pushes against your center. Slapping your clit a few times, he hisses when he feels you tremble beneath him. Hands soft on your hips, he slides into your cunt.

“Ah!” you gasp, head thrown back from the motion.

Wrapping your hair around his wrist, Seokjin thrusts into you again. He can feel every inch of your cunt, feel the tight squeeze of your walls on his cock. God, you are driving him crazy. Thrusting harder, Seokjin cannot separate the sensations before him.

Your ass pushing back on him, the way your moans fall from your lips. The tight wetness of your heat, his cock disappearing in and out. Leaning down, Seokjin slides an arm around your ribcage and pulls you against him.

He continues to fuck you like that, cock entering your body at a punishing speed. You feel so good pressed against him, nipples hard as they peek through his palms. Seokjin’s lips find your neck, sucking a hickey into your skin.

“Fuck,” you groan, walls tightening around him. Your bodies bang together, his cock fucking you open in a way which barely seems decent. “Fuck – Seokjin – yes! Oh my god, yes.’

“Yeah?” His grip tightens around you. “You about to come on my dick, baby?”

“Yes!” you gasp. He is basically holding you up at this point, fucking you senseless. “Oh – oh! I thought… you – mmph – wanted! Me – fuck! Quiet!”

Chuckling, Seokjin slides a hand between your legs. Finding your clit, he begins to rub with his fingers. “Changed my mind,” he grunts. “Wanna hear you scream my name so loud, you wake all my neighbors.”

“S-Seokjin!”

Your legs start to shake, trembling with your impending orgasm and Seokjin is not doing much better. The only thing holding him back is the intense desire to feel you come wrapped around him.

“C’mon,” he groans, angling his hips even deeper. “Wanna feel this tight, little pussy come on my cock. Can you do that, baby? Can you?”

“Yes,” you gasp and then you are coming undone.

Seokjin groans, biting your shoulder when your pussy clamps down. Your orgasm is so intense, Seokjin is surprised he can keep you against him. Pushed over the edge, Seokjin shudders when he lets go and releases into the condom. It goes on for so long, his cock aching as you take every last bit of him.

Slowly, his hand falls and strokes down your side. Lips brushing your neck, Seokjin exhales and gently withdraws. Everything is over-sensitive, each inch of his body buzzing with satisfaction. Tying the condom into a knot, Seokjin tosses this in the garbage and sees you roll out of bed.

His stomach twists. “Where are you going?” he blurts, wincing at how needy he sounds.

It is only – you look so fucking beautiful. Hair messy and lips swollen, traces of arousal lingering on the inside of your thighs. You smile at him, as if sensing his nervousness.

“Where’s your bathroom?” you ask, sheepish.

Seokjin exhales, relief coursing through him. He points to the left. “Over there,” he says, collapsing on top of the sheets. His dick is limp, soft in his lap, but looking at you, Seokjin is already thinking about more. “Want me to show you?”

“That’s alright,” you laugh, turning around. “I think I can make it to the closet alone.”

Grinning, Seokjin falls back again. “Come back soon.”

“Okay.”

Glancing at him over your shoulder, you sneak another peek before disappearing.

Seokjin stares at his ceiling for a moment before he remembers his roommate. Wincing, he reaches down to fish his phone from his jeans. Unsurprisingly, there are several missed texts from Yoongi.

Yoongi: k lol [11:01 PM]

Yoongi doesn’t matter won’t be sleeping anyways [11:01 PM]

Yoongi: too busy eating dessert ; ) [11:01 PM]

Groaning, Seokjin plugs his phone into his charger. He guesses this means Yoongi found someone else to hook up with. Rolling over in bed, Seokjin starts when you open the door.

“Hey.” You smile, almost embarrassed. Walking towards him, you bend to scoop your underwear from the ground.

“Whoa!” Seokjin blurts, grabbing your wrist. He pulls you into the bed before you can get dressed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Putting on clothes,” you laugh, curling into his side. “Clearly, I was wrong.”

“Mhm.” Seokjin’s nose nuzzles your hair. He is not sure why, but something about this feels right. Having your limbs entwined in his, your hand resting soft on his chest. He feels warm, satisfied by the thought of being near you.

Sleepily, you smile. “I’m not allowed to get dressed tonight, is that it?”

“Nope,” he agrees, heart soaring the longer he looks at you. “Something that good needs repeating.”

Laughing a little, you curl tighter around him. “Does that mean you want to repeat it?” you ask, uncertainty to your voice.

Sliding two fingers under your chin, Seokjin tilts your head up. “Yeah,” he says, quiet. “I can’t think of anything I want more, to be honest.”

“I – same.”

Laying your head on his chest, you are quiet for a moment as Seokjin basks in the silence. Then, he exhales and adds, “I mean, aside from trouncing your sales targets, of course. I always want to do that.”

You snort, shoving his side. Seokjin pulls you in closer, grinning widely. It is a lie, of course – right now, there is nothing he wants more than to be with you.

[ COLLABORATION MASTERLIST FOUND HERE ]

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Fury, Oh Fury - Part 2

Rating || M (Strong language) Characters || Ben Miller, William Miller. Word Count || 5.1k Taglist || (Starting out tagging some mutuals and people I remember from the previous taglist) @firefeatherx @mylifeliterally @mandoplease @phoenixhalliwell @skylyknightly @havenforafrazzledmind @beatriz-silva-00 @veuliee @veuliee2 @oldstuffnewstuff @dindisneydjarin @lilacyennefer @dignityneeded @agirllovespancakes @xjustmenobodyelse @oscarflysaac @jaime1110 @goldenhour-goldenboy @pascalz @briskywalker @herestherealproblem @givemethatgold

Author’s Note || No matter how hard I try to keep this project on a backburner, it keeps kicking and screaming to be told. I had most of part 3 written before I put this fic on hiatus, and I’m hoping to have it written before the end of the year. I just need to get through this week and then schools have two weeks off for the holidays. I’m hoping to carve out some time for writing, then.

District Two’s training academy hides behind the façade of a retired school house.

Upon its decommissioning almost thirty years ago, district leadership descended upon the ramshackle building—and thus began its transformation. Training for the Hunger Games is not condoned by the Capitol. But what they don’t know won’t hurt them. While the exterior of the campus remains dilapidated and unassuming, playing every bit the part of a forgotten relic of a bygone era, its interior has its own story to tell.

Old equipment was cleared out. Tables in the lunchroom replaced with rows of sparring rings. The courtyard converted into a range for archery, javelins, throwing knives, and various ranged weaponry. The sagging, cracked walls refurbished and belied with the latest survival equipment and handheld weapons.

Children who display a prowess for fighting—and more importantly, a potential for victory in the Hunger Games—are selected to attend this academy. Training begins at age eleven, and continues until age seventeen, when one is selected to volunteer at the next reaping. These future tributes are up before dawn and smuggled into the academy before the first shift of Peacekeepers hit the streets, and are not let out until late—most days not until after the sun sets.

But the most notable feature of District Two’s training academy is not its staggering array of swords, daggers, maces, spears, every kind of armament under the sun. It’s not the skill with which District Two’s future tributes can wield these weapons. It’s not the way these future tributes can fire an arrow with devastating accuracy by age fourteen. It’s not the cleanliness of what appears to be a retired, collapsing school. No. It’s none of these things.

The standout feature of the academy is the first thing most people see upon entering the building. In the antechamber of the academy are three words emblazoned on the back wall, above the district’s crest.

Honor. Duty. Victory.

And this is the academy’s most notable feature. Painted and upkept with more care than several entire districts see.

It started out—in the early days of the academy—as an unofficial mantra of those who passed through. As time passed, and the academy produced more and more victors, these attributes were prescribed to every tribute.

Honor. Even being selected train, even if it did not guarantee participation in the Games, was considered the highest form of flattery a child in District Two could receive. Second only to being permitted the option to volunteer.

Duty. Once selected as a future volunteer for the Games, it was a job treated with upmost care and respect.

Victory.

Well. That part seems self-explanatory.

Future tributes from District Two weren’t exempt from training. Not even on reaping day.

Yes, the day was shortened to make sure everyone was present for the event, but the morning was still packed full of running, exercising, sparring, and survival lessons.

Ben had seen plenty of footage from the outer districts of how this day was observed there. It was a quiet, somber affair—the reaped tributes treated already as corpses at a wake. Families and friends shut themselves in, closed their doors and their blinds, held each other, and prayed that, however their loved one died, it was as swift and painless as the Capitol would allow.

But this was the Hunger Games. A hope for such things is, at best, a feeble one.

In District Two, the air buzzes with energy. Something pure and raw and not quite human. Of course, the knowledge of who will be any given year’s volunteers is kept under lock and key, so bets are placed, wagers made, on who they think will go into the arena based on appearances alone. Those who are selected to offer up their lives try to keep from puffing their chests a little too much, those who did not make the cut hide their disappointment behind polite smiles and kind words.

When the tributes are shipped off their families open their doors to friends and neighbors, who offer up gifts and well wishes. Parties are held for every event possible: the tribute parade, interviews, the start of the Games, and then then it simply did not stop until a victor was crowned or, in the worst case, the tributes were killed.

Then, and only then, did families shut their doors and their blinds, the shame of their tributes failing to bring home another victory outweighing their grief for the loss of a child.

At least that was what they said.

Of course, District Two cannot have an eighteen-year-old volunteer step forward at every reaping. To allow that would be to bring down the might of the Capitol if they ever caught on. District Two has worked hard to earn the favor of the president. They’re not about to risk, especially not something as high profile as the Hunger Games.

Some years, a fourteen or fifteen-year-old is selected, some years no one is selected, and the odds dictate who will be traveling to the Capitol that year.

After all, it’s may the odds be ever in your favor, right?

To find out that a district had taken the odds into their own hands, become masters of their own fate. If word of that got out about that… well. It certainly would not be a civil affair.

It was certainly an interesting thing to be said of a nation built upon that exact principle. The Capitol founded itself on this exact principle—built themselves from the ground up because they dared to carve their own path, even if that meant stepping on others. Who was to say they didn’t rig the reapings, anyway?

So for District Two to return the favor would be a horrific slap in the face.

If they ever got caught.

“NICE JOB, MILLER! If you go any slower through the next obstacle course maybe I can retire with my pension by the time you’re through!” Ben’s trainer, Alistair, screams in his face.

Ben keeps silent, his face blank and indifferent, his eyes straight ahead. He’s not looking at Alistair. He’s looking through him. Who knew tuning out Will’s lectures about training would prepare him so well for taking his trainer’s abuse?

“Go through it again!” Alistair snarls, and Ben peels back to the start of the obstacle course, hearing him scream “FASTER! I will stick my foot down your throat ‘til your shit’s on my shoe if you don’t hustle, Miller!”

Ben throws himself onto the rope net. He climbs.

Ben catches the rest of his team when he reaches the top of the rope wall. Alistair has them all doing pushups until he finishes the obstacle course, and Ben throws himself down the other side of the wall, gritting his teeth. He makes it through the course faster this time, and Alistair lets the others up. He trots them to the next course.

After the obstacle courses, it’s close quarters combat training with the squad of sixteens. Ben is convinced they’ve set it up this way just to show them how it feels to lose—to use that motivation to throw themselves into a fight willing to do whatever it takes to win. This is the Hunger Games, after all, it’s all about how ruthless you can be.

Ben looks forward to sparring drills the most. From the moment he set foot in the academy two years ago, he’d proved himself fast, faster than most others, even those much older than him. The trainers had capitalized on that. Now, at age fourteen, he can mop the floor with any squad except the eighteens.

Ben makes friends with another boy in his group named Ramsey. They share a brand of indifferent camaraderie usually reserved for teammates that only get along in the field. Ben’s had to swallow so much pride over the past six months alone following Will’s victory that he’s surprised he hasn’t choked to death. Ramsey’s strength is with a strange sort of sword-spear hybrid the trainers call a yklwa.

In close quarters combat, he’s a whirlwind, the weapon a mere extension of his hand. He takes down whoever steps into his path while hardly breaking a sweat. God helps whoever tries to run from him with the yklwa in his hand.

Ramsey says he’s named his yklwa Carmen. After a recruit in the fifteens he’s hoping to get together with.

Will takes up woodworking after his Games. His home in the Victor’s Village is covered in them. He starts small—bowls and cutting boards at first are rough to the touch. As he hones in on this newfound hobby, his hand grows steady, smooth, until he’s crafting shelves with intricate details carved into the side panels, whittling animals with striking detail that seem to stand guard in their respective rooms. A particularly haunting interpretation of the cougar mutts he faced in the arena adorn the shelf above his fireplace.

It’s not until after he returns from his victory tour that Ben asks Will to train him. It’s over dinner, one of the evenings their father works late. Will brings home stew and a loaf of bread filled with seeds from the market that they eat on the floor before the roaring hearth. They tear off chunks of the bread and dunk them into the rich, savory broth.

“Why?” Will asks simply. He doesn’t look at Ben. He looks straight ahead at the fire, the dancing flames casting dozens of patterns of shadow and light across his face each second.

Ben pulls his legs up towards his chest, Will’s lack of enthusiasm making him regret bringing it up in the first place. “’Cause…” he says, unsure how to say it without provoking his brother to anger. “The headmaster at the academy keeps tellin’ me that if I keep it up, I’ll be able to volunteer in a few years. I want… to be ready.”

“You don’t get enough training there?”

Ben folds his arms on top of his knees and hides his mouth and nose in the crook of his elbow. “If you teach me, I’ll be even better—I’ll be able to win,” he mumbles into his sleeve.

Will’s eyes drift away from the fire, a muscle in his jaw feathering as his mouth tightens into a thin line. He sighs, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Okay,” he says at last.

Ben, sensing the hesitation, backpedals, “You don’t have to.”

“No. I want to.” Will gathers up the remains of their meal and carries them into the kitchen. “If they’re going to ask you to volunteer like you think they will—I want to make sure you’re ready. I want you to come home.”

Ben doesn’t follow him into the kitchen, the weight settling in his chest too heavy to move. He just wants to be as good as Will was, he thinks. He wants to bring pride to District Two like Will did.

When he looks through the doorway into the kitchen, Will stares out the window, at something only he can see.

The next week, Will starts carving weapons.

The sword is merely an extension of Will’s arm when he knocks Ben on his ass for the fifth time and levels the dull point of the blade with his throat.

They’ve cleared out one of the (many) spare rooms of Will’s home and repurposed it as a sparring ring. Ben and his father were extended an offer by Will to live with him in the home. Due to the nature of their father’s work, he elected to remain in their house inside the district. Ben bounces between the two, though he’d be lying if he said he didn’t prefer Will’s house to their father’s.

Ben’s tailbone groans as he slides over the carpet away from Will’s sword. He’s fashioned it almost exactly after his weapon from the arena, every detail down to the carvings on the hilt crafted with extreme accuracy from memory.

“You’re stuck in the moment,” Will advises, flipping the sword around and pressing the tip into the ground between and slightly in front of his feet. He leans into it, the wood barely creaking against his weight. “You gotta anticipate, Benny.”

Ben groans, “It’s hard to anticipate when I’m too focused on not getting my hand cut off.”

He’s forgone a weapon during this session, choosing to focus instead on how to disarm an opponent. If he faces another tribute with a weapon, if he can get it out of their hands, he will earn the upper hand and put the odds in his favor.

Maybe it’s a trait that came from the arena, but Will seems so much more in his element here. He’s relaxed, lines no longer weathering his crushingly young face. His movements smooth, steady, his reactions unlike anything Ben had ever seen before.

How can he hope to go up against anything like that in the arena?

“Come on,” Will’s voice softens when he extends his hand. “Let’s try again.”

Ben keeps his focus on his own rhythmic, controlled breathing, sucking air into his lungs and letting it out in a smooth, measured pattern as his feet pound into the concrete of the track. He ignores the soreness in his legs, the tightness in his chest, his thighs begging him to stop and his lungs pleading for more. He ignores the others in his squad running in stride with him, focusing only on keeping the pace. He tunes out the pain, the people around him, and the world around him.

It’s just him and the road.

“Hey, Ben,” Ramsey’s raspy voice huffs next to him.

Ben stays silent, his blue eyes fixed downwards at the patch of the track he would job over five seconds from now. He breathes a slightly deeper breath than before, his concentration irked by Ramsey’s attempt to get his attention.

“Ben!” Ramsey snaps.

Ben closes his eyes, actively putting all of his effort into focusing on the task at hand. He centers his mind on the impact of his shoes against the concrete and his own deep breathing that makes a whooshing sound in his ears. He might fall behind or run out of breath, and if Alistair catches them talking, they’re in for all sorts of hell.

“I’m talking to you, dickhead!” Ramsey hisses, pausing between breaths.

Ben remains nonresponsive. Whatever it was, it could wait until—

A flash of pain sears across Ben’s backside, Ramsey’s hand smacking against his ass as hard as he can manage. Ben fumbles on a step with a yap of shock and hurt. He sucks down a massive amount of air and losing all semblance of pace he had with the others, only to receive a grunt of “Move!” and a shove forward from the boy behind him. Ben sprints ahead to get back into place, his face hot with embarrassment as he clenches his teeth and tries to regulate his breathing.

“Jackass!” he snarls at Ramsay, who cocks a playful grin and breathes through his mouth.

“You know better than to neglect me,” Ramsey pants, keeping up the pace. “I refuse to be ignored.”

“You’ve got a dick punch headed you way for that,” Ben croaks, his ass still aching as he tries to keep running the last half-kilometer.

“Whatever,” Ramsey replies with the vaguest shake of his head. “Anyway, did you do the homework last night?”

Homework is a rather loose term, but they were occasionally tasked with assignments to complete at home. These assignments ranged from practicing an advanced hand to hand combat maneuver, building a snare designed to catch a rabbit, or successfully waterproofing matches. The particular assignment Ramsey referred to had to do with reading about how to identify poisonous plants.

“Kinda late to be asking about that now, don’t you think?” Ben pants.

“That’s why you’re my friend,” Ramsey explains, “When my girlfriend keeps me out too late to do work, you bail me out.”

Ben grunts and cuts a glare at Ramsey that would have burned holes through almost anyone else.

“I know you’re jealous that she gets all my attention, Benny—”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Besides, we can’t all be dating some carefree, rich daughter of the mayor that loves to spend all your money.”

Before Ben can respond, a harsh voice calls, “Kick it in! Last hundred meters!”

Ramsey and Ben begin to suck in deep gulps of air along with the rest of their team, holding all of the oxygen they can and sprinting down the last section of track in a final burst of speed. They lean forward and tear down the concrete, ignoring the lightheadedness and the dull throbbing of their leg muscles as they pump their arms and struggle to stay in formation, the soles of their shoes pounding against the surface of the track.

The burning in Ben’s chest and stomach intensifies, the tightness of his body worsening as the end comes into sight.

“You better get across the finish line before I say times up or I’m gonna shove my foot up each and every one of your asses!” the voice roars.

Ben, Ramsey, and the rest of the squad picks up the pace, stomping their feet into the concrete and rushing across the finish line as a group, the last one just barely crossing before the voice cries, “Time’s up!”

The squad trots to a stop, and begins stretching against the wall of the indoor track, lined up single file in order to get out of the way of anyone else using the track.

“So, listen,” Ramsey whispers. “Back on topic: what was the homework from last night?”

“I thought you needed to copy it,” mutters Ben.

“Well, yeah. But I have to know what it is, first!”

“It was just reading,” sighs Ben. “Identifying poisonous versus edible plants.”

“Do you think they’re going to quiz us on it?”

Ben shrugged, indifferent.

“Quiz you on what, Miller?” a harsh voice behind them asked.

Ben and Ramsey cringe and do an about-face, knowing what they would see when they turned around.

Even though Ben had reached an impressive physical height for fourteen, Alistair still holds a few inches over him. He and Ramsey stand tall, staring straight forward as Alistair comes up to them with an acid frown on his face.

“Listen up!” Alistair roars. “Miller here thinks that just because his big brother’s a victor of the Games, that entitles him to a free ride around here! And Ramsey here is so in love with Miller that he can’t keep his hands off his ass! Both of them have disrespected you and me! They had the chance to do this because you aren’t motivating them enough! Therefore, I am going to punish all of you for what one of them has done! The rest of you will run while these two spar in the ring. If Miller wins, He’ll watch the rest of you do a switch run for a half an hour! If Ramsey wins, he’ll watch while the rest of you do a switch run for half an hour! Understand? Go!”

Ben and Ramsey both receive murderous glares from the eight remaining members of their squad as they take off down the track, once more in formation.

“Do I personally have to shin-kick the both of you to get you moving?” Alistair barks.

Ben and Ramsey walk past Alistair, staring at the ground, across the track and into the center field, in which was a platform boxing ring with holographic boundary lines on all four sides. Protective gear and gloves rest against the sides of the platform. Ben and Ramsey unzip the jackets of their track suits, underneath which they both wear plain white tee shirts, and slip a pair of gloves over their hands and headgear over their ears.

“Let’s go!” Alistair barks. “Your fellow cadets are paying for every second you waste!”

“Damn it, Ramsey,” whispers Ben. “I knew this would happen.”

“Oh, so I’m the bad guy here?” Ramsey asks incredulously as they walk up the stairs. “Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Ben snaps as they pass through the holographic boundary lines, traveling to the center of the ring and facing each other. “We’re in this situation because you refuse to be ignored!”

“Well then maybe you shouldn’t ignore me all the time, I might say something you need to hear,” Ramsey responds icily.

“Like what?”

“Like, maybe if you pull that stick out of your ass, you might learn to have some fun, instead of just being an asshole most of the time,” Ramsey shrugs, putting up his fists.

“Well, according to you, Ramsey, everyone’s got a stick up their ass, so maybe you’re the one with the problem,” Ben comes back coolly.

“Oh, for fucks sake…” Ramsey growls, taking a swing at Ben’s head.

Ben bends backwards, avoiding the punch, then steps forward and jabs at Ramsey’s side. He lets out a gasp of shock, then nails Ben in his cheek with another quick swing.

Ben stumbles backwards, a dull stinging igniting in his face, though his headgear had absorbed most of it.

“Do you always have to be so goddamn responsible all the time?!” Ramsey snarls. “You always have to be right and you always have to have everything follow your rules!”

Ramsey steps towards Ben to deliver another blow, only to have Ben sidestep around and slug him in the stomach once again. Ramsey clenches his stomach, looking up as Ben knocks him in the forehead with a hard right hook.

Ramsey flies backwards, falling on his ass, stunned.

“You’re not responsible at all! How do you expect to live up to anything that your family wants for you if all you do is fuck off?!” Ben barks.

Ramsey looks up at Ben, getting to his feet. Ben stands at the ready, his fists up to protect his face. Ramsey swiftly strikes at Ben’s face, a hit that is blocked but still distracts him enough for Ramsey to drive his other fist into his stomach. The wind flies out of Ben’s lungs as Ramsey delivers an uppercut to his bottom jaw, whiplashing his neck and throwing him back.

“I don’t worry about it!” Ramsey spits. “You could stand to do the same. You worry about things that aren’t in your control. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not the one preoccupied with my family here!”

Ben grits his teeth through the intense stinging in his jaw and neck, his anger fueling his rise to his feet. He leaps forward and strikes one, two, three times at Ramsey’s head, punching into a block each time but not caring. He steps back just in time to avoid another shot at his face from Ramsey, then back forward to hit the other boy in his upper chest.

“You’ve got no idea what you’re talking about!” Ben yells, punching again and again at Ramsey’s defenses, driving him further back. “You don’t know what I’ve been through and you don’t know what I’ve got to deal with.”

Ramsey grumbles and shoves upward into Ben’s elbows, pushing his arms up and pulling his left fist back. Before Ben can bring up a block again, Ramsey’s fist smashes into Ben’s jaw, twisting his head to the side as Ramsey’s right fist punches into Ben’s shoulder.

The dull throbbing pain in his face and the taste of blood in his mouth make the fall backwards almost unnoticeable, until the reverse polarity field at the boundaries of the ring throw him back into the center. Ben stumbles forward and landed on his knees.

“You’ve got to deal with living up to someone, Ben. I know how it feels,” Ramsey sympathizes, not attacking. “But you can’t torture yourself over things you can’t change and how you think someone would judge what you’re doing. You’re not and you can’t be just like Will!”

Ben glares up at Ramsey, lashing out with his leg and sweeping Ramsey’s legs out from under him. Ramsey falls onto his back with a rough thud and Ben leaps across the floor on all fours as Ramsey tries to get up. He puts Ramsey into a chokehold, compressing his neck in the crook of his arm, causing Ramsey to gasp out in panic.

“Well what choice do I have?!” Ben hisses into Ramsey’s ear.

Ramsey gags, and then taps the floor.

Ben releases his friend and stands to his feet as Ramsey collapses to the floor of the ring, coughing. Ben breathes hard, looking down at him, and extends a hand. Ramsey takes Ben’s hand and he helps him, still breathing raggedly. As Ramsey massages his neck and looks at Ben with a mix of pity and disappointment, Ben noticed Alistair standing at the edge of the ring. He disengages the polarity field and steps into the ring silently, the holographic borders flickering off.

Ramsey doesn’t wait for Alistair to say anything. He gives a sloppy, two-fingered salute, then takes off running down the stairs of the ring to join the rest of the squad.

Ben wishes he could feel more pride at his victory when Alistair turns to him.

“Best get going, son,” says Alistair, quieter than usual. “Reaping is in a few hours.”

Ben just nods numbly and exits the ring.

The last time Ben found himself standing in a roped off section of the square was eleven months ago, holding his breath as Will was declared the victor of the Fifty-fourth Hunger Games.

Now he stands in a clump of other fourteen-year-old boys, the space tight and claustrophobic as they await the start of the reaping. It’s one thing for a district as large as Two to cram as many people as they can in the square; it’s another to do so in the height of summer. Sweat rolls down the back of Ben’s neck and into the collar of his button-up shirt.

He’s been out here longer than many of the district’s children. He arrived early with Will, who has earned a spot on the stage with Two’s other victors. His chair is front and center, almost directly between the two massive glass balls containing thousands of paper slips and to the right of the mayor’s chair.

Ben’s name is in there three times this year. The thought is a small comfort, even though the odds are entirely in his favor. His heart throws itself around his ribcage, his throat tight. He catches Will’s eye over the heads of the teenagers standing closer to the front of the crowd, and he gives Ben a short, assuring nod.

They’re not going to pick you, Will had said while getting ready that morning when he noticed the way Ben’s hands trembled for a grip on his comb. And if they do, someone will step up.

He’s right. District Two’s favored boy to volunteer this year is an eighteen-year-old named Bromius who doesn’t know how to back down from a fight.

Though he stands directly in the middle of the crowd, Ben is sure he can feel the prying eyes of spectators around him. Him, the younger brother of a victor. It’s only natural for them to wonder if he will follow in the footsteps of Will and volunteer for the Games. He’s sure more than a few wagers are being placed in his favor today.

To Ben’s right, the crowd shifts, and Ramsey shoulders his way to Ben’s side. “Hey,” he says. “How are you doing?”

Ben reigns in the urge to grimace when another bead of sweat drips down his back. “As okay as I can be.” No matter being though this twice before, no matter how much he expects having to step forward and step on that stage one day, he can’t seem to quiet the anxiety that roils in his stomach. He still watches Will, but his attention has been drawn by another victor seated behind him, a pretty girl who won seven years ago, if Ben remembers correctly. They’re both smiling. Ben’s just glad Will can still smile. A handful of Two’s victors have come home, but he’d never seen them smile again.

Ramsey claps him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. Besides, you’re not going to volunteer for another two years at least. I wouldn’t be surprised if they asked you to go in when you turn sixteen.”

Why is everyone so insistent that he’s going to be fine?

The thought is chased from Ben’s mind when feedback from the microphone on stage squeals through the speakers. The mayor waits for the sound to ebb before launching into the same speech he gives every year. By now, he has it memorized. Some of the boys around him quote the speech along with the mayor with dramatic voices and giggle to themselves.

As always, they are reminded of the origin of the Hunger Games, reminded of—no matter how much they may be in favor with the Capitol—they will ultimately be at their mercy by sending in their children to their prospective deaths. The only difference this year is that Will’s name has been added when the mayor reads off the list of past victors. He feels a small swell of pride at that.

District Two’s escort is introduced. Terra Evervale, a woman who’s allowed the fact that she has worked with so many victors get to her head, makes a brief statement about how much she’s looking forward to introducing the district’s next victor to the spoils of the Capitol.

Ben keeps his eyes locked on Will, who has made sparing eye contact with him through the procession. With so many cameras on him, he needs to appear alert and engaged. Now he watches Terra as she announces that this year, they will begin with the boys, and crosses the stage to one of the glass balls.

She plunges her hand deep into the ball, rummages around for a few seconds to build the anticipation. By the time she removes the single slip of paper, almost everyone in the square is holding their breath. Ben feels his fists clench, his vision blurring around the edges.

Will watches, his expression cool as Terra crosses back to the microphone. When she breaks the seal and pulls the edges of the paper apart, he has the perfect vantage point to read the name before she announces who the male tribute will be.

Will’s blue eyes go wide, his mouth falling open slightly; Ben can see his breath catch. He finds Ben in the crowd, as if he could call out a warning.

Ben reads Will’s expression, and knows with terrifying clarity whose name is on the paper.

“Benjamin Miller!”

#triple frontier #triple frontier fanfiction #triple frontier fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #william miller #william ironhead miller #ben miller #benny miller #reposting bc it didn't post to the tag #and then again bc i forgot to add the appropriate italics #anyway #pls reblog if you enjoyed it #bc i require copious amounts of validation to keep working on these fics

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bucket-of-rice · 4 years

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Grappling with attention, suchi with friends, and so, so much soccer: A week in the life of Morgan Rielly.

Justin Kloke. 16 Jan 2019

(HEADS UP! this is a long post)

In a Maple Leafs season with high expectations and the hopes of making a legitimate push in the Stanley Cup playoffs, no player has had a more transformative year than Morgan Rielly. For one week, The Athletic was granted a glimpse into the life of the Maple Leafs’ star defenceman.

Saturday, January 5

Just after 10:30 a.m. Saturday morning, Morgan Rielly takes his place in front of an army of reporters and cameramen at the front of the Maple Leafs dressing room. His blonde hair walks the line between well-manicured and messy as he eschews the high and tight look of so many of his peers. He wears a slight stubble on his face, shorts, non-descript Black Nike trainers and large white socks bunched up just over his heels.

At first glance, the 24 year old looks more like a suburban father out on a diaper run than he does a Norris Trophy candidate. As Rielly speaks, there is no trace of ego. An outsider would be hard-pressed to believe Rielly has scored 44 points in 40 games, which at this point is tied for the lead among NHL defencemen.

“I feel like I have room to get better,” Rielly tells the scrum. “When you look, recently, we’ve had some losses and it’s important we all take that upon ourselves as individuals and try to get better.”

The Leafs welcome the Vancouver Canucks that night at Scotiabank Arena, Rielly’s hometown team. Rielly has become accustomed to being sent to speak for the Leafs ahead of a game. He has not just taken steps, but leaps and bounds this season to become the team’s number one defenceman. In training camp, Rielly confided to one of his best friends on the team, Jake Gardiner, that he was going to be “more assertive” offensively this season.

As such, it’s curious that the league’s highest-scoring defenceman was left off the All-Star Game roster when it was announced a few days earlier.

But Rielly still has a shot to get to San Jose and his first All-Star Game: Throughout this week, fans can vote for him as part of a “Last Man In” campaign. One player from each division will be selected.

Not surprisingly, Rielly, who has been hesitant to speak about his own personal accomplishments all season, isn’t viewing this week as a try-out for the All-Star Game.

“I don’t think it’s going to change anything,” Rielly says, shaking his head. “Voting is what it is. It’s based on a lot more than just what happens on Monday night and then Thursday night.”

After a five-game point streak through December that saw him net 11 points, Rielly has cooled, going pointless in his last three games. It is his longest scoring drought of an otherwise scorching season.

Tonight’s setting is seemingly right for Rielly to get back on track.

“I’d be lying if I said I just treated it like every other game,” Rielly says of facing the Canucks.

He knows all of his buddies back in Vancouver are watching, and he understands expectations surrounding his play might be heightened.

At 6:35 p.m., Rielly and the Leafs exit the dressing room, but not until famed Canadian astronaut, and noted Leafs fan Chris Hadfield quickly scoots through the blocked-off area directly outside the dressing room.

Rielly is the 19th player out of the dressing room. He stops to share a choreographed handshake with Mitch Marner that ends up looking more like an entanglement of hands than it does a high-five. They both burst out in simultaneous laughter.

“I like it in basketball when it’s a little bit more elaborate,” Rielly says of special handshakes among teammates.

Midway through the first period, Rielly sees his fortunes change. He throws the puck on net from just inside the blueline and John Tavares tips it in. It’s part of a comprehensive performance from Rielly in which he generates six scoring chances.

The Leafs humiliate Rielly’s hometown team, 5-0.

Still, Rielly isn’t interested in personal accolades, including breaking his pointless drought.

“People always ask me about points and stuff,” Rielly says. “I genuinely don’t think about it. I used to when I was younger. As you get a bit older, you put it out of your mind and you just worry about playing.”

Rielly will hang around Scotiabank Arena after the game until half-time of the Dallas Cowboys-Seattle Seahawks wildcard playoff game. He then quickly drives home to his Trinity Bellwoods apartment. He pours himself a glass of red wine and makes a beeline for his couch to watch the second half of the game and unwind.

Rielly won’t call himself a wine connoisseur by any means, but he’s met enough people through his NHL career that have influenced his taste in wine. He favours wines from Napa Valley instead of more traditionally popular countries like France and Italy. When he gets together with his parents, he always chooses the wine, even if they do talk a big game after recently returning from a trip to Italy.

“I know what I like now,” Rielly says, nodding his head confidently.

Sunday, January 6

Rielly arrives at the Leafs’ practice facility at 10:00 a.m. for a noon practice. He’ll get a bit of physical treatment, stretch, take part in a team workout around 11:00 a.m. then be part of a team meeting at 11:30.

When Rielly does take to the ice just before noon, there is a full-size dummy on the ice that goaltending coach Steve Briere uses to simulate screens for the team’s goalies.

Rielly has other plans.

“Me and (Gardiner) like to shoot pucks at it because we think it’s funny,” Rielly says.

Sunday’s practice is short, totalling just 25 minutes. The team avoids working on structure, instead opting for a variety of three-on-three games meant to, in Rielly’s estimation, “just keep the motor running.”

With the rest of the day to kill, Rielly considers his options: he’s interested in seeing ‘Vice,’ or perhaps spending time with Auston Matthews, Frederik Andersen and Tyler Ennis, all of whom are single and have established a routine of dining out and seeing movies together.

Rielly is all too aware that it’s important to have hobbies outside of hockey and not simply spend his personal time on the couch.

But Sunday is different.

“Today’s going to be about football,” Rielly says.

It’s the final day of the NFL’s wildcard weekend, and Rielly wants nothing more than to park himself on his couch to watch.

“I do believe in preparation, being rested and being aware of what you put in your body today,” Rielly says, perhaps using this as an excuse to spend a Sunday afternoon vegging.

Rielly’s interest in football isn’t just a passing one.

His father, Andy, was a Raiders fan after working in Orange County, California as a carpenter when he was younger. Morgan and Andy would drive down together from West Vancouver to Seattle to watch the Raiders play the Seahawks. When Rielly was seven and the Seahawks played at the University of Washington’s Husky Stadium, the two braved the freezing, snowy conditions by buying entirely too many blankets which they still have, and use.

“I’ll always remember that,” Rielly says.

His interest became even more deep-seated when he began playing fantasy football. Rielly’s incredible season isn’t just limited to the ice: He won the team’s fantasy football league.

His pick for the Super Bowl is the New Orleans Saints, led by Drew Brees. He admits to being mesmerized by one of the all-time great quarterbacks.

“He’s one of the only guys who I’ll watch the entire game and not change the channel. When I watch that team play I just think about how good they are. Their offence just clicks.”

Monday, January 7

Game days are always the same for Rielly. After waking at 8:00 a.m., as he does every morning, and throwing on the first clothes he can find, he’ll drive along Lakeshore Boulevard to the Scotiabank Arena, arriving no later than 8:45.

He’ll mosey around the dressing room, striking up a conversation with whichever teammate he meets.

“It takes me a while to wake up,” Rielly says.

Breakfast always consists of two eggs, over easy, with one notable exception.

“If I’m really hungry I’ll have these blueberry pancakes we have,” Rielly says. “They say they’re supposed to be good for you but I don’t really believe them.”

More coffee follows. Rielly will tape his sticks for the game while waiting for one of his favourite parts of his day: The pre-game soccer kick about. Players organize a tournament and whoever lets the ball drop is out of the circle. The last man standing gets a point, and the first player to three points wins.

“I’m the best guy on the team. You can ask,” says Rielly. He never played much soccer growing up but he has honed his skills.

The first team meeting is at 9:50 followed by another at 10:00. If the morning skate is mandatory, Rielly will take the ice.

If not? More soccer.

“That’s harder than pre-game skate,” Rielly says.

Lunch is served at the Platinum Club, a restaurant just steps away from the dressing room. He’ll always eat pasta in rosé sauce, and will always sit across from Gardiner. After lunch, Rielly grabs a cookie, a bottle of water and returns home.

He naps earlier than his teammates, generally from 12:30-1:30. Once he wakes up, he’ll open his laptop and pore through the endless stream of news stories emerging that day, paying particular attention to any stories his mother has sent him.

Rielly arrives back at Scotiabank Arena by 4:00 p.m. His pre-game meal is simple: toast, and, more coffee.

At 4:25, Rielly enters the trainer’s room for a thorough stretch. He’ll wait for Gardiner to finish his stretch immediately afterwards and a one-on-one game of soccer follows. First to 10 points wins.

By the end of that game, more teammates are waiting on the sidelines to join in. Another tournament commences.

At 5:00, Rielly enters the dressing room. The team’s penalty kill meeting begins at 5:12 sharp. He’ll then chat with defence partner Ron Hainsey about the evening’s matchup. Rielly is a fan of poring over the game notes on the opposition to see if any trends stick out.

Another meeting at 5:30 follows before…another game of soccer.

Rielly eventually has to be pulled away from his teammates for more stretching before getting dressed for the game.

Tonight’s game is one to forget for Rielly and the Leafs. After giving up two second period goals against the Nashville Predators, the Leafs throw caution to the wind and abandon their defensive structure in search of the tying goals. In doing so, they expose themselves and are exploited by a very good Predators offence. They add two more goals in the third period and the Leafs lose 4-0.

Rielly is unable to break out of the Leafs own zone as he has all season.

“It was an example of them clogging up the ice and making it difficult for us to generate offence,” Rielly says. “And that can be frustrating.”

Tuesday, January 8

It is a day off for Rielly and the Leafs. Rielly begins his day by running a few errands, including a stop at the bank, all fueled by a few iced coffees. He makes his way to Ossington Avenue where he meets Ennis, Andersen and Matthews for a sushi lunch.

The push to get Rielly into the All-Star game begins to ramp up. The Toronto Raptors post a short video with Pascal Siakam in a Rielly jersey encouraging fans to vote for Rielly.

Matthews also posts a photo of Rielly from lunch on his Instagram story, trying to generate more votes.

The four of them then move on to a local theatre for a matinee viewing of ‘Aquaman.’ Nothing special, according to Rielly, even if he is into superhero movies.

By the evening, the weight of two games over the past three nights catches up with Rielly. He’s exhausted, and can’t be bothered to cook. He says goodbye to his teammates and walks across the street from his apartment to Oyster Boy and saddles up to the bar.

He’s a fan of spending his evenings alone at the restaurant bar, often bringing a book, such as Thomas L. Friedman’s ‘Thank You for Being Late: An Optimist’s Guide to Thriving in the Age of Accelerations.’

As increased attention on Rielly’s social media ramps up, he needs drown out the noise. He isn’t entirely comfortable with all the attention. He plugs in his headphones and listens to an episode of the Joe Rogan Experience with a plate of oysters in front of him.

Wednesday, January 9

Wednesday’s practice ends with a competition born out of a discussion among Leafs teammates: Who’s better at taking faceoffs, defencemen or centres? Rielly has only taken two draws in his lifetime. Last season, with the Leafs trying to kill a 5-on-3 penalty and one Leafs forward already kicked out of the dot, Rielly was called in to face off against Henrik Sedin. He lost.

Assistant coach D.J. Smith drops pucks as the two groups bark after every draw. In the end, perhaps against the odds, Gardiner leads the defencemen to a surprise victory. A round of cheers breaks out among the Leafs defencemen.

Jake Gardiner and Nazem Kadri often debate whether forwards or defencemen have harder practices, and Rielly hopes this competition settled the debate.

“It was brewing for a couple of days,” Rielly says, “so I’m glad we squashed it.”

After practice, Rielly and his teammates board a flight to New Jersey in advance of tomorrow’s game against the Devils.

Rielly takes his seat near Gardiner, Kadri and Hainsey for a heated game of poker. Rielly has never considered himself much of a poker player, aside from killing time on his phone with a poker app. It’s the camaraderie he enjoys.

“I’m not a good player. I like being involved in making fun of guys,” Rielly says with a mischievous grin that is as commonplace to Rielly as his dad socks.

Nevertheless, he wins big on the flight down.

Previous attempts via social media to bring attention to Rielly’s “Last Man In” vote were only a start: On Wednesday night, Gardiner helps the Leafs go on the offensive. Gardiner films a series of short clips with players hamming it up for the camera in an attempt to influence voters and boost Rielly’s case for the All-Star Game.

Rielly was alone in his hotel room at the time, getting ready for a team dinner and was unaware of what Gardiner and the team were putting together.

“If I was, they wouldn’t have gotten out,” Rielly says.

When he returns to his room after dinner his phone blows up with notifications. He can only shake his head and text Gardiner to plead for the videos to stop.

Thursday, January 10

The majority of the Leafs don’t travel to the Prudential Center for a morning skate, so Rielly and Gardiner play soccer at the hotel on their own.

“I rinsed him,” says Rielly.

More videos continue to roll in on social media, encouraging fans to vote for Rielly.

Rielly tries to block out the added attention by continuing his routine. The Prudential Center offers a roomier space for the team’s pre-game soccer than many arenas. But that could only increase the attention on Rielly.

“He’s a target man,” says forward Andreas Johnsson, who is also one of the better soccer players on the team.

Rielly isn’t fazed. If anything, he believes Johnsson’s admission proves his superiority.

“If it’s Royal Rumble, you go after the best player, because you want him out early,” Rielly says.

The Leafs get the bounce-back effort they needed, a comprehensive 4-2 victory over the Devils. Rielly registers one assist and it’s one worth remembering. His patient highlight-reel pass looks almost effortless but still brilliant.

The Leafs don’t leave the airport in New Jersey until just after 11:30 p.m. Rielly finally arrives home just before 1:30 a.m. It’s a late night, but Rielly still sets his alarm for 8:00 a.m. the next morning.

“You have about 12 coffees and go about your day,” says Rielly.

Friday, January 11

As Rielly begins skating laps around the ice ahead of practice, the results are announced by the NHL: Rielly will not be going to the All-Star Game. Sabres forward Jeff Skinner is the final Atlantic Division representative.

After practice, Rielly is swarmed by reporters. Asked repeatedly what it would have meant for him to have been able to go to the game, Rielly deflects. He can’t imagine what it would be like to experience something that didn’t happen.

“I’m glad it’s over,” Rielly says repeatedly of the vote. The feelings of self-consciousness over the attention were a little too much to bear.

He’s already making plans to return to Vancouver and spend some quality time with his eight-year-old yellow lab, Maggie. Time away from the spotlight would serve Rielly well.

After a nap to recuperate from practice, Rielly and Ennis meet at Lee, a trendy Asian fusion restaurant, for dinner. Rielly is a massive fan of Susur Lee but even more so, considers living in Toronto as a way to expand his culinary palette.

“There’s a lot of diversity in this city,” says Rielly. “That is true certainly with the food. There’s lots out there that you can try, and find what you like.”

Saturday, January 12

By Saturday afternoon, the focus has shifted away from Rielly’s All-Star Game snub to that night’s opponents, the Bruins. After losing two of three regular-season meetings so far, questions continue to swirl about whether the Leafs have the mettle to combat the Bruins should they meet again in the postseason.

Rielly understands the questions, even if he doesn’t like them.

“If you’re a journalist and you look at the history, that’s the narrative I would write too,” Rielly says. “I don’t think there’s anything there that we’re afraid of.”

As the Leafs prepare to take the ice, Rielly takes his normal position in front of the silver Maple Leaf logo in the dressing room hallway to the ice. He wears an “A” on his sweater and is beginning to take more responsibility on this team. So much so that, as strong a year as he is having as an individual, he would trade it all for greater success as a team.

“That’s the end goal,” says Rielly, with the admission that the Leafs need their best players to be performing at their full capacity to succeed. “That’s why we’re here. We want to win hockey games. It’s not about what we do as individuals. That’s a trade I’d make for sure.”

In the second intermission, with the Leafs trailing 3-2 and slightly deflated, Rielly pipes up. His message is simple: Stay positive. He reminds those closest to him in the dressing room that the team is at home, down by just one goal and that they were getting their fair share of scoring chances.

“To hear voices, I think it’s good,” says Rielly. “You feel like there’s something that has to be said, whether you’re a young guy, old guy, it doesn’t matter.”

The Bruins hold on for the win. There were long stretches throughout the game that Rielly felt the Leafs were in control. It’s hard for Rielly not to imagine another playoff matchup.

“When you look at the standings, there’s a chance we’ll see them again,” Rielly says. “That’s something you always think about.”

Rielly returns to his apartment, alone with his thoughts. He tries not to let losses fester too long. He genuinely tries to find the positives in the game, and then “flushes it,” before practice the next day. Rielly is happy to have some time to himself. If there will be no reflection on his breakout season in public, the only time it might come is on his couch, free of distraction.

“I like my own space,” Rielly says. “My mom always commented on that, the way I liked to — not necessarily be alone, but — more or less, be alone.”

From the outside, Rielly may never live a more enviable life than he currently does. He does not allow for the admission that in playing the best hockey of his professional career, his profile has been raised dramatically. Even when his family visits and he dines out with his mother, she cannot get over how many people around Rielly are staring, whispering and pointing in admiration.

Rielly doesn’t want to notice the added attention, or have himself singled out for what could be one of the best offensive seasons by a Leafs defenceman, ever.

“I don’t think we’ve accomplished our end goal yet,” says Rielly. “Yeah, things are good if you look at it right now, but I think they could be a lot better. I don’t think our focus is enjoying everything that’s happening right now. We have bigger goals. And to reach that end goal, I think then we’ll be able to take a step back and look around a bit more.”

The following day is a practice, and Rielly has his alarm set for 8:00 a.m.

#morgan rielly #old article #need to pay to read the original article #toronto maple leafs #hes like Tessa #Likes his own company #coffee #and to read books #all round good guy?

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kn1ghthawk · 4 years

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Fallout OC questionaire

@falloutfandomeventhub Fallout OC Questionnaire Whether your OC is a Lone Wanderer or Sole Survivor, these questions can be asked by others to know more about them! Or simply be used as a guide to further develop your character. Ask away, luv! 00. Which Fallout game are they from? Fallout 4 01. Which faction(s) did they join and which did they destroy? Why? The only Faction to be destroyed was the institute by the minute men. Officially, the botherhood won the commonwealth. Their equipment and training are stronger than either the railroad or the minutemen can handle on a one-by-one. With the institute destroyed, the railroad had lost its greater purpose. Some of the remaining members worked to establish a pipeline to Far harbor and Acadia for those who didn't wish for a mind-wipe. Others chose to join the minutement to make the world a safer place. The brotherhood is the army, the minutemen are the police. 02.What is their S.P.E.C.I.A.L.? S4 P6 E1 C1 I10 A4 L3 Strong enough to bend metal to his will, but no 'heavy hitter' or load hauler. Good eyes and quite perceptive, able to play with explosives without fear and an able rifleman The frost seems to have sapped all of his endurance he developed in the army, finding himself constantly winded. Between his sarcastic nature as a veteran, the dysphoria of a new world, and his half blasted face, his charisma is something to be desired Intelligence is where he shines, capable with computers, engineering and certified to operate with fusion cores. His agility is fair. Able to be sneaky, but by no means a ninja. He is lucky in cards but unlucky in love. Hard pressed to romance any companion, he is still able to get a lucky shot off. 03. Give us a summary of their backstory. Son of a locksmith, he used his gift with tumblers to break into places for the cheap thrills and fell in with a bad crowd. The first time he met Nora was popping a lock for her in the rain and he decided she was someone he was willing to make a better man of himself. He enlisted, became a combat engineer, got half his face blown off. Came home after the tour, got popped in the freezer. 04. What’s their full name and does it have a meaning? Do they have any nicknames and how did they get em? Nathaniel Victor Winters, A.K.A. Vic, Blue and THE SILVER SHROUD! Vic is a shortening, blue comes from the suit he emerged from the vault, and the silver shroud came from his time enacting revenge in goodneighbor and his codename with the railroad. 05. What’s their sexual, romantic, and gender orientation? Do they feel comfortable telling other people? He's bisexual male favoring feminine appearance lovers, he lost his virginity with another man in the gang he ran with as a kid. In this war-torn world, what you have in your pants and where you stick it really is on the bottom of the totem pole. 06. Do they have any mental illnesses? How do they cope? The horrors of the war and what he has done still tear at him today. He often stays up late nights tinkering and drafting until he is finally too exhausted to think and blacks out. He 07. Do they have any medical conditions? Is medicine/ treatment available for them? His lungs are frost-burnt from the improper freezing technique. He can get enough air to walk and talk, but any sudden exertion like running has him on his knees in ten seconds. he has second and third degree burns on the right side of his face and body. 08. How much do they care about their outer appearance? What’s their “beauty routine”? How often do they shower/ bathe? His physical appearance is a sensitive subject, some days he feels like he looks like half a ghoul with his second and third degree burns down the right side of his face and body. Optimally, he likes to wear his silver shroud get-up with the scarf wrapped around his face and operator goggles. (use surgical mask or striped bandana to represent the scarf pulled up) Not only does he like to bathe, but he has started building water heaters for a hot bath. 09. What do they fear the most? Fire makes him... uncomfortable, his armor always has asbestos when it is an option. He fears loosing curie, the only other person not bothered by his features beyond Hancock, both of whom are his only lovers. Part of him is afraid he will wake up in the tube again, that this was all a dream. 10. They’re biggest flaw? Do they recognize it as a flaw? He overthinks everything, he has an obsession with returning some of the old world tech back to this new place. He sees a hundred things being used or not used that would make things so much easier. 11. What are they most insecure about? He is almost entirely sure he is a synth, placed by deacon into the vault. 12. What Wasteland threat do they fear the most? (ex. Deathclaws, super mutants, raiders) Raiders are just people. So is the institute. But if he had to pick one single crature he will call for an airstrike on everytime is the mirelurk queen. Three story tall crab spitting armor-melting acid? Hard pass. 13. What’s their zodiac sign or which one do you think they relate to the most? What are their placements (if you know them)? (ex. Aries sun, Taurus moon, Aquarius Venus) May 5th 2045 (Taurus/Ox) 14. What’s their Myers–Briggs Type? (ex. ENTP, ISFJ) INTJ- The scientist 15. What Harry Potter house would they be in? (ex. Gryffindor, Ravenclaw) Ravenclaw 16. Which Pokemon Go team would they choose? (ex. Instinct, Valor, Mystic) Team mystic 17. Out of the nine forms of intelligence (rhythmic, spatial, linguistic, mathematical, kinesthetic, interpersonal, intrapersonal, naturalistic, and existential) which one(s) are they really good at and which one(s) is(are) their weakest? 1) Mathematical 2) Kinethetic 3) Linguistic 4) Spatial 5) Interpersonal 6) Intrapersonal 7) Naturalistic 8) Existential 9) Rhythmic 18. What natural alignment are they? (ex. Lawful Good, Chaotic Evil) Chaotic good, Doing the right thing, regardless of the law. 19. Do they have any hobbies? What are they? Tinkering, repairing, drafting. 20. Do they have a favorite holiday? How do they celebrate it? Halloween, costumes and parties. 21. What’s their favorite season? Winter, not just because of the namesake, the way the snow absorbs all sound and colors to make a calm quite monotone of the world. 22. Do they have a temper or are they level headed? Level-headed but vengeful. 23. Do they express their emotions freely or hide their true feelings? He holds his feelings until he has time to walk them out and express himself calmly. But if he gets overwhelmed with loss, he is known to find a corner and break down. 24. Are they a leader or a follower? A reluctant leader as he is the only man with a plan half the time. 25. How do they come off to others? What first impression do they usually make? Know-it-all, gallows humor, awful ugly. 26. Do they prefer to travel alone or with company? Who have they traveled with if any? Current companion if any? He has traveled with most of the companions, leaning on their experience and expertise. His constant companion is Curie and dogmeat. He has the sentinel to provide assistance and carry what he needs to keep himself agile. 27. Would you describe them as selfless or selfish? Does it depend on the situation? Most often he is selfless, throwing caps and resources as problems. He always makes sure the farms under his protection have eight turrets and the farmers are well armed and armored with the standard of leather armor and bolt action rifles. 28. What do they find most attractive in others? Name at least one psychological and physical trait. (doesn’t have to be romantic attraction) In curie it is her sweet faux-french voice and elemental green eyes that almost glow in the right light. From his minor hearing loss in the war, he often reads lips which leads to liking the shapes of certain mouths. 29. Do they flirt often? How easily do they fall in love? He is heavily flirtatious, but he cannot fall in love without sleeping with someone first. As a concupiscent, he has trouble forming longer relationships past fleeting friends without engaging in sexual activities with them. 30. What’s their love life like? Are they interested in anyone or in a relationship? He is in a relationship with Curie and Hancock in a 70/30 split. Hancock knows the need to get down and dirty to do what had to be done. So often after a 'dark' mission, hancock will get loaded and Vic will get drunk to wind down and whatever happens next happens. 31. Do they prefer to solve things diplomatically or using violence? “Si vis Pacem, Para bellum. If you want peace, prepare for war.” He always hopes for peaceful resolutions, popping a grape mentat before an important meeting but keeping track against addiction. But that peaceful meeting almost always comes with a loaded ten on his thigh and one person as backup. 32. What is their combat style? What range do they prefer? Do they sneak? He is a fine rifleman, preferring to take his targets one by one from a hidden distance for as long as possible with the sentinel and dogmeat running melee interference. If curie is with him, she cannot escape her programming with her buzz-saw limb so Vic gives her a melee weapon like a ripper or the throatslicer for her to exercise her medical expertise. Handcock is given a shotgun and a chance to go to town. 33. What weapon(s) do they always carry with them? Vic's favored sidearm is the ultimatum but his go-to is the Kiloton radium rifle. Before then It was Crickets spray-n-pray with the railroad deliverer. 34. Their most prized possession? A lucky rabbits foot he keeps as a charm on his pistols lanyard loop, it was a keepsake from the first time he ever went hunting. 35. Their thoughts on power armor? He finds them very convenient, as long as they are not overutalized or relied on to accomplish the task. As part of the combat engineers, he spent most of his time in a base skeletal frame with cobbled bits ten feet behind the real armored infantry solider marching through the front lines. 36. Favorite armor/ outfit? The silver shroud costume, armored up thanks to Kent. Otherwise, a pair of ballistic military fatigues with full heavy combat armor. 37. How’s their aim? Do their hands shake while pointing a gun? When using a rifle, his left hand holds the barrel steady, when using a pistol his right hand shakes from the nerve damage of the burn so he has to settle for center mass. 38. What are their thoughts on having to kill on a daily bases in order to survive? Does it take a toll on them? Or do they shake it off rather easily? The sad truth is that killing is easy, push a button, pull a trigger. The hard ones are the melee kills, feeling the hot blood splash and run as the last moments of fight or flight kick in before the death rattle. 39. Thoughts on death if any? (ex. Fear it, accept it) He is fairly accepting of death, the world is already a better place for his coming and going. 40. Do they move around a lot or prefer to have a place to call home? Adventure has kept him on the move, he is content for now, his place is in the workshop bringing back Boston to the way it could be. He trusts his friends to keep the day-to-day running while he plays with his pet projects. 41. What’s their favorite location? He likes Red Rocket when he needs to get away from sanctuary hills, Deacon jokes it is the silver shroud's secret lair. He likes to stop in on all the settlements to make sure he didn't need to call in the brotherhood for a massive problem. 42. Their opinions on ghouls, feral and not feral? Feral ghouls still remind him of zombies. His preferred practice is to kneecap them so they fall and let the others finish them off. He has heard the feral transition on the holotape to ozwald and can only compare it to rabied dog and will put them down like dogs. He feels that it is similar to dementia at an old folks home, there is no coming back yet, even from the serum. 43. Do they scavenge for their supplies or simply buy them? He is a scavenger as often as possible, Often holding off or doing without until later, Sometimes he will buy a weapon just for a specific part, then pass the rest of the weapon to one of the farmers. 44. Are they the type to get distracted and go off to an unknown nearby location or do they stay on track? It often depends on the severity of the mission at hand. If it is tracking a signal or fetching something then he is free to wander. But if it is a time sensitive mission like an assault or someone is in danger, then he is a one track mind. 45. How do they sleep? Are they picky about where and how or can they sleep basically anywhere? He prefers to be able to pull something over his shoulder, be it blanket or jacket. He can only really be at rest to sleep in a room with closed or no windows and a door he can lock or brace. Often blocking bathrooms with fallen stall doors so he can sleep on the floor. 46. What’s their favorite radio station and song? (post-apocalypse) Johnny guitar by Peggy Lee, it was the nickname of the boy he lost his innocence with. 47. What’s their favorite post-apocalyptic food? Are they a picky eater? Do they know how to cook? He prefers the canned dog food, it is a hearty protein and reminds him of army beef stew MRE's 48. What’s their favorite beverage? Do they drink alcohol? His favorite drink is Nuka Cherry and his favorite hard drink is numa Dark or rum and cola 49. Anything they like to collect? (ex. Unique weapons, Bobbleheads) He often collects weapons and armor mods to add to his modular suits to try and think of an answer to every situation. 50. Are they good at disarming traps or do they constantly miss them? He has seen what happens when a trap gets missed, the lives and limbs lost. He studied EOD wherever he could from anyone willing to teach him, the rest has come from experience.

#fallout 4

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libralita · 5 years

Text

Where is She? Part 4

First, I would like to thank @mrs-han for helping me figure out how to get a beach episode how to start off this part of the fic. Just a warning…this one is really long. Also there are some spoilers for How to Train Your Dragon 2. Yes, really. Don’t worry, it’ll make sense.

Joyce was on her break from dance class, she was taking a long drink from her water when her phone rang. “Hello?” She asked, a little winded.

“Is this a bad time?”

Joyce blushed when she heard Jumin voice, “no, no! I’m just on my break from class. Had a good workout! What’s up, Jumin?”

There was a pause. “The ceiling?” Joyce nearly snorted water out her nose. “There’s also a lovely chandelier. Joyce, are you interested in architecture?”

Joyce took a moment to laugh, “Let me rephrase that: Jumin, why have you called me?”

Jumin chuckled at the other end, “Ah, I see I’m not hip with the kids.” Joyce bit her lip to keep from laughing. “What I am calling about, is that that I was thinking about how I should repay your kindness for inviting me to dinner.”

“Oh, you don’t need to do that, Jumin!”

“I insist.” Jumin said, “I was thinking about going to my private island for the a few days. Would you and your friends care to join me?”

“Your private island?”

“Yes. Don’t worry about bringing anything. Everything will be provided.” Jumin said.

“I um…Jumin, I took you out to Olive Garden and you want to take use to your private island.”

There was a pause. “The breadsticks were very good.”

Joyce laughed at his joke. It was slightly in bewilderment as to how she came to be asked by a billionaire to come to his private island. “I’ll talk to Beth and Kaya about it.”

“I am very glad to hear that. I will send you the details.”

“Thank you so much, Jumin.” Joyce said.

“No, thank you, Joyce.”

“Are you certain we aren’t being punked? I’m going to throw off my schedule so much if this was all a waste of time.” Kaya asked, as the three girls walked to the docks.

“Certain.” Joyce said, taking their digital tickets up to the booth.

“Be a little more excited Kaya! We’re going to a private island.”

“And what happens if we’re kidnapped and never heard from again?” Kaya asked, crossing her arms. “I didn’t work my butt off to get into law school for nothing.”

Beth shook her head, “The only thing I’m worried about is getting a sunburn!”

“At least I won’t have to worry about that.” Kaya said, having much darker skin than both Joyce and especially Beth.

“So you have nothing to worry about.” Beth said, sticking her tongue out.

A man went up to the group. “Mr. Han is already on the island, please follow me to your boat.”

Beth gave Kaya a told-you-so look as several men came to get their luggage. It was a short ride there. Joyce snapped a photo with her father’s camera of Beth pretending to throw Kaya’s phone in the ocean when she saw the island come into view. “There it is!”

It was a small island with plenty of trees and a large cabin in the distance. It looked absolutely beautiful with flora and fauna everywhere.

All three girls ran up to get a better look, once they game in closer they could see Jumin standing on the dock. He stood with someone else holding drinks for them and even Elizabeth III was there to great them! “Jumin!” Beth called, waving.

Joyce snapped a picture of it and then went down with the rest of the girls. She was about to grab her bags but the crew members insisted on taking them.

“I did not know you took photographs.” Jumin said to Joyce, offering her a colorful drink. He had a weird expression on his face. He kept looking down at her camera.

“Just a hobby. My dad was really into cameras and so I just picked it up for him. I wanted to bring back memories of this!” She said taking her drink. “It’s beautiful.”

“Hello, Elizabeth!” Beth said, coming up to the cat who rubbed against her. “Are you on vacation as well?”

“Meow~”

Joyce smiled and then looked to Jumin, “You haven’t really gotten to know her but this our friend Kaya.”

“A pleasure.” Jumin said, shaking Kaya’s hand.

“The pleasure is all mine.” Kaya said, “I’ve read so much about C&R! I wanted to ask—”

“Is that another ship?” Beth interrupted pointing into the distance to another ship that looked like it was coming their way.

“I don’t remember another ship schedule to come at this hour.” Jumin said, shielding his eyes and squinting to get a better look.

Joyce took her camera and zoomed in on the ship as much as she could. “It looks like another one of your ships.” She said, offering him the camera.

Jumin hesitantly took it and then looked through it. “It is…I think I can see some of the people on the—No.”

“What’s wrong?” Beth asked, concerned.

“They didn’t…” Jumin said, giving back Joyce’s camera, handing off his drink to Beth, and going up further on the dock.

“Jumin!” A redhead man with yellow glasses called. “We heard you were having a harem on your island! So we decided to join you.”

“A harem?” Kaya asked, indigent. Jumin was barely in control of his emotions as he saw most of the members of RFA on the ship. With the exception of V, they were all there. Even Jaehee who was in more casual clothing. Which was weird to see.

“Yeah, there’s you three and of course, my precious Elly!” Seven said, going up to the cat but Jumin stopped him.

“I don’t think so.” Jumin said. “What are you doing here?”

“We just came for some fun in the sun.” Seven said shrugging. “Jaehee said you were going on a vacation. Which was weird. Did a little snooping and found out you were going on an island with Elly’s savior and company.”

“So we decided to come.” Zen interrupted. “You shouldn’t bring three young women to an island by themselves. All men are wolves!”

“Wolves?” The three women asked.

“Is that Zen?” Joyce asked to Beth and that got Jumin’s attention.

“You know him?” Jumin asked.

Zen smiled and went up to them. “Of course they know me. I am becoming famous.”

Jumin felt his chest tighten and it was like he was being sucked up into a tornado and no one around seemed to care. He did not understand any of these emotions he was feeling but they needed to stop—

“I just know you because you were in a show another dancer from our studio.” Joyce said, sounding slightly uncomfortable and quickly looked to Beth. “Remember what Ellis said?”

“Oh yeah, you were the guy who sneezed any time he brought up cats—”

“Meow!”

“Gahhh!” Zen said, moving away and nearly falling into the water. He started sneezing and quickly ran off the deck and onto the island to get away from Elizabeth III. Jumin finally felt calmer knowing that was how Joyce knew Zen. He didn’t understand why.

“This is a disaster…” Jumin said, running his fingers through his hair. “You all need to leave.”

“Oh, c’mon, Jumin.” Yoosung said, waving at the girls awkwardly. “It could be really fun!”

“Clearly you have quite the colorful cast of friends.” Kaya snorted. “I don’t really care if they stay.”

“See, they don’t care!” Yosung said, “Can I try one of those drinks?”

“Are you old enough to drink?” Kaya asked.

This made Yoosung pout at that. Jumin snorted shaking his head. “Fine, just please don’t make a mess of everything. And Seven you’re not allowed to touch Elizabeth.”

“Whatever!” Seven said going onto the island with Yoosung and Jaehee.

Joyce giggled softly which got Jumin’s attention. “You’re like their dad.”

Jumin raised his eyebrow. “I did a poor job of raising those miscreants then.”

“Don’t worry Jumin, it’ll still be a fun weekend!” Beth said, offering his drink back to him.

“If only I could have your optimism, Beth.” Jumin said, taking a sip. “Let’s go make sure they haven’t destroyed anything.”

There were limited amount of rooms in the cabin. Jumin attempted to make an excuse for the RFA to go home but they had decided that Joyce, Jaehee, Beth, and Kaya would share one of the larger rooms. Then Yoosung and Zen would share a room. Seven and Jumin got their own rooms because Jumin would not allow that cat abuser to share a room with Elizabeth III.

“How long are you planning on staying?” Jaehee asked Beth who had the most suitcases of everyone.

“Four days. Why?”

Jaehee looked at the bags, “then what’s in all of these?00”

“Clothes!” Beth said, “for every occasion. You can never be too prepared when it comes to fashion. Joy, can I use some of your closet space?”

“Sure.” Joyce said, having brought just as little as Jaehee. Jaehee was a tad wary of these three women. She was more trusting of them since Mr. Han had trust them but you could never be too careful.

“Let’s go down to the beach!” Beth said, pulling out one of many swim suits.

“I’m down.” Kaya said.

Joyce looked at Jaehee, “do you want to come with us?”

“I suppose.” She said, packing up her things neatly.

They ladies changed into their swimwear, Jaehee started blushing when Beth came out in a small black bikini. “I’m going to go tell the guys we’re going out to the beach.”

Before Jaehee could ask if that was wise, Beth was already out the door.

“Can’t you just ship that cat back to the mainland?!”

“And leave her with who? Jaehee is here!”

“Get a babysitter!”

Beth walked into Zen and Jumin arguing while Seven and Yoosung were on the couch. Yoosung was playing some game that she was sure Joyce’s cousin was into. “Guys!” She called and got their attention. “We’re going to the beach, if you want to come.”

Beth giggled slightly when the entire room went silent and all the guys were staring at her. Yoosung and Zen had gone completely red. Seven was also blushing and his eyebrows were way up when he asked, “could I borrow that?”

“Borrow what?”

“That outfit.”

Beth blinked, “Um…?”

“No.” Jumin said to Seven and then cleared his throat. “I will be joining you ladies after I change.”

“Y-Yeah!” Yoosung’s voice cracked. “Same here!” He quickly ran past Beth and up the stairs and nearly screamed when he almost ran into Kaya. Who was in an equally revealing bikini but…she was more…developed.

“You guys are so mean.” Joyce said coming down the stairs in a blue one piece bathing suit but was covered up with a skirt and a towel covering her upper half. “We’ll be outside, come and join if you want.”

“I’m going to throw your lap top and phone into the ocean if you guys don’t put them away.” Beth threatened to Jaehee and Kaya.

“I’m working.” They both said.

“It’s a vacation.”

“I doubt Mr. Han will think that for me, seeing how I came unexpectedly.” Jaehee said, continuing to type. “I’m just here to make sure the company doesn’t have any more scandals.”

“And why would there be scandals?” Kaya asked smirking.

Jaehee rolled her eyes as the boys came out of the cabin. “Hot sand!” Yoosung complained running over and onto the girls’ towel.

“You should have worn shoes.” Joyce said, offering him a water from the cooler.

“Thank you.” He said, not able to look in Kaya and Beth’s direction.

Zen came over, “it’s sad that this is a private island, I am depriving the world of seeing my beautiful body.”

Joyce blushed herself at that. She was so surprised at how…blatant Zen was. “Have you considered my offer?” Jumin asked coming up and taking a water from the cooler. “About doing the ad for—”

“Don’t even say it.” Zen said, glaring at Jumin and scrunching his nose.

“It’s a good opportunity.” Jumin pointed out.

“What is it?” Beth asked.

“A commercial for cat food.” Jumin said and Zen sneezed.

“I said, don’t, you jerk!”

“I don’t think Zen would be able to do that type of commercial.” Joyce said, quietly.

Zen nodded, “Joyce gets it!”

“You are being unprofessional.” Jumin said, coldly.

“I can’t help it if I’m allergic.”

“You shouldn’t allow that to get in the way of working.”

Zen turned red and got into Jumin’s face. “What would you know about working?! You wouldn’t be anywhere without your father or Jaehee! You work her to bone. She’s on vacation and she’s still working!”

“I did not invite her onto this vacation so she should be working.” Jumin said.

Zen threw his hands up in the air, “you’re nothing but an emotionless robo—”

“Enough!” Beth had stood up and got in between both of them to push them apart. “Zen.” She said looking up at him. “You are acting way out of line!”

Jumin looked surprised at how angry Beth was sounding as she jabbed her finger against his chest. Zen looked even more bewildered. “I…”

“Let’s all just calm down.” Kaya said, sitting up. “This is suppose to be a fun time, remember.”

“Yes, Jumin is being a bit insensitive but you need to stop acting like a massive jerk.”

Zen looked seriously wounded at Beth words and that’s not what Beth really wanted. She just wanted him to stop throwing out insults to Jumin. She huffed and stormed off back to the cabin. Kaya got up and followed her.

Joyce looked around and saw that Jumin also thought it wise to remove himself from the situation. She suppose she’d go look for him.

Joyce found Jumin sitting alone on one of the house’s decks. It was round and had railing it. It reminded Joyce of a gazebo. He was sitting and drinking wine.

“Jumin?”

“Ah, Joyce, shouldn’t you be enjoying the beach?” Jumin asked, taking another sip of wine.

Joyce hesitantly went up to him. “I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I am perfectly fine.” Jumin said, swirling around what was left in his glass. “Nothing Zen says ever gets to me.”

“It was still a little cruel.” Joyce said softly, going to lean against the railing. Jumin just shrugged, looking out to the sea. Joyce didn’t know what to say. She could tell something was on his mind. He seemed so alone. She absently started humming, trying to think of what to say.

“What is that song?”

“Hmm?”

“That song you’re humming.” Jumin said, looking at her. “It’s nice.”

Joyce blushed a little and shrugged. “Oh, just a song from a movie. I really liked the song and dance that went along with it. I…um…learned the dance.”

“Can I hear it?” Jumin asked and she knew he wasn’t teasing. He genuinely wanted to know.

“Sure.” She went to get her phone to look it up on YouTube.

“Why not sing it if you know it?”

Joyce blushed, “Oh, no! I’m a terrible singer and I don’t do it justice.” She said, moving next to him and showing him his screen.

“How to Train Your Dragon 2?” Jumin asked, noticing the title.

Joyce giggled. “Yeah. The song is actually called ‘For the Dancing and the Dreaming’.”

Jumin nodded and then listened intently to the song. It was a marriage proposal, the man promising that he would do anything for the woman. He laughed at the interruption but was a little confused. His heart started to melt when the woman came in and said she didn’t need any of his promises. Only his heart.

Jumin smile grew when the song became more upbeat and he found himself tapping his foot. “It’s a wonderful song. And there’s a dance?”

“Yeah, it’s from the movie but I made up some of the bits because it didn’t show everything.” She said, glancing down at her phone and then back him. “Want me to teach you?”

Jumin tilted his head, “teach me the dance?”

“Yeah, we’re not doing anything else.”

Jumin wasn’t sure if it were the wine but nodded and stood up. He folded the chair up to give them space. She slowly went over the steps with him. Despite having a bit of alcohol in him, he was still Jumin Han, and picked up quickly. It was a little hard when they went faster but he found himself enjoying it.

“Ready to go with the music?”

“Yes.” (Here is the video they’re watching and the scene from the movie if you want to see the dance)

Joyce smiled and played it again. They listened throw the instrumental and whistling. Joyce gently took Jumin’s hand and he felt his heart speed up. They were both blushing.

“I'll swim and sail on savage seas With never a fear of drowning And gladly ride the waves of life If you would marry me No scorching sun nor freezing cold Will stop me (on my journey, sorry!)”

Joyce and Jumin both snorted at the interruption. “Get ready.” She whispered to him. Jumin looked into her eyes and nodded.

“If you will promise me your heart

And love And love me for eternity My dearest one, my darling dear Your mighty words astound me But I've no need for mighty deeds When I feel your arms around me”

Joyce and Jumin began dancing, the put their arms together and walked around each other. The song starting to pick up speed.

“But I would bring you rings of gold I'd even sing you poetry (oh, would you?) And I would keep you from all harm If you would stay beside me

I have no use for rings of gold I care not for your poetry I only want your hand to hold

I only want you near me”

By this point Jumin and Joyce were dancing and grinning at each other. Jumin attempted to spin Joyce around but there just wasn’t room on the deck. Joyce move and took his hand and then ran down the deck’s steps.

Jumin laughed as they ran into the sand. It was too far to hear the music, so in a moment of boldness Joyce began to sing the rest of the words as they continued to dance. “…I'd gladly ride the waves so white and you will mar—Eeep!” Joyce was cut off when she took a wrong step was starting to fall into the sand.

She felt Jumin’s arms wrap around her and he broke his fall. Joyce squealed as they both landed in the sand. “Are you okay?!” She asked, starting to laugh.

“Fine!” He said out of breath. “You were wrong, you are a beautiful singer!”

Joyce laughed hard and this made Jumin laugh with her. They were tangled up in the sand, laughing when something white scampered over to them.

“Meow!”

Jumin and Joyce sat out on the beach together, watching the last bit of sun setting. Elizabeth III was contently sitting at their feet. “Do you still not want to talk about what’s bothering you?”

“My father is remarrying.” Jumin said, not looking at Joyce.

“Oh?”

“I do not trust her. I think she is trying to take advantage of my father’s blindness for women. What’s worse is he wants me to get married to her student.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Jumin.” Joyce said, and then asked. “Is that why you wanted to take this trip.”

“No. I wanted to repay you for your kindness.” Jumin said, quickly and then after a moment. “I may have wanted to get back at my father.”

Joyce nodded, “Do you know what you’ll do?”

“I am not getting married. I am worried as to what this will do to the company.” He sighed. She was quiet for a moment and then Joyce gently took his hand. It was different then holding hands when they were dancing. They stayed quiet for a while, the only sound was the waves crashing. “We should get back.” Jumin said, once the sun was down.

TBC

#Jumin Han #Joyce Elliot #Mystic Messenger #my writing #fan fiction

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quintessence-sentimentalist · 5 years

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Caleb, Peter, the Oracle/Himerish and Yan Lin for the ask game.

Alright, after a VERY unexpected hiatus (for which I wholeheartedly apologize), I’m finally back with responses to the ask game I reblogged with the expectation of answering much sooner.

Answers below the cut, with the exception of favorite photo (I just didn’t have the time to search through both comics and cartoon to find the best ones).

Caleb

• favorite thing about them:

I guess the fact that he pulls off Badass Normal pretty well, surrounded by all of these powerful women. He can still hold his own in a fight, and managed to coordinate a successful rebellion in a world long under tyrannical rule. Also, can’t forget the literal dream-guy aspect of his initial comics characterization.

• least favorite thing about them:

On the animated series side, I really dislike the toxic masculinity and sexism fueling his characterization, which was especially prominent in season 1 (and thankfully waned as the series went on). Which I guess is also my problem with him in the comics, except that trait came out of the blue well into his time in the series and served the sole purpose of breaking up his relationship.

• favorite line:

I do like the first romantic scene between Caleb and Cornelia, so I’ll go with his speech there.

• brOTP:

Listen, “D is for Dangerous” is one of my favorite episodes of the animated series, so Caleb and Matt is always a favorite relationship. He also has a fun relationship with the girls in season 1 (when he’s not being all “Ugh, girls”), and I do like his comic partnership with Vathek.

• OTP:

I don’t really ship them actively, but Cornelia and Caleb have a fun dynamic in the animated series, and the initial concept of them in the comics is really sweet.

• nOTP:

I’m not a fan of Elyon/Caleb for a number of reasons, and with the way CxC ended in the comics, I just don’t see there being a good way for them to get back together later on, so I really don’t ship Caleb with anyone after about issue #20.

• random headcanon:

Well, my knee-jerk reaction here is that cartoon-verse Caleb would find one unusual—by his peer group and personal characterization’s standards—hobby and be amazing at it and honestly enjoy it. Like in “Divide and Conquer” we got natural snowboarder Caleb because the sport had a Meridian counterpart, for a hot second he played a guitar on the school roof, and then “D is for Dangerous” was rife with his inability to understand Earth teenager things. So based on all of that, I’m thinking he’d somehow latch onto some activity that’s quiet and leisurely—because the guy needs it, he’s basically been raised in and for battle since conception—but still involves some skill and concentration. Something that can help him take his mind off things but also be productive, allowing him to create something fun and useful.

Basically, this is my roundabout way of saying that I had the mental image of Caleb taking up knitting and being great at it, maybe making the girls shawls and scarves for Guardian business in colder climates (because Kandrakar knows that the uniforms don’t offer optimal coverage). There’s just something comforting about the repetition to stitching, where he can either tune out to everything or focus on something else while his hands still work the needles without interruption. It makes even war rooms for the latest universal threat less of a stressor for him, and oh no I think I’m attached to this concept that started as a stray thought based on one of my own hobbies.

• unpopular opinion:

Mm, maybe just the fact that he’s not my favorite love interest in either media, even when on his best behavior? In terms of ship-related stuff, I most frequently see CxC as the popular canon pairing, and while I’m glad to see the love for them (means that this series overall is getting the love it deserves!), I’m personally just neutral and can’t really muster up any strong feelings. I pretty sure that’s just a ME thing, because many a time I’ve just been chill with major canon pairings, not really caring either way, while I’ll positively be clutching my heart and wanting to cry over my tiny canoe of a minor or even wildly non-canon pairing. So I’m totally down with and supportive of Caleb/CxC fans, even if I don’t feel what they do as potently.

• song i associate with them:

I feel like I use this song for every “enduring fight against evil” situation, but I’m still going to go with “The Good Guys” by the Elms (and of course, I can’t find a YouTube link for it…). I just feel like it captures the weariness of leading a rebellion against an oppressive superpower—especially in the days before the Guardians’ involvement—and the fact that Caleb is just a guy fighting without any powers. “When all you got is a single shot/You do the best job that you can/’Cause it’s a long road for a simple man.”

Peter

• favorite thing about them:

Look, he’s just a really great guy all-around. Best older brother, caring boyfriend, good friend, and the coolest dude who’s simultaneously a complete dork.

• least favorite thing about them:

I’m just going to go with the fact that he really doesn’t have any character in his short time in the animated series except to be a) Taranee’s brother (without really seeing anything with their relationship) and b) Caleb’s short-lived romantic foil for Cornelia.

• favorite line:

Not so much a line as a particular scene that sticks in my head as an iconic Peter moment, and it’s just this one comic image of him balancing on a kitchen chair like it’s a surfboard, excited that Taranee got accepted for the Redstone exchange program because it’s a “surfer’s paradise.” Like he’s super proud of his little sister for her achievements, but he’s also very much a surfer dude dork who’s going to geek out over some choice waves and get yelled at by his mom for standing on the furniture.

• brOTP:

He is the BEST big brother to Taranee, so of course that has to be my top choice.

• OTP:

Peter/Cornelia deserve so much more love than what I’ve given them in the past, they’re precious.

• nOTP:

I don’t really have one, at least not a specific one? PxC is the only thing I know in terms of Peter shipping.

• random headcanon:

In the instance where he finds out about the Guardians, I imagine he’d be like the Team Mom (or Best Boyfriend, in Cornelia’s case). Much like his sister, he’s not going to be pleased with the Council and what they put the Guardians through—really, if you throw Judge Cook in here too the three of them would probably put the entire establishment on trial and win. But in the meantime, until definitive change can be made, Peter devotes his time to making sure the girls are taken care of and maintaining a proper balance between their two lives. He’s probably there with cookies and hot chocolate and fuzzy blankets after every rough mission, letting the Guardians finish the initial debrief before ushering them to a mandatory movie night or something to decompress. Date nights with Cornelia invoke a firm no-Guardian-business clause, where all conversation is on everything but and any lingering concerns are checked at the door, where they can remain for a few hours.

It’s just… this is Peter’s sister and girlfriend and their best friends, and it’s in his nature to be a very chill, caring dude. If pre-New Power Matt was ecstatic about providing support by running interference while the girls are away on mission, then I imagine Peter would be the go-to guy for emotional support after a battle.

• unpopular opinion:

Mmm, just as a stray thought, I guess I’d have liked to see more of him in the animated series? Not sure if that’d be unpopular, but given the fact that CxC have something of a better relationship there than in the comics and Peter was pretty much introduced into that canon for the sole purpose of a love triangle, I thought it might be. So yeah, I’d have liked to see cartoon Peter some more—give me the good brotherly moments with Taranee, and I’d be curious to see a platonic friendship with Cornelia (and maybe even Caleb) assuming endgame CxC.

• song i associate with them:

Because I’m such a cheeseball, we’re going with an era-appropriate selection in “Catch Your Wave” by the Click Five, a song I still unabashedly love nearly 15 years later (and consider criminally underrated compared to the popularity of “Just the Girl”). Chosen partly because of the ‘00s feel and partly because Peter is a surfer, and frankly I think he’d be enough of a cheeseball to sing this one for Cornelia.

The Oracle/Himerish

• favorite thing about them:

I do enjoy that the “Trial of the Oracle” arc humanized him a bit. I feel like it’s not often that you get to see such a higher-power character be brought down a bit and not only reveal their more normal past, but have them return to it for a time. It was an interesting change of perspective, both as a reader and for Himerish himself.

• least favorite thing about them:

Probably everything related to the “these are young teenagers fighting your battles and enduring what will almost certainly be lasting psychological trauma (given the prior generation, where, FYI, one of them killed another and you just kind of locked her away and let two of the distraught survivors be banned from your sky fortress for eternity because they dared question your judgement in expression of their trauma from losing two best friends to this madness), and you’re still going with this, huh, Himerish?” situation. We’re not going to delve into that any more because we will be here for a while.

• favorite line:

Oh, I can’t remember which arc it’s from (the end of Book of Elements, maybe?), but there’s this one sequence where Himerish and Yan Lin are simultaneously (yet separately) getting ready for a celebration and having a bit of fun with it, and Himerish jokingly looks at his reflection and says, “Maybe I’ll get a haircut!” I’m just laughing thinking about it, so we’re going with it.

• brOTP:

I mean, Himerish and Tibor (and Yan Lin) is the ultimate Kandrakar BROTP. Himerish also had a much more human relationship with the Guardians and Orube with the fourth arc, which I appreciated.

• OTP:

Uh, frankly not something I’ve thought of for him, so we’re going to pass.

• nOTP:

Again, not something I’ve considered, but I guess I’d say Oracle ships with the Guardians are not my thing?

• random headcanon:

Oh, he definitely kept that outfit with the baseball hat and the Cupid t-shirt. Both Tibor and Endarno almost had an aneurysm the first time he wore it to a Council meeting.

• unpopular opinion:

Ehn, well I guess I’ll go with the fact that even after Trial of the Oracle he’s still not one of my favorites. The arc definitely humanized him, a fact for which I’m grateful, but I’m still not huge into Kandrakar overall.

• song i associate with them:

You know, for someone who massively associates songs with characters and/or stories, this one was a really tough one. But I was trawling my music library and stumbled on Rascal Flatts’s “I’m Movin’ On” and it just slammed into me.

Now I know I largely don’t recognize the arcs post-Ragorlang, partially because I don’t know them well (having only read them once) and partially because what I do remember was bad, but I still have this lingering image of Himerish’s final page in the series, where he just quietly walks away and disappears from Kandrakar. I don’t remember the context of this in the slightest—like I can’t remember if it was his choice to leave (unlike during Trial of the Oracle) or if he was being called into question again—but I do just remember this silent sendoff, and seeing this song made me think of this scene. From the title alone, it’s very much a bittersweet goodbye kind of song and I’ve loved it for that purpose, which I think it serves perfectly here. Particularly the line “I never dreamed home would end up where I don’t belong”—for so long, Himerish had been synonymous with the position of Oracle and Kandrakar itself, yet as Trial of the Oracle showed us, he led a very different life prior to taking the title. The fact that he’s leaving (presumably by choice, because that’s the way my memory is leaning at the moment) just reads to me as him no longer feeling like he fits within the infinity of Kandrakar—the place that once encompassed the whole of his being—and knowing that it’s time to be moving on.

Yan Lin

• favorite thing about them:

She’s just the ultimate grandma. So very sweet and supportive to her granddaughter and her friends, and always the one to dispense wisdom. Also, she’s one of the few characters—if not the only—where I honestly can’t decide if I love her comic or animated counterpart more. They’re very different characters—comics Yan Lin is traditionally wise and kindhearted, while cartoon Yannie is the kind that will teach you an important lesson and then make some sort of witty comment and/or break out her old tennis racket that she found in the attic—but still so great.

• least favorite thing about them:

Hmm, maybe just how she had to watch one friend go power-mad, another get murdered by the first, and two get exiled forever from Kandrakar for saying this isn’t right, and yet she has no apparent fears or concerns about her granddaughter serving as a Guardian and running the same risks, amongst others? I get that Yan Lin would be proud at the very beginning because by the time the Nerissa arc happens everything was well out of the creators’ hands and thus nothing could be foreshadowed, but you’d still think that there’d be some level of terror once Nerissa awakens.

• favorite line:

Just because it’s in my head, I’m going with the aforementioned tennis racket bit from the cartoon. After she gives Hay Lin the map and Hay Lin questions if it’s because they’ve matured enough in their powers to handle the burden: “Nah, it was in the attic. I couldn’t find it. Found my old tennis racket too. [swings racket] FORE!!!”

• brOTP:

Honestly, I love Yan Lin as the honorary grandma for all of the girls. I’ll also say BROTP to C.h.y.k.n. (pre-everything awful, obviously), and Caleb and Yan Lin’s cartoon relationship, especially in season 1, is pretty fun too.

• OTP:

Well the animated series paired Yan Lin (or at least her Altermere) with Zacharias Lyndon, so I guess I’ll go with that.

• nOTP:

Don’t really have anything specific in mind?

• random headcanon:

Not really a headcanon, but I have to wonder what younger Yan Lin—particularly the animated one—was like with her (presumed) late husband. I mean, the woman was a literal force of nature in her youth and is uniquely wise in her prime, so what was the love story between her and Grandpa Lin? Was it more of an opposites-attract sort of thing—solid bedrock to her whirlwind—or was it more like-to-like?

Given Chen’s overprotectiveness in the animated series, my thought is he was the rational child of two eccentric spirits.

• unpopular opinion:

Granted, I don’t remember these arcs well at all to judge the execution, so this is based more on the concept: I’m not super into the Oracle Yan Lin idea. Not as a testament to her ability to do the job or anything, but it just doesn’t work for me with her character. While she’s had apparent faith in the Council and Himerish all along—even after Nerissa’s betrayal and Cassidy’s murder, the breaking point for both Kadma and Halinor—Yan Lin will always put her granddaughter’s safety first and foremost, as much as she can given the dangers of Guardianship. She’s gone out of her way and behind the Council’s back to get crucial messages to Hay Lin, and even smuggled the key to the Crown of Light to Will while Elyon was being held prisoner under Phobos-as-Endarno’s—AKA the new Oracle—rule. For as much as she outwardly believes in the laws of Kandrakar and the power of the Oracle, Yan Lin is not afraid to quietly go rogue and do what she knows is right.

That last point could arguably be a positive to Oracle Yan Lin—Kandrakar knows that plenty of modifications could be made to Kandrakar’s policies (i.e. the dangers of Guardianship)—except for the fact that Yan Lin’s stealth aid almost always comes as a last-minute, dire situation save. It’s not a preemptive way to diffuse the situation (which you’d think she’d want to do, given how maybe both Nerissa and Cassidy could have been saved if the Council had intervened sooner and with a better plan) when she comes to Hay Lin with the analogy about the oak and the rush, but a survival tip for when Will attacks the girls. Similarly, Yan Lin only gets the fragment of Elyon’s power to Will when she knows Phobos is hot on her tail and will take her out of the picture in mere moments. The fact that she only interferes when desperate times call could speak to her trust in the girls to handle things on their own, but it doesn’t bode as well for future change to the burdens of Guardianship that she could viably make as Oracle. Plus, the fact that her granddaughter is a serving Guardian almost certainly clouds Yan Lin’s actions—would she take similar actions even if it wasn’t Hay Lin’s life on the line?

And we’re going to stop there because that’s getting into different territory than I intended, but the short of it is I’m not into the concept of Oracle Yan Lin and much prefer her as the devoted Council member who’ll still sneak behind the laws of Kandrakar to protect her girls.

• song i associate with them:

First thing that came to mind was “Cassiopeia” by Sara Bareilles. Normally I’d say this is more of a Hay Lin song, just in terms of the star imagery and whimsical sound, but what sold me is the first line: “Come in close now, it’s time to tell a story.” And isn’t that the epitome of Yan Lin’s character! The revelation of the girls’ Guardianship, the Four Dragons—all of them start as stories that Yan Lin tells. So I guess it could still work as a Hay Lin song too, just within the frame of it as a story told by her grandmother.

#quintessential asks #thanks for asking!#and so sorry for the long delay!

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thetrashbang · 6 years

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PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds Needs A God

No multiplayer game gets to live in a void for long. No matter how hard you may try to bleed yourself of troublesome concepts like context, or backstory, the reality is that people like to speculate. People like to tell stories. Doesn’t matter how goofy or outlandish; the creeping tendrils of narrative eventually wrap around the foundations of even the purest, most context-free experiences. Why are we bombing these crates? Why are we stealing that flag? Why are we fighting? Why are we here?

Somebody will come up with an answer. It’s the human thing to do.

But for PlayerUnknown’s Battlegrounds, it feels like that answer has yet to come. One hundred players parachute onto a deserted island, where the average density of firearms per square meter exceeds even the most deranged fanatical NRA wet dream, and a slowly constricting hemisphere of crackling blue energy forces them to mercilessly gun each other down until only one is left standing. It’s an absurd, nightmarish premise; a theoretical scenario seemingly engineered to turn people into rabid beasts, fighting tooth and nail merely for the privilege of living a few minutes longer. Who would orchestrate such a competition, and for what purpose? Is it an experiment? A ritual? A blood sport? Is some Silicon Valley bazillionaire sitting in a darkened room somewhere, surrounded by monitors, cranking his sad rubbery hog to every rifle crack and arterial splatter? Nobody seems to know, or care.

Ordinarily, I wouldn’t either; PUBG is fun enough without framing. And yet, tonight’s winds bring an uneasy chill, carrying whispers of restlessness, indignance and fury. You feel it, don’t you? There’s a philosophical schism in how we approach Pubguh—the very concept of ‘battle royale’, even—and the hairline fractures are beginning to show. Players whine and gnash their teeth at the red zone, esports organisers desperately attempt to harness the format for views, and the proverbial chicken dinner seems to attain a more and more mythical, trophy-like status by the day; a reference to back-alley gambling now ironically viewed as a badge of ultimate prowess. This isn’t a healthy relationship. This isn’t a healthy attitude.

What Plunkbat needs, friends, is a god.

Well, okay, not necessarily a god god. Divine power is optional. I’m not asking Brendan Greene to start wearing a white toga and chiselling his patch notes into stone tablets, as much as it would set an entertaining precedent. The job requirements are flexible: I’m simply asking for someone vengeful and capricious, with unfathomable intentions, inscrutable thoughts, and—at least within the bounds of the playable space—immense, unassailable power. Like any god, you need not supply scientific proof of their presence; you merely have to attribute sufficient existing phenomena to them, and change people’s collective perception of the world. Ooh, got’em.

See, battle royale games represent an important shift to me. I’m a competitive person by nature. It’s etched into my mind, irreversibly chiseled by years of test scores and parental praise and all the other ego-stroking bullshit that you were subjected to if you were a certain kind of ‘gifted’ child. “You’re the best. You should be the best. You should be winning. Why aren’t you winning, what the heck is wrong with you?” So it bleeds over, into hobbies, work, and of course, online shooters, in which I regularly demonstrate that I have an innate… whatever the opposite of aptitude is. I react slowly, I zone out, I bean myself on the head with my own grenades, and if you exert the slightest bit of pressure, I’ll empty half the magazine into a wall and drop my weapon through a gap in the floorboards. I’m not good, and yet some unreachable, fundamental part of my conscious will never be satisfied with that knowledge.

You would think, then, that Pubby-G would only serve to exacerbate this mindset. And yet, in a world of delicately tuned esports that are built from the ground up to be pure, unfiltered tests of skill, it feels like the only game to grant a genuine absolution of responsibility; a kind of freeing fatalism. There’s a sense in a lot of classic multiplayer experiences—like, say, Counter-Strike—that every outcome is more or less deterministic; a product of a series of controlled variables and actions. With every failure comes the overwhelming impression that it could have been averted, given enough competence, foresight, and concentrated guarana. By contrast, a porridgey cocktail of chaos flows through the veins of battle royales, surrounding you with factors that are not only impossible to influence, but—in many cases—impossible to know at all. You are swept up by the gusts of a hundred butterflies’ wings, tossed to and fro by the whims of the random number generator, bombarded with unavoidable risks and squeezed into unmanageable situations. It’s easier to go with the flow, accept that at any given moment you may have your head unceremoniously taken off—by somebody lying flat on a distant hill, or hiding behind one of the game’s ten thousand trees, or concealed in a shrub on the far side of the Moon—and concentrate on all the minute actions you can make to ever-so-slightly nudge the odds in your favour.

But it’s not always clear that this is the reality of Puhburger. With its vast scale and often languid pacing, encounters can feel like isolated incidents, detached from the cascading series of events that led up to them, despite being anything but. Anyone can parse the map for circles of safety and non-safety, and understand that their arbitrary placement gives certain players an advantage; it’s less apparent that the figure in that upstairs window might have had their sights trained on the area, or seen you first, shot first, picked up a better weapon, obtained a better vantage point, or some other action, because of a dizzying permutation of astral alignments that neither of you could even begin to grasp. So we get futile attempts to establish a level playing field, find meaning in accomplishment, divine fair elements from unfair, and generally make things needlessly stressful for everybody involved. Except the infuriatingly smug yours truly, of course.

How do you make that clear, though? How do you concisely impress upon people that their fate is almost entirely out of their hands, in such a way that they adopt an attitude of acceptance? Blaming the roll of the dice doesn’t come to mind as swiftly when you never see them rattling around, nor the way their innumerable ripples propagate across the map. Furthermore, as current events have taught us all too well, it’s a lot easier to ascribe fault to individuals than to an invisible, fundamentally hostile system. So what do you do?

You give the system a name. And, if you can, a face.

Allow me to momentarily slam us into reverse. When Valve released Left 4 Dead way back in 2008 (oh god, it’s going to be ten years old this year?) they made quite a song and dance about the game’s AI Director; an invisible, unknowable entity that would dynamically dole out items and zombies in a manner consistent with the tenets of dramatic tension, ensuring players were subjected to a “fast-paced, but not overwhelming, Hollywood horror movie”. While the opacity of the AI Director’s machinations always made me a tad sceptical of its mechanical effectiveness, giving people a name to pin the blame for all their earthly woes on was a masterstroke. Notorious video game jokesman Yahtzee Croshaw—the one with the hat and that trendy 00s cynicism, remember?—reported that he once witnessed someone praying to the AI Director, and I bet you all the pipe bombs in the world that players’ personification of it didn’t stop there. Short of making a catastrophic error, I never saw anyone get chewed out for not pulling their weight, and when tones got heated—as they inevitably do, when you’re throwing yourself against the frigid slopes of the higher difficulties—they were directed in the vague direction of the director: for its expectations, for its lack of pity, for being unfair. Awareness of our lurking orchestrator changed our perception of the experience, even though we couldn’t entirely prove it wasn’t just somebody sitting in a black box, disinterestedly flipping a coin over and over.

So, why not do the same for a game that does? Put a face on the system that holds a fundamental grip on who lives and who dies. You don’t need to change a thing under the hood; you need only introduce the vague implication that the evolving state of the battlefield is a consequence of a thinking, feeling, mysterious overseer. A bloodthirsty oligarch watching from their lavish observation zeppelin, a dystopian TV network broadcasting a deadly future sport, an amoral team of government agents sealed away in a bunker control room, an inexplicably sapient Shiba playing with a selection of levers, or indeed, a literal deity. People will take the faintest contextual cues and run amok with them, ascribing everything they can to the will of the one who set this conflict in motion: item drops, circle position, all the way down to the subtle spread of their bullets as they sail through the air. Yeah, maybe it’ll start off as a running joke; an ironic indulgence, the “thanks Obama” of Puddlebounds. But that’s the thing about ironic behaviour: get enough people doing it at once, and you’ll cultivate sincere participants without even realising it. We will learn to absolve ourselves of responsibility, and engage in the unhinged pandemonium of battle royale with the mentality that befits it.

There’s just one problem: you need to be able to keep a secret.

I’m still working on that part.

#pubg #galaxy brain bullshit

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akanemachurida-blog · 6 years

Text

17/11/19 - Mikawa Seahorses Event Report

I went to the Mikawa Seahorses basketball game on November 19 since Churi had a talk and did the opening shot to open the game. The talk was scheduled for 1pm, and the game started at 2pm. I arrived at 11am since a friend had my ticket and we arranged to meet earlier. The game was in Kariya this time, a different location than the previous game Churi attended. It seems the Seahorses just travel in arenas around the Mikawa region, which I live in. I hadn’t been to Kariya before but there was a free shuttle bus at the station to get to the stadium.

Apparently there was a queue to get good seats for the pre-game during the last game, but there was no such line this time, and we just waited until 1pm. It was pretty cold outside and I had a cold so I think I aggravated it, since my sickness got a lot worse after that day. There were 3000 people in attendance, which is not much by North American sports standards but apparently it was a record for the season. The Seahorses had a fifteen game winning streak, which probably helped to get more people in. We were a group of maybe thirty Churi oshis waiting outside the stadium, but I saw many more inside with Yosaku keychains and Churi hoodies. Of course most people came for the basketball rather than Churi; we were definitely a small minority.

The stadium was very small, which was a good thing since we got to be closer to the court. My ticket cost me 3000 yen, which is near the cheapest you can get, but I was still seated in the closest section to the court, apart from the courtside seats. We were in the last row, but had a really good view of the entire court. There were sections behind us which were on the second floor.

When we entered around 12:40 Churi was taking photos with her camera of the players warming up. She then left to go somewhere else. I assume it was to give staff her camera. The woman with the white hat next to her is her manager, by the way. I think most people brought their penlights but there was barely any time to use them.

Churi then came back, spoke with the staff about how to proceed, and was invited onto the stage for the talk show. I took a video of the talk show, it lasted fifteen minutes long. She talked about various things like how she practiced with the players, her hobby of photography, and basketball. They showed the photos she took earlier on the screens in the stadium, and she took some really nice ones!

I’ve uploaded the video here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8y4F5BHzS20

Sorry for my terrible camera-work, I was sick and had trouble keeping my hand steady.

As you can see (around the 5:00 minute mark), she was presented with her own Seahorses happi with the number 100 in the back! She then left and spoke with staff for a while. The cheerleaders came on in the meantime. After the cheerleaders were finished being introduced, they distributed candy to the crowd. Churi participated in that too, and she came to our side! She couldn’t throw them far enough to us, not that she was really trying to, she was just shooting candy wherever she could. She gave some to everyone sitting courtside too. I actually caught one of those thrown by a cheerleader.

Churi then came back on the court before the game began to shoot the opening basket. Although she missed the first time, she made the second one. She missed it last time, and I don’t think she had a second try last time, but this time one of the Seahorses players, Daniel Orton, gave the ball back to her and told her to try again. I love her reaction when she made it!

Take a look at it here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Fyc-cZK-qhg

I know this isn’t a basketball blog but I might as well talk about the game. The Seahorses had a pretty bad first quarter but just dominated the rest of the game with their 3-pointers. Yokohama had the only player I knew, Hasheem Thabeet, who used to play for the Oklahoma City Thunder in the NBA. Compared to the NBA there was a noticeable drop in quality, but it was still enjoyable. There were some sloppy passes and questionable rebounds and defense, but the 3-point shooting was good. Both teams had foreigners as their centres and power forwards, with the rest of the team being Japanese. I don’t know if this is representative of the league, but I assume that they pick up NBA rejects or D-league players to play those positions, while Japanese players are expected to play the more finesse roles.

That being said, I was half watching the game and half watching Churi. She tweeted after tipoff that she was watching the game in private, and she was seated directly opposite from me, so it was pretty easy to look at her, even if she was rather far away. I actually took some pictures of her sitting there before I saw that tweet, so out of respect I won’t post them here. She was seated with her manager, who she would sometimes ask things to. The manager would then talk with stadium staff. One such instance happened when Churi wanted to participate in throwing candies to the crowd, and she got permission that way. At any rate, it was a lot of fun watching her reactions during the game. She was really getting into the game and clapping a lot. I tend to think of her reactions on idol shows as being over-reactive and theatrical for the show, but she had some similar reactions even if no attention was on her. Or maybe she knew we’d be watching. It was cute anyway.

After halftime Churi left and I wondered if she had something to do, but she came back during the third quarter. She enjoyed the rest of the game and clapped a lot when they won. One of the big differences with North American sports was the end of the game. This was the sixteenth win a row for the Seahorses, so everyone (apart from the traveling fans) was in a good mood. There were interviews with the coach and the two players Churi practiced with after the game. They both mentioned her and said they enjoyed showing her how to shoot a free throw. Both of them had good free throw percentages so they (jokingly?) credited that to her for the practice. These were the same players who came to the SKE theatre for a KII performance earlier. Churi was still seated during this, but I saw her make a bowing motion when they mentioned her, which was cute.

After the interviews the players participated in a high touch with fans, so you could go down to the sideline and high-five the players as they made their way around the arena. This is what 48 groups used to do at the end of theatre performances. Anyway it came as a big difference from North American sports, where players leave as soon as a game is over and one player does an interview with a TV network. Churi didn’t participate in it so I didn’t see a need to join in, and it was packed with fans so I doubt I could have even joined in.

Churi didn’t try and make any attempt to pander only to us, since there were so many people and part of her job with these activities is to gain new fans, rather than pamper us, and she just didn’t have the time to interact with us. She did thank her fans who came to the event during the talk though. The most we did was wave at her when she came near, and we kept a distance after she said she was watching in private. Some of the fans seated on the opposite side waited for her at the end of the game though. She spoke a lot to the staff before leaving, although she did very briefly acknowledge the fans gathered there.

After the game the Churi oshis met outside and people started to leave. I ended up staying with two other friends, since there was a high school basketball game for free after the game. I didn’t have anything better to do so I went with them. The game was a championship game between two Aichi schools to see which one would advance to a national tournament. This game was a total blowout as one team maintained a 2:1 lead the entire game and their dominance really showed. A lot of high school students and family came to this game, so the stadium remained relatively full.

I’m glad I stayed though, as not only was this game entertaining despite the score, but Churi also stayed until sometime during the second quarter! She had taken off her happi and was in the same seating area as before and was taking photos of the game with her camera. I found it a bit funny that everyone else left because they assumed she wasn’t going to be there any longer. She also participated in a candy give away during this game, and a child went to take a picture with her, which she accepted. I doubt she would have let me take a picture if I asked though! Such are the joys of being a kid.

Overall this was a fun event! I do enjoy watching sports a lot, and I hadn’t been to a basketball game in three or four years, so I had a lot of fun. Of course the reason I went was to see Churi, and I got to see plenty of her. One of the things that made me happiest was seeing the attitude non-fans had towards Churi. I was actually a bit nervous at how people would react to her appearance, since I don’t know what non-fans think of idols and her specifically. However people clapped for her a lot and the people seated courtside seem really happy to see her when they were interacting with her. I’m sure some people in the crowd rolled their eyes and had no interest in idols, but I’m glad the reception was overwhelmingly positive. Plus, she succeeded at making the free throw to start the game. If her goal for these events is to leave a good impression on people and make herself better known, she definitely succeeded.

#takayanagi akane #churi #report

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winetae · 7 years

Text

⇁ paper doll | prologue

⚬ pairing⇁Jungkook x Reader

⚬ genre⇁drama, slight angst || idol+singer-songwriter!au

⚬ warnings⇁sexual themes with smut in the next chapters, mentions of past unhealthy relationship

When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed — it was you.

↳ alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

::00::01::02

a/n; so basically this is me being coerced into writing jjk smut

[+11,435; -2,003] this really breaks my image of him… proves how you can’t judge someone from their personality on camera

[+9,386; -1,983] all this time he was pretending to be super innocent haha all those stupid fangirls throwing money at him blindly must be going crazy

[+5,903; -1,234] i mean everyone goes through break-ups, but he was cosplaying as an innocent guy who was scared of skinship with girls all these years.. lmao he’s super shamel—

The words on the screen in front of him all blurred and bled into one big stain. He quickly scrolled through the hundreds and hundreds of comments, each more condemning than the last. A steady pressure was building in his ears, until the only thing he could see or feel were the accusations of a faceless crowd, all jeering at him loudly, fingers pointed.

It was as if his entire life flashed in front of his eyes right then, and he could suddenly recall every inconsequential and significant thing that had shaped his life the past seven years—the hours and hours spent in front of the mirror rehearsing the same steps over and over again, the taste of soggy ramen Hoseok hyung had let overcook last week, the screams of fans, the sound of his alarm clock, the look on your face when you told him it was over. There was no chronology to the kaleidoscope of fleeting glimpses of his past.

“What,” he breathed, hands shaking, eyes wide and disbelieving as his phone fell with a clatter on the table. He desperately wanted to ignore reality, but the stares that were all focused on him kept him grounded to the present.

Of course his first scandal would be linked to you.

Taehyung gave him a sympathetic pat on his shoulder but even that was half-hearted. The tension in the small room was palpable. For the first time since their debut they were confronted with this kind of situation, which meant no one knew what the appropriate reaction was. Despite their years of friendship, a single news article had created an awkwardness between the members.

He hadn’t spoken to any of them since they had been summoned into this emergency meeting but he was afraid that they blamed him—or worse—that they hated him now. The mere thought had his palms sweating in dread.

Just last week they had celebrated another music show win. All had been fine. Now Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like everything they had collectively shed sweat and tears over, was collapsing because of him.

“Our PR team is trying to smooth things over, but there’s only so much we can do.” In the corner of his eye, he saw Seokjin flinch as their head manager sighed angrily. They rarely interacted with this manager in the first place so having him present meant things were serious. Worry started to build up in Jungkook’s chest once more.

“Couldn’t we,” Jungkook could feel his throat go dry as everyone’s attention refocused on him. He decided to stare at his manager hyung’s mouth, not having the courage to look at him in the eye. “Couldn’t we just wait until all of this blows over?”

“Fat chance. Her company will probably milk this scandal for all it’s worth. This is probably the most publicity Jihae has gotten since her debut. It wouldn’t surprise me if they threw a party.”

“It’s all bullshit though, it’s not true. None of this is true.” His words tripped against one another, showing his increasing desperation.

None of this should be happening. Your name, your face – all of it was supposed to remain a memory. But someone had reopened that box he had fought so hard to keep shut, and his relationship to you, his relationship with you, all of it had been shoved back to the forefront of his mind.

“Are you say saying you never dated her?” His manager looked up, hopeful.

“Well I- I did,” he fumbled with his words again. Hearing your name had triggered certain images but he quickly blinked away those echos of you. “But she broke up with me.”

It was pathetic, almost. How you were still effortlessly ruining his life, even after all these years. There had been moments when he had sworn he had never hated anyone as much as you. He wondered if you knew how much you still affected him. Would you even care? You probably didn’t. Had you even seen the news yet? Probably. You had always been addicted to your phone, checking the real-time music charts to see how well his songs were doing. Except that now you were probably monitoring your own songs instead of his. He pushed the thought aside. You weren’t important right now. Except you were.

His manager was silently processing the piece of information, unaware of Jungkook’s conflicting emotions, his fingers tapping away on his phone. “I’ll have to make a few calls but I wouldn’t get my hopes up. Unless we get their side to match the story, the public will think we’re just trying to do damage control. Which wouldn’t be far from the truth.”

Jungkook nervously eyed his members. He was trying to figure out what to say to them afterwards. How should he apologize? What was he supposed to say?

“Regardless, we have to act quickly. The news came out about 45 minutes ago. We have a 72-hour window to fix this before the damage gets out of control. Her company is the main problem here. We obviously will have to compromise but we’re not sure what they could possibly want… It’s difficult to say for now.”

They all stood up when they saw that their manager was getting ready to leave. Jungkook still felt horribly responsible about everything, even though he knew that logically none of this was his fault.

“You guys just stay in the dorms today. I’ve cancelled the magazine interview that was scheduled this afternoon. Oh, and I hope it goes without saying that you should stay off SNS for the next week or so.”

Those were his parting words before the door closed loudly behind him. Sensing the uneasy atmosphere, Namjoon cleared his throat.

“Look, I think I speak for all of us when I say that we don’t blame you for this. Don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m sure they’ll find a solution. It’ll be fine.”

“Still—I’m sorry hyungs,” he attempted to face them straight on but didn’t manage. He was petrified of seeing disappointment reflected in their eyes. He wasn’t sure he could handle that. Not now. “I’m really sorry.”

He had never felt so small in front of them. Even that one time he had been severely scolded in front of everybody could not compare to today.

“Don’t worry,” repeated Jimin, trying to sound reassuring. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Jungkook wondered if Jimin was trying to convince himself too.

The rest of the members repeated variations of his encouragement, but Jungkook couldn’t help but feel like he had let them down. He locked himself in his room, suddenly drained. The past half-hour had taken ten years off his lifespan. He wanted to cry but he wasn’t sure he had the energy for it.

Again, images of you clouded his mind.

How long had it been? He had seen you at a broadcast station last month, from far. But it had been longer than that since the two of you had actually conversed. Ever since that day… he hadn’t spoken to you. You hadn’t bothered either. Almost two years, then.

Just seeing your face had stirred up ugly emotions. He could remember the anger, the betrayal, the jealousy, the constant fights over the most meaningless things. You had managed to provoke him in the worst ways—as if you liked seeing the toxic parts of him. All of it had made the sex more satisfying, because it was the only time he felt like he had complete control over the situation. Those times when he had you laid out the way he wanted in front of him, he knew that you needed him. Nothing had been more fulfilling than hearing you moan his name and beg eagerly for him. Even thinking about it was starting to arouse him. You had really fucked him up.

He hated you.

During the last few weeks of their relationship he remembered thinking how much he hated you. He hated the sharp smell of your floral perfume, the little hiccuping sound at the end of your laugh, and the little lines that formed between your eyebrows when you were immersed in writing lyrics. He despised how you had made him hate the good parts of you, the shades of you that only he had been privy to.

It wasn’t as if you were evil incarnate. Sure, you were vain and materialistic, and you were extremely picky about your food, but he wouldn’t label you evil. Deceitful and manipulative and haughty—those all seemed fitting to describe you. Evil seemed like too much. Or too little. He wasn’t sure anymore. Jungkook was never certain when it came to you. In the beginning, the hesitancy had been what he thought was characteristic of first loves. The silent searching, the suspense, the thrill. It had been that way, before.

Along the way, you had started to enjoy goading him and pushing him to the edge until he had no other choice but to push back. You liked your games. Before, he believed he had been playing with you; in the end, he knew you had been playing him.

The most twisted part was that everyone thought you were South Korea’s sweetheart. To them, your hobby was doing charity work, singing for sick kids, and whatever else you were up to these days. In white dresses, you radiated innocence and purity he was certain you did not possess. From afar, he remembered how soft your features had looked, how bright your expression had been. The voice you used in public was a bit higher pitched than the one he was used to, more cheerful, and it had carried down the hallway. This version of you was so radically different from what he remembered, that it was easy to pretend that you were a seperate person entirely. A stranger.

It had been easy back then to pretend you weren’t the girl he hated, the one who had left him without turning back once. But even though the you in his past and the you in the present were seemingly two entirely different individuals, he couldn’t help himself from disliking your new form as well. How could he not? Not when he knew that version of you was completely fabricated. A delicate construction masking truth. A lie. You were good at lying.

Vibrations pulled him from his train of thought.

During the short amount of time he hadn’t looked at his phone, countless of messages had poured in. His friends, his sunbaes.. all of them asking how he was, if the news was true. Fuck, even his family had seen the news. There were too many messages to be able to respond to all of them at once. He would deal with that later. Right now he just needed a nap.

Just as he was about to turn off his phone in a weak attempt to delay the inevitable, his phone vibrated once more. Although he had erased every trace of you from his phone a long time ago, he still recognized the series of familiar numbers that flashed on his screen. It was with a sick amount of curiosity that he opened the message.

hey jungkook, it’s me. i’m guessing you saw the news. can we talk ?

[↦ next ]

#bangtanwriters-net #bts scenario #jungkook #bts smut #jungkook scenario #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #bts angst #honestly didn't think i would be writing fanfiction again #but here i am #didn't think i would be writing a jjk fic #yet here i am #honestly what is my life #so forgive me if this is trash #i haven't written in FOREVER

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triptaech · 7 years

Text

A B C + BOLD + 10 Q’s

ABC tag ;

tagged by my fave drunk pigeon @ohsuga ;)

AGE – 19

BIGGEST FEAR – being alone

CURRENT TIME – 11:19 pm

DRINK YOU LAST HAD – water

EVERYDAY STARTS WITH – contemplating my existence

FAVOURITE SONG – i……have too many……

GHOSTS, ARE THEY REAL? – maybe

HOMETOWN – in the woods

IN LOVE WITH – kim taehyung

JEALOUS OF – kim taehyung

KILLED SOMEONE – maybe

LAST TIME YOU CRIED – reading a fic

MIDDLE NAME – no middle name

NO. OF SIBLINGS – two younger sisters

ONE WISH – for bts to let me live for once

PERSON I LAST CALLED/TEXTED – a friend

QUESTION YOU’RE ALWAYS ASKED – sam why are u like dis

REASON TO SMILE – taehyung just posted a selfie, taehyung loves gucci, bts is alive and happy—

SONG LAST SANG – ilysb by lany

TIME YOU WOKE UP – 6:00 am because alcohol hates my body’s alarm clock

UNDERWEAR – blue

VACATION DESTINATION? – south africa and greece!

WORST HABIT – being alive

YOUR FAVOURITE FOOD – anything edible i eat everything

ZODIAC – aries/taurus but more aries

BOLD tag ;

tagged by @taeverie, @zephyoongist, @taesthetes & @kittae <3

→ appearance:

I am 5′7″ or taller I wear glasses  I have at least one tattoo  i have at least one piercing  i have brown eyes (v dark tho)  i have short hair  my abs are at least somewhat defined  i have or have had braces  There is something I would change about the way I look

→ personality:

My Hogwarts house is: Gryffindor Hufflepuff Ravenclaw Slytherin  I am an introvert  i like/love meeting new people  people tell me that i’m funny  helping others with their problems is a big priority for me  i enjoy physical challenges  i enjoy mental challenges  i’m playfully rude with people i know well (gently shoves everyone i know)  i started saying something ironically and now i can’t stop saying it  There is something I would change about my personality

→ ability:

I can sing well (sorta)  i can play an instrument  i can do over 30 pushups without stopping  i’m a fast runner  i can draw well (sor ta????)  i have a good memory  I’m good at doing math in my head  i can hold my breath underwater for over a minute  i have beaten at least 2 people in arm wrestling  i know how to cook at least 3 meals from scratch  i know how to throw a proper punch

→ hobbies:

i enjoy playing sports  i’m on a sports team at my school or somewhere else  I’m in a orchestra or choir at my school or somewhere else  i have learned a new song in the past week  i work out at least once a week  i’ve gone for runs at least once a week in the warmer months  i have drawn something in the past month  i enjoy writing  Fandoms are my #1 passion  i do or have done martial arts

→ experiences:

i have had my first kiss  i have had alcohol  i have scored the winning goal in a sports game  I have watched an entire season of a TV show in one sitting  i have been at an overnight event  i have been in a taxi  I have been in the hospital or ER in the past year  I have beaten a video game in one day  i have visited another country  i have been to one of my favorite band’s concerts (NOT ENOUGH)

→ relationship:

I’m in a relationship  i have a celebrity crush  I have a crush on someone I know  i have been in at least 3 relationships  I have never been in a relationship  i have asked someone out or admitted my feelings to them  I get crushes easily  I have had a crush on someone for over a year  I have been in a relationship for at least a year  i have had feelings for a friend

→ my life:

i have at least one person i consider a “best friend”  i live close to my school  my parents are still together  i have at least one sibling  i live in the united states (but not originally from the US)  There is snow right now where I live  i have hung out with a friend outside of school in the past month  i have a smartphone  I have at least 15 CDs  I share my room with someone

→ random shit:

i have breakdanced  i know a person named jamie  I have had a teacher with a last name that’s hard to pronounce  i have dyed my hair  i’m listening to one song on repeat right now  i have punched someone in the past week  i know someone who has gone to jail  I have broken a bone  I have eaten a waffle today  i know what i want to do with my life  i speak at least 2 languages fluently  i have made a new friend in the past year

10 Q’S TAG ;

tagged by @taeverie & @addictedtonamjoon my fave filthy animals

from jen:

in a nutshell, how did you get into kpop? my friends dragged my ass down to hell and i never crawled back up

what do you do when your motivation dwindles? cry

what kind of music do you listen to? not v picky, i listen to everything

favorite non-kpop artist? dONT DO ME DIRTY i have so many including the maine, simple plan, all time low, the chainsmokers, ed sheeran, etc.

how many albums do you own? too many.

what is a quote you live by & why? “only dead fish go with the flow” because i am dead

have you ever gotten dragged into something you thought you wouldn’t like, but completely fell in love with it? bts

what do you value most in life? wonhae manhi manhi money

if you wanted to live in the world of any fic, which one would it be? o this is tough but any of @/gukvory’s universes from this persona and the ones before

is there something you would change about yourself? wish i could be more sensitive towards others’ feelings?

from julia:

what’s the song that got you into kpop? let’s not fall in love - bigbang

who was your first ultimate bias, have you switched since? uh i switched from seungri to gd p fast, but ult ult bias is still taekook <3

what’s the hardest thing about writing? ……writing

if you were to win a million dollars, what would you do with it? travel, eat, get everyone in my family to retire and live a good life

what are your biggest turn-on’s and turn-off’s with people? rude people who try to act ~suave~ can gtfo, but i lov lov lov people with a good sense of humor

if you could live anywhere, where would you live? i like being home in indonesia but new york’s growing on me too, i like traveling so idk

would you want to go back in time and change your past or go into the future to see your future self? change my past

what is something that you’re very talented at & something you wish you were more talented in? good at being sarcastic and wish i was better at comebacks

how many languages can you speak? would you want to learn more? two fluently (indonesian and english), also sorta know mandarin, but i still wanna learn more

do you have a theme song? highway to hell by acdc

questions for you guys

grab the nearest book you can find, what’s the most questionable out of context quote in page 23?

what do you eat for breakfast?

what’s one au/fic concept that you really want to see?

what time do you wake up in the morning?

where’s your favorite place to write or be productive?

what’s your current favorite song?

do you like bangtan’s hip thrusts?

what’s your favorite look on your bias?

what’s on top of your to-do list right now?

are you happy with where you are right now?

#tag game #these are so overdue but some of the tags i rlly enjoyed doing thank u!!!

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ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[FN] I met a unicorn in the forest

First and foremost: unicorns are not what you're thinking of.

Rather than pink manes and long, golden horns, they're more brownish. They have one long, winding horn, in fact, and leaf-green, glowing eyes. They have leaves--or what looks like leaves--on their legs, backs, and manes. They're older than you or me, even your grandmother and grandfather. Sometimes I believe they're as old as time itself. They're smart, and they know everything about you before you even see them. And they care about us. I had an encounter with a unicorn. Here's my story.

My mother always hated animals. She hated the mess they made, she hated their fur, and most of all, she hated their noise. It was her least favorite thing about them. I, on the contrary, adored animals. Anytime I saw someone walking their dog, I went out of my way to go and pet it. But horses? Oh, horses were my very favorite. I was the horse girl who drew them constantly in school, wore the shirts, had the backpack. But no matter how much I begged and pleaded, mother would never let me so much as look at one. I don't know why, all she said is that they were dangerous. But one of my classmates, Erin Evans, she had horses. She showed me a picture of her dapple-grey gelding once, and I was awe-struck. Also green with envy. I wondered why that couldn't be me.

One day, I was making my way home from school. I have to take this long road every day, because my mother works at the diner from 9:00 to 5:00. The bad part was the Owens boys lived on this road, and they were bound determined to make my life hell. I tried to walk faster by their house, but they were inevitably outside. And me trying to run like a scared animal didn't make it any better. They grabbed me by my hair and grabbed my backpack, laughing like this was a game.I think it was a game for them. I can't imagine any other reason they would like to do this.

"Hey, carrot-top! What have you got for us today?" Doc asks.

"Just a load of damn horse drawings." Gilbert huffs, before throwing them down.

I gasp and try to dive for them because they were the best ones I had ever done. I was going to give them to my mother as a present. But they landed in a puddle, and even as I picked them up, the ink was still smudged everywhere. They call me carrot-top once more for extra measure, then hurry off behind their house before their pa could see them. I stand up and wipe my nose hard to keep from crying. I grab my backpack and throw it back over my shoulders. I hate those boys. I step on my ruined drawings as I pass them.

I wipe my eyes some more. Stop being a baby, Adeline. You're in fourth grade now. This is when girls get taller and more mature. But I'm stuck in my skinny red-headed body. Sometimes I just wish I could borrow someone else's for a while. Caught up in my thoughts of self pity, I don't notice it until I'm right up on it. As I hear a defensive snort, I stop suddenly, breath catching in my throat as my blood turns to ice. Is it a bear? There's a lot of those where I live. Oh god, what if it is a bear? I completely blank on what to do and dive behind an old boulder. This is followed by silence, apart from the occasional pained snort. But at a soft, sorrowful nicker, my heart starts beating faster than it ever has. I peer around the boulder slowly, and am entirely awestruck.

There, laying pitifully on the grass, is a horse. Except, not a horse. He has leaves caught in his long mane, and it hangs over his eyes. But I watch as he blinks, and see two bright green irises. He has leaves in the feathers on his hooves and leaves scattered about his back. I watch as his wobbly legs struggle to lift him up, before he falls back down with a pained neigh. I realize now, with a surge of adrenaline, his leg is caught in a bear trap. A bear trap. What are the chances? But the most awe inspiring thing about this horse.. Is the horn on his head. I think it would be longer, but it's cut. I watched a documentary once about rhinos. People cut their horns off to sell them. I think that's what happened to him.

My breath catches in my throat as I move before I have time to think. I approach him slowly, and he notices me in an instant. His struggling stops, and he looks at me. I'm frozen for a moment. His power is raw, enormous. I'm not meant to see him. But man has failed him. So I have to show him that not all people are bad. Wait--what? When did I get so poetic, anyway? In any case, I keep on approaching him. He stays stiff, staring at me. I think he knows my intentions. I think he knows everything about me. I kneel before him, my eyes going to the bear trap on his leg. I breath in as I scoot forward, beginning to fool with the trap. I feel around, before finally finding it. I notice his hooves are a beige color, and in the cracks, I can see leaves. As I pull the latch, he yanks his leg out at once, stumbling backwards. He hops for a moment, before snorting and slowly putting his hoof down on the ground. I watch in awe as the grass grows higher, and weeds wrap around his leg, gradually, until you can no longer see it. He waits there a moment, before snorting, and just as quick as they'd came, the forestry returns to the earth. I gasp. His leg is healed.

He looks at me, and speaks. But without moving his mouth. His voice is everywhere. All throughout the forest, if you'd only listen.

"Thank you, Adeline."

"W-What are you?" I blurt before I could think. Real smooth, Adeline!

"I am The Forest," He snorts in amusement. "I am its protector."

"You.. keep it safe?" I asked, amazed.

"Yes, Adeline. But I could never do it without your help. People like you are what keep the forests of the Earth alive. Not me."

I smile.

Even though I can't tell, I think he smiles back.

As he turns to go, I blurt,

"Will I see you again?"

He turns his head back at me, his long mane moving with his actions.

"Indefinitely." He replies.

I smile more, and I watch him go off, deeper into the forestry. To my surprise, just as his front half is hidden by the bushes, he suddenly turns into a bear. I grin as I watch him bound off. I take a breath in, and slowly make my way back to the road. I love the forest. And now I know it loves me back. As I look up to the leaves, I see them move, following after me. And I smile. Care for the forest. Please. Because it loves you dearly, and you should return the favor.

The End

___________

Hi if you read this far! Before you're too harsh on me, note I'm only a youngin' trying to get into a new hobby. I hope you do like my story! But maybe go easy on me with critique? Only because I wear my heart on my sleeves. Also sorry for the swearing! I squeezed my eyes shut and typed it fast. I hate swearing!!

submitted by /u/stxrryniqhts [link] [comments] via Blogger https://ift.tt/2KS369g

#Blogger #Story

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foursprout-blog · 6 years

Text

20 Things 20-Somethings Should Do Right Now To Build A Life That Feels Good

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/20-things-20-somethings-should-do-right-now-to-build-a-life-that-feels-good/

20 Things 20-Somethings Should Do Right Now To Build A Life That Feels Good

Twenty20/ @meganmeza

1. Make a budget. Calculate all your expenses. Subtract the total from your net income. Use the remainder to cushion your emergency fund, retirement savings, and your short-term goals (vacation, new car, wedding, etc.).

2. Pay down your debt. I don’t care how low the interest rate is or what kind of debt it is — debt is debt. Stop justifying why you’re only putting down the minimum payment. This is stopping you from taking risks in your career, exploring your interests/hobbies, and essentially everything else that you want to do with your life. Your future self deserves a life free of financial anxiety. Please, for the love of god, create a swift debt-repayment plan and implement it now.

3. Unplug. The Internet is a wonderful place (you’re reading this right now!), but it’s important to know its role in your life. Establish boundaries. Read a physical book. Take a walk in nature. Host a night of board games with your friends. Write in a physical journal. Set aside some time every day to shut down the laptop, put away your phone and tuck away your tablet.

4. Slow down. A consequence of being part of a digital era, we feel the pressure to do something all the time. We have to be the all-star at work. We have to update our social media. We have to have an immaculate home. We have to look our best 24/7. Just say no. Sooner rather than later you’ll burn out and crash. Let some things fall to the wayside — intentionally.

5. Develop habits, not goals. Happiness is a byproduct of progress, not achievement. The problem with goals is that it’s a constant treadmill — you accomplish one, you set your sights on another. It’s much more fulfilling to concentrate on developing daily habits & routines. For example, waking up early, exercising each day, or bringing your lunch to work 4 out of the 5 days of the week. Sooner than later, these habits will become ingrained and you’ll be living a happier and healthier lifestyle.

6. Learn to live with people you dislike. I don’t mean live in a literal sense — I mean not losing your shit when you encounter sexist, racist, homophobic or just, in general, rude, ungrateful or ignorant people. This has been the most difficult things that I have had to work on. I’m a minority at about three intersections (a woman of colour who is queer), so quite understandably I get a little sensitive when someone says something ignorant about one of the communities of which I, in some part, belong to. But… these people will populate society until I die. I learned that it’s okay to not get along with everyone. I don’t need to waste my time trying to change their mind.

7. Experiment, take risks, and make plenty of mistakes. Now, more than ever, is the perfect time to experiment. We are the sum of our experiences — so experience as much as possible. Make mistakes, learn from them, and then go on and make different ones. I don’t mean this to insinuate that you should get all the mistakes out of your system while you’re young, because you’ll certainly make mistakes when you’re older. I mean take bold actions now so you can learn more about yourself in the process.

8. Pursue your hobbies. How many times have you told someone, “I would love to take a class on [x],” or, “This sports league looks great,” but never actually followed-through on signing up? Or decided that it’s not worth your money? Or even worse, determine that you have no one to go with and don’t want to do it alone? We don’t take our interests seriously — to our detriment. It’s as if we would rather sit at home instead mind-numbingly scrolling through social media or going out drinking with our friends, as if we don’t do that enough. Don’t get bogged down by the details of the thing. Just explore what you like, make new friends, and see where it leads. You’ll be a happier and more fulfilled person because of it.

9. Read books, not just blogs and articles. I’ve mentioned before that I consider reading a duty. No, it’s not because it’ll help you succeed in school or in your career, although it greatly increases your odds, but because you’ll be a better person for it. There is a literally a book out there to help you understand and process every single emotion you have ever felt and will ever feel in your life. Books help you become a more nuanced and thoughtful person. Books humble you. Books validate you. Books challenge you. Books grow you. Books save you from making perilous mistakes. Books accompany you when you’re feeling alienated and misunderstood.

10. Accept that progress is not linear, especially in your career. We have this unhealthy misconception that our career trajectory goes something like this: attend school → secure entry-level job → put in work for 1 – 3 years → receive steady promotions → end up in upper management. In reality, it looks more like this: school → take a break → work a low-wage job → return to school → work another low-wage job → quit to work at another low-wage job → question all your life choices → pick up a few side-hustles → get promoted at work → catch a lucky break → start earning a decent income doing what you love.

11. Learn how to be present. Seriously. In the words of Brianna Wiest, “The past is obsolete and the future is pending. You may attach yourself to these concepts, they are just figments of your imagination. It is a false comfort you get from them. Learn to be comforted and even astounded at what you have right now, and how beautiful it is.” Appreciate what it means to be alive now, not what it will mean to be alive in five years from now. Social media throws out all these qualifiers for happiness: You just need to be debt free and then you will be happy. You just have to buy this shirt and you will effortlessly cool and then you will be happy. You just need to wake up at 5:00 a.m. every morning and be productive as f*ck and you will be happy. You don’t need to do any of these things in order to appreciate all the wonderful things in your life that you have already. That’s not being unambitious. That’s pragmatic gratitude.

12. Take things slow. Life is (usually) much longer than you think. Not everything requires your immediate attention. You don’t need to cross things off your To Do List as fast as possible. You don’t need to overwork yourself to chase a promotion that you want to receive by some arbitrary deadline you set for yourself. Relax. Take a deep breath. Take time to meander, laze around, and, most importantly, think! Decide to take the long way home. Explore a new neighbourhood in your city. Spend an entire evening watching terrible reality tv (yes, you can watch tv). Enjoy yourself. Enjoy the journey of your becoming. As Seneca famously said, “Life, if well lived, is long enough.”

13. Stop talking about what you’re going to do and just do it. With the rise of social media, we run into the problem of putting the cart before the horse; talking the talk before walking the walk. We need to stop doing that. As I start new projects, whether it’s practicing law or pursuing my writing, I have to constantly remind myself that it’s much better to just work on things privately and release it when it’s done. Have the results speak for itself.

14. Evaluate where your sources of information comes from. We think we understand a particular issue or topic because we read a few articles about it from a newspaper, online publication or, perhaps more accurately, a blogger or writer we enjoy. But instead of just taking their word for it, we need to take a step back and see what biases, perspectives or political leanings that the source has. I’m not saying that it’s terrible to receive information from sources that align with your opinions or perspectives, I’m simply stating that we need to recognize that.

15. Construct the environment you need in order to facilitate “deep work.” Do you work best at home? Or do you enjoy working alongside other creatives in a co-working space? Do you listen to music while you work? Or can you only think when it’s absolutely silent? Determine what’s the most optimal setting for you to do your best work.

16. Don’t live for today. Live for tomorrow. And the week after that. And the month after that. For some reason, we experience dissonance from our future selves; we can’t connect with who we will be in 10 years. That’s why we have no problem eating tons of junk food, going for long periods of time without exercising, and impulsively buying ephemeral pleasures instead of contributing to our retirement savings. If we stay on this path, our future self is going to hate us. Start creating habits that will help ourselves out in a year, 5 years, 10 years from now. It’s not self-restraint. It’s self-discipline.

17. Ensure your actions sync up with your words. The people whose opinions you value don’t care about how much you make, what you wear, or what car is parked in your garage. People care about your character, the respect you give to others, and the commitments you make and keep. Build a reputation on being someone of integrity and principles.

18. Stop saying what people want to hear. If you’re honest, and you have some evidence to back up your position, people will respect you much more than simply being a mouthpiece for their pre-existing beliefs. Sucking up to people, whether it’s a boss or an influencer, does no one a favour. Be willing to be critical, when the situation calls for it, and hold firm on your beliefs. Good decisions, or the journey towards making decisions, are never based on “yes men (or women).” Have the courage to stand out, if you really do have a valid and unique contribution to make. People might disagree on the merits of the opinion, but they will respect you.

19. Be unabashedly ambitious about the real things. If your definition of a good life is to live out of a camper and drive across the country for the rest of your life, then be stubbornly unwavering about it. Do what it takes to get there. Hey, it may not be my idea of a good time, but at least it’s a more purposeful goal than just earning a certain level of income to buy status symbols.

20. Ask yourself the hard questions. Underneath the expensive clothes, accessories, and home — who are you really? What do you stand for? What will you defend? What matters to you? What makes up your ideal day? Who do you want to surround yourself with? What do you want to achieve? What gifts can you contribute to the world? Answer the tough questions, before someone else answers them for you.

#Happiness

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foursprouthappiness-blog · 6 years

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20 Things 20-Somethings Should Do Right Now To Build A Life That Feels Good

New Post has been published on http://foursprout.com/happiness/20-things-20-somethings-should-do-right-now-to-build-a-life-that-feels-good-2/

20 Things 20-Somethings Should Do Right Now To Build A Life That Feels Good

Twenty20/ @meganmeza