#got beat at my own game by some kid it was gratifying

[yappacadaver]

i bought this with my birthday moneies, it's arriving on saturday

Girls on tumblr can I confess something fucked up

[bangteamhyuk]

Seesaw (II)

Genre: Mature/Smut, Strangers to Lovers, Neighbors with benefits/Fuck buddies, Producer! Min Yoongi, Fuck girl! OC Y/N, Neighbors AU (a Spin-Off to “Moving On”)

Warning: (NSFW! 18+) Car fingering while Yoongi drives, handjob, blowjob, cum licking/ spitting, Producer! Min Yoongi practicing SAFE SEX and ya’ll kids should do it too, mentions of bullying, suggestive abuse of power/ office boss being a d*ck, alcohol drinking and getting hammered, mention of sexist remarks, Seokjin being damn handsome AF just by walking in OC Y/N’s life like it’s okay because clearly it isn’t (I’m Jimin bias btw, I know you aren’t asking but I’m serving still) OC Y/N basically being unapologetically herself (living life in debauchery) and Yoongi knowing exactly what he needs in his damn life and he isn’t taking no for an answer.

Word count: 10,977k

SYNOPSIS: For months, you’ve been trying to hide your little crush on your neighbor who lives on the 18th floor. Until one night, you saw him drunk on the elevator with an empty bottle of Scotch, you asked if he maybe wants to have more of those in your place. And he did more than just agreeing.

Also thank you to these wonderful people: @flowerblu00​ @milkyshoooky​ @sugaaddiction​ 

“Of course, I’d love to….” you spoke low while taking a glass of water to drink. From the rims of the glass, you swore you could see Yoongi trying his best not to smile, playing it cool by pretending to struggle in picking the cooked meat from the grill. You bit the chopsticks to fight a smile, you must admit, that was pretty cute.

--

But Rush Hour. Of all the days you two choose to get laid was on Friday evening—a time where, unfortunately by default, everyone collectively decides to get laid as well. Thus, getting stuck in a sea of red lights. Needless to say, you two were bummed.

The traffic was so terrible, that it sucked you dry… literally. It’s as if a Dementor went around Yoongi’s car, found its way in, and unfashionably sucking you from underneath your seat. (Which by the way doesn’t look sexy at all. Seriously, who gets turned-on from that idea? Clearly not you) You were damn fine damp a minute ago, and now it felt uneventfully dry.

“You know what? This is ridiculous. I can see a motel nearby, why don’t we go there in the meantime?” you dramatically lamented from your seat. Yoongi, who was drinking iced coffee, almost choked to hear you declare your frustration so casually.

“Well, um…” he peered through the windshield “I can see the cars are moving in the next lane…”

“The motel is right over there” you pointed, emphasizing the short distance between the car and the building to his left.

He gulped “I uh-- I don’t like to take you to some sleazy motel. Besides, we have our own place” he starts counting by the finger “One, we don’t have to lie down on dirty sheets. Two, won’t clearly hear people moaning next door, and lastly no one’s gonna charge us by the hour…” facing you and concern

“Tell that to your friend who’s waning by the minute…” you pursed your lip pointing in his nether region. He instinctively closed his legs at your retort and chuckled “It’s fine, we’ll be fine… thanks for the genuine concern. Oh look, the light turned green! See, we’re moving?  I think the next lane is pretty lax...”

You can only huff as your dry reply.

As much as he wanted to leave with you right away and get to the nearest subway station the very moment you agreed, he couldn’t.  Because of all the days he decided to feel horny, he chose to go out with his car. He shut his eyes and dropped his head on the steering wheel to express his blowing resentment towards the cars, gradually becoming stationary on the said next lane. Thus, extinguishing any glimpse of hope that you two would arrive at his place, at an earlier time.

With an aching face, he wished that he could turn back the time and just to leave his damn car at the apartment building. Just so he could save his own balls from turning blue by the minute.

It was obvious that he was frustrated too, like you. Who wouldn’t? Being jammed in almost half an hour already? Still on the city street, barely moving? You had to deal with it.

Then it hit you: Yeah, why not deal with it?

However, you quickly realized that this may be a hit or miss. Not all people share the same interest or kink, but you were dying to have your back scratched, and so is he. So fuck it, you’re doing it.

You began to move your legs, slowly brushing it against Yoongi’s hand which was resting on the gear. He reacted, naturally. In fact, when the traffic light changed colors from red to green, he accidentally stepped on the gas pretty abruptly which partly shoved you down from your seat “Sorry…” furrowing his eyebrow apologetically, deep enough to find your pardon.

“It’s okay” fixing your hair from the center, and tucking it securely on your ears. Thankfully, you didn’t forget to put on a seatbelt, or else the plan you had in mind would have backfired. He sighed in relief, grateful that you accepted his apology.

Uncontented, you then pressed your hand on top of his. His hands suddenly turned cold as he tightened his grip on the gear, right before your touch. While you were certain that most men reacted positively to it, being open to a semi-public tryst, your expectations were not met. Instead, he cleared his throat and held your hands... held your damn hands.

He gently hit the brake as he approached another mob of halted cars on the next lane. Obviously flustered, he quickly moved his head to the side taking glimpses of whatever there was on his side mirror while withholding his smile. He momentarily pulled his hands away from you to shift his gear to neutral, then held your hands back. He even pushed his own finger in between its gaps and locked it. Locked your damn hands.

Slowly you closed your eyes and took one deep breath, not because your heart started to flutter, but because of your utmost disappointment at his response. This is clearly different from what you wanted to happen.

You took a mental note of the events and Yoongi’s actions, concluding that he was clearly a man who disliked beating around the bush. So, for the sake of being clear on your intention, you aggressively pulled his hand, opened his palms and let it slowly brush the skin hiding underneath your skirt.

He froze. Now you got his attention.

Nervously, he coughed on impulse. While his one hand remained clutched on the steering wheel and his eyes still focused on the road, the other hand was busy grazing your inner thigh. Surprisingly, he didn’t budge. He lets you take control, directing him where you want him to be while touching you gently. You then took his wrist, and guided his fingertips towards where you wanted it from the very beginning.

“Y/N, I just think it’s better if we wai---” for a moment, he had forgotten what he wanted to say to you next, because suddenly he felt his finger move to a place where he is afraid you'll lead it to-- your wet slit.

He swallowed, his mouth left ajar and brows lifted in absolute surprise. “Oh shit” was the only thing he could say.

Whining softly from your seat, he reluctantly moved his head to watch you introduce his fingers to the pleasure of your flesh. You then extended your arms, cautiously reaching for his legs and caressed it intently. His eyes blinked rapidly, as he turned his head back to face the road, refusing to look back. His mouth is still hanging from the air, as his head floats in uncertainty mixed with pure ecstacy.

No one asked but, really, this is what you meant by taking matters into your own hand.

It took him a minute to process what was happening, and as such, he began to return the favor. Now free from your control, he started pressing his finger on your sensitive bud and stroked it gently. He bit his lip right after he heard you moaned, “...Yoongi”

“Fuck” he suddenly saw the traffic light turn red to green. He slowly stepped on the gas pedal,  careful enough to prevent you being thrown from your seat again. He was now steering the wheel with one hand as he flicked your clit with the other at a steady pace. As acknowledgement on being gratified, you opened your legs wider.

He was game.

Yoongi briefly pulled his hands away from you to maneuver the car smoothly on the highway. He grunted at the view of another sight of flooded red lights. He wanted to get home so bad. All he could think of was to get on the bed with you with his cock finally warmed. But the highway had led this poor man’s dreams down in an instant.

Though, you refused to concede to the situation. You are willing to put up a fight against the status quo, ready to deny the world from preventing yours and Yoongi’s happiness from dying each second. Thus, like a good employee of this capitalistic world, you turn this deplorable event from liability to an asset: making this a great opportunity for you and Yoongi to bond closer. (Albeit, a different kind of bonding, that is)

As soon as he stepped on the brakes, you pulled out your seatbelt and moved towards his direction “Your car is heavily tinted right?” you asked while probing the cars around you from your window.

“Yeah, why?” He asked while putting back his hands to your slit, continuing to flick your bud, now significantly fast. You decided to turn it up a notch as you reached for the button of his pants. Slowly, unbuttoning it and pulling his zipper down. He started to pant, nervous to hear you reply.

“Safety first…” You then helped him shift the gear to neutral, and began pulling his pants and boxer roughly half way.

He groaned as he watched you grasp his stiff length, stroking it slow. “Is this what you meant when you asked if my car is tinted?” he quickly jerked his head up to check if the vicinity is safe, then briefly saw you nod your head to a ‘Yes’.

He choked when he sensed his tip poke on to your lips. It didn’t take a while for you to hear him moan when he felt his tip finally pressed the entrance of your mouth, gradually moving down on your tongue and on to your inner cheek. The warmth and wetness you’re giving him puts him in immediate joy.

He hissed at the sight of you taking him whole, and helped you fix your hair by putting it to the side, letting you breathe easy while you bob your head “Nngh… Y/N”

“Like that?” you part a bit and kissed his tip.

“Why do you keep asking the obvious?” he faintly chuckled as he tossed his head from his seat, right when he felt your tongue move from the bottom shaft and up to its head. Then quickly downed on him entirely again. His eyebrow creased automatically, as if contemplating today’s wisdom from the universe that all ‘good things come to those who wait’. He concentrated on that note like a mantra, as he shut his eyes tight.

Even when you were giving him a head, he was still kind enough to help you keep your hair away from your face. Holding it fairly light, trying not to pull. If this isn’t a gentleman thing to do, then I do not know what is.

“Y/N” He began sliding his two fingers in, which left you half giggling and panting at the immediate contact.

“Mm, you are doing me good hm?” you asked while stroking him slowly and watching his eyes closed, barely breathing as he mentally called to thank the universe for being blessed by you “You can add another finger if you want…”

“Damn, you are so hot…” His eyes then lit up, biting his lip and grinning with pride, thus displaying his perfect gummy smile that takes you to greater heights every time he does. “Yeah… I really appreciate your honesty, thank you for telling me you are horny” he replied as he prods his fingers in, progressively fast. Candidly making you clench and moan his name at the same time.

And like a good co-worker, you went back to hustle. Starting from the bottom to his top.

The tightness of your mouth in his shaft, the smell of your sweet perfume, the sound of his fingers squelching inside your very core, and the sight of you taking him whole, like a prized lollipop. Oh, and the fact that he pulled his (now) three fingers out from you to have a little taste…Yes, he nodded to himself. Licking every side of his fingers as if eating at KFC. Indeed, ‘it is finger licking good’.

It became apparent that all his senses were being satisfied when you finally felt him start to shiver. Everything was met, everything was good, everything became so overwhelming for Yoongi that even with his lids close, he can still see the light shine from heaven.

He gasped, leaving him marveled at your greatness by giving him a very good head. In fact, he found it so admirable that you start to feel him throb. Evidently, he is coming.

You were so good, that he barely withholds himself from coming. Along with the fact that he became unaware that his elbow accidentally hit the switch to dwindle down the window. “Fuck!” he writhed, thrusting his hip up spurting hard in your mouth.

“Yo, Casanova! Your windows are down!” The driver on the other side shouted.

His eyes widened, still sporadically shuddering from his high. “Shit!” He quickly pushed the button to raise his windows while his other hand pulled his pants and boxers up (at the least he managed to put his boxers up while in hurry, now 80% covering his ass) only it was too late.

Resisting to swallow his cum, you began to pull yourself up from your seat and look for a tissue stashed somewhere inside your bag. Upon seeing your head pop from below though, it didn’t take long for the other driver to discern what just happened.

“Nasty” was the last thing Yoongi heard from the grinning stranger before he finally put his window back up. Now completely shielded from his embarrassment.

Just then the traffic light turned red to green. Yoongi quickly hit the gas. Staying in this traffic was definitely the last thing he wanted to be in. He then thoughtfully swore to be mindful of his surroundings next time when another opportunity like this came, or maybe he would never (It’s too soon to decide)

But one thing is for sure, he swore he can never drive and see this road the same way ever again. Thanks to you.

--

A lilac lacy bra resting on his lampshade, matched silken panty hanging on the side of his headboard, black pants stuck in the middle of his bedroom door, an empty packet of condom on the edge of the bed, and his brief dangling, which managed somehow to reach on top his his TV.

Sitting with his legs crossed, his back resting on a pile of pillows with his hands supporting your weight. He happily watched you grind on him with great effort for a full whole blown minute. “Y/N” humming your name, in between his grunt.

“Yoongi” you recited his name in return like litany, hands gripping on his bare shoulders as you tossed your head back in trance.

“Fuck…” he began to propel his hips against you, meeting your every movement. One of his hands sneaked its way to your breasts cupping each and kneading it gently.

“Yoongi” you repeated, calling his name, spreading your legs wider to find your balance and continuing to roll your hips in synchrony with his. For a moment, the sound of slapping skin was all you could hear until it syncopated by his heavy breathing. He pushed himself close to you, hands now reaching towards your clit. Stroking and flicking it concurrently in full earnest.  

His head suddenly fell on to your shoulder, his gasp becoming audibly clear sending you into utter frenzy. In response, you pulled yourself back and began nibbling his ear, light and soft. He moaned. Yes, the kind that reverberates, delivering you to the edge. Thus reaching your high.

He snickered after hearing you whimper “For someone who initiated everything, I honestly thought you could last. I didn’t know just the sound of me moaning can send you to peak?”

With your mouth still open, you grimaced at his snide remark “Lie down, why don’t you? Let’s see if I can take you with me?”

“No need to, I’ll come any time soon” he tilts his head to the side and kisses you, simultaneously thrusting in haste. His sudden reflex jolts you in another course of delirium. As his movements became erratic, you held on tight to his shoulders taking it as a cue to give each other one final push to reach both your climax.

“Y/N…” He gagged as he squinted his eyes hard. Together, you both curse at the sensation, and deeply sighing together after hitting the zenith. You both lie down at the same time, panting. For a while it was silent, as if both of you were taking time to ponder on life in general like a hermit sage.

“…. Is this going to be a regular thing?” he suddenly asked, shifting on his bed to face the ceiling. Finally, he was asking the important question.

“Sure. You mean no strings attached right?” moving your body to face him.

He then pursed his lip to say something but quickly retracted. He figured he needed to ask it, so he just let it roll. A necessary query, he thought. “Is this going to be exclusive or….”

“Let’s not kid ourselves and make things easier for us, so no. Exclusive is quite foreign territory for me. Although I can still be monogamous, that is if you want it to… but don’t push okay? I can only go for a short period” you stretched your arm and rolled to the edge, taking the liberty to take his bottled water from the bedside table and drink.

“No, no, it’s okay. As long as we keep using protection, I guess that’s fine. We can see other people on the side, while we keep in touch? I think it’s a pretty fair deal…”

“It’s a good deal” you pointed out as he nodded in agreement.

“But what if one of us isn’t up for it any longer? Do we tell or do we not tell? Because honestly I’ll hope you’d pick the forme-- ”

“Latter” you quickly replied before he finished the word ‘Former’

He chuckled, and shook his head in disbelief with your reply.

“Fine, I can adjust. I totally understand that this isn’t just about me, so in all fairness, I’ll agree to your demands. But you have to agree with mine”

“That is?” He sat back up and pulled out his soiled condom, knotted it first before throwing it in the trash bin.

“Give me your number” you opened your palm to his direction

“Well, I thought you’d never ask” he picked up his cellphone he left from the edge of his bed, while you combed down on the floor to find yours. You two then exchange phones and enter each other’s number, and return it back. “That was easy” he raised one eyebrow smirking at you.

“With that, we can um… reach each other wherever, whenever” you pressed your lips together and gave him a smile.

He nodded “Sure, but only if you wanted”

“Only if you wanted it too” you replied, cordially mimicking his head.

“Everything sound’s good to me” he shrugged “So, Deal?” he stuck his hand out to you and you took it. “Deal” you both shook it, sealing the agreement.

--

Seesaw. It is one of your favorite playground activities. You enjoy the momentary high and the unpredictability of being dropped down. Although more than anything, you adore the power play. You get the euphoria from being intrigued, guessing each time who gets to take the upper hand.

You love taking predictions, you love calculating, but above all you love to wager. You wanted a brief scare from losing, only to shift the leverage to your favor. For you, Seesaw is a game of dominance. And in the game of dominance, of course you like to be the one in control.

Even when you were little you were so engrossed at that thought, obsessing to declare yourself to be the winner. You were so competitive, that it made you fall on a sandbox one time, when you were playing with your next-door neighbor, Hee-joon.

Seeing from afar, your father quickly ran to you and held you close for comfort. Although when he was dressing your bruises, you remember vividly how he warns you not to cry in front of boys, because little boys always relish seeing a weak girl cry. You always have to emerge as the victor at all times. Hence, you never did. Even now as an adult. You fight back, you always do.

That’s why Hee-joon grew up hating you, because the last time you two played Seesaw again, you managed to put him up above and watched him revel in the air. Until he realized you refused to put him back down, not until he cried. You watched him weep and plead above you. Only then you decided to put him down when his mother came. To say the least, your mother was upset with your action, but your father felt proud.

Seesaw is the game that taught you how to take the highs and lows, but more than anything, it taught you how to be the one in supreme.

Every time you deal with men, you remember every word your father told you. As such, when you reached the epiphany that love is nothing but just an illusion, you decided to take things to the sheets instead. You’d rather be engulfed with pleasure rather than unnecessary emotions under the guise of romance.

And yet, somehow deep within you, you were too scared to admit the rationale why you vehemently refuse to lose. Because at the time when you fell and your father ran to you, you saw it in his eyes. He was looking at you, fearful to see someone he loves dearly be in so much pain. He was terrified to let you know how far the depths of a wound can go, until you can no longer feel… and you’re afraid to know it too.

It is the precise reason why, right now, you are watching Yoongi cover his face on a Sunday morning. Leading him to his high, watching him revel in absolute bliss, under him… literally. Yoongi pleaded for you to stop giving him another god-tier head, and let him breathe easy, before you could deliver him any further to his overdrive. While you indeed followed his plea by halting, you decided to tease him a little by pulling yourself up from the covers and went on top of him. You took his wrist and pressed his palms against your bare chest.

“Wait” he paused as he sat up and furtively looked for a condom in his drawer. “Thank God, we still have one last…” he pulled out the shiny foil packet. You took it from his hand and helped him put the rubber on.

And just like that, Yoongi again was on a roll. For the past few weeks, neither of you resisted sex. Monday night? On your couch. Wednesday? On his kitchen counter. Friday after work? Inside his car on a dark alleyway. Saturday night? Inside his shower. Now Sunday, back on his bed.

Sex with Yoongi is great, but you already expect that.

But just like a play of Seesaw, you know that this kind of arrangement will definitely have some highs and lows. You know that one day, you and Yoongi’s sex drive will decline, frequent calls will become rare, until it’s gone. So, keep them coming right? Not that you are worried, but really what is there to lose? Especially if the sex is good and you two are on an equilibrium, like that in the game.

Well, not until Friday.

---

“Hey, good work!” someone tapped your shoulder lightly after closing the meeting room, you turned around to see who it was.

“Oh, Hoseok. Thanks!” you grinned, happy to see one of your best friends attend your team’s presentation for a Cereal Company. You’ve known Hoseok since college, and even worked with him on your first job. Even if both of you left and went to a different company now, you two still find time to catch up. It just so happens that you two are now working on the same project.

Dipping your head a little low, you whispered to his direction “I was genuinely surprised to know you work for this company, I thought you hated their cereals?”

“Unfortunately, beggars can’t choose” he replied softly as you nodded in agreement, while walking with him on the office hallway towards the elevator lobby “Great to know they promoted you as the Event’s Manager huh?”

“As long as they pay me well, I can manage whatever shit the world throws at me,” you said, twitching your lip to the side and shrugging, making Hoseok hysterical.

“Cheers to being a slave for money”

“Cheers” you both tossed an imaginary goblet from each of your hands when suddenly, you heard your phone buzzing, so did his. Both of you stopped from the elevator lobby to read the message. You rolled your eyes “Seems your boss and my boss are going to announce their engagement?”

He chuckled, “I’m pretty sure they’re straight, Y/N. But I can’t come to this ‘Night After-Work Drink’…” he put his phone back in his pocket after reading it.

“Aw, C’mon it’s going to be the weekend tomorrow! Plus, I’m going to introduce you to my colleagues, we’ll have fun! Just come, let’s go Hoseok! Don’t leave me alone, please?” you whined before him, trying your hardest to convince one of your closest friends to come by using your pleading charm.

Hoseok just stared at you and breathed.

“Why? Have you not forgiven me for that time I accidentally left my hairbrush on your car and your ex thought you were cheating on her? Hence, leaving me now on my own to suffer?”

You stepped forward to face Hoseok before he could enter the elevator with you.

He rolls his eyes “Still dramatic as always. I told you, that’s been long forgotten. Besides, I am dating someone new”

“Oh” you said inaudibly, finding Hoseok slightly displeased with your overly critical reaction.

“Hey, I know that face!” he narrowed his eyes while expressing his distaste to see your silent retort “And no, I have no plans in introducing you to her… Yet! Not until we’ve established whatever we are” he continued while pressing the elevator to the ground floor.

“Hm, still sounds trouble to me”

“We’ve only known each other for a week, Y/N. Give her some slack.”

“Then why are you cancelling extra working hours? When can you drink to your heart's content, hm? Beer will taste good, especially if you’re not the one paying” you bobbed your brows and smug “Just admit it Hoseok, she got you wrapped around her fingers. I told you, you can’t do this on a regular. Women like a little chase…”

“First of all, we’re not paid to kiss ass. Second, you also hated the idea of having to go there too and third, she’s not like you…”

You opened your mouth, clearly taken aback to hear his remark. Hoseok quickly clarified “I meant to say, you’re frighteningly the almost perfect girl…but she’s not the fooling type.”

“That’s what we all say, that’s what we all want you to believe Hoseok...” You retort incredulously “it’s better be uncompromising forthright than give you false hope. Go choose!”

Hoseok sighed deeply “Look, one day you are going to meet someone who will probably prove to you that not all men are shit.” he said while crossing his arms and stared at you, admonishingly.

“I already did. I have you” you pouted. The elevator stopped as Hoseok waited for you to step out first then followed.

“Besides me” leading you now to his car in the parking lot. His eyes flickered as he remembered something… or someone “Know what? there’s Seokjin-hyung”

“Oh, you mean Seokjin the half-god from the Film Department, in our Uni? Seokjin is infinitely out of question. Have you seen his latest drama on TV? Park Bo-gum even sent a coffee truck to congratulate him” You sighed resentfully.

“How’d you know?”

“Instagram. Okay don’t judge”

Hoseok chuckled, stopping at his car to turn it open with his car keys “I clearly am doing it right now”

“Technically, he is untouchable. You’ve seen how the girls reacted then when they saw me and him together on a couch? When we were literally just talking about Chinese Philosophy class during that frat party. And like some teen-romcom movie, rumors started to fly the next day and they multiplied by the hour” You opened the door to his passenger seat and secured yourself with a seatbelt.

“Easy A. It’s Easy A.” He stressed as he entered and adjusted the side mirror’s on the driver’s seat .

“The difference between you and Seokjin are that we’re friends… and he and I just happened to be in one class”

He starts the engine of his car, offering to drive you all the way to the bar where your team is having this week’s celebration “My point is… theoretically speaking, that there are men who are as nice, like he is. Plus, he knows those nasty rumors weren’t true. Won’t you forgive those girls?”

“They’re basically my creators? Shouldn’t this present slut thank them instead?”

“You and I both know you were once a college prude, and you never slept with any of those rumored men… Seokjin-hyung knows the truth. Even if he was conscripted to the list, unlike other men who took advantage of that, he fervently denied”

“Because that’s the truth. We never slept, Hoseok. Above every one, you know I didn’t have the guts. Wow, I am still not sure whether to feel offended or happy about it. Am I not worth it?”

“Y/N, seriously? Seokjin’s a true gentleman, that’s it. That’s the tea. I can even swear he was into you that time, until her groupies held an emergency meeting to evilly conspire against you… I’m actually glad they’ve been dealt with. This is why we can’t have nice things”

“Hoseok, okay, granted that he and I ended up dating each other back then… It is still going to fail because lov-- ”

He started to turn on the radio, loudly “What? I can’t hear you! Know what? Have a talk with your pessimism when you get to the bar. Here, I’ll even give you extra money so you could offer it a few more drinks” he pulled a few coins from his pocket and handed it over to you.

You chuckled, batting your eyes to his direction “Aw, ever the romantic Hoseok. Well, keep them I’ll collect it soon enough”

“She is going to be great, Y/N. Don’t jinx it!”

--

“Fuck capitalism!” your boss shouted.

“Fuck capitalism!” you all repeated and shouted it while drinking another shot all together.

“Y/N! Lara! Do that soju bomb thing together!” Your boss suddenly made his way to sourpuss the night by ordering you two to do a party trick which is gravely against your will.

Lara gave you a look and you just shrugged, telepathically and ironically accepting defeat from capitalism itself, by giving in at your boss’s request. You two were compelled to act normal as if nothing happened. Honestly, no one really needs to know about you, her, and canker Joe. As a matter of fact, you don’t want anyone to know that you tried to sleep with canker Joe from your office. Besides, didn’t Lara hide the fact that he was seeing Joe too? Maybe she was too embarrassed about him as well. Regardless, he is definitely a thing in the past and should be kept inside a box, six-feet underground for good.

“Hey!” Lara plastered a smile and handed you the glasses, as usual, to prepare both your famous tricks.

“Hey, hey!” you faked cheered as well as you helped her open more beers to spray on each glass, half filling the glass. Lara then filled each shot glass with a fair amount of soju, while you meticulously placed them strategically close so by the time you shove one, the other shot glass would follow like dominoes (dropping to beer glass like a bomb).

This never fails to amaze your boss for some reason, to see you two do it each time, much to you and Lara’s chagrin. Truthfully, if you’re being asked, you two would wish you weren’t forced to entertain anyone outside office just to have a favorable treatment by the day.

“Y/N” your boss called as he pulled out a newly opened bottle of soju to your direction, handing out your glass politely to him as a reflex. “You really did a great job with your presentation; I really like it! Don’t be too shy alright? You deserve to celebrate!”

“Thank you, sir,” you turned away from his direction and downed the alcohol in one go, respectfully showing everyone on the table that you’ve accepted the harsh reality of the need to kiss ass so you could get cash.

“Too bad, Hoseok’s not here. He’ll probably have fun” Hoseok’s boss, who joined your team, commented while watching you have another at your boss’s behest. You nodded to his direction, to feign agreement. Considering the amount of alcohol he could bear in a single night, of course not, he definitely would not have fun.

“Y/N” someone murmured on the table, after your boss moved his attention to the recently hired employees. You turned around and saw Lara staring at you “Y/N” she repeated.

“Yeah?” you raised an eyebrow clearly befuddled to hear her and have your attention.

“I know you can’t handle alcohol well, just gently decline next time he offers. He has more people to oppress now” she lowered herself so you could hear her clearer and puck her lips subtly to point at the poor new recruits.

“Oh, I thought you said you didn’t want to be friends with a slut like me? Are we also going to pretend I didn’t hear that too?” you whispered back

“Whatever, just don’t come hurling at everybody and then throw up”

“I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you”

She was right. She’s always right. By the time you downed an nth shot of soju or whatever it is they gave you (and add that fancy cocktail you wanted to try on their menu) your surroundings gradually revolve and appeared hazy. Somehow, you decided to take drunken shots of the bar and record random moments for you to post something on your social media account. Nothing too wild or nasty, just enough to flash for your friends online that you were having a great time on another Friday night.

“Y/N, is it okay if you come with me to the restroom and help with something?” Lara asked distinctly from her seat, loud enough to hear your superiors to cut you lose from drinking.

You nodded submissively, plopping down from the stool and followed Lara. By the time you two arrived at the girl’s restroom you quickly went into the nearest cubicle and threw yourself against the toilet and vomited.

“I told you so, even Hannah Montana can’t get the best of both worlds. Y/N, stop acting tough.” She crouched down and held your hair up while patting your back.

“I’m feeling fantastic Lara!” you deadpan reply while wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Okay, you are welcome” she rolled her eyes while burrowing something from your bag, then you heard something thud. Suddenly everything went blank.

--

The smell of musk, leather and a little bit of smoke. The feeling of the heat of a skin nudging on your nose. Your hands pressed against someone else’s chest, and the air breezing under the soles of your feet, as if you were levitating. You blinked your eyes twice and opened it wide from your stupor… finding yourself in the middle of the busy street of Itaewon.

You shook your head a little and realized you were resting on someone’s back. “Don’t move too much, you are starting to get heavy?” said someone in a timbre filled with objection.

You knew that voice, and you knew that scent too well too “Yoongi?” you asked weakly.

“Are you gonna throw up? Just tell me…”

“Yoongi, why are you…” you shook your head, that wasn’t the right question “Why are we here?”

“You butt-dialled me, it’s been so long since you called so I thought you’d invite me over but I only heard random noises then it ended… Until you began sending me weird pictures in the dark. So, I was kind of worried and called… But it was your officemate who answered and just told me to come pick you up”

“My what?” you asked, trying to process everything you heard.

“Know what? You’re too drunk to have this conversation and so I’m just going to take you home. Don’t move too much, you are slipping” he paused for a moment while he jerked to keep him adjusted to the weight that he is carrying. “Cutie from the 18th floor huh?” you heard him snickered as he asked.

“You saw my phone?”

“No, your officemate told me. Actually she asked me if I was ‘Cutie from the 18th floor?’ She apologized instantly because she didn’t know how to address me when I came to the bar to pick you up”

“Okay, that’s it. Put me down!” you tried to shimmy your body away from him

“Are you sure about that? She took your shoes from you; said she’ll leave it on your desk tomorrow”

“God…Must be Lara…”

“Is she the best friend you told me about before?”

“Yeah…”

“She’s worried about you”

“Mmm. Right.” You shut your eyes from the blinding neon lights passing from your sight.

“…Hold on to me tight” he reminded, as you reluctantly wrapped your arms around him while he trudged with you on his back.

In clear disorientation, right in the midst of the crowd, you wonder—why above all things, he is carrying you home without any question. Slowly, you closed your eyes and sighed while clutching on his chest a little bit tighter. You rest your head again on his shoulder, burrowing your nose on the fabric of his shirt. (Not to be weird, but if someone demanded what you’re doing at a gun point you wouldn’t think twice confessing that he genuinely smells so good, and that’s the whole reason) Somehow, whatever this was, it made you feel at ease.

And he wasn’t complaining.

--

“Y/N…Y/N” Yoongi rouse you from your mini-slumber “We’re here, we’re at your front door” He gently put you down on the floor and help you stand upright, waiting for you to enter your apartment so he could drop you home with his conscience at peace.

You crouched down and narrowed your eyes while pressing on the numbers on your door lock, offering it with great effort.

‘Access Denied’ it buzzed.

“Shit!” cursing on your poor concentration to get it right.

Yoongi sighed “Whisper me the number code, and I’ll do it for you”

“What? And enter any time while I’m sleeping?” you replied while unnecessarily glaring at him.

“Okay, that’s it… I can leave you here or you can stay at my place…” he put his waist on each side of his waist, like an old lady giving you an ultimatum.

“Fine... it’s wait…” You pointed a finger to Yoongi and pulled out your phone, pressing down the number sequence on the screen but in full labor. Yoongi, who was losing the endmost ounce of his patience, finally pulled you up to drag you back to the elevator lobby of your floor.

“Okay, okay, it’s 5991!” you spoke harshly, demanding him to put you down. Yoongi quickly turned around, to see if anyone heard. Fortunately, no one was around your hallway to hear you blurt your code so casually. He then swiftly pressed the numbers and opened your door and pulled you in.

“Oh! I forgot my RFID is on my wallet” you raised your hand belatedly after being dragged by Yoongi inside your apartment “Wait, what? You could’ve told me this earlier!” he groaned in utmost frustration, while helping pull your blazer off and beginning to question his choices in life.

“Yoongi” you grin at him with your eyes barely open “it’s been a while yeah? I miss your cock! Let’s have sex!” you squeaked quite happily. He then dropped you pretty harshly on the bed, not that you mind since you were too inebriated to care. “Mmm. Are you into rough play tonight Mr. Hit-song Producer, sir?” You reached for him, tracing your fingers against his shirt.

“I’m not…” he replied directly, rejecting your advances while he turned away from you busily searching for something. “… unfortunately for you miss, I don’t get turned on with drunken girls on the bed. Scurry over and try to seat on your back on the head board”

Obediently, you followed his demands despite not making sense, or at least because you are too drunk to comprehend anything. You shut your eyes waiting for him to do something to you until you felt something damp on your face “Yoongi?” you slowly opened your eyes.

“I am taking the liberty…Close your eyes” he asked sternly. It was beginning to make sense now.

“Are you helping me clean up?” you asked, feeling him gently brush your eyes with a damp facial cotton. “How’d you know which one is a makeup remover?”

“I’m not dumb, Y/N. I can read” he adjusted himself to mildly take your mascara off you. Flustered, you begin to turn your head slightly away from him. As if in a snap, the effect of alcohol was beginning to wane. Just because of the thought that Yoongi was doing things for you that you never expected. “Y/N, look I’m trying!” he clicked his tongue by pressing his thumb and index finger on your chin, securing you steadily “I heard, it’s not good to sleep with a makeup on… there’s a good chance you’ll turn blind from bacteria build-up if this is left unclean for hours”

“Says, who?” trying to dissipate the towering feeling of being embarrassed. “Your ex?”

“No, the idols I get to work with who came in late. They were trying to justify their tardiness because of their face after a night of drinking. Honestly, who cares? They have a lot of fans who love them”

“It’s a girl thing, you’ll never understand”

Smoothing another batch of damp cotton on your cheeks, he finished the conversation by telling you “Well, I do. You are pretty even without it…” he said while dabbing one last time on the side of your lips until you felt his thumb pressed on the edge of your lips.

Yoongi froze, did he just? He started to wonder. You slowly opened your eyes to see his face close to yours, just a few inches away from each other's lips. He cleared his throat and immediately shifted himself away from you again, keeping distance. “Good night, Y/N”

You watched him turn his back and dimmed the lights off your room, leaving only with a soft glimmer from your bedside lamp. Feeling stunned at the chain of events, you cowered down to see your clothes still on and your chest beating heavily. You jerked and shook your head reminding yourself that ‘No, we refuse to be your victim, Yoongi’. Then you felt it, clearly your body is still jaded, realizing on its own that you still had too much alcohol in your system. So, you tried to hurry over to your bathroom, only to find your face falling flat on the floor.

Gratefully, Yoongi hasn’t completely left you yet. When he heard, he abruptly went to check on you in your room. “Just how many have you had?” he helped you up and hiked you over to the toilet. You immediately hurled yourself to it and threw whatever you had in you. He groaned mournfully, while patting your back. He knew the answer to his queries, he’s going to need to stay by your place for the night.

And he did, but on your couch. He thought, it would be awkward to be placing himself beside you on your bed if you two are not having sex. Thankfully, your couch had enough space for him to lie down, yet he couldn’t seem to find his sleep. Not when he began questioning himself as to why you had him worried for the night, he shifts to the side staring blankly on your ceiling deeply sighing at the thought. He wished he knew.

--

The sound of fizzle, the touch of your dried lips, and the scent of butter, emanating from the kitchen towards your room. All of those, woke your senses. You looked at your phone and find it’s 7am on Saturday. Normally, Hoseok would gladly walk into your apartment to send you over hung-over foods, but guessing at the fact that he’d be with a lady friend you assumed he’d be unavailable for you in a time of need…. And cooking? Hoseok cooking? For the longest time you two had been together as friends, he never once attempted to put himself in the kitchen. So what changes?

You took your satin robe and swiftly wrapped it around to see who it was in your kitchen. You ran out of your room with a pillow on your hand and shrieked at the familiar figure. It was Yoongi cooking in your kitchen

He pulled out his airpods and asked “What, were you calling me?”

“No, I just… I didn’t expect you’d still... be here…Are you cooking?”

“Um, yeah, why are you always asking the obvious?” he knitted his brows, eyes darting from left to right, perplexed to even answer your query. “Look, why don’t you sit down and let Chef Min do the cooking for today”

You silently sat on your island stool and watched him prepare food. “Is this what you do to everyone you sleep with?”

He stifled a smile and pursed his lips to think. “I wish I did. Unfortunately, no. Just you, for now”

You folded your arm and poked your tongue from the inside of your cheek “Well you can’t do this…”

“Huh?” He asked with his back to you, busily chopping more onions and garlic then mixing it to the cooking pan.

“Rules.”

“Rules? What part of the agreement is cooking prohibited? If my memory serves me right, you failed to mention it, so I guess this is pretty legal”

“Okay, fair point. Then why are you doing this? On my apartment, on my kitchen, on my food? Is it all for me?”

Yoongi was taken aback, but he needed to answer promptly “What, you think I’m starting to like you more than a neighbor… with benefits?” he scoffed “Such confidence, woman” he turned around to snicker, playfully flailing his arm with a cooking chopstick on hand.

“I’m sorry but I can’t help it” you merrily bemoan in retrospect and shrugged. “Didn’t you say you’ve always fancied me?”

“Naked, I fancied you naked” he corrected.

“I don’t know, sounds the same to me” You watched him perfectly toss the food while cooking, like a pro. “Hmm, impressive. Are you trying to make me weak on my knees?”

“Well, are you?” he asked stoically, as he turned the stove off and finally served you a hung-over breakfast he made out from the ingredients available in your refrigerator.

“Almost, but not quite” you playfully bite your lip, fretfully eating your smile.

“You’re welcome for the breakfast Y/N” he winked, putting his share on a plate and sat on a stool right in front of you.

“Thank you, Chef Min Yoongi” you ducked your head, to tamper down whatever you were feeling in the morning. You weren’t a prayerful person but today you decided to whisper one from your seat. You needed it, a whole of it, before chowing down your freshly cooked food made by the Chef himself in front of you. Testing you by the minute.

He watched you while you shut your eyes and chant something inaudibly, and without you knowing-- he smiled.

--

“Min PD nim?” one of the staff knocked on his door. Yoongi, as usual, was busy listening to the tracks he made from last week now that it is back to being Monday again.

“Han Young-woo-ssi said he wanted to talk to you sir…”

“Oh, what about?” He abruptly stopped and turned to face her.

“It sounded like it’s a personal matter sir… so I didn’t ask him any further. He is waiting outside your office sir, would you like me to tell him to come back after lunch?”

He shook his head “No-no, it’s fine. I am a little bit stressed too, I was just looking for the right lyrics to the melody but maybe talking to him might help” he went out from his seat and decided to see his visitor from the same company but in the Accounting department. Was it about his demands against the company for paying for his daily coffee needs? Or was it about denying his request to fund him for another set stereos?

“Yoongi! My friend!” Young-woo delightedly extends his arm to give him a quick hug and pat on his back.

“Hey Han!” he sat on the couch and Young-woo followed, sitting on a chair adjacent to Yoongi.

“What brings you here?”

“Well, I saw you last Saturday night in the streets of Itaewon”

He chuckled “Yeah, I decided to do some carrying as part of my daily workout routine”

Young-woo nods solemnly “I know the person you were carrying. She’s bad news…”

He furrowed his eyebrows, pausing for a moment to comprehend the sudden change of his tone.

“I knew her from college, she’s been sleeping with a lot of men... maybe until now. Just avoid her if you can. She might give you STDs or something… Just stop Yoongi. I don’t know if it’s because she slept with Seokjin? Which probably made her impertinently bold and decides to slut around”

Yoongi thwarted him from finishing his sentence. “Seokjin? You mean Kim Seokjin?”

“Yes, your high school best friend and my frat brother, Seokjin. Did he never tell you about her?”

“He mentioned a few girls, but I don’t remember her being mentioned at all.”

“Well, I guess it’s because she’s not worth mentioning”

Yoongi pressed his fingers on his temple “Do you really see girls that way, Young-woo?”

Young-woo was left fazed at his question “I-Uh…”

“Cut to the chase Young-woo, I have a lot of things on my table. It’s not my cup of tea to entertain sexist conversation especially during working hours…”

“I’m just warning you. As friend, that’s it”

“Well, if that’s all there is” He stood up and tilted his head, locking his gaze against Young-woo fervently “I’m an adult who knows exactly what I’m doing. It’s none of your business who I want to deal with day and night, unless it’s about work. I appreciate you being worried and all, but clearly at the end of the day I’ll be responsible with who and when I’ll be fucked and who gets to fuck me over.”

Young-woo conceded and sighs from his seat “I love your tenacity, my friend. But she is different from the girls you used to date, especially your ex” he stood up and walked towards the hallway

Yoongi just nodded. “Okay, but that’s the whole point, isn’t it? Past remains in the past. Live in the present brother, worry about your future... not mine. Well there goes the exit door, if that’s really all you have to say to me. I don’t like entertaining sexism as a visitor” he points him through the exit door as he watches Young-woo leave.

He rolled his eyes, regretting the fact that he gave Young-woo his precious time so conveniently, just to listen to a back story he was clearly uninterested in. What’s the point really? If everyone is living now in the present, what’s there to huddle over in the past? One thing’s for sure, he’s going to spend a few more minutes at the receiving area to look at his phone and find some inspiration over his social media.

Randomly scrolling, he ended up in Seokjin’s profile, entertaining himself with his random pictures with witty captions, illustrations of cute alpacas and his daily dad jokes on his Instagram stories. His eyes suddenly widened when he shifted it to the next photograph and saw a familiar face from Seokjin’s story.

“Was it true?” he breathed.

--

“Yeah, that sounds about right, I assure you Madame Song. Tomorrow is going to be epic” you nodded.

“I’m looking forward to it Ms. Y/N” she giggled, standing up from her seat, ready to leave.

You did the same and bowed before your client, displaying your gratitude and respect. You took a quick glance from the window beside the seat and saw the sun glaring hard on the pavement “Are you sure, is it really okay if you leave right now? Didn’t you say you just had your facial? The sun is pretty hard. Do you at least have an umbrella?”

“Oh, do you? Sorry I forgot mine, can I borrow? I promise to return it to you tomorrow” she asked a bit warily. Of course, they never do.

“Sure” you pulled out your foldable umbrella from your bag and handed it to her.

“Thanks dear. Oh, if you must, bring your plus one” she winked.

You dropped your head and chuckled “C’mon Madame Song, you know I don’t do plus one. I’ll ask Lara to cover that for me instead”

She paused. Her attention was momentarily stolen by something, or someone in front of the cafe window “Well, why don’t you go ask him?” she puckered her lips and pointed out towards the man entering inside the café from its door way.

“What?” you chuckled in disbelief “I can’t just go ask a random stranger and tell-- ” you turned around to see who she was referring to, until you stopped mid-sentence choking on your words.

A man in black shirt, black leather jacket, and a black baseball cap? It must be….

“Seokjin?”

He turned around to see who was calling him “Y/N?” He raised both his brows in genuine surprise.

“Mm...Seems, everything’s pretty planned out now don’t you think?” Madame Song whispered to you close before leaving you on your own. Grinning from ear to ear, knowing she made a lucky guess to find you a prospect date, who isn’t after all a stranger.

“Hey, it’s been so long! It’s nice to see you here!”

“Must be cupid’s work, huh?” Madame Song winked at you both as she left the cafe with your umbrella. You shook your head a little, embarrassed to hear her tease. Then faced the half-god handsome man before you.

You sat back on your chair and offered Seokjin the vacant seat on the front.

“Hm, I honestly don’t know what to say to that, are you working? Was she a client?” he watched you write something down on your planner for a moment.

“Yeah, and we just finished” you clicked the pen and threw your arms up to stretch “and now I can relax. What’s up Kim?”

“Ikseon-dong is where I usually take my walk for coffee and look for inspiration.I like it here, it’s traditional and yet still a very relevant place” he turned around to look at the menu board, attached above on the counter.

“Ah, I see you’re working too…” you nodded. “You know their dirty chai latte is pretty good.” You pointed it out. “So, how’s your agency treating you? I’ve seen you in TDN channel the other night, and got to the scene where you were crying after being left by Park Shin Hye… that was pretty moving”

He laughed with his eyes wrinkling, charming as always. “It was hard convincing myself to cry over a fictional argument revolving over me leaving a Peanut Butter open for long...”

“In her defense, she thought you were cheating on her over Yoon Eun Hye. But before replying to that, tell me who you will end up with, is it her or Yoon Eun Hye? Because if you asked me Yoon Eun Hye might be evil, but I totally understand where she's coming from. So yeah, I’m Team Yoon Eun Hye all the way!” You lowered yourself on the table and leaned towards him.

He squints his eyes and went forward “Not if you watch until the last episode, or you could bribe me with the most expensive thing on the menu”

You shot at him and sighed “Fine, you leave me no choice Mister Celebrity, sir. One Eggs Benedict and House Coffee, on me” he chuckled, knowing fully that those were the cheapest on the menu.

“It’s nice to know you didn’t change at all, Y/N” he gulped and smiled at you.

“Oh yeah? Don’t be disappointed if you found it to be untrue.” You stood up and ordered something for your old flame, well almost… or so you would like to think, if it wasn’t for his groupies who extinguished before it even began.

You two tried to catch on a lot of things, while taking a few photos together. Seokjin has an insane amount of following, compared to the number he had back in college (but was still considerably huge). Yet he wasn’t bothered at all, he still posted whatever he pleased.

Although he was now hyper-aware of everything online, especially the fact that some things might get him in trouble or even getting others into trouble. He made sure to explain things about what was happening in his caption before posting anything. Just to spare them from unnecessary and unfounded hate from his fans.

“Fancy bumping to a college friend *insert smiley emoji*” he said out loud while mindlessly typing it as he hit the post button.

“Why didn’t you put a sticker on my face?”

“Why should I? I already spare you from being tagged. That way, you can still keep your identity hidden, but this face?” He pouts “Too pretty to be kept away”

You blushed, abruptly shaking your head ready to say something as your defense retorted “Is this your way to get in my pants, now that you’re some big shot?”

He folds his arms and twitches his lips to the corner “You thought so lowly of me, I could’ve dated you. Should’ve asked you out 11 years ago, but I didn’t because I was afraid you’d get in to trouble because of me… yet, still you did”

You paused for a moment. “Seokjin. I—”

He batted his eyes and smiled “That night at the frat party, I was about to ask you... but chickened out last minute. I should be the one saying sorry, Y/N. I wish I was there for you; I could only imagine what your college life might have been. How are you holding it?”

You croaked, left momentarily speechless at the sudden revelation that was gradually unfolding before you “I—I’m fine. Thanks to Hoseok, my life from there became bearable. I’m sure he’s the one who shut all the people who were spreading rumors, he just wouldn’t tell”

He nods. “What if he truly wasn’t? Like maybe, somebody other than Hoseok did it for you?”

“You?” you opened your mouth in disbelief.

“It’s the least I could do. Besides, I’m partly to blame '' His phone suddenly buzzed as he pointed a finger to excuse himself for a moment to receive it. “Hey baby, yeah. I’m just here in Ikseon-dong? I’m in “Flower Yard Cafe” Meet? Where?... Okay. I love you, see you in a bit”

You lump on your lips, suppressing a chuckle. For a moment you thought you had a chance with Mr. WorldWide Handsome himself, but man you were eons late. Certainly, there are many times you want to hurl yourself over him regardless if he actually wants you too.

You were then so close to not giving any more damn to the ladies who would build a fort to push any of his prospects away. Yet maybe that’s how the world works, maybe you don’t deserve all the nice things because that’s how you were designed to live your life… or maybe it’s how the world chastises you for choosing to live a life in debauchery. Either way, You and Seokjin will never happen. That’s pretty much engraved in your destiny, if that’s not obvious enough.

“I’m sorry I got to go, my girlfriend’s having a fit”

“Hm, maybe you should delete your post about us?”

“Girl, you think I’m doing this for you? I want to annoy the girls who shit on my chance with you…”

You laughed. “Hm. Openly flirting with me still? You are playing on dangerous water, sir… How about we try next life Kim, yeah?”

“Ofcourse, just don’t get swoon with my face alone when that happens.”

You nodded in between chuckles as you bid goodbye and watched him leave the cafe. You began fixing your things and putting everything on your handbag when suddenly you heard the sound of drizzle.

“Ugh, should’ve known! That blaring sun definitely looks like it’s gonna invite rain soon... I gave my umbrella to Mrs. Song!” you complained to no one, whining softly from your seat.

Not wanting to spend another hour inside, especially when you needed to send a few paperwork to your boss for a report, you decided to just throw yourselves over the harsh rain “Know what? Fuck it, let’s just run and get wet again” you pushed the door away from you, ready to run while holding on to your handbag that was barely covering your head.

As the door swiveled far, you began to notice that the rain that was supposed to be falling over your head wasn’t just…there. You turned around and found Yoongi. His arms extended to you, holding an umbrella for you. You watched him smile despite slightly getting showered.

“Yoongi?”

“Why are you always asking the obvious? Hey Y/N” He scooted over inside the umbrella, arms pressing and pulling you close to him. His free hand held on to the handle slightly tilted, making sure you remained dry than he is. You stood there, completely frozen. Too stunned to see him at a time when you needed someone.

“You certainly like to get wet often, huh?” he snickered, trying to diffuse the momentary silence.

“It depends on the situation… I-uh… what are you doing here?”

“I was just having a walk. The weather looks good” he subtly gulped, eating his lie. After seeing you on Seokjin’s instagram, he immediately called and asked where he was. Seokjin, knowing Yoongi fully for years, did not bother to ask any more questions as he simply answered where he is currently located.

“Oh yeah?” you tilt your head to look at the dark sky.

“Well, it was, until it suddenly started to rain. Where are you headed?”

“Back in my office, just a few blocks from here. You?”

“What a coincidence, I am too”

“You also work there?” you chuckled

He rolled his eyes and sighed “Okay you got me, just let me take you there unscathed. I’ll go back to strolling around the city  looking for inspiration for the song I am working on. But until then, I have to see you get there, so that I could put myself at ease knowing you went to your work completely dry.”

“Aw, that is so gentleman of you. You better credit me when you find that inspiration you were saying” you playfully teased, knowing fully well you’ll give zero contribution to his work.

He chuckled. Making you suck an air to see another gummy smile from him, which he is very frugal of him to do.

“Perhaps I will,” he shrugged, smiling weakly as he faced the street. You swiftly turn to face him, bewildered to see his sincere intent. Will he really? Thoughts were starting to run around your head.

Clearly, when was the last time you’ve been held by a man? Was it yesterday during sex with Jinyoung a fellow regular from the cafe next to your office? Or was it during a dodgeball game during 8th grade where Taecyeon, your crush pulled you away from getting hit by a ball? Or perhaps the time when your father took you in his arms when you got bruised? You could no longer remember, because right in the middle of the rain, underneath the transparent umbrella, you watched the rain fall while Yoongi was there holding you in his arms…and that was all you could think.

For the very first time, you felt safe and secured. It was warm and seemed full of ardent affection. You failed to put words into what you were feeling, because evidently you had nothing on it from your catalog for inner feelings. Yoongi remains to hold onto you close, while continuing to walk on the streets under the heavy rain... And you yielded unto him.

The feeling was so foreign and novel that you were starting to feel scared. You are so afraid of the feeling of this unfamiliarity, and perhaps the thought of it that it might one day become … too familiar.

Suddenly it dawned on you, in this seemingly game of feelings like seesaw, he was now taking the leverage because you were starting to get your high.

And for the first time in years, you were unsure how this would turn out.

A/N: Ahhhh THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR GIVING TIME! I can finally share my song inspo for this  chapter. I know the lyrics isn’t appropriate to the story, but I was just vibing to this while I was watching this video when I was doing my cardio on a machine. I quickly thought of THAT scene and I was all too UwU the whole time. Anyway, hope you all have a great day! THANKING MY BETA READER FOR GIVING HER PRECIOUS TIME FOR THIS 🙃 love you! you know who you are 😉

[paipayaseeds]

She felt a twinge of disappointment when Kokichi's hand never made contact with her shoulder but she guessed it probably wouldn't be in his best interest if he showed that he had been affected by her bluff. Still, it did sting a bit to see him even feigning indifference towards her.

Pushing those unwanted feelings down, she listened intently to Kokichi as he explained the purpose of the bomb-like objects. She stroked her chin as an array of ideas of how to use this particular item floated through her head. Unfortunately, Kokichi didn't seem too keen on parting with those particular goodies so she would have to figure out how to extricate one from his grabby little hands. She silently wished that Miu had made more than just three

Looking back up, she noticed that K1B0 had a look of barely contained anxiety as he listened to Kokichi. It took her a moment to realize just why he was so frazzled. It was funny but she often found herself forgetting that K1B0 was a robot and sometimes she wondered if he would find this gratifying or insulting. With his rampant accusations of robophobia, it was difficult to figure out just where he would stand on the issue.

She glanced back at Kokichi just in time to catch the self-satisfied smile he carelessly gave the others. He was obviously very proud of the fact that she had vouched for him and thought nothing of throwing it in the face of nearly everyone there. She couldn't resist the urge to sigh at his antics. No matter what the circumstances were, Kokichi would never pass up a chance to ham it up.

Her ears perked up when her name passed his lips and she gaped at him when she realized just what he had said. Kaito and she would lead them to victory? Since when had she become one of the leaders of this ragtag group? She knew Kokichi was probably just joking but she silently wished he had chosen something different to poke fun about. Kaito was probably annoyed at it, after all, the little trickster had put her name before his, something that was likely to make the astronaut seethe.

Before she could think anymore on the subject, she heard an obnoxiously loud squeaking sound and realized that Kokichi was now beating a quick retreat. Frowning resolutely, she walked after him quickly. He was faster but her strides were longer and it wasn't long before she was only a few steps behind him. Reaching out, she grabbed the back of his shirt and gave it a quick tug.

"Kokichi, you couldn't have spent all your time in Miu's lab," she said, her tone low "Where else were you?"

Her eyes drifted over his person, scanning for any telltale bulges. She was curious about the answer but she also wanted to locate the bombs he had. It would be a big help to have one on hand as a just-in-case and, at this point, they needed all the help they could get.

Kokichi ignored the feeling in his chest; he had only been gone a little over a day without her, and he found himself shivering from the mere feeling of her tugging at his shirt. It was ridiculous, he was being ridiculous.

It took him a few seconds to calm down and make eye contact with the girl just short of a few steps away from him. Turning around, he grinned at her, leaning over her shoulder, he muttered gravely, “Your room.” Before bouncing away and laughing right at her face, “Just kidding! It’s a lie! Well, bye now!” 

Before he could leave, yet again, he was interrupted. Kokichi turned around back again, feigning impatient annoyance. “Kokichi, wait- before you run off again...” Shuichi, despite being the Ultimate Detective, couldn’t seem to figure out the reason why something like that was written in the courtyard. Whether it was Kokichi or not who wrote it; it had his name, he suspected Kokichi had to have some information about it, or wanted to at least find out what it was as much as he did.

“Did you write that... piece of writing in the courtyard?” Shuichi furrowed his brow at him. Kokichi’s confused face remained unbroken and almost stone-like, he was extremely careful not to mess this up. “Why would I write something like that?” Kokichi tilted his head, purple eyes large in innocent confusion.

“That would just make me seem like I’m the mastermind, no?”

Kokichi’s confused face contorted into a large, knowing smile, “Oh! I know! This is probably just another one of Monokuma’s motives to make us suspect each other! Nishishi, I figured it out!” Shuichi remained unsure, his roundabout response unsettled the detective. Though, the answer should have fit, it just didn’t sit right with him.

“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Because with my help, you’re all gonna end the killing game-” Kokichi’s remark had been cut short, as well as his own air supply as Maki suddenly got up from where she had been standing with Kaito, to attack Kokichi’s neck. 

Sure, it had been an impulsive action, but she had still been growing tense from everything Kokichi had been saying. She couldn’t trust one word of what she said, and for good reason. Maki had already been feeling tense from Kaito’s coughing fit, and the more Kokichi spoke, the more Maki could feel herself losing it.

“What the hell are you planning? Who says we even need your help? No, why are you helping? Knowing you, everything you’ve uttered out was probably some sort of deception.” Shuichi’s eyes widened as he watched Kokichi struggle in her grip; the boy had blinked for a split second and now Kokichi had been caught in Maki’s tightening grip. 

Kaito cleared his throat, trying to gulp down the leftover blood he had coughed out before exclaiming, “M-Maki, stop!” 

The two of them seemed to ignore Kaito, instead focusing on each other; both of whom had intimidating glares directed at each other. “I-I thought it was-” Kokichi wheezed, not even having enough space in his throat to cough, “O-obvious! I- Just want to end th- Sh- the killing game!” Kokichi, despite struggling to speak, let alone breathe, plastered on an innocent smile that only seemed to spite Maki. 

“Tell the truth for once, or I won’t hesitate to snap your neck.”

[officerfifgun]

Ppl get get inffected ovwr some bullshit

I see a lot pf ppl that see wat ppl are doing and they do it wrong

I go to see god everynight

And pray to the higher ppl even if u dont know

Those games are made to make u rich

From verizon pay it forward

Im doing a kerticy for the ppl

They dont even know that im payed for my way

Out of the hood

This ocean bay is not the hood

This is a private vector

And i is in jail for life without the ppsible chance of parroe

I shot myself in the leg i burn myself. Alive

I killed myself in the electric just beciase i payed for it i shot ppl in the head in game mode to prove that wat they do is wrong i even shoot myself to sleep and woman come and police come to see if im still alive

I even shot dead pool in the head for hitting and killing those real gangster that were dilivering

Pharmacy drugs to far rockaway certified everything

And they still prove cardi x and the hole industry

That they got thier games and they ask me for adive to beat the games and finnally get money

Make sure u give back to kie

I payed ur way so ppl in theor own world in thier minds to concee thier own world

Like black hole black soul

Gods u just have to ask and pray

I pray every night to everything

They love that o get gratified

I feel in my own world that i visite even in heaven on far rockaway

O get sad because ppl are still doing me wrong

By jumping without signin in to the bulding

In speaking all including cops and fbi

Sign in so i can give u ur money

And o can finally get mind

Yes i just pay u off with gold and pay ur phone and give u everything

Mom is abdexent woman and i took her to school

And she bought her way to finnaly finnish

The reason why ppl hit me

Becuase u are not signing in to almeda and u come as crooks

And i pay u off billion here and invest

Why i dont have money and why my room looks like that is becise i have alot ppl that see and eat with me every single they get hungry

They sign in to me and smoke with me

I make buissnes with prifesional gangster that .know they speak proper and talk proper

Now that a way of my american buisness

Im a fbi so im a train mother fucker

U diss me u loose and u dont get payment from the president

Imy family and all have badge to protect them self

From dieing

U kill u will be prosicute like i did

My mom i dont know if she killed i hear alpt of things

But shes in court for that

Im a gang leader for all gangs in nyc and all china and all middle easten sector and all spanish and all white and all race u have to come threw me if

And only u rpent to me that when i pay u forward

And if u did a good job afterwards i send the gods to u and they check u put and they been checking me out cuz of my smoking way of new and different way of dealing with volent

Ppl

They all play in movies if u want real sign out its disterbing u die ppl love to stay in the movies cus they get shot different way from the shooting

U get shot wit everything

And including woth money

They pay u off and i get a little becuse i have alot

I payed the music industry

And all crimals taht hang out with me

Yes i hear alot of sorry but u still diss and do

The same if from of the cops and president that

Hangs out with me

Yes trump still does hangs out

I held down trump

And beought him to savety

And he passed and i win that he didnt die

He got infected becuse u all were on top of him saying foolish stuff and black virus is not to play

Its to see all tge black sociaty that are hurt and

Fustrates so they can come and see me get a case and i tell u all wats wrongs and right u did wait give a god rapits that sees the future

And u can get free and. Finally see the wprld like my family are trying to do

U all can see ot to i made all shegods and all adults most of them still dinale see

Keeping it low in voces will keep u stupid

Live high voice tell me ur succes and u moght just win

And im gwtting biting by these mosketo ahhhhhiiii juat know that i cured coronavirus games and gave it to china and. All ma are learing cus they juat got birthed by me

And. The game of games i drink milk in the joker house and get prenate but ppl still want to stick

Their dock in me

Shegods and females and gays family i loves them all they love me and i care fpr them like i make family

I even cured cancer

And aids i still have to do for some humains taht

Need me juat come and see yes i do get tired by jumpees i fall a sleep faster

Cant do my job and u dont gwt ur money and i dont gwt my money from my family

I have a job to prove

That i dod it end found the cure for everything i

Left to heaven and ask

Save me and i save u

Yes im a super hero that earning my way to fly

I shot my self and i have to start over

Im in jail and i have tobwait to the cops say so

In pcean bay their every where

now with ppl

Long time ago i said to my mom

Promise i will get money and get out we all got money

And i just cant invest cuse want to smoke and and get healed by my code

Dont diss me they all see me and i love u all

And i work for the president of far rockaway

He sees me i have side jobs still with the games

To surly prove im always distracted by paying and i cant evwn help the millitary

Cus won of my family member werent ready so i have sign in to the millitary and help and tell them to bring renforment to help me succed

All war on tv is a joke ppl show u all dieng so u go out and do it to die

So u dont gwt ur money and i can succed with in helping ur freedom

Yes that trure keith ahas ur freedom

So do right and ppl can get out calmly

And see the world u kill u dont go anywhere

The goverment says deal with it ge telwl that to me to

Becare wat u do to keith cus i repented to the gods and brought back an army

And they wayching if anybody kills me so they can end all games u all have for ur freedom that including terrorist and rapits and murderrs and victim and crimes

I have to intervine woth wat ppl are doing in my hoiae they are infecting a hero keith i save u becare full i did get hit by the real tv

The real tv is not for terrrprist is foe buisnees

And stop jorge ocscar jeminez stop from disconecting my tv i have buisnes woth mom and the family that see and atay in the house

Yes jorge ur family comes and see me fpe payment they alreaady got when they need

I seee wat they did good to the kids

And i paythe kids grades are must 100 all the time for all humains and darksind and all evil

And good

Grade u all in school evwn if u are not playing u have kids u have to treat them with repect

I have grade to give i have my grade to deal with

Bod mind and soul repect loyalty

And fine woman i have to prove to the woman to

And all men that come to my house and talk to my mom and not me u infect my family i take ur money show ur grade and u go outside and work

Geades are a must 200 the prinsipal says yes i have my own school keith i teach ppl how to win

And all kids win too all i teach

They still say inffexted they come to me and ask me wat they did wrong i tell them all their hearts

Thank u all i gratify that i get a pass from the goverment amd i surly prove u that i have all codes to fix ur life

[deadbiwrites]

PROMPTS!! I want a pumpkin picking date with Kara pouting a lot bec Lena said they can’t just casually take the 800lbs pumpkin home. Bonus points if Lena caves and ends up paying some guy enough money to buy it and supergirl flies it back to their apartment to carve it. Maybe it can’t fit through the door?? I’m not sure.

(Oh my WORD, it took forever and a day to get this to post but I did it, dammit! @valkyrieskwad , this one's for you! Cross-posting it on Ao3!!)

"You want to what?"

Kara grins and bounces in place, totally unperturbed by Lena's decided lack of enthusiasm. "Pumpkin picking! There's a patch, like, an hour away. It's so cute, I follow them on Instagram, and everyone looks like they're having so much fun in the pictures! It's almost Halloween, too, so we need to go soon or all the good ones will be gone."

"The good ones…?"

"Pumpkins,  Lena! Pumpkins! C'mon, please?"

"Isn't this exactly the sort of thing Alex makes fun of people for? Being basic?"

"Alex doesn't know what fun is if there aren't guns involved, so who cares? Please, babe? Be basic with me!"

Lena arches a brow at her, already caving under the weight of her girlfriend's boundless enthusiasm and the rare (and doubtlessly strategic) use of 'babe'. "Is it a muddy field?" she asks suspiciously. 

"Uh… wear boots?" Kara tries, still smiling. "We can take the baby. He'd love it, and we need to work on socializing him, right?"

Lena turns her attention to the little white puppy snoozing on her lap, running a hand over his back absently. "I mean, yes, we do, but a farm?"

Kara's affronted, or at least playing at it. "Uh, I halfway grew up on a farm, thank you."

"And look what's happened because of it."

Kara laughs, shaking her head, somehow charmed even though Lena knows that she's being a brat about this whole thing. "Why do you hate pumpkin picking?"

"I don't like doing things unless I'm already good at them."

Kara scoffs at this. "You can't be bad at picking pumpkins, Lena. It's just like when you were a kid."

The long stretch of silence at this is telling. 

"Lena," Kara says slowly, "have- have you ever been to a pumpkin patch?"

"I buy pumpkin at the store in a can, like a regular person. Half the work, half the price."

"But you can't carve a can of pumpkin puree!"

More silence. Krypto wakes up, shakes his whole roly-poly little body, and lays back down for another nap, snuffling as Lena rubs between his ears.

"Lena. Please tell me you've carved a pumpkin."

"I- I've seen people do it, so-"

"Oh my GOD."

"Kara-"

"What- what did you do at Halloween? No pumpkins! That's like half the fun, aside from all the candy and costumes, and…" Horror spreads across her face almost as fast as a creeping red flush spreads over Lena's. "Honey. Sweetie. Baby. Please, please tell me that your childhood included just one iteration of a normal American Halloween…?"

"Define normal..."

Kara jumps up from the couch, fuming. "I'm gonna punch your mom in the boob. Is it Tuesday?  They do visits at the prison on Tuesdays, right? Because, like, I know she's in prison, repaying her debt to society,  or whatever, but I'm still gonna go punch her in the boob."

Lena grabs Kara's hand, tugging her to a halt. "Alright, first of all, I appreciate and share the sentiment. Second, please never put your hands anywhere near my mother's boobs. Third, we're gonna stop talking about my mother's boobs, forever. Starting now."

"That's just… why does she suck so bad. Like, so, so badly, she sucks as a person. So bad. Badly sucks."

"Okay, yeah, you're doing that thing where you're so mad you make word puzzles, so I need you to sit down and hold this puppy." Lena lifts Krypto (who growls his fiercest growl and bites her fingers for disrupting his 18th nap of the day) and pushes him into Kara's arms, gratified when she instantly melts, just a little. "Better?"

"Yeah." She heaves a sigh and drops onto the couch beside Lena once more. "Look, if you really don't want to, we don't have to. But it is fun, and it is a disgustingly cute couple-y thing to do, which I know you love even if you pretend you don't."

Lena scoffs. "Prove it."

"You drag me into every photobooth you see and have a collection of all the photos in your desk at work."

Lena flushes a little more, knowing that she's been caught. "It's fun?" she asks quietly, spinning her chunky silver ring around and around on her finger.

"So fun. And it's a good excuse to get out of the city for the day." Kara scoots close, tipping her head so it knocks lightly against Lena's. "Instead of beating up your mom, what if we just make sure you get to do all the stuff you missed, like pumpkin patches and carving Jack-o-lanterns, and all that jazz?"

Lena considers this. "So, we're doing this at least partly to spite my mother?"

Kara beams at her. "Yep! You're gonna get all muddy doing something frivolous just because it's fun. She'd hate it."

"When are we going?"

It's a few days later that they're piled into a borrowed pick-up truck and coasting out of the city in the early morning. Lena has relented the wheel, for once, conceding that she hates driving outside the city and she has no idea where they're going. At least Kara was right about one thing- Krypto is already having a blast, trying his best to stick his entire upper body out the window, and yipping in annoyance when Lena continuously pulls him back into the cab.

One benefit, though, is Kara in what she calls her 'farm clothes', a heretofore undiscovered genre that involves a sturdy and well-loved pair of leather boots, what is clearly a men's flannel shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans secured with a heavy leather belt, and a goddamn trucker hat.

Lena's really annoyed at how much this look is working for Kara.

Totally annoyed. No other emotion. Or like, squirmy feelings about it in general.

None at all.

"... and of course we'll get some breakfast- hot cider and doughnuts sound good to you?"

Lena blinks, realizes that Kara's been chattering this whole time. "What was that?"

"I asked how you feel about getting some breakfast. You okay? You're kinda spacey today."

"Says the girl from space," Lena snarks.

Kara rolls her eyes, amused. "That joke was only funny the first hundred times."

"Still makes me laugh."

"Fine, fine. But you're good? 'Cause I can hear you thinking, over there."

"I'm good, I just… is it stupid that I'm nervous?"

Kara takes her hand and gives it a squeeze. "Not at all. But you don't need to be nervous or anxious, because it's fun. Okay?"

Lena nods. "Okay." She shifts a bit on the old-school bench seat in the truck. "Why did we borrow this thing, again? My cars are a lot more comfortable."

"Well, Frank would yell at me if I got mud all over one of your cars." 

Lena snorts. "He would not, he loves you."

"And, this way, we can get a big one." There's an almost manic gleam in Kara's eyes that's distinctly disturbing. 

Lena chooses not to ask questions. 

It is not a muddy field. 

The dirt road they pull onto doesn't look all that promising at first, but the pumpkin patch itself is pretty, in a rustic, outdoorsy sort of way. Even early in the day there's a decent crowd here, and Kara grins at the sight of the picturesque red barn a ways away cheerfully advertising cider and doughnuts inside. "Nice! I hoped they'd still be doing the cider and stuff!" She hops out of the truck and rounds the front to help Lena down- whoever this behemoth belongs to had installed a lift-kit to it, and it's a fair few feet to the ground.

"I thought this was a pumpkin patch?"

"Well, yeah, but there's an orchard next door or something, so they have apples and pumpkins. And pears, apparently. Ha! A-PEAR-ently! I'm funny," Kara cackles, settling her hands on Lena's hips.

"You're lucky you're so cute," Lena snorts and scoops Krypto up, bracing a hand on Kara's shoulder as she's lifted easily out of the truck and onto the ground. "But you being able to just pick me up like that? Always a turn-on."

Kara laughs, loud and surprised as a flush creeps up her neck. "Good to know."

Lena smirks and sets Krypto onto the ground, and their day begins.

"So," Lena drawls, chewing an admittedly delicious cinnamon cider doughnut, "what constitutes a good pumpkin?"

"Well, obviously,  you don't want a squishy one."

"Obviously."

"Tiny ones are cute, but it's really hard to carve them."

"Noted."

"Other than that, it's all personal preference. I say go big or go home, Alex likes the really round ones, Eliza likes hers to be smooth, and Jeremiah loved ugly pumpkins."

"Ugly pumpkins...?"

"Oh, yeah, like, the weirder and bumpier the better. He was really good at carving them, so he could do, like, super cool faces and stuff. He made a witch one time that was really creepy."

Lena pushes up onto her toes to plant a kiss on Kara's cheek. "He sounds like a fun dad."

Kara smiles a little sadly. "He was." 

Sensing a rapid downshift in mood, Lena resolves to perk the fuck up. "So! We did doughnuts for breakfast- which I strongly suspect was your real motivation for this little venture…"

Kara's mouth drops open in shock,  but her eyes are sparkling with humor. "I would never!"

"Sure. So, as long as the pumpkin isn't soft, it's fair game?"

"Yup! Go nuts! I couldn't get a pumpkin last year, because of that guy from Yavin IV, I'm gonna get a big one this year to make up for it."

Lena fixes her with a look. "Not too big, though, right?"

Kara smiles innocently, letting Krypto tug her a pace or two ahead. "Of course not."

Lena sighs. 

Kara really is a terrible liar.

"Lena."

Upon seeing what's caught her attention,  Lena nearly drops her own perfectly round pumpkin. "No. Under no circumstances are we getting that one."

Kara's starry-eyed as she stares up at the truly gargantuan squash before her. "It's beautiful."

Lena strongly disagrees- this pumpkin is decidedly ugly, misshapen and lumpy and a shade that's not quite orange or green, but a rather sickly combination of both.

But what it lacks in general aesthetic appeal, it more than makes up for in sheer size. It's wider than Lena is tall, likely taller than she is, too, and is, in general, what Winn would call 'a threateningly large vegetable'. It's on a little platform, a plaque proudly boasting that it'd won some award or other at the state fair a week or so ago. And also its weight:

One thousand two hundred eighteen pounds. 

Lena tries for reason. "Kara. Darling. Love of my life. This… thing won a prize. They bred it especially to be giant. There is absolutely no way they're going to sell it to two city-slickers."

And then it happens. After almost a year of dating, and several years of friendship, Lena is well aware of Kara's pout, and especially aware of her own susceptibility to it. She can almost sense when it's about to happen, these days, and she senses it coming now, tries to steal herself against it.

But it's no use. Kara, she could maybe handle. Maybe. But when she bends and scoops up their three-month old puppy to help her pout, Lena is powerless against the assault.

"Alright, that was unnecessary," she complains. "No using our son like that. He doesn't even know why he's pouting."

"But is it working?" Kara asks, hiding her face behind Krypto's and talking in the goofy voice she reserves for narrating his thoughts.

Lena groans, because yes, of course it's fucking working. "No. Kara, they worked hard to make that... gourd. Can't you get another one?"

"I mean, I can," she agrees, peeking over Krypto's head so just her eyes show. "But think about how awesome that's gonna look when I carve it."

Lena sighs. "Kara,  they're using it as a draw to get people to come here."

"They're making it like a display in a zoo. People just come and point at it! We can give it a loving home!"

Lena arches a brow. "You literally just said that you want to cut it open, scoop out its insides, and carve it.."

"Well, yeah, but like, lovingly."

Lena snorts, knowing she's lost. "Fine! Fine, we can go ask."

Kara cheers, hopping a bit in excitement and darting forward to press her lips to Lena's in a silly, smiley kiss.

As predicted, the farmer is initially reluctant to sell his prize pumpkin. "It's not the money," he clarifies hastily when Lena doubles her offer for the damn stupid pumpkin. "I need the seeds, to plant next year. I won big at the fair this year, and with those I'd have a hell of an advantage next season. You understand?"

"What if we save the seeds and bring them to you?" Kara offers earnestly. "I can drive them out whenever."

The farmer looks skeptical at this, but Kara's offer doesn't waver under his glare, and he sighs, reaching out to shake Lena's hand and seal the deal. "Fine. Only because your girl is cute."

Lena huffs out a laugh, and Kara positively beams at him. "Thanks so much!"

"But Jake has the tractor out in the maze right now, won't be back for an hour or so to move it for ya."

Kara's grin only widens. "Don't worry, I called a friend for help moving it."

The farmer shrugs, and Lena groans, knowing that one spectacle at the pumpkin patch is about to be replaced by another. 

Lena hands the farmer his due for his prize pumpkin, and he turns away before she calls out, catching his attention.

"Sorry, I almost forgot, how much for this one?"

He eyes the normal-sized, perfect pumpkin in Lena's arms and his mouth quirks up in a grin. "For you? On the house."

Supergirl makes a very showy entrance, to the delight of most in attendance (the exceptions being a 74-year old man who thinks anyone who flies should have to get a license,  and her girlfriend who is rolling her eyes fondly and wrestling to keep their puppy from revealing her secret identity), landing with a flourish. She smiles brightly at the crowd waving and laughing, high-fiving anyone who offers before shouldering the massive gourd. "Sorry, guys, I'm on a very important mission. Support local farms!" 

Lena snorts, loudly, and Supergirl takes off into the air as her ears turn a little pink. 

The farmer sidles up to Lena at the back of the crowd, looking a little star-struck. "Wow."

Lena grins, dropping a kiss to Krypto's nose and blowing in his face when he nips at her chin. "Yeah," she agrees. "Wow about sums it up."

The truck rides notably lower on the trip back, the massive pumpkin weighing down the truck bed probably more than is entirely safe.

"So, how was your first trip to the pumpkin patch?" Kara asks with a grin.

"I hated it," Lena deadpans, cradling Krypto in one arm and her pumpkin in the other. On the seat between them are three dozen doughnuts,  four gallons of cider, and three bottles of hard cider the farmer's wife had slipped into their bags with a wink.

Overall, it's been a very pleasant experience. 

"Oh yeah?"

"Absolutely awful. Hated everything."

"What was the worst part?"

Lena reaches over, grabbing Kara's hand and threading their fingers together. "Spending it with you."

Kara clicks her tongue, shakes her head. "Yeah, that sounds awful. I'm a pain in the butt."

"Yeah. You're kinda cute, though, so I guess it's fine."

Kara chuckles, brings their clasped hands to her mouth and kisses Lena's knuckles. "Good news for me."

Lena smiles, turning her attention back to the window and watching as fields fairly fly by, the low sound of Kara singing in the background making this almost unbearably perfect. 

Almost.

"Um… so, funny story…"

Lena arches a brow expectantly, and Kara scuffs her red boots on the floor. "Oh?"

"Yeah. So, the thing is, I tried everything, with the pumpkin, and… it won't fit through the door. None of the doors. Or any of the windows…"

Lena bonds at the waist and laughs until she cries.

That year starts a long-running and much beloved tradition, wherein a truly massive and skillfully-carved pumpkin appears in L-Corp's opulent lobby the first weekend of every October. It later years, it's joined by other, smaller ones, dozens, carved by the children of employees, including those of the CEO herself. 

It's a family tradition, after all.

[knuffled]

Just Practice - Chapter 4

sorry it took so long to update! there’s an explanation of what was going on at ao3 for those who are interested. i really appreciate everyone who reblogs - i read all your tags so please keep leaving your thoughts it’s what keeps me motivated to keep writing! 

big thank you to @bipercabeth for offering her input on a section in this chapter that was giving me a lot of trouble - i truly appreciate it!

here’s the ao3 link for those who are interested

By the last week of September, all traces of summer were well and truly gone. There was a crispness to the air that Annabeth knew would soon turn into a biting chill, the kind that seeped into your fingers. With the end of September came the start of the new swim season and the very first meet of the season. Annabeth drummed her fingers against the wheel of her father’s old Subaru Forester, glaring at the stop light which had been resolutely red for the past five minutes. The meet was due to start in three minutes, but she was still ten minutes away from where it was being held.

Annabeth cast another baleful glare the traffic light’s way and stole a sip of lukewarm coffee from her thermos just as the light turned green. The Subaru groaned as she hit the accelerator hard and lurched forward so abruptly that her father’s briefcase fell from its spot in the backseat. She arrived seven minutes late and rushed inside, following the sterile scent of chlorine towards the pool, hoping desperately Percy’s heat hadn’t started yet. There was a heat already underway when she finally got to the pool, which made her heart sink before she noticed Sally and Estelle waving to her from the bleachers. Annabeth made her way over to them, half-jogging, and took her seat next to Sally.

“We saved you a spot, Annabeth!” Estelle said brightly.

“Thanks, guppy,” Annabeth said breathlessly. “I’m not too late, right?”

“No, you’re fine, honey. Percy’s heat still won’t be for a while,” Sally said. “It’s good to see you! It’s been far too long.”

“Yeah, I miss you, Annabeth,” Estelle said, pouting.

Annabeth spoke to both of them and said, “Me too! I really wish I could come by more often, but I’ve just been so bogged down with school, track, testing, and college apps that I barely have time to breathe these days.”

Sally patted her thigh and offered her an affectionate smile. “Oh, sweetie, I understand. You kids have to work so hard these days. I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard. If it ever gets to be too much, you’re always welcome to stop by for some cookies and a chat. I’m always here for you,” she said.

A rush of affection washed over Annabeth for the woman in front of her and her eyes grew watery. “Thank you, Sally. I’ll definitely take you up on that sometime,” Annabeth promised.

“And next time you come over, we can play some of the new games I got!” Estelle said brightly.

Annabeth reached over to squeeze Estelle’s small hand. “I’m looking forward to it. How’s second grade treating you, Guppy?” she asked.

Estelle’s smile dropped as she said, “It’s okay. There’s a lot more homework now. My teacher is nice though.”

“I know you can do it. If you ever need any help with school, let me know, okay?” Annabeth said.

When Estelle nodded and offered her a small smile, Annabeth gave her hand a gentle squeeze one last time before turning to Sally and asking, “How’s Paul?”

“Oh, he’s good. Has his hands full now that the school year is in full swing, but he’s happy. Tired, but happy,” Sally said. “I’m just a bit worried because I have a book tour coming up in October, and I’m not sure he will be able to handle everything on his own.

“You have a new book coming out?” Annabeth asked.

Sally nodded and said, “Yup! I finished it over the summer and sent it to the publisher in August.”

“That’s wonderful, Sally. I’m so happy for you!” Annabeth said.

“Thank you, honey,” Sally said, smiling warmly. “It was a long road to get it finished, but I’m very proud of how it turned out, so I can’t wait to see what the readers have to say once they get their hands on it.”

“Oh, Percy’s up next!” Estelle interjected.

Annabeth turned her attention back to the pool and found Percy in the lane closest to the bleachers, stretching his arm across his chest. As always, Annabeth was struck by the stark contrast between Percy in everyday life and Percy when he was competing. There wasn’t a trace of that soft kindness in his demeanor that Annabeth was so accustomed to seeing. It was instead replaced by a hard set jaw and an intense, cold look in his eyes.

Once the previous heat finished, Percy stepped to the pool’s edge and took his starting position along with the other competitors, waiting with bated breath for the race to begin.

The instant the official blew his whistle, they all leapt into the water in unison. Percy took the lead immediately, cutting through the water with an ease that the other competitors lacked. His movements were economical and effortless, almost elegant, a product of years of rigorous training and his inherent aptitude for the sport.

It always took Annabeth’s breath away. In the water, Percy was a different person. Day to day, Percy was warm and gentle, but it always felt like he was holding something back, something dark, something powerful — Annabeth couldn’t say what it was, but she’d seen it in his eyes ever since they were children — but in the water, all of that come rushing out with the force of a flood breaking through a levy, turning him into a truly fearsome competitor.

As an athlete herself, Annabeth knew there were a chosen few in their respective disciplines, those who transcended their peers by an almost divine right, and the feelings of dread and helplessness when competing against them. Even if they were your enemies, their sheer skill demanded acknowledgement, leaving no room for petty human contrivances like pride or stubbornness.

Percy’s swimming elicited that sort of visceral response, and as such the outcome of the race was a foregone conclusion. He stepped out of the pool before the other competitors even finished the race. Time resumed flowing then and the crowd erupted in a flurry of applause.

Percy’s coach clapped his back, a manic grin on his face, and gestured violently to the board on the other side of the pool where Percy’s time was posted. Annabeth knew that meant that Percy had probably beaten his previous personal best, judging by the coach’s response and the dazed look on Percy’s face, and her heart pounded, filled with pride and vicarious satisfaction on Percy’s behalf. Few things were as gratifying as hitting a new personal best. It was one thing to beat your competition, but it was so much sweeter to beat yourself and surpass your own limits.

The remaining heats seemed muted in comparison, and once they ended, Annabeth joined Sally and Estelle as they rushed down to meet him. He was crowded by exuberant teammates who were clapping his back and ruffling his hair. The sight made Annabeth smile, but it fell when her eyes followed the crescent-shaped scar that ran down his right shoulder blade. Annabeth noticed the sad, distant look in Sally’s eyes and knew she was looking at the same thing, a remnant of her ex-husband, but she didn’t dwell on it long because she looked genuinely happy when Percy turned towards them, a dazed smile on his face.

“Oh, honey, congratulations! I’m so proud of you,” Sally said, wrapping Percy in her arms. “You did so good.”

Percy stepped back and smiled softly. “Thanks, mom.”  

Estelle jumped onto his back with a squeal, making Percy laugh. “What’d you think, Guppy? Was I any good?” he asked.  

“You looked so cool! Like a shark!” Estelle said.

“Like a shark, huh?” Percy chuckled. “That does sound cool.”

“What are you going to do now? We were thinking of heading home,” Sally said.

“Yeah, that’s fine. I was thinking of hanging out with Annabeth,” Percy said before turning to Annabeth. “Unless you have other plans.”

Annabeth shook her head and said, “Nope, I’m all yours.”

There was a near imperceptible fondness in the look on his face that vanished once he helped Estelle down. He waved goodbye and watched her and Sally leave before he turned to Annabeth and ruffled his still wet hair.

“I’m not hugging you. You’re all wet, so don’t get any ideas,” Annabeth warned.

“Always so mean, Chase,” Percy said, trying not to laugh.

“Someone’s got to keep your ego in check, after all.”

Percy raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. “Oh and I suppose you’re the one to do it?”

“I thought that was a given,” Annabeth teased. “Congratulations, though. Did you PB?”

“Yeah, somehow,” Percy said, still shocked. “Guess today was my lucky day.”

“Luck had nothing to do with it. That was all you,” Annabeth said.

“What happened to checking my ego?”

“I’ll make an exception this one time, considering you PB’d and all,” Annabeth said, grinning.

Percy rolled his eyes but smiled nonetheless. “How charitable.”

“Yeah, yeah, go take a shower and meet me in the parking lot once you’re done,” Annabeth said, laughing as she pushed him towards his teammates.

Percy shook his head and laughed to himself before he followed his teammates into the locker room. Annabeth made her way back out to the parking lot and leaned against the trunk of her car as she waited for him, her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. The afternoon had begun transitioning to evening, dipping the sky in a golden-orange hue. Percy walked out a few minutes later with his swim bag slung over his shoulder, his hair still wet from the shower. There was a tired smile on his face that morphed into frowned once he reached Annabeth.

“Isn’t that my sweatshirt?” he asked.

Annabeth scuffed her converses against her ankle and shrugged. “Must be your imagination,” she lied.

Percy sighed and said, “I’m going to have start hiding them from now on.”

She slid into the front seat of her car with a wolfish grin. “Bold of you to assume that would stop me.”

Percy stowed his bag in her back seat and sat shotgun, muttering, “You absolute terror.”

Annabeth ignored him and said, “So what’s the plan?”

“Well, one of the guys on the team is hosting a party since his parents are out of town. I heard people from Seneca Falls and Northbrook coming too, so it should be pretty wild,” Percy said.

“Hmm,” Annabeth said, not entirely interested.

“Let’s check it out. If it sucks, we can always leave early,” he added.

“I’m not really in a party going outfit though,” Annabeth noted, gesturing to her sweatshirt and yoga pants.

Percy stifled a yawn and shrugged. “It’s supposed to be real casual. You’ll be fine.”

After a moment’s consideration, Annabeth started the car and said, “Yeah, sure, why not.”

As she pulled out of the parking lot, Percy turned the radio on and flipped through the channels until he found a station he liked. He turned the volume up and sank back into his seat, closing his eyes. He looked exhausted. Annabeth stole a glance at him and smiled to herself. She remembered all the times he’d stayed long after practice had ended to get in extra laps. More than anyone, she knew how hard he’d worked for this — she couldn’t help feeling glad that his effort had paid off.

It was maybe ten minutes later that a thought crossed her mind that gave her pause. “Hey, Percy?” she asked.

Percy hummed tiredly in acknowledgement in lieu of a proper response, his eyes still closed. “Does your mom know about us dating or whatever?”

At this, Percy opened his eyes and looked at her. “No, she thinks we’re the same as always. Why do you ask?” he said.

“Just wondering,” Annabeth said. “I am kind of surprised that you didn’t tell her, though.”

“I don’t want to lie to her.”

Annabeth turned to look at him, but Percy was turned facing the window. There was something off about his tone even though it was perfectly neutral, and it left Annabeth with a vague sense of unease. She had the temptation to ask him about it, but she wasn’t even sure how to formulate a question to do that. She didn’t have long to dwell on it though because they arrived at the party shortly after. There were so many cars lined outside the house where the party was being held that she had to park two streets away, but even that far away the blaring music was still audible.

Percy looked tense as they walked to the house, but Annabeth wasn’t sure if that was a function of their conversation in the car, the party, or his tiredness after the meet. She kicked a stray pebble on the road, trying not to feel unsettled, and stuffed her hands in her sweatshirt pockets to shield them from the cold night air.

When they stepped inside the house, Annabeth was instantly accosted by the scent of sweat and alcohol. There was a throng of inebriated teenagers dancing in the living room where a Drake song was playing through the home theater system at such a deafening volume that Annabeth could feel the bass reverberate through her entire body.

She turned to Percy and raised an eyebrow, silently asking him what he wanted to do, but before he could respond, someone from the swim team noticed him and made his way over to them. After a round of introductions, Percy’s teammate introduced them to other people at the party, but Annabeth couldn’t recognize anyone and didn’t bother remembering their names.

Somehow in the fray as they were being introduced to even more people, Annabeth managed to get separated from Percy. For a few minutes, she tried to find him but quickly gave up, realizing it was pointless given the sheer number of people that were at the party. She spotted a kitchen close by and jostled past sweaty, grinding teenagers to grab herself a drink. There were bowls of potato chips and a variety of cheap bottles of alcohol on the countertop, thank goodness. If they were going to be here awhile, she sure as hell couldn’t do it sober. She took a handful of chips to eat while she pondered the age old conundrum of taste over alcohol content —should she get something she would actually like or was it just better to get drunk as fast as possible?

Eventually, she settled on grabbing an IPA to sip on as she wandered around the party. Annabeth did a lap of the first floor before deciding to head down to the basement. There were far fewer people there so it was twenty degrees cooler than it was upstairs, something Annabeth was instantly grateful for. A small crowd was huddled by a ping pong table, watching two people playing a match. Her interest piqued, Annabeth decided to watch as well, but the game ended as soon she arrived.

“Holy shit, that’s eleven wins in a row,” someone muttered.

The girl who had won was tall, even taller than Annabeth, with dark, braided hair that stopped past her shoulder blades. She raised the hem of her purple shirt to wipe some sweat off her brow, exposing her clearly defined abdominal muscles. Between them and her toned arms and powerful leg muscles, everything about her physique screamed athlete. Annabeth couldn’t shake the feeling that she seemed familiar. Then all at once, she recognized her — it was Reyna from Seneca Falls, the girl who had taken first at State as a Junior. Annabeth had run into her at several meets the year before, but she hadn’t managed to beat her a single time.

“Anyone else?” Reyna challenged, scanning the room.

Annabeth put her now empty bottle aside and stepped forward. “I’ll give it a shot,” she said.

Reyna handed her a paddle but didn’t otherwise seem to recognize her, which sent a spark of irritation shooting through Annabeth’s veins. “We’ll play to eleven,” Reyna said, tossing the ball Annabeth’s way. “You can serve first.”

Her hand tightened around the paddle’s handle — Reyna was underestimating her. Admittedly, Annabeth had hardly ever played ping pong, but her competitive spirit wasn’t going to stop her from trying to win. Annabeth was going to make Reyna remember her.

Annabeth decided to focus on accuracy with her first serve, but as a result it was too weak. Reyna returned it with ease and instantly scored a point. Annabeth grit her teeth and tossed the ball over to Reyna for her serve. Reyna’s serve was much more polished than hers, but somehow she managed to return it, starting a short rally that ended in Reyna’s point. Their subsequent rallies grew longer and longer as Annabeth grew more accustomed to the game and developed a knack for how hard to hit the ball while maintaining some degree of accuracy. She began to score points but never managed to acquire a lead at any point in the game.

Before the final rally, the score was ten to nine in Reyna’s favor. If Annabeth could just score one more point, the game would go to a deuce, but if she failed the game would be over then and there. Reyna took a deep breath and served, but Annabeth returned it to the opposite corner of the table. They rallied for nearly two minutes before Reyna hit a shot with enough spin to make the ball swerve sharply to the right when it hit the table. Annabeth dove to return it but broke her paddle against the wall.

Bitter disappointment welled up in her stomach as she stood up and put the two halves of the broken paddle on the table. “Well, I guess I lose,” Annabeth said.

Some of the people watching clapped as Reyna walked over to her and offered her hand. “It was a good match,” Reyna said.

Annabeth shook it and felt a little better. “Yeah, it was.”

“You’re on the Westwood cross country team. I remember you,” Reyna said, recognition flooding in her eyes.

Annabeth blinked in surprise and nodded before saying, “You’re Reyna from Seneca Falls, right? I’m Annabeth.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing you at meets this year,” Reyna said, smiling slightly.

“Yeah, me too.”

There was a pause before Reyna slowly said, “If you ever wanted to run together sometime, I would totally be down.”

“Really?” Annabeth asked, her heart rate quickening.

Reyna nodded and said, “How about we exchange numbers? We can work something out later.”

“Yeah, absolutely,” Annabeth said, handing Reyna her phone so she could punch in her number.

Once she returned her phone, Reyna did a lazy once over of her body, and Annabeth had to fight the ridiculous urge to stand up straighter. A gleam of approval flashed in Reyna’s eyes before she said, “Well, Annabeth, I could certainly use a drink. Come join me.”

Although Annabeth hated being ordered by other people, she found herself nodding and following Reyna upstairs to the kitchen. Part of her was curious what kind of drink Reyna would choose, but it was all too fitting when Reyna opted for a bottle of Smirnoff. Instead of pouring herself a glass, she took a long draught straight out of the bottle with the same ease one would drink a bottle of water. When she was done, Reyna wiped the excess off her lips and shot Annabeth a look that made her chest clench a little.

There was a challenge in Reyna’s eyes as she wordlessly passed Annabeth the bottle and leaned against the counter, watching with an intense stare, like she was testing if Annabeth could keep up with her. Annabeth took a swig as well, trying not to wince when it burned her throat. Her eyes began to water, but she blinked the tears away before they could fully form. She took a few more gulps, enough to get her on the other side of tipsy, before Reyna took the bottle back with a half-smile, seemingly impressed.

“Do you dance, Annabeth?” Reyna asked, studying her intently.

Annabeth blinked in surprise and said, “Uh, yeah, I guess?”

“Good,” Reyna said, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Come dance with me.”

Before Annabeth could respond, Reyna pressed her hand on the small of Annabeth’s back and steered her towards the living room. Annabeth wasn’t sure why she was being so tolerant of being bossed around like this, but for some reason she didn’t mind. The air thrummed to the beat of the music, and Annabeth felt like her senses were functioning on overdrive. Her body felt warm and heavy, and her heart thundered in her chest. She could preternaturally feel the heat radiating from Reyna’s palm where touched her lower back.

They stopped at the threshold of the living room when Percy managed to wiggle his way out of the crowd and stopped in front of them.

“Annabeth!” Percy said, sounding relieved. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

There was a dangerous undertone in Reyna’s voice as she asked, “Do you know him?”

“Um, yeah, this is my friend, Percy. Percy, this is Reyna,” Annabeth said.

Percy’s brow furrowed at her response, his eyes darting between Annabeth and Reyna before noticing Reyna’s hand still pressed against the small of Annabeth’s back. A coldness seeped into his eyes when he looked back up at Reyna and locked eyes with her. The look in Reyna’s eyes were similarly combative, like they were sizing each other up.

“Nice to meet you,” Reyna said coldly.

“Likewise,” Percy replied, matching her tone.

The sudden, heavy tension in the air was palpable, even to Annabeth, as tipsy as she was. Reyna’s entire body was drawn taut like she was preparing herself for a fist-fight. Percy had a bad habit of slouching most of the time, but now he drew himself up to full height and looked down imperiously, his jaw set in a hard line.  

“How much did you make her drink?” Percy demanded.

Reyna stiffened and said, “She drank as much as she wanted to.”

There was a pregnant pause that seemed to span an eternity before Percy spoke again, but when he did, his eyes never left Reyna’s. “I’m kind of tired from the meet, Annabeth. Let’s go home.”  

Reyna looked like she wanted to argue further, but when Annabeth nodded mutely, she leaned in and muttered, “Are you okay to go home with him?”

When she nodded again, Reyna finally dropped her hand from the small of Annabeth’s back. Percy took Annabeth’s hand in his own, and the alcohol in Annabeth’s veins made her unnaturally aware of how Percy had laced his fingers between hers. She could feel his pulse from where their wrists were touching as he led her to the front door. Before they stepped outside, Annabeth remembered Reyna and turned over her shoulder to mouth a quick apology, but she couldn’t make out the look on Reyna’s face.

The cold air was startling after the humid heat inside, but Annabeth breathed it in, grateful to be rid of the stench of sweat and alcohol, and felt her head clearing up.

Percy turned to her after they reached her car and held out his hand. “Hand me the keys. You’re not really good to drive right now.”

Although she didn’t like his tone, Annabeth couldn’t deny the truth to his words, so she fumbled in her pockets for her keys and handed them to Percy. He helped her into the passenger’s seat before settling behind the wheel.

She couldn’t remember much about the ride back home. At some point, she must have fallen asleep because she woke up to Percy gently rousing her. Annabeth sat up in her seat and rubbed the sleep out of her eyes with the back of her sweatshirt sleeves.

“Where are we?” Annabeth asked sleepily.

“At your house. I parked in your drive way. Here are the keys,” Percy said, handing them to her.

“What about you? How are you getting home?” she asked, pocketing them.

“I’m walking home,” he said.

Annabeth looked at him for the first time since she got in the car and noticed the dark, brooding look on his face.

“Are you mad?”

Percy screwed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. “No, Annabeth, I’m not mad.”

“Liar,” Annabeth mumbled. “You’re doing that thing with your jaw.”

This made Percy soften a little before he looked at her again. “We can talk about it later, okay? Right now, you need to get some rest. We both need to get some rest,” he said.

She was too tired and tipsy to argue with him, so she nodded and let him help her out of the car. Percy slung her arm around his shoulder to support her on the way to her front door. Annabeth was so drunk that she missed the keyhole five times in a row before Percy sighed and took them from her and opened the door. He helped her inside and laid her on the sofa in her living room before disappearing in her kitchen and returning with a bottle of water and some Advil.

He crouched down beside her and said, “Make sure you take two of these and drink some water or you’ll feel like shit tomorrow. I’m gonna head home now, okay?”

“Okay,” Annabeth said sleepily.

There was a slight pause before Percy stood up to leave, but he froze when Annabeth caught his sleeve. “Sorry for making you mad,” she murmured, half-asleep.

When she would wake up the following morning, Annabeth wouldn’t remember anything that happened after her match with Reyna. She wouldn’t remember the look on Percy’s face as he looked down at her, warm and kind and strained, or what he said as she drifted off to sleep. She would, however, faintly recall the sensation of something brushing against her forehead like the flutter of butterfly wings, leaving her with a vague sense of melancholy, like she was forgetting something important.

[tysonrunningfox]

39 for... arvelia or feret.... PLS

I don’t know if you guessed this would be anything other than a corny high school party modern au with both feret and arvelia when you asked this, but that’s what you got, and also, I missed my clueless son with a crush on his sister and slutty arvid and awkward, distant Fuse who’s heart almost bursts all the time because an individual boy is so stupid.  

Kiss Prompts

If Aurelia’s dad doesn’t want her throwing parties, he shouldn’t take Stoick on his business trips and forget to tell her when they are until the morning of.  He definitely shouldn’t leave a stack of money on the table for school supplies she doesn’t need.  In fact, if he doesn’t want her throwing parties, he should explicitly say it, with the eye contact that her punishment probably won’t even include.  If she gets punished at all, honestly, even with the mess left behind as most of the kids trickle back out of the front door the house isn’t much dirtier than it is after her dad forgets to renew the cleaning service for a couple of weeks.  

Aurelia stirs the punch she made with the oldest bottle in the liquor cabinet before refilling it with the newest bottle.  It’s not that late but most people are gone, a fact that doesn’t make her necessarily optimistic for the school year ahead.  But Arvid Hofferson is still here, glowering in the corner, and that’s decent news.  His little brother is also lurking around though, waving brightly with a deep blush when Aurelia makes eye contact.  She rolls her eyes and goes back to the punch.  

She could pretend not to know Eret Hofferson’s name, but of course she does.  Not the way that he obviously wants her to know it, because the knowledge comes exclusively from the fact that he somehow bumbles his way to beating her score in almost every test despite never turning his homework in on time.  Maybe she’ll still pretend not to know his name, at least to his face.  Especially since her dad filled his internship slots and deposited an edited and rejected resume in her room without saying anything.  

Fuse Thorston is still here too, looking at the wall full of her dad’s framed designs, and Aurelia is a little shocked to see the red cup of punch in her hand.  She didn’t realize Fuse was human enough to eat and especially not to drink alcohol.  She thought Fuse subsisted on innovation alone, or something hokey that her dad would say.  She gets that she couldn’t get the internship because of nepotism, but it still stings to look between Eret and Fuse and have them both look comfortable here.  

Arvid looks at the door and says something to Eret about leaving, shoulders slumped slightly like he’s trying and failing to look smaller, and Aurelia can’t help but be a little gratified to be on the same side of discomfort as him.  Eret placates him and Aurelia thinks she hears something like a bribe that Arvid accepts with a grunt.  And just as the uncomfortable normalcy of being a spectator in her own home starts to set in in earnest, Aurelia notices something else.   Fuse glares at Arvid, like she always does, that icy, distant glare that keeps even Aurelia’s less than charitable thoughts in check.  Then her eyes flick to Eret and soften slightly as she fidgets with her hair and takes a sip of her punch.  

Interesting.  

Aurelia looks around the room at the few remaining groups of people, mostly sitting around and talking.  Probably not more than a dozen, in all, a small enough group to have a decent chance of this being very interesting.  She picks up the empty bottle from the newer scotch she disguised–no, promoted–and gestures at Eret with it, watching his eyes widen and looking away when he starts slapping Arvid excitedly on the arm.  

“In the nature of a true cliche last day of summer party,” Aurelia addresses the room at large, “I think we have to play spin the bottle or it doesn’t even count.”  

“Good point!”  Eret’s voice cracks and maybe Aurelia should have chosen someone less enthusiastic to back her up on this.  

There’s a general grumble in the room, a nervous, pubescent sound that makes Aurelia feel very young and very mature all at the same time.  She hasn’t kissed anyone, exactly, and she tries not to see Arvid glowering at his feet like he’s so much above all of this.  

“Will Arvid play?”  A girl in a small group in the corner asks, tittering to her friend when Arvid’s face shifts instantly and he winks at them, shrugging one too cool shoulder.  

“Why wouldn’t he?  It seems like his kind of game,” Aurelia either can’t or won’t hold back that comment, but Arvid doesn’t deny it, eyes on the girls in the corner as he takes an easy seat on the floor, legs stretched out in front of him.  

“That bottle won’t spin very well,” he advises her and she hates the way he ignores her entirely for the bottle in her right hand and the girls in the corner.  Mostly, she hates the way that she sees herself in him, in the way he waffles from uncomfortable and trying to disappear to holding the attention in the room like a weapon.  "So you might want to sit close.“  He winks at the girls again and the effect is instantaneous.  

Everyone sits on the floor in a loose circle, Eret sliding between two girls in an obvious bid to be closer to Arvid, like he can use that to his advantage, because presumably everyone will be aiming for his brother.  One of the girls scoots pointedly away from him and he blushes, fidgeting and looking at his hands.  That irritating familiarity is worse the more that she sees him and Aurelia struggles not to focus on it.  She knows him from somewhere, somewhere else, somewhere she didn’t like him very much.  She sits exactly opposite to Arvid, half as a point of pride and half to distract herself by looking at him.  He looks at the bottle in her hand again, leaning easily towards a pretty blonde who looks far too happy to be close to him.  

"Really, princess, blended whiskey?  You couldn’t afford anything better for us?”  

Aurelia snorts, “I used my dad’s thirty year in the punch and just refilled the bottle with this.”  

“Waste of good scotch.”  Arvid is trying to sound older and it works and Aurelia hates how easily he does it.  His size can’t hurt.  It can’t hurt at all, especially coupled with the arms that flex when he leans back on his hands.  

“I liked the punch,” Eret contributes with an exaggerated nod and there’s that prick of something familiar about it that makes Aurelia dismissively angry.  

“Wasting it was the point,” she snips at Arvid, “now I get to see if my dad can even tell the difference.”  

“Are we going to play or what?”  Arvid grins at the blonde next to him and Aurelia rolls her eyes, setting the bottle in the middle of the circle and gesturing at it.  

She looks around, waiting for someone to grab it and notices that Fuse isn’t sitting and worse, she’s back at the wall of drawings, back pointedly turned to Eret.  And that’s half the game here, it’s explosive to get Fuse to kiss Arvid, it’s revealing if Fuse kisses Eret.  It’ll tell Aurelia if that awkward shift in her posture when she looked at him meant anything or if she was just being awkward.  It could be either, but she wants to know, especially because it distracts her from the chances that she won’t get to kiss Arvid at all and instead she’ll be stuck watching him kiss a bunch of other girls with decent aim.  

“Fuse,” Aurelia waves at the girl who turns around with a shifty, obvious side glance at Eret.  "You have to play.“  

"I don’t,” Fuse shakes her head.  

“Come on, it’ll be fun.”  

“Probably not,” she answers a bit slowly, looking at the bottle like she does at the drawings she hasn’t figured out yet.  

“So there’s a small chance that it could be fun,” Aurelia points at the recently vacated spot next to Eret, “there’s room.”  

“Yeah, Fuse, you can sit by me,” Eret smiles at her and pats the rug, friendly in a less hyper way than he is with Aurelia and Fuse thinks for a second, back held straight, before taking him up on the offer.  He jostles her arm with a friendly elbow and she takes another sip of punch, eyes fixed on the bottle in the center of the circle.  

Very interesting.  

“If I get Thorston, we’re leaving,” Arvid curls his lip slightly and Eret glares at him.  

“No offense taken,” Fuse’s tone is a bit cutting and Arvid grinds his teeth, trying not to respond.  

“In that case,” the girl who asked in the first place if Arvid would play snatches the bottle possessively from the center of the circle, spinning it with a hopeful glance in his direction.  It lands on some other boy and the two reluctantly kiss.  Then he spins and gets another girl, leading to a few boring, low stakes turns.  One girl swears under her breath when she doesn’t get Arvid and the boy sitting next to her, who Aurelia thinks is her boyfriend, starts in on her about it, which makes Arvid relax under the unspoken threat.  

The kid clenches his fists and Arvid goes to stand up, but the girlfriend flushes and drags her boyfriend out through the front door and their bickering resumes as soon as it’s closed.  

“Well then,” Arvid grabs the bottle, “since my lack of turns is causing so many problems…” He spins it and Aurelia doesn’t necessarily like how right he was about the rickety way that it spins.  Or at least she doesn’t until it stops, clearly pointing at her.  

“Of course,” Eret scoffs under his breath and Arvid’s flash of genuine concern at his brother makes Aurelia’s chest throb slightly.  She noticed Arvid immediately for all the obvious reasons, but no matter how much of a dick he pretends to be, she can’t help but see the cracks in his facade.  This one makes her think so acutely of Stoick that she hopes, vainly and impossibly, that his cracks might line up with hers.  

“Come here,” he leans across the circle, moving quickly like he intends to get it over with, and before she can acclimate to the warm, undeniably strong fingers that cup her jaw, his chapped lips brush across her cheek.  It’s not a real first kiss but it feels like it and she touches her cheek reflexively as he pulls away, giving Eret a sheepish look and folding his hands on his lap.  

“That’s against the rules,” Eret tells him miserably, and that self-sacrificing pout ignites a flare of Aurelia’s irritation almost loud enough to drown out the tingling in her cheek.  

“Why don’t you take your turn then if you don’t like how he plays?”  She snaps, nudging the bottle towards him with her toe and tugging her skirt down when she sees Arvid glance at her leg.  She glares at him and he thinks harder, looking between the bottle and her face with a slow sweep that doesn’t give away any of his thoughts.  

“You don’t want your turn?” Eret hedges quietly and Aurelia shakes her head.  

“No, Eric, I’m good.”  

His face falls and looks even more familiar and Aurelia can almost place it until Arvid’s glare hits the side of her face like a focused laser and she looks at her hands in her lap to avoid it.  He shakes his head at her, disgust palpable and the tingle in her cheek goes cold all at once.  

“Ok then,” Eret rallies with an impressive straight face that Aurelia doesn’t expect to feel bad about, but does, “guess I’ll go.”  He spins it a little slowly and for a second, it looks like it’s going to land pointing back at him, which is unusually cruel even for a game like this, and he mutters under his breath, “just my luck.”  

It doesn’t stop on him though, instead just barley short and pointing directly at the cup Fuse is holding in front of her.  She goes bright red and her face falls slightly, the ‘just my luck’ hitting her as hard as Arvid’s glare hit Aurelia.  

“Oh,” Eret faces her, leaning on his hand and shaking slightly shaggy hair out of his face.  

“You don’t have to,” Fuse lets him off the hook, shifting like she’s going to stand up and Eret stops her with an awkward, hand-waving pat on the shoulder.  

“No, I didn’t mean–I thought it was going to land on me and I was going to have to do that whole thing where you make it look like you’re making out with yourself?” He demonstrates, rubbing his hands up and down his sides and making a kissing sound that makes Arvid slump forward, cradling his head in his hands when a few other girls laugh.  "And I don’t know if my ego could handle that, but then it stopped on you and saved me from embarrassment.  Or it would have, if I didn’t do that anyway.“  

The girls laugh again and Aurelia frowns at them, a little irked on Eret’s behalf.  The flailing is familiar in the way that irritates her, but he’s trying to make up for the careless thing he said to Fuse.  Maybe this was a mistake, she doesn’t think she likes Eret feeling so human after he took her internship spot.  It makes her feel bad about the name thing and she glances at Arvid, who’s still lamenting his brother’s lack of tact.  

"You really don’t have to,” Fuse repeats and Eret shrugs a casual, clueless shoulder, risking a barely there glance at Aurelia before swallowing hard.  

“I’m the one bringing up the rules, it doesn’t make much sense for me to break them now,” he grins, friendly and almost disarmingly harmless in a way that makes Arvid’s protectiveness make even more sense.  Eret rests his hand on Fuse’s shoulder at the base of her neck, leaning in slightly before stopping again.  "Unless you don’t want me to.“  

Fuse blushes obviously and a couple people laugh awkwardly as she leans in and kisses him, chaste but direct and lingering a second longer than the boring, low-stakes kisses that transpired in the first few rounds of the game.  When she pulls back, Eret is frowning at her, a little out of breath, more than a little goofy as he pats her on the shoulder and ducks his head to hide the flush on his face.  

Arvid looks at Aurelia suspiciously and maybe even a little conspiratorially, like he just saw something he doesn’t quite like and wants corroboration.  Aurelia shrugs, cheek tingling, glaring at the blonde beside Arvid who looks judgementally at Eret.  She wishes she hadn’t feigned forgetting his name and there’s a weird feeling of ownership that comes with that, like she hit a quota and she was the only one who got to make fun of him anyway.  

"My turn,” Fuse takes the bottle and spins it a little too hard, eyes suspiciously bright in a way that confirms Aurelia’s suspicions, but she finds herself lacking the feeling of victory that usually accompanies being right off of so little information.  She wants to hate Fuse for getting that internship, but it’s hard somehow, harder still when the bottle lands back tilted at Eret and the small smile on Fuse’s face is smug like she did it on purpose.  "You don’t have to,“ she reminds him and he shakes his head, a little bolder this time.  

"It’s fine.”  He leans in with purpose, hand barely touching her elbow as his lips press against hers with a cautious confidence that makes Aurelia look away.  Arvid catches her eye and shakes his head, like he knows she did this on purpose, at some level, and she wants to tell him that there’s no way she could have known that Fuse was a secret spin the bottle prodigy who could bend it to her will.  It only makes sense, given the way her dad goes on about her though.  Maybe her dad would go on about Eret a little less, though, if he saw the clumsy but surprisingly determined way that he’s continuing to kiss his fellow intern.  

“Maybe he’s had enough of a turn,” Aurelia cuts them off and it doesn’t quite make them stop, so she grabs the bottle and taps it against the floor, “I’ll take my turn now, I guess.”  

“Oh,” Eret shakes his head, eyes a little glazed, that confused frown still solidly in place on his red face.  "Yeah, go ahead.“  He glances sheepishly at Fuse, who is taking a long, slow sip from her cup, staring straight ahead.  

Aurelia spins the bottle and it wobbles slightly before pointing obviously at Arvid.  

"Come on, there are other people here,” the blonde next to him huffs and Aurelia glares at her.  

“There’s enough to go around,” Arvid says it like he’s expected to, but he’s glancing back and forth between Eret’s zoned out gaze at the floor a couple of feet in front of him and Aurelia’s carefully neutral expression.  Eret looks at him and waves a twitchy hand, shoulder bouncing and bumping Fuse’s, which makes his cheeks redden to almost match his hair.  His hair is a familiar color and Aurelia lets herself be distracted by it instead of focusing on the fact that there’s no way Arvid is actually going to kiss her.  "You sure?“

"It’s just a game, right?”  Eret looks at Fuse again, wiping his hands on his knees.  

“Of course,” Arvid leans across the circle again and Aurelia can’t believe that he’s actually licking his lips until he pauses, sitting back on his knees and taking his phone out.  The curious, almost expectant expression she can barely believe melts into his usual frustrated glower immediately and he tosses an empty cup at Eret, breaking at least some of his daze.  "We’ve got to go now, bro.“  

"What’s wrong?”  Eret scrambles to his feet along with Arvid, glancing back at Fuse again and shaking his shaggy head.  

“It’s Ingrid,” Arvid huffs, glaring at Aurelia with a sudden understanding, “your father is at our house, princess, this party was just a distraction for him to harass our mom.”  

“I didn’t know he was back,” Aurelia panics slightly, jumping to her feet and collecting empty cups for the trash.  

“Likely story,” Arvid scoffs at her and Eret grabs his arm, gesturing at the door.  

“Does it matter?  We’ve got to go.”  

Arvid looks like he wants to say or do something else but Aurelia brushes past him, opening the front door and ushering everyone towards it.  

“You’ve all go to go.”  

Arvid stomps out to his car without another word, leading most of the crowd with him, but Eret pauses in the doorway.  

“Thanks for the party,” He says to her, tone bright but flatter than his usual over-friendly chirp.  He looks over his shoulder at Fuse again and then back at Aurelia, biting his lip for a second before continuing.  "Don’t let Arvid get to you, I believe you didn’t know about your dad getting back.“  

"Good for you,” she snaps, a little impatient even though she appreciates it.  "Because it’s true.“  

"I just said that I believe you,” he looks at Fuse again and opens his mouth like he’s going to say something about her but then Arvid lays on the horn and shouts something out of the window about leaving him.  "Fuck, dude, I’m on my way!“  He jogs down the front walk and Aurelia watches him slide dramatically across the hood of the old car before sliding almost gracefully into it through the passenger window.  The door probably doesn’t open.  

"Do you need any help cleaning up?”  It’s Fuse asking, throwing away a stack of used cups and wrinkling her nose at the mess.  Her lips are a little red, from the punch or from the game, Aurelia isn’t sure, but either way, it makes her want to be alone.  She has that nagging feeling that she’s so close to putting something together, and Fuse is like a grain of sand between her thoughts.  

“No, I’ve got it.”  

“Alright.”  Fuse leaves without anymore fanfare and Aurelia sets about throwing things away and stashing the empty bottle at the bottom of the recycle bin, Eret’s parting words oddly swirling around in her head more than the fact that Arvid almost kissed her.  Or maybe it’s the way he runs, or the jerky little twitch of his shoulders.  It was easier to focus on him when he wasn’t staring at her and the irritation with him lessened enough to feel more like a habit than an actual feeling.  

She’s about to give up, or at least try to sleep on it, when she’s putting the punch bowl back in the closet at the end of the hall and notices her dad’s dusty college graduation picture on the wall next to his diploma.  Her eyes widen and she freezes, shutting the closet door slowly and leaning against it.  Oh God.  

[sockparade]

homeschool

I read somewhere that enneagram 7′s tend to become perfectionists when they are stressed. I guess that’s me with homeschooling the kids. I’ve been kind of throwing myself into it. Not in a panicky way but in a strangely enthusiastic and satisfying way? I’ve surprised myself with how gratifying it has been to teach my kids things. I did not really expect this to happen! I mean, I’ve always been excited about when they get to middle school and I can assign weird projects and essays. But they are still so little, 4 and 6. The upside is that their progress is super tangible and immediate at this age. 

So yeah, I’m intermittently falling apart in my interior life these days but the homeschooling and homemaking is going really well. It’s maybe a good thing for me to be really purposeful from 9-5.

Oh! Also, I really don’t like schedules! I know it’s really helpful for some parents but I feel so restricted by one and hate the idea of having to check the clock to keep track of time if I don’t have to. Or to be constantly running late because of an arbitrary schedule that I made? Like why set yourself up for that? Haha anyway. I usually have a list of things I want to do for the day and a loose order but I’m often swapping things around depending on my mood and the kids’ attention span.  

It’s technically Spring Break here so instead of the usual “work” I’ve been having them do the past two weeks I’m doing themed days instead and I’m trying to limit time sitting at a desk if I can. 

Monday - Performing Arts

Tuesday - Technology/Engineering

Wednesday - Cooking & AsAm History/Activism 

Thursday - Body/Spirit

Friday - Visual Arts

I’m really happy with how today (Performing Arts) turned out and I wanted to share it with you.

Write a poem and read it out loud. I warmed them up to thinking about poetry by reading a few funny poems from Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends. I used “My Color Poem” as a template for the kids to write their own poems. I didn’t like the layout/fonts of the versions I saw on Pinterest so I made a quick version in .doc format. Lots of writing/spelling practice, creativity, and engaging the imaginary senses. My 6 year old finished pretty quickly so I had him copy the poem onto a clean sheet of paper and illustrate each line. 

Learn a tiktok dance. My 4 year old is a great dancer but has a hard time learning choreographed dances from videos so after watching several renegade tutorials, we opted for a much easier hip hop dance tutorial video: Easy Kids Choreography - (Hip Hop Dance Tutorial AGES 4+) | MihranTV

Drum circle. We gathered random “musical instruments” around the house (electronic drumset, tambourine, cardboard box and stick, baby xylophone). First we took turns creating a beat and then seeing if everyone could hear and mimic the beat. Then we took turns starting a beat, then adding to the beat one by one until we were all playing together. 

Put on a short skit. This was really challenging for the kids but I’m so proud of them for sticking to it and doing it! I first read this skit to them several times. (I stopped 15 lines into the skit so it wouldn’t be too long.) You could probably write your own, it doesn’t have to be fancy or anything. I was just too lazy to think up my own story. After reading the skit 3-4 times, I then assigned them roles and had them repeat after me for their lines. We did that twice. Then I had them try to say the lines on their own and add acting into it. I prompted a lot of their lines. Then I read the skit to them two more times. Then they rehearsed it 3-4 more times with me feeding lines as needed. Then they performed it and I recorded a video! Having the video recording made it feel like there was an audience which is great because both of my kids struggle with stage fright.

Improv games. This website has a list of really fun improv games that are great for kids. They are a great way to be creative in a different way and to just be silly together. The ones we did today were: “What Happened Next?” and “Yes, Let’s______! Both were a total hit.

Memorize a poem. What a lost art! Memorizing poems and reciting them? I read advice online that said it’s better if they get to choose the poem they’re memorizing. We first spent some time reading more Shel Silverstein poems. They decided they liked “Boa Constrictor” the best so we worked on memorizing it. I tried to vary my tones consistently and add some hand motions so that it’d be easier to remember. I thought this might be too challenging of a task for them but they really got into it. I also recorded their “final performance” as a video.

Play “pictionary”. Pretty self explanatory here. Although, it gets pretty repetitive when all the drawings are superheroes so we did several rounds where they had to draw a book that they liked that we’ve read together as a family and that was kind of amazing. My four year old tried to draw “Last Stop on Market Street”! It was so sweet and included a rainbow. 

Sing some “repeat-after-me” songs on Go Noodle. Felt great to end the day singing these songs as loud as we could! Kids’ current faves are “Boom Chicka Boom” and “Great Big Moose”. 

[clarenecessities]

spooky planes

Word Count: 2249 Rating: PG Summary: Star Wars, goofs, a magic-off Chapter Warnings:  gun mention [First] [Previous] [Next]

“So we can’t play video games until Adrien gets his act together, and/or signs a contract,” said Nino, frowning thoughtfully. “What do you guys wanna do instead? What do sídhes do for fun?”

“Uh,” said Adrien, grimacing.

“Jinx people,” Plagg answered promptly, with a self-satisfied smile stretching so wide his whiskers lifted. Nino’s eyes narrowed.

“Or bless them!” Adrien added hastily. “It’s not all bad luck!”

“No kidding,” Marinette laughed, gesturing at herself. “Is that it, though? I didn’t think the sídhe interacted with our world all that often.”

“He’s got deer spying on us,” said Nino, pointing at Plagg like a child tattling on its friend. “They go back to his place and tell him all our secrets.”

“Not all of them. Just the good ones.”

“What Plagg is trying to say,” Adrien cut in, glaring ferociously at him, “is that we generally entertain ourselves with magic.”

“Is there like… do you have magic video games?” asked Nino. “Like you had magic lights and magic doors and everything, do you have like… I dunno, virtual reality or something? Or like a rock that plays .mp3 files?”

“Uh, well, mostly it’s—”

“Oh my god do you have magic guns??”

“What.”

“Like a—like a laser cannon but it’s blasting you with magic!” said Nino. He mimed holding a moderately sized blaster to his shoulder, squinting one eye. “Pew! Pew pew!”

“I feel like I’m missing some cultural context here, but my gut instinct is no,” said Adrien, grinning at him. “Is this from a human Star War? Is it this light ‘saber’?”

Nino dropped the imaginary gun to point at him, as accusingly as he had pointed at Plagg. “Oh, nice try, man, but you know it’s Star Wars. You can’t put this one past ol’ Nino.”

“Ah, but does he know it’s ‘lightsaber’?” asked Marinette, raising an eyebrow in his direction.

“That’s what I said!” he protested innocently, grin widening. “Light saber!”

“He did this with ‘sleepover’ too,” muttered Nino, with an affected scowl. “Was that a goof? Were you goofing with me before?”

“I don’t know about these sleep overs, but I can guarantee you he knows it’s lightsaber,” said Plagg. “We broke into a nerd’s house once and watched all of them.”

“All of them?” Nino repeated dubiously. “Even the Christmas special?”

“Especially the Christmas special.”

“We’ve seen the ones that haven’t come out yet, too,” Adrien put in smugly. Take that, linear time.

“Aw what!” Nino yelped. “No spoilers!”

“Oh, so you don’t want to know that Luke is actually—”

“I’ll kill you,” said Nino, pretending to hoist his imaginary gun back up. “I’ll do it, man.”

“Mercy,” Adrien pleaded, a bubbling laugh ruining his affectation. He mimed a swoon, tossing the back of his hand against his forehead—and hadn’t he learned that from Nino? His smile was so wide he was worried his face might split in half. Only two days and he was already a master of human mannerisms.

“No murdering in my room,” said Marinette, putting a hand where she imagined the barrel would be. Nino lowered his own hands obligingly, though he still pretended to menace Adrien with a scowl. She turned to the sídhthe. “How is it that you entertain yourselves with magic?”

“In much the way you appear to,” said Plagg, with an approving nod to her various creations. “Enchantments and things—plenty of contests to see who’s better at what. There’s nothing quite so gratifying as destroying your friends in competition.”

“Not even destroying your enemies in competition?” asked Adrien.

Plagg didn’t answer, but his eyes gleamed when he smiled at him.

“We could have a contest, I guess,” said Marinette, humming to herself as she looked around. “Although I don’t know what there is that hasn’t already been enchanted, aside from the electronics…”

“How about your sketchbook?” Nino suggested, pointing at few loose sheets of paper on her desk. “We could have an airplane-building contest.”

“I can’t build a whole—”

“A paper airplane, Adrien.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” said Nino, rubbing his chin. “You two build your planes without touching them, and then we’ll race ‘em and see which flies better.”

“You’re not gonna build one?” asked Marinette, raising an eyebrow as she reached across Plagg to flick the paper towards herself.

“Oh, I am,” said Nino, grinning, “but I get to use my hands, on account of I’m only making minimum wolf-wage, magically speaking.”

“Are we allowed to—”

“Ah-ah!” Plagg interrupted, jumping abruptly into Adrien’s lap to silence him. “What have I taught you?”

Adrien sighed heavily. “Permission is for dogs.”

“That’s right.”

“Should I be offended, or does he mean real dogs?” asked Nino, sliding a sheet closer to Adrien. Adrien shifted Plagg off his lap, scooping him up and dumping him on the chaise beside him, while he slid to the floor.

“You’re not a dog,” he said, rolling his eyes, “you’re a wolf. Sometimes. Uh.”

“I get it, I get it,” said Nino, waving him off with a laugh. He pulled his own sheet closer to him, lining it up carefully with the wooden floor. “There is a weredog at school though, right Marinette?”

Marinette looked up from where she was frowning intensely at her sheet of paper, wand laying across her lap as she plotted her course of action. “Hm? Oh, well he’s not a weredog so much as… I don’t know, he can turn into a dog sometimes or something.” She scowled to herself. “You know, they really ought to do some kind of gen ed for all the species, I don’t think I know half of—hey!”

Adrien looked up innocently from his paper. “What?”

“He said no hands and you know it!”

“Maybe so,” said Adrien, lifting his chin to curb his smile, “but he didn’t say no feet.” He flexed his bare toes menacingly in her direction.

“He didn’t say no paws either,” said Plagg dryly from beside him. “Though I suppose if we’ve learned anything from your little adventure today, it’s that you don’t know when to ask for my help.”

“You’re just jealous you didn’t think of it,” said Adrien, straightening his crease with a gentle blur of magic, the same shade of green as his eyes. Across from him, Marinette had begun working, maneuvering each corner of the paper with a flick of her wand. Nino was ignoring all of them, tongue peeking out from behind his teeth as he focused on keeping his lines straight.

“Okay,” said Plagg, after a full minute had passed. “I’m bored. Time’s up.”

“Wait wait wait I’m almoooost—done!” said Nino, lifting his plane with a flourish.

They stood shoulder to shoulder, feet lined up behind a tape measurer which had helpfully inched its way into a starting line, rather like a caterpillar.

“Ready,” drawled Plagg, “aaaaaand… go!”

Adrien gritted his teeth, leaning his whole weight into the throw.

It flew like an arrow, beautiful, straight and true, before nosediving sharply and plunging into the floor so sharply it bent its nose.

“Noooo,” said Adrien, falling dramatically to his knees behind the starting line and reaching out a trembling hand as though to cradle his broken creation.

“Okay, okay, so the cat can’t fly,” said Nino, rolling his shoulders. “It’s wolf time.”

“Nino, wolves can’t fly either,” said Marinette, laughing as she laid a consoling hand on Adrien’s shoulder.

“Uh, excuse me, haven’t you ever seen Balto 3: Wings of Change?” asked Nino, winding up as if pitching a baseball, and letting it fly.

His plane made it a good distance, floating much more gently than Adrien’s had. It landed almost touching the far wall, perfectly parallel to the floorboards. Nino bowed as dramatically as Adrien had crumpled. “How’s that for wolves don’t fly?” he asked, smirking up at Marinette.

“Hm,” she said simply, a mischievous grin blooming to life as she tossed her plane.

It was too soft, Adrien thought privately; she had scarcely moved her wrist, let alone her elbow—it would never beat Nino’s.

His eyes widened as, instead of nosediving like his, or drifting down like Nino’s, Marinette’s plane began to rise.

“Wh—hey!” Nino exclaimed, pointing as the plane looped around his grounded attempt and sailed leisurely back to Marinette’s waiting hand. She laughed, a triumphant, exhilarated laugh that had Adrien laughing along before he knew it.

Her laugh, apparently, was as infectious as the rest of her, and he relished in it as Nino shouted through his own stifled chortling, and Marinette did a ridiculous victory lap around her room.

“That was clearly cheating!” said Nino when he had at last smothered his giggles.

“You said only magic, no hands,” Marinette sang. “You never said no enchanting.”

“Quite a pair you two make,” said Nino, looking between Marinette and Adrien, who had slid from his knees to his stomach to reach his plane, and was now curled around it like a cat with a mouse. “Rematch! No enchantments and no feet!”

“As thrilled as I would be to defend my title,” said Marinette, smirking, “someone’s coming upstairs.”

Adrien blinked, rolling into a sitting position, reaching out with his magic just as the there was a rap at the trapdoor.

“Come in!” called Marinette, and a familiar face emerged with a sheepish smile.

“Hello,” said Mlle. Bustier, wincing in apology. “I’m so sorry you children had to go through that. We’ll be talking about it more tomorrow, but for this evening I think everyone’s had… enough. I’ve come to fetch Nino.”

“Oh,” said Nino, grabbing his headphones off the floor. “Did you guys get the school fixed up?”

“Yes,” she confirmed, sighing. “The damage was mostly to the classrooms facing the courtyard, so your room was largely unaffected, I’m sure you’ll be glad to know. The window was broken, but it was an easy fix.”

“Cool, alright,” said Nino, bobbing his head in a strange, jerky nod, like it wasn’t cool or alright. Adrien frowned, leaning into Nino’s magic a little, but could only tell that it was agitated—which could mean practically anything. He exchanged a worried glance with Marinette.

“Are you ready to come home or would you like to stay a little longer?” Mlle. Bustier asked politely.

“I’ll go back, I guess,” said Nino, shrugging as he gathered the rest of his things, including his paper airplane. “I’m pretty worn out from last night still, even without all this stuff. Baba needs a nap, y’know?”

“Yeah,” said Marinette, and though he thought Nino was telling the truth, Adrien was sure she was as suspicious as he was about what he hadn’t said.

“I’ll see you tomorrow though, right man?” he asked before he could stop himself, getting to his feet.

“Of course,” said Nino, smiling back with such sincerity that Adrien almost melted at the relief of tension. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t because he’d messed something up again. Probably Nino just didn’t know how to leave either, or… something. He clasped hands with Adrien in a friendly, jostling sort of way, clapping him on the back, and shot Marinette some finger guns as he descended the staircase to a chorus of farewells.

Adrien scarcely waited for the front door to close before turning to Marinette in a whirl. “Was he okay?” he asked immediately.

“Kind of,” said Marinette, but she didn’t sound worried. She just sounded… sad. “I think… Nino doesn’t really like living at the school. I think he gets lonely.”

“Oh,” said Adrien, gaze shifting to the floor. Lonely.

He could understand lonely.

“Yeah,” said Marinette, doubtlessly reading his own sadness, “we offered to let him stay here, but he didn’t want to be a bother. You may have noticed, he can be a little… he feels guilty about stuff a lot.”

“Yeah,” Adrien agreed quietly. He looked to Plagg, who was quiet for once, watching the two of them while his tail swung in slow, lazy arcs behind him.

“We should get going too,” he said after a few moments, “Tikki was fit to be tied when she heard, and I know she wants to see you.”

“Oh jeez,” groaned Adrien. “You could have said something! She’s gonna flip out!”

“Who’s Tikki?”

“Queen of the aos sídhe,” said Adrien, “sort-of raised me, worries excessively about my safety, is going to absolutely skin Plagg when we get home for not telling her I was okay!”

“Oh, she knew you were okay!” said Plagg, rolling his eyes as he stood with a lazy stretch. “Give her some credit, kid, she’s not queen for nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” grumbled Adrien, hastily snatching his things off the floor. “Um. Sorry to run out like this Marinette, but thank you for having us over. I’m also sorry about Plagg. Just like, in general.”

“Any time,” she said graciously, smiling at him and passing a purring Plagg into his waiting hands. “I’d say you’ll have to have us over sometime, but I really don’t want your house to kill me.”

“Me either,” said Adrien, with a sincere shudder at the thought. “Um, and thank your parents for us, please, tell them it’s a royal emergency, they’ll understand—and thank you for the food! And the… um…” Was it weird to thank people for being friends with you? Adrien wasn’t sure.

Marinette’s smile widened, so it seemed she’d gotten the message all the same. “You’re welcome,” she said, and Plagg’s eyes flashed green, and the world dissolved into home around them.

[ziskandra]

i tried to write final mission angst but ended up with post-game fluff instead. this pairing has clearly changed me as a person. (not that i’m complaining) ao3 link Summary: The one in which Liam and Scott have a talk.  Family Welcome “So,” Scott starts without missing a beat. “You and my sister, huh?” Liam realises there is a distinct possibility that Scott Ryder wants to kick his arse. While he’s prepared for that eventuality, believes himself to have the skills to defuse such a situation even, Scott must be able to read the apprehension on his face because he laughs and holds his hands up in resignation. “Nope, not gonna go all grr-grr-protective-big-brother on you,” he assures, “Sara would never let me live it down. At the end of the day, I’m the little one.” 

Liam laughs. Suddenly, he thinks he and Scott are going to get along just fine. “She does say she never lets you forgot it.” Scott smiles ruefully and inclines his head. “Nor anyone else, for that matter. Anyway, she’d totally kick my butt if she knew I was talking to you about this at all, so, keep this between us? Please?” “Sure,” Liam agrees, more quickly than he thought he would’ve because he is hammered with the sudden realisation that if everything goes to plan, this man is going to be his future brother-in-law. Family. He sits down on the bed beside Scott, who leans forward, elbows on knees. “I was out of it for a long time,” Scott starts, propping his head up on one hand. “Hey, are the six-hundred-year jokes getting old yet?” “Probably,” Liam says after a moment of consideration, “but it doesn’t seem to stop anyone.” Scott chuckles, shaking his head. “Well, I won’t make you relive that one. In any case, I slept in. And with everything that happened while I wasn’t around… I know it must have been tough for Sara. We’re not as close as we were as kids, and I know one of the reasons she’d say we came is to explore the unknown, but deep down, I think what we really wanted is to be a family again.” Liam doesn’t know what to say. His own decision to leave his family behind in the Milky Way had been tough, but not impossible. He was an optimist at a crossroads with dreams and hopes bigger than the galaxy. “It’s been hard for her,” he starts, slowly but surely, “she doesn’t talk about it much.” “Honestly?” Scott says, rolling his shoulders, “that sounds like her. She’s never been the feelings type.” He punctuates the word with air-quotes before resuming his previous ponderous position. “I almost couldn’t believe it when one of the first things I heard when I got out of cyro was ‘Sara has a boyfriend now, and it’s looking pretty serious.’” Liam suddenly, desperately wants to know who’s told him, but without even being asked, Scott shakes his head and makes a miming motion over his mouth. Lips sealed. “So,” Scott continues casually, almost too casually, like he’d be a step away from draping an arm over Liam’s shoulder if only they were closer, “is it? Serious, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Liam says, without even having to consider it, simply revelling in the rush of warmth that travels through him when he thinks about their future. “It is.” And even though he has Scott’s reassurance, he’s still going to do his best to handle himself respectfully. “We’ve been through a lot together. I love her,” he continues, throwing discretion to the wind. He figures once you’ve proposed to your girlfriend during a holovid livestream, there’s no sense in hiding things anyway. 

As awkward as this conversation is, Liam takes some guilty consolation in the fact that it’s just Scott he has to talk to, and not Alec Ryder himself. He didn’t know the man well but had nothing but the utmost respect for him, which would probably just make things all the more harder. “We’re not going to have a problem, are we?” he asks, before hastening to add, “Because that’s the last thing I want.” What he wants, in fact, is the opposite. While he knows that ultimately, Scott’s approval with have little practical effect on his relationship with Sara, he still finds himself craving it. That approval. It’s important, he thinks. 

Fortunately, he is more than gratified when Scott breaks out into a big cheesy grin, one that reminds him of the striking similarity between the twins. He’s never known fraternal twins to be so identical before. “Problem?” Scott asks in mock alarm. “Hell, no! I’m ecstatic. You obviously make each other happy. That’s what matters to me. Like I said, honestly didn’t expect it to happen. She’s a bit of a handful, you know? You’d know. It’s too late for that warning, isn’t it?”  

Honestly, Liam’s still a bit dazed by Scott’s apparent happiness that he barely remembers to respond. Thinks about all the time’s Sara’s gotten up to things that have probably taken months and years off his expected life span. He smiles wistfully. “A bit, yeah. Mightn’t have stayed away, regardless.”

Scott’s eyes twinkle as he claps Liam on the back. “Now, that’s the spirit! Welcome to the family.” Liam cannot deny the way his heart swells at the words. Family. Home. They made it. Lowering his voice conspiratorially, Scott adds, “I heard tell there might be some little Kosta-Ryders running around in the not-so-distant future.” Liam chokes, because truth be told, he has been thinking about it. Dreaming about it, really. Still hasn’t figured out a way to bring it up with Sara, yet. 

It is then that the door slides open to reveal Sara standing in the doorway, decked out in full armour and clearly on return from a mission. “Boys,” she starts in a disapproving drawl, hands firmly planted on hips, “you wouldn’t be talking about me behind my back, would you?” Liam and Scott share a look, then shake their heads in unison. Sara raises an eyebrow, not buying the act for a second, but after a moment’s hesitation, she seems to decide to let it slide. “Right. Well, lovely as it is seeing you, Scott, I think it’s time you got out of my room.” The Ryder brother doesn’t need telling twice as he jumps to his feet. “All right, all right, Sis, I get it! Right in the feelings. Pow!” He crosses Sara’s path as he heads towards the doorway, and she makes her way towards Liam. When the door closes behind her twin, Sara pulls Liam down into a quick kiss. “I hope he didn’t give you any trouble.” “Not at all,” Liam answers as Sara settles down next to him, drapes a leg over his lap. “Quite the opposite, in fact.” He jerks a thumb to the doorway. “Did you have to kick him out like that?” She smiles at him, eyes bright and clear. “For what I have in mind?” she says as she makes herself comfortable, “Yeah, I did.”  

[behindheremeraldeyes]

SasuSaku Month 2016 Day 27- Final Fantasy . Title: Warm Reality . Summary: AU- The future is in front of her. They’re all there, yet she can’t go. She can’t let go of that warm sensation. . A/N: Okay, first of all, don’t expect this to have anything to do with the game franchise, guys… I’m ashamed of myself for this, but I haven’t played any of the games, and my knowledge of it goes as far as knowing that some characters look like Naruto characters, so I worked with the literal interpretation of the theme XD Now, second of all, the summary was written like this so it wouldn’t give any spoilers of the story. It IS an AU and you’ll probably understand it just at the end. Last but not least, I hope you enjoy it, and please, tell me your opinion! . . . The sky is colored in a celestial blue, with few white cottons spread around its endless horizon. A soft wind dances with her short, pink tresses, and the sun kisses her exposed arms, warming up her body. It’s certainly a beautiful day in the village of Konoha, and today, more than in any other day, Uchiha Sakura is feeling unexplainably hopeful.

She’s sitting on a water tank, in the middle of the day, as her emerald eyes nostalgically watch the new leaves flying away from their branches.

There they go, she thinks, as her eyes follow the next generation of ninjas jumping through the rocks of the mountain. They are all smiling confidently, and the gleam in their eyes tells the pink haired woman that those kids are destined to do great things. Even if they’re young, they're already hungry for a life full of adventures, and seeing them go definitely makes her maternal heart grow heavier.

Her daughter is among those who belong to the future of the village, and even if she doesn’t want to accept it, Sakura will soon learn that her little girl is on her own journey to becoming a woman. Sarada is growing up fast, and soon, she will follow her own path.

Soon, all of them will head on towards their own future.

And even if it hurts, the Uchiha mother knows she can’t stop the natural circle of life.

A sigh escapes her rosy lips, and the air in her lungs joins the atmosphere. She remembers how worried her mother got every time she went out on a mission, and Sakura thinks that, perhaps, she’s not ready to be left behind, waiting for her little girl to return home.

She certainly doesn’t want to stay while a part of herself goes.

Sakura doesn’t want to stay. There’s something telling her not to. Something soft and warm, and that something is telling her to do something before it’s too late.

Such feeling brings shivers down her spine, however, she pays it no mind, and focuses on another comforting thought that crosses her mind. At least, this time, she won’t be the only one left behind. Not anymore.

“ What’s on your mind?”

Low and husky is the voice that comes from behind, and before she notices, a dark, tall figure is standing right next to her. Surprisingly, he ended up finding her on that rooftop, and now they’re both watching the dark haired girl punching her blonde teammate. A smile crosses their lips, as both of them feel proud of Sarada.

What an amazing girl was born out of their love.

“ Nothing important…” She lies, unconsciously, so her husband doesn’t worry about her temporary insecurity.

“ Hn, Don’t worry about her.” Sakura smirks inwardly, feeling like an open book in front of his eyes. As expected from Uchiha Sasuke. “ She’s a strong girl. A lot stronger than you were back then.”

“ Are you trying to comfort me or what?” She lifts an eyebrow in annoyance, as their eyes finally meet. His lips curl up in pure amusement as he watches his wife, and soon, his attention returns to his daughter. The wind is playing with his dark locks, and every now and then his rinnegan gets exposed. She really could stare at him for all day and not get tired of such beautiful sight. Still, she chooses to look away, following his sight with her own emerald eyes.

A comfortable silence is set in between them, as they’re sharing not only the same sky but also the same view. Onyx and Emeralds are protectively watching over their child, enjoying the peaceful moments that have once again taken over the village. There’s nothing threatening them anymore, yet, she can sense that there’s something off. Maybe it’s the sky or maybe she’s about to get a cold, but she can feel it in her bones that this is not a normal day.

Something is going to happen, she knows it.

But apparently, she’s the only one aware of it.

“ Sasuke-kun…. Do you feel something… Different today?”

“ Uh? Different how?”

“ I don’t know… Just different. “

“ Not really. It seems to be a normal day.”

“ Oh… I get it. Maybe I’m just overthinking then.” A forced smile creeps onto her lips, and he knows better than that. There is something bothering her. Something he can’t feel himself, but something real, nonetheless.

Perhaps her maternal instincts are kicking in again.

And if that’s really the case, then he knows that there’s nothing he can say to help her. However, it doesn’t mean he will just ignore her feelings.

It doesn’t take long before she feels a warm sensation enveloping her left hand. It’s soft and comfortable and it’s big enough to engulf every inch of her skin. She feels her heart beating a little faster, and her cheeks blush lightly as soon as her eyes find that he has his hand holding hers. His half covered fingers are sneaking under her palm, and it’s only after she searches for his eyes that the pinkette can finally bring herself to focus on the joy that such gesture brings to her soul.

Sasuke is adverting his eyes from their hands, as he pretends to be focused on something else. He eventually peeks from the corner of his eyes, and she smiles genuinely whenever she catches him doing so.

This is the man she calls husband, for sure. The man who is concealed and who knows what to do even if he can’t really do anything for her.

This is Uchiha Sasuke. And oh how she loves him. She loves him and she loves the feeling she gets whenever they’re around each other. When they’re sharing a moment and when they’re with Sarada, she feels like her problems are lighter and she feels like she’s home, no matter where she is. By his side, she feels at home, and somehow, when she looks into his dark eyes, she knows that that’s the one place where her family will always return to.

His eyes will always take them home. And right now, this feeling is extremely comforting.

“ Thank you, darling.” Her voice is soft and low, but the feelings transmitted by it are not shallow at all. She looks down, allowing her heart to focus on the warmth enveloping her hand and how she just doesn’t want to let go of it. “ I guess it’s just hard to see her growing up and leaving me behind.”

“ Hn, she’s not leaving you behind, Sakura. She’s twelve years old.”

“ Still, it’s already hard to deal with the fact that she’s already taking missions that last more than one day! She’s sleeping alone in the woods with three boys, Sasuke-kun! How am I supposed to be okay with it?”

“Tch, did you already forget how it was to be the only girl in the team? Your mother probably went through the same things back then.”

“… That is totally different. My mom never knew about the things that can happen in a mission. She was crazy to let me go.”

“ She trusted you, that’s all. It’s normal for parents to be apprehensive whenever their kids go on missions. You just need to find a way to cope with that.”

“… Do you think she could adapt to the civilian life?”

A sigh escapes his lips. His wife really is impossible. “ You know that’s impossible, right?”

“ I can always try…”

Even if she uses her right fingers to scratch the back of her neck and even if she mumbles a low "I'm kidding”, deep inside, Sakura knows that such idea did cross her mind. It’s definitely a last resort, but it’s something she wouldn’t mind doing if she felt like it’s the right thing to do to keep her child safe.

Sarada’s life is too important for her to risk, and her husband knows how her instincts can make her cross the globe going after her child. He knows because he would do the same, for sure. The truth is that neither of them want to stay away from their little girl. Even if they trust her strength and even if they know the world isn’t that dangerous anymore, it's still hard to let her go.

It’s hard to stay where she’s not and it’s hard to go without her.

For a family who has already lost so much time together, such things are certainly harder than they should be. They long for each other’s company more than normal families do, and at the same time this can be gratifying, it can also be the cause of their tears.

If only they could all just go back, she thinks. And as she looks at her husband, Sakura can tell that deep in his heart he understands her. He truly does, and for the first time, Sasuke also knows what to do.

He knows what to say to comfort his wife.

She feels his warm grip tightening around her fingers for the first time since he arrived, and when he finally has her attention on his dark eyes, she can tell by his expression that his words are about to warm her heart. “ Maybe, if you don’t want to let her go, then why not go with her?”

“ Eh? Do you mean… Go on the missions?”

“ That or… We could just show her the world.”

Her eyes widen in pure shock as she contemplates the offer in front of her. Sasuke has just invited her to go back to the road so they could show their daughter their own, private world. They will show her the places they’ve visited, the people they’ve met and they know she will be able to understand a little more about their family.

They will be together, and right now, this is the one thing she wants the most.

She wants them to be together. She wants to follow this new path with her family.

As long as she can feel that warmth in her hand, Sakura knows she will be fine.

And if the warmth comes from the hand of the man she loves, then she just doesn’t want to let go.

But somehow, he does anyway.

“ So, what do you think, Sakura?” His hand is no longer holding hers as he looks into her eyes. He’s standing in front of her, reaching out for her hand so she can make her final choice.

Should she take his hand and part on a new journey?

Should she trust those warm eyes that are looking at her?

Should she go and follow that new path?

Everything points out for that direction, and were this a normal day, Sakura would’ve definitely accepted his offer.

But today is different. Today is a nostalgic day and today her heart is telling her to follow that warmth that has been comforting her heart. She wants to follow that sensation that she believed to be coming from his hand.

But how can she still be feeling it with his hand so far away?

Her heart skips a beat and her eyes widen in pure shock. Sakura doesn’t understand what’s happening, and panic is screaming in her face. Her hand is basically on fire, and she can feel as if he still has his grip around her fingers.

His touch is still there, giving her strength. It’s giving her hope, and suddenly, a tear streams down her face. Uchiha Sakura certainly doesn’t understand what’s happening to her anymore, as her heart is clenching and the entire reality she’s always known seems to be falling apart. Her lungs are growing heavier, her hands are shaking and right now, the only thing she can do is look at her husband, searching for an answer.

She needs him to take her by the hand to make her feel better.

She needs him to be by her side to tell her it will all be alright.

She needs him to understand. And he does, he really does. The smile on his face tells her that much.

“ Sasuke-kun… What’s happening to me?”

“ It’s all right, Sakura.” His smile is soothing, and slowly, his hand falls to his side. Unlike him, her face is taken by fear, and his calm expression just makes her anxiety grows. More tears are falling from her eyes, and soon, she feels her body growing heavier. Sakura can’t move and he’s aware of that. Still, he’s looking at her with those same, soothing eyes of his. “ It’s time for you to go.”

“ But I don’t want to go! I want to be with you and Sarada! I-I don’t… I don’t want to live without you.”

“ Don’t be silly, Sakura.” His lips curl up, as he places his hand over his hip. “ We will always be together.”

“ H-How can you be so sure?”

“ I would never lie to you.”

“ B-But… I’m scared!”

“ Sakura… You’ve done much scarier things than this, believe me. You’ll be okay.”

“ … I don’t even know where I’m going!”

“ Hn… You’re going home.”

And with his last words, the world around her suddenly went black. Her heart is beating faster than ever, she’s shaking inside and fear starts playing tricks on her mind. Sakura tries to shove them away with good memories, but she fails miserably for loneliness is the only thing that she can think of.

She’s all alone, without her family and suddenly she becomes a weak little girl afraid of the dark. She cries but the tears don’t come out, she wants to scream but her lips are sealed.

She feels like dying, but her heart is still beating. It’s still reminding her that she can’t rest. Not yet.

Not while she can still feel that warmth in her left hand.

Even if she gets more nervous at each passing second, Sakura doesn’t fail to notice how that heat in her skin becomes denser. She feels it spreading around her body, and soon the darkness that surround her isn't that cold anymore. The pinkette feels warm, instead, and suddenly, a comfortable sensation takes over her body.

It’s like being watched by those eyes, she thinks. It’s like looking deep into those dark eyes of her husband and daughter, and suddenly, she feels safe. She feels strong and complete, and she feels their presence by her side. They’re here, next to her, and even if she can’t see them, she can feel their hearts.

She can feel their warmth. A warmth so close and so solid that unconsciously, Sakura reaches out for it.

She wants to touch it. And that’s exactly what she does.

The atmosphere is clean, the walls are white and the only sound filling that room is the constant beep from the cardiac monitor standing next to the bed. An unconscious woman with short, pink locks is laying there, and a raven haired man sits by her left side, holding her hand. This man has been here every day for the past eight years, and right now, just like always, his heart belongs to her. It always has and it always will, and that’s why he won’t ever take that ring off his finger.

He loves his wife, and today, just like everyday, he hopes she will be able to listen to his words.

The words that come from his heart.

But right now, he’s tired and his head is laying against the mattress next to her. His eyes are closed and his breathing is slow, yet the grip on her hand isn’t any less tight. He refuses to let go. He refuses to let her go, for he knows that one day, his hand will guide her home.

And today, after 732 days, the time has come for both of them to go back.

Almost faintly, Sasuke feels a slight brush against the palm of his hand. His eyes open slowly at the contact, and when he looks at her, his dark eyes widen in surprise to see a tear streaming down her pale cheeks. Soon, the beeping sound gets a little faster, and there’s another machine indicating something about cortisol levels also getting higher. His heart is beating faster in anxiety, and without him noticing, his grip around her hand gets even tighter.

“ Sakura?” His voice comes out as a whisper, trembling due to how long it’s been since the last time her name left his lips. He leans closer to her face, inspecting the features he knows oh so well. His dark locks are falling over his eyes, and his whole body is shaking. His throat is dry and his lips are parted in awe. Sasuke doesn't know what to expect anymore, for many were the times he imagined that scene. Maybe he’s dreaming again and he will soon wake up to their daughter entering the room and to see all those wires connected on her body.

Maybe this is just another empty nightmare, he thinks.

But as soon as he catches a glimpse of her green emerald eyes, he knows this is real.

She’s finally waking up. And when she manages to see those dark pearls of his, she knows that the last fantasy of her fantastic life has finally come to an end.

[recentanimenews]

Jump Force Is A Really Great Game That's Surrounded By Garbage

The "Hey look! My favorite character is beating the crap out of my other favorite character!" genre of video games has been pretty strong lately, with stuff like Injustice 2 and Dragon Ball FighterZ surpassing expectations and draining me of my social life. Jump Force, a fighting game centered around the characters of Weekly Shonen Jump mauling eachother, wants to be added to that pantheon. And why shouldn't it be? It features a bunch of your favorite anime and manga characters all screaming out their attacks as they fight across surprisingly large stages in chaotic combat. I should be holding a copy of Jump Force up on my roof while I scream, shirtless, at my neighbors to come try and challenge their new god. 

  Instead, I'm politely cracking the window and whispering to them that if they have a quick second to maybe give Boruto a try, Because there is a very cool game inside of Jump Force, a game where Jotaro Kujo, Seiya, and Roronoa Zoro team up to stomp on the skulls of Gaara, Blackbeard and that one Dragon Quest dude. That's a game that makes you want to buy a crate of Mountain Dew, steal a country's supply of Doritos, and kick it with your friends like you're in an old school commercial from 1998. That game is in there. It's just tough to find sometimes.

    See, in between all of the combat, Jump Force fills you with questions. For instance, why am I playing as some kind of self-created avatar that's just a Frankenstein'd glob of other anime character features? I don't know anyone who wants to do this, outside of the people that just buy WWE games to say "HAHA. I MADE PICKLE RICK. EAT IT, TRIPLE H." But those games tend to have complex, gratifying character creation systems, while Jump Force gives you a few options and then sets you loose to stand beside Trunks and Naruto in awkward cutscenes that are so vengefully clumsy that you'd swear they were making fun of you.

    Side note: Why do I even have to use this avatar? Why can't I just switch between the characters that people are buying the game for? I got excited to play as Toguro and Gon and Boa Hancock. When I first saw the trailer, I didn't watch Luffy, Goku, Naruto and Light Yagami and think "But where the heck is my favorite Weekly Shonen Jump character....ME?" 

  A bunch of these cutscenes take place in your headquarters, which sadly takes the place of a simple menu in this game. In this abandoned shopping mall-looking area, you run around to accept missions, talk to characters, upgrade stuff, and just kinda look at the goofy designs other players have inflicted on their own avatars. This layout is cool for a bit, until you realize that it's far bigger than it needs to be. I don't want to spend a decent chunk of my time as my dumb avatar, running around, looking desperately for things to do. And while there are things to do, your instructions for them are pretty vague. The Jump Force boss will tell you "Have you communicated with your allies?" and this is code for "Run halfway across the base, stupid, and see what Yusuke's having anxiety about."

  Speaking of the Jump Force boss, the story of Jump Force is almost exactly what you'd expect it to be: an elongated system of unlocking new characters. See, a bunch of them that appear outside of the core Dragon Ball/One Piece/Naruto series have been infected by evil cubes and you have to beat them unconscious to get them on your side. However, it's not a bad story. It's no worse than most Mortal Kombat games, where the plot is pushed along by another person entering the room and saying "Now, YOU will die," or Dragon Ball FighterZ's, where you spent hours pummeling the same Yamcha clone. 

    That said, Jump Force does succeed in a really crucial way, something that's necessary in all of these "Who would win?" simulators: It makes you play as (and love) characters that you never thought you would. I remember, when Injustice 2 came out, I figured that I'd probably stick to Batman and Bane if I could. One week later, I was all about Swamp Thing, Scarecrow, and Wonder Woman. In Dragon Ball FighterZ, my sights were locked on Cell and Vegeta, but I ended up almost totally ignoring them and joining Team Yamcha, Majin Buu and Tien. 

  And when it comes to Jump Force, I was dead set on making Luffy, Toguro and Hisoka my main team. But you know who is AWESOME in Jump Force? Boruto. I don't know if there's a character in the entire game that's more delightful to play as than Naruto's kid. Yusuke is awesome, too, and I looooooove how it feels to squash an opponent with Roronoa Zoro. If you can get used to him, Jotaro Kujo is also very cool, even if that's partially due to the fact that I like to yell "ORAORAORAORA" along with the game. I'm terrible as Yugi, but I just can't stop using him. And if you're able to master Asta, you will rule the world. 

    Another thing that I didn't mind very much was the arena combat. I know that, when I played FighterZ, I thought that all fighting games should either be like FighterZ or just be a different copy of FighterZ that I had lying around the house. But the arena battling works here. There's something really epic about sending your opponent flying and then rushing toward them to deliver another blow. I know that it's not a proper adjective, but the fighting in Jump Force feels very, very anime. The fighting noises and all the copious explosions and earth-shattering moves make you feel like you're controlling the final battle at the end of an intense arc ALL THE TIME, even if you're just having a friendly spar with Sanji. 

  Honestly, the story in Jump Force doesn't really matter in the long run. The labyrinthian headquarters doesn't either. They're just there to get you acquainted with the game and the characters, so that you can jump into Online and Offline battles and settle grudge matches with your friends and people on the internet. So if you can wade through some of Jump Force's clunkier set-ups and finally get down to mashing buttons and yelling about how Sabo could totally win against Ichigo, you'll find something to like here. Jump Force is pretty good, as long as you can forgive the non-fighting stuff that's pretty bad. 

  REVIEW ROUNDUP:

+ The characters are all pretty fun to play as, as long as you don't like playing as Sasuke

+ Combat is fast and chaotic, with a bunch of cool explosions and sweet-looking moves

+ Online matchmaking for ranked matches is very simple

+ ORAORAORAORA

+/- Story is simple, but it's kind of just filler anyway

- The main menu area feels sloppy

- I haaaaaate playing as my avatar, and you probably will, too.

  Are you gonna pick up Jump Force? Who are you gonna play as? Let me know in the comments!

---------------

Daniel Dockery is a Crunchyroll writer/editor that has a Twitter, but more importantly, now has a love for Boruto. 

   Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[overandbeyond724]

First Writing Prompt: Glancing Phenomena

He accidentally took a glance at her, and was surprised that she was too. On the usual sunny day in the middle of a boring class, it was only a moment when their eyes met a few feet away from their seats. His heart then skipped a beat, not because of a burst of nostalgia or euphoria or anything. But that skipped heartbeat came with a shiver of his spine. Boy, that glance is best for a Halloween scare, but there was something else behind that indirect intimidation of that cold, serious girl gave, well he doesn’t want to know anyway so why bother?

‘Messy hair, a vest and a cocky smile, what was that new kid all about?’ she told herself and quickly averted her eyes away from him, that little thing suddenly became a big crisis, she was only trying to pay attention to her professor’s lecture and was only contemplating her surroundings, she didn’t mean to look at him.

She then tried to distract herself by looking at the window beside her, seeing the other students making their way to their own classes. Hey look there’s the gym teacher coming from the old storage room from afar, what is he doing there? She knows that no one uses that anymore, in fact every old student knows that, she even heard rumors that it’s going to be taken down in a week. The school bell rang, and her professor dismissed his class as his students greeted him a goodbye.

After the class period, he headed straight to his new friends who were waiting for him outside, heading to the cafeteria. ‘Did you hear the news, our science teacher unexpectedly took a leave of absence’ one of his friends spewed out. ‘Where did you even hear that?’ the other asked. ‘From those girls behind us’ his friend replied, pointing to the table of the giggling young ladies. ’You got some sharp ears man’ he said, ‘Is that a figure of speech, or literal?’ his other friend asked, ‘Both.’ He replied, followed with laughter and a blushing red head.

After getting stuffed on each other’s lunches and cafeteria food, a figure approached their table ‘Good afternoon gentlemen, may I remind you that your next period will start in ten minutes, so you better pack your lunches and get ready’ the figure turns out to be their gym teacher, reminded the three and left. With a muscular build and black hair, he was wearing a pair of jogging pants, a red sports shirt, and rubber shoes which are quite muddy, which is odd because he’s known to be fond of shoes very much. ‘Well, we better head off to our next class, see you later man’ his sharp eared friend said and waved their goodbyes at each other. He was about to pack up when he saw a glimpse of her, a table apart from his. She looked serious, like always, and headed straight to the door. Something was bothering her that’s what the seriousness looked like, and without thinking, he followed her.

 There’s something…there’s something unexplainable going on inside her brain she can’t ignore, and she needs to check out that old shed just for the heck of it, or else she won’t be focusing on the next class or the next one. So she took out her phone and sprinted towards the door, she just wanted to settle this bothering curiosity of hers, so she can return to class in peace.

She looked at her watch to see that there are only a few minutes left before the next class. ‘It’s a-okay alright? It’s just going to be a quick peek’ she told to herself, she now stands at the storage room’s door, old, humid, and full of splinters. It’s quite broken and falling apart, but she did not waste any moment and opened the door that leads her inside. She turned on the flashlight on her phone and scanned its surroundings. Thank god there was nothing out of the ordinary, just some broken chairs and equipment, dust bunnies and cobwebs, and some clutter, finally, she can breathe normally and leave this behind ‘what is that?’ she asked herself, and found a yellow whistle covered with dirt, dust, and what is this…blood?! Her heart started thumping vigorously, her body weakening; she knows who owns this yellow whistle she found in this abandoned room. She scanned the room once more, and there she found a conspicuous sack in the corner, she beaded a sweat, her palms shaking as she inspects the sack to see that there was blood in it. She loosen the ties…only to see a familiar face of a woman, pale and bloody, with eyes wide open and a voiceless scream, kept inside this storage room and this sack, unjust and ruthless. But forget that, she needs to get out of here NOW! She ran to the door in panic and away to the storage room far, far away.

‘What are you still doing here? Your class is about to start’ that voice froze her to death. She hid her hands behind her back with a terrified expression, she tried to conceal with a blank face that she often paints but the fear is just too much to bear. ‘Yes, I’m sorry sir, I was looking for a…uh...a cat around the school grounds, I didn’t noticed the time’ she only said, her gym teacher looked at her with curiosity, ‘Is that so? I mean, did you find the cat?’ he asked. She gulped in fear and replied ‘Yes? I mean, yes, and she just went out the school grounds’ she replied. She bowed her head down, and told him she needs to return to her class and went on her way. ‘Hold it.’ said her gym teacher. ‘Yes?’ her voice squeaked in fear. ‘What’s that behind you?’ he asked. ‘Uh, my phone?’ she replied. ‘What’s on the other?’ he asked again, she didn’t notice it, she was holding the whistle she found in the building all along. She may be over-exaggerating it a bit but if he sees she’s holding it, she’s in grave danger to the man who is not what he seems. ‘It’s just a…uh…’ a hand grabbed her wrist before she tried to answer. It was him.

‘There you are. I’ve been looking for you, the substitute teacher for our chemistry class is looking for you’ he said, grabbing the hand where the whistle was. ‘Sorry for interrupting sir, the substitute teacher needs her help’ he added.

‘Oh carry on, just make sure you two won’t end up elsewhere’ replied the gym teacher, Her eyes went wide for a different conveyed message, but he only let out a laugh ‘Don’t worry sir, we’ll end up nowhere except the chemistry lab’ he only replied and left, dragging her away from their professor

  He followed her until she reached the school grounds, heading to the old shed from afar. ‘What’s she doing there?’ he asked himself as she watches her enter the old storage room. He only stayed at the end of the hallway since the grounds was too open to hide from. A little while later, he found the gym teacher coming his way and immediately hid behind a column, she hasn’t returned yet though, and thought that maybe he was being a fool and she noticed that he was following him, until he heard running footsteps getting louder and louder, it was her, and she looked terrified, something he never saw in her.

‘What are you still doing here? Your class is about to start’ he heard the gym teacher came out of the blue conversing with the young lady now petrified in fear, her hands behind her back, is she hiding something?

‘Hold it.’ He heard him again as she leaves, ‘Yes?’ he was surprised at her response, he never saw her like that he thought she was this emotionless girl like that game character who eliminates her competition no matter what, and now that he thinks about it, she’s not that scary at all.

‘What’s on the other?’ he heard the gym teacher again, this time she’s sweating and far beyond nervous. He remembered that she wasn’t this scared to him and besides his build he’s not even terrifying…but why? ‘There you are, I’ve been looking for you, the substitute teacher for our chemistry class is looking for you’ that’s the only thing he remembered, holding her hand. ‘Sorry for interrupting sir, the substitute teacher needs her help’ he only added and besides, he can’t just let the helpless young lady on her own, that would be mean.

‘Oh carry on, just make sure you two won’t end up elsewhere’ replied the gym teacher, he only let out a laugh to take the bad joke, ‘don’t worry sir, we’ll end up nowhere except the chemistry lab’ he only replied and left, dragging her away from their professor

He pulled her on the empty hallway that leads them to the laboratory. ‘Hey, did you followed me?’ she asked on the way. ‘I thought you’re a tough one, but you just stand there stuttering like a wimp…’ – ‘Did you followed me’ she asked again as she stand on the ground. ‘Is this your way of saying “thank you”’ he only asked. She looked at him in the eye with a demeaning stare and said, ‘you did followed me’ passing him to the hallway. ‘Hey if I wasn’t there, you would’ve been in the principal’s office by now because of whatever you were holding behind your back’ he blurted, leaving silence upon.

‘Just stay out of my business’ she coldly replied and went on her way, leaving him. ‘Yeah, you’re welcome!’ he yelled

‘Shut up!’ she only responded, and went the other way, he actually lied, they had different classes on this period, but they are classmates in chemistry.  Now he realized it, that act was foolish, he shouldn’t have done that, she wasn’t even gratified that he saved her skin.

[junker-town]

My awkward, long-lost Geocities page about Michigan football makes me feel 13 forever

The internet was a much simpler place in 2001. It was also WAY more embarrassing.

Welcome to the Geocities website I made about Michigan football when I was 13. Click the link; it’s important. Here is a wavy flag:

Geocities gave you the chance to run your own internet boom town. Anyone could start a website using its platform, and it let you do a lot. Geocities could handle a broad spectrum of colors, sounds, clip art, animation, and pages layered behind pages of content about whatever you wanted to present to the world. A lot of it was gibberish that rarely appealed to anyone, but that gibberish was made with love. Anyone who started a Geocities website felt like a pioneer, magician, and tech god all in one. They created something where there was nothing, and they did it using computers.

This is how I chose to introduce myself to the world:

Welcome everybody to my homepage. My name is Louis, and I'm a 13 year old 8th grader in Ann Arbor Michigan. I am a diehard fan and follow football very religiously, including recruiting, the draft, and coaching. Also, It is a dream of mine to become a football coach when I grow up, so if you could e-mail me at HPDrifter128@ameritech.net with some tips, I would be ever most greatful. In this website I will post links to some of my favorite sites, plus articles by moi discussing thing going on in Michigan football. Plus the occasional article on hockey or basketball, plus updated links on articles by ESPN, Sports Illustrated etc.

I wrote that in 2001. They’re my first words ever as a sports writer and quite possibly the most earnest words I’ve ever published on the internet, too. Back then it was cool just to let people know who you are. Someone in China could stumble on my homepage and go, “Oh shit, there’s a kid across the world who’s into sports,” and that extant possibility was gratifying on its own — someone I don’t know knows me. There was less understanding — or at least, I didn’t understand it then — that you were whispering into a chasm or that you couldn’t stand out on your basic facts alone. But then, I really was what I said I was: a 13-year-old dork looking for coaching tips to a sport I could never dream of playing.

On Oct. 26, 2009, Yahoo! shuttered Geocities for good. There were approximately 38 million Geocities pages at the time, according to Wired, mine among them — all gone. Let’s call this day The Darkness.

On the day The Darkness came, a lot of love left this world. Granted, a lot of those sites had been abandoned and broken already. The people who let those pages wither never wanted to see them die, however. As Geocities went down, a number of web collectives started saving every page they could.

Don’t click any of these links, they’re probably malware.

If you really want to relive those halcyon days, you can download a 652-gigabyte torrent from a “loose collective of rogue archivists, programmers, writers and loudmouths” called Archive Team and rummage through the detritus yourself. I found my old page years ago when the memory of it (I don’t know from where) entered my head and I began to google. Maybe on the fifth page of results, I landed on the Wayback Machine.

Unfortunately, most of the links on my website don’t work anymore. Just three of the Features on the left-hand side are clickable — recent articles, schedules, and an “About Me” section.

No good Geocities site didn’t have an “About Me” section. Note: It’s not an “About” section. Websites then were treated like virtual mountain tops where plain people could tell the world how plain they were. Geocities sites nominally provided a service — back then, I believe 80 percent was dedicated to GoldenEye cheat codes — but behind those services was somebody who really just wanted you to know who he was and be proud of his work.

In my “About Me” section, I revealed that I was the clinical definition of a goober.

Backround- I was born Nov. 22nd 1987 in Ann Arbor Michigan. I have lived here my entire life. I stand at 4 feet 11 inches, and am the shortest person in my 8th grade class. My favorite color is blue(of course), and my second favorite is green. My favorite food is couscous. My shoe size is a 7 mens. My favorite movie is Any Given Sunday. And my favorite book is Pet Semetary by Stephen King, my second favorite is the 2000 Michigan football media guide.

Music- I am very ranged in my tastes of music, I like from Garth Brooks (long neck bottle) to Limp Bizkit (Keep Rollin' Rollin' Rollin' Rollin'). My favorite group is the Beastie Boys who play my favorite song called Paul Revere. My favorite person from the Beastie Boys is Adrock. We were both born A cusp of November (He was born on Oct. 30th, the cusp beween November and October, I was Born on Nov. 22nd the cusp between Scorpio and Sagitarrius).

These may be the most mortifying words that exist about anyone on Earth. I’ve struggled to write this section because I have to look away from the screen repeatedly due to debilitating embarrassment:

The counter still works, and is now counting AWAY from the Michigan vs. Washington game.

The shame is two-fold: 1) Because everything up there is true — I remember that media guide as one my favorite Christmas gifts ever, and God help me that’s what I thought music was then, and 2) because I remember how much care I put into writing that.

As a small, exceedingly shy, anxiety-ridden kid, I really cared about that website. Whoever archived it found it at its inception. The counter shows 21 visitors. I had more than that over the course of the probably year-and-change I kept it up. I got traffic from family and from the members of the Michigan message board that I lurked on. Any time I updated the site — with either fresh links, or a new game recap — I’d post it to the message board, and would receive a lot of mostly friendly feedback about what I thought Lloyd Carr should have done (throw the ball) and not done (run the ball).

I considered these exchanges “conversations.” I had trouble making words come from my mouth. People call that “talking,” but talking was a stretch goal for me. In school, anytime I thought I ought to speak my heart thumped so hard that it suppressed the air from lungs and stopped the words at my chest. If I said anything out loud it was in a whisper, at the floor, several beats later than I wanted. But in writing, words don’t have volume. That’s why I got into sportswriting then and largely why I’m still in it now. Writing is still best way I know how to speak.

[A brief interlude] Hahahahaha eat it Corso:

"Michigan has no chance to have a great football season, in my opinion. They play too many good teams that are as good or better than they are, and a lot of them are away from home. That makes it more difficult. They can stumble and be a really fine football team, losing three games at least."-ESPN analyst Lee Corso on Michigan the summer before Michigan's 12-0 record and national championship season.

[OK, back] The schedule section is easily my favorite part of all this.

First, there’s the internal logic. You can tell the importance of each game by the font size: Michigan State is a marginally more important game than the rest, but it’s nothing compared to Notre Lame or OHIO STATE!!!!

Second: “Notre Lame” is such a satisfying thing to say or type in bold font, and it pains me that I can never use it unironically ever again. At some point in your life, you come to realize that your team isn’t intrinsically better or worse than any other and that sports tribalism is petty and arbitrary. I know that, but I still don’t feel it to be true.

I want to yell “Notre Lame” from my roof into the night. I wouldn’t, because I know that I would feel like a goofus afterward. But the fact that “Dame” rhymes with “Lame” is immutable. It is truth; as true as night turning into day or that Notre Dame went 4-8 last season.

This is my second favorite part:

Forgot to mention in my profile that I'm a master at fooseball. Let me put it this way, my sister beats all the Frat brothers at the University of Wisconsin, and I beat her 10 to 6. Plus I can beat my dad, who is better than my sister. Here's a link to fooseball.com.

When you’re a largely incapable adolescent person, you glom onto what few skills you have. I could have put Mario Kart up here, but I was all about foosball at the time. The day I beat my dad was one of my proudest, and I mean that. Being better than your dad at something is maybe the first sign in a young man’s life that, someday, he won’t suck. I went to fooseball.com a lot. It outlined a lot of techniques that I practiced on my own. I think the site was based in the United Kingdom. It doesn’t exist as it did then.

Here were my hobbies.

My Hobbies- Sports and hangin' around are my hobbies. When I'm with friends we always play basketball, or football, or soccer, or some sort of sport. Following all sports is fun to. It's like watching a masculine soap opera. Hanging around is always fun, I'm a pretty lazy guy so that's what I do most of the time. It's always fun to go the mall or downtown and talk to people, just random people. I have made many friends that way, and enemies.

For the most part, these are still my hobbies. My life has centered on sports and hangin’ around since I was born. They’re still maybe my two favorite things. Sixteen years later, I’ve learned that adding 1) alcohol, and 2) pals to sports and hangin’ around often makes both things better, but otherwise I’m not a fundamentally different person than I was then. I still think I’m a lazy guy, only now I feel obligated to deal with the complex question of why that is.

The last two sentences of that excerpted paragraph are lies. I liked to wander the mall and downtown with my friends, but I didn’t spend much time talking to anyone. At most, I might yell something dumb my friends told me to yell at a stranger; a product of being into Jackass. I made no friends that way and haven’t had an honest-to-god enemy in my life. I was the most innocuous kid on the planet. I wrote those words to add intrigue to what I may have felt even then was a fraught and boring but otherwise happy existence.

Unfortunately, we only have one snapshot of that paragraph. I’d like to see how it evolved over time and what other activities I invented. Geocities let me create, mold, and catalog an image of myself as I saw it. Geocities illuminated that image. For a while, it was my claim in a world that was so much smaller then.

If you, too, have an embarrassing old Geocities/Angelfire/Blogspot/Xanga/LiveJournal/SB Nation page, PLEASE share it in the comments below.

[sterlinghamilton]

The Four

This is a small concept script for a video game regarding the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse I did one day for fun. It was the first script I ever did but I enjoyed writing it. It is about a man in a dying world taking on a self gratifying quest to collect strange items for a major company in order to collect the prize of food. 

THE FOUR 

FADE UP: 

EXT. CITY – MORNING. 

Scans over a decrepit city landscape. Clouds cover the sky, there is a sense of doom in the picture. Buildings are held together well but the streets are littered with broken down cars, crumbles of walls, broken windows. Nature is beginning to creep into the city; vines are growing along cracks in walls, flowers have sprung up from the broken pavement and roads. A distant cry of a crow echoes over a street as the camera pans over the area, it flies up and disappears out of the corner of the screen. The title silently materializes over the picture. 

INT. A SINGLE BEDROOM APARTMENT - DAY 

An old brown couch rests against the far wall where a television plays in front, the voice of a news reporter in a low hum. The window is open a crack and the crow from before lands on the windowsill and the rustle of his feathers wakes the man sleeping on the flat mattress on the floor. TANNER (20s) lets out a low grunt as he opens his turquoise eyes for the first time, pupils contracting from the window light. He is unkempt and unshaven, a mess of light brown hair obscuring much of his face. Shifting, he leans onto the T.V. remote at his side hitting the "up" arrow on the volume though he doesn’t seem to mind the noise. Sitting up, he gives his head a scratch. 

T.V. REPORTER And in other news, mass food shortages on the East Coast have caused major concern amongst residents as random terror attacks on supply caravans continue. The Company is now reaching out to the public... 

Tanner stands as the camera pans behind him. He walks to his pantry and opens it, sifting through the shelves and empty cans hoping to find one that isn’t, but only manages to knock the empty ones to the ground. Tanner sighs and bends to pick them up. 

TANNER Right. Guess I’m eating out. 

Tanner makes his way out of his apartment and into the hall, a run down row of suites. The ones with doors are splintered and painted over lazily or marked with obscene graffiti and the ones without expose their tenants as sleeping on bare mattresses or tattered sheets. 

EXT. CITY STREET - DAY 

He walks down the steps of the building and views the street. There are a few barricades set up outside of alleys, posters flutter in the breeze and one flies off and tumbles down the street. Tanner begins to walk, the more he walks the more the city is laid out for him. There are walls to climb, stores with broken windows. He goes towards one but there is no food. He sighs and continues on, picking up random things to put away for later. 

RANDOM STRANGER  I can’t believe there isn’t any food! My daughter is going to starve! 

Walks by, not paying attention to Tanner. 

TANNER Gotta find food soon... 

Continues walking, trying to find anything around. RANDOM KID Runs down the street towards Tanner and the civilians of the city that wander the street. All are dressed in regular clothes but the signs of starvation, lack of personal care have begun to show signs. Their clothes are tattered in some places, their hair messy, marks of dirt on their bodies. Hallowed cheeks are a more common indication of who has been more successful with finding food. 

The kid (10) is wearing a faded red shirt and dirty brown shorts, his knees are bandaged up and there is a small knife hanging from his belt. A truck got through! A truck is coming! Everyone looks up, shocked, and hurry towards the drop off zone. TANNER Follows the crowd to the drop off point where a single large beat up truck is slowly backing up, each BEEP rings loudly and the people that have gathered are pressing against the city limit gates. The men in uniform that act as the guards that watch the gate are telling people to back up, that there is enough food for everyone. The loud BEEPING stops and Tanners heart beat can be heard, each one drawing out another second that passes. 

TANNER God, it’s been days since I’ve eaten. 

The door to the truck opens and crates of food are shown. Everyone shouts as they push to get to the front. Tanner hangs back. The crowd isn’t large enough to go through everything that is there. 

EXT. CITY STREET – CONTINUOUS 

Footsteps are seen and the camera pans out to a sizeable group of MEN in tattered clothing with self made armour run at full speed towards the crowd of hungry people. The crowd regards them, but don’t do anything until the men pull out weapons. Screams fall from the crowd as the guards rush through, people either run at the truck to grab food before the gang can get to it or begin to run away from the whole thing. 

TANNER You’ve got to be kidding me. 

One gang member raises his weapon and swings, but Tanner dodges it and grabs his arm, a quick twist causes the man to dislocate his shoulder as Tanner grabs up the iron bar for his own protection. 

TANNER – CONT’D. Like hell I’m going another day hungry. 

He turns towards the gang, they are attacking guards and random civilians. Choosing not to stick his nose in a dangerous situation, he turns towards the truck and the mission to get his share of food is now on. Running forward he ducks under a blow from a baseball bat and trips over a fallen figure. Stumbling into another guy, Tanner finds himself in a middle of a fight that he just wants to get out of. Using the iron bar, he swings at a gang member, clocking him in the jaw. The sound of the man’s pain blurts out as the man falls to the ground and Tanner hurries away from the other. 

TANNER – CONT’D. Jesus does the fighting ever stop? 

Gets to the gate and falls against it, viewing the situation at hand. The gang wins as more civilians run instead of fighting. The handful of guards on duty are overwhelmed. Tanner sneaks around the entrance of the gate. The door to the truck is still open, crates had been ripped apart by the civilians who ran to the truck before going to safety. Fingers reach towards the loaf of bread sticking out from a crate, Tanner’s fingertips brush against the rough texture. Suddenly the wind picks up and a bright spotlight shines down on the area. Tanner looks up, mouth agape. SOLDIER Within the helicopter that had descended over the fight, one of the SOLDIERS shouts through a mega phone at the group. 

SOLDIER Drop your weapons! 

SOLDIERS in full combat gear jump out of the open doors of the helicopter and another flies overhead, blocking the exit down the street. Soldiers fly down from ropes attached to the helicopter and guns are pointed at everyone. The Company will be confiscating all items of conflict! TANNER Stops reaching towards the bread when the truck shakes. Wires shoot out of the helicopter and hook the top of the truck with grapple like hooks. The truck is dragged from from the area as the soldiers close in. 

TANNER No no no no! 

Tanner looks around, not wanting to be taken in by the authority figures. He sees an opening between soldiers and gang members and makes a run for it. 

SOLDIER Hey! 

TANNER Makes an escape through an alley and keeps running until he’s around the corner. Bends over, catching his breath. 

TANNER Shit! Son of a bitch! 

Turns and kicks over a trash can. 

TANNER - CON’T Shit! Shit! Shit! 

Stomps on it repeatedly. Stops, panting, falls against the brick wall a hand runs down his face. 

TANNER - CON’T What am I supposed to do? At this rate I won’t eat for the next week... I’m going to starve. 

Stands up straight and pushes himself to walk forward, Continues down the alley towards another street. 

TANNER - CONT’D. There isn’t much to do, might as well wander. 

INT. STRANGER’S HOME - NIGHT 

A TV is on, playing the only station that continues to work. The feed fades in and out, but the message is clear. 

NEWS REPORTER Gang attacks continue to plague our cities, there is no distinct gangs out there to blame. But because of this, The Company has decided to contact the citizens of the US directly. Here is the message... 

Static follows and suddenly a figure in a black business jacket appears. He looks well put together, clean. 

BUSINESS MAN Dear citizens of our country. The waves of attacks will not stop us from building a new empire out of the old. But our concern is the food crisis. What we want you to understand is that we are looking out for you and we will continue to devote our efforts to make this country safe. However... 

He leans forward towards the screen. 

BUSINESS MAN - CON’T We are posting a job with excellent rewards for anyone who is able to fulfill it. Within unknown cities across the country a misplaced item of is in need of locating. The item in question is very important to us and while you may be tempted to keep the item for yourself and pawn it off, we can assure you that any able body man or woman who delivers the item or items to us will be rewarded with a life time supply of food and water. Again, these items are important to us, they must be found. Thank you. 

The message is cut off and the reporter is shown sitting in her seat, stunned into silence. 

T.V. REPORTER Y-Yes, that was a message from the vice president of The Company. For any further information, please contact your local protection agents. Next...

[readbookywooks]

3 The moment the anthem ends, we are taken into custody. I don't mean we're handcuffed or anything, but a group of Peacekeepers marches us through the front door of the Justice Building. Maybe tributes have tried to escape in the past. I've never seen that happen though. Once inside, I'm conducted to a room and left alone. It's the richest place I've ever been in, with thick, deep carpets and a velvet couch and chairs. I know velvet because my mother has a dress with a collar made of the stuff. When I sit on the couch, I can't help running my fingers over the fabric repeatedly. It helps to calm me as I try to prepare for the next hour. The time allotted for the tributes to say goodbye to their loved ones. I cannot afford to get upset, to leave this room with puffy eyes and a red nose. Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station. My sister and my mother come first. I reach out to Prim and she climbs on my lap, her arms around my neck, head on my shoulder, just like she did when she was a toddler. My mother sits beside me and wraps her arms around us. For a few minutes, we say nothing. Then I start telling them all the things they must remember to do, now that I will not be there to do them for them. Prim is not to take any tesserae. They can get by, if they're careful, on selling Prim's goat milk and cheese and the small apothecary business my mother now runs for the people in the Seam. Gale will get her the herbs she doesn't grow herself, but she must be very careful to describe them because he's not as familiar with them as I am. He'll also bring them game  -  he and I made a pact about this a year or so ago  -  and will probably not ask for compensation, but they should thank him with some kind of trade, like milk or medicine. I don't bother suggesting Prim learn to hunt. I tried to teach her a couple of times and it was disastrous. The woods terrified her, and whenever I shot something, she'd get teary and talk about how we might be able to heal it if we got it home soon enough. But she makes out well with her goat, so I concentrate on that. When I am done with instructions about fuel, and trading, and staying in school, I turn to my mother and grip her arm, hard. "Listen to me. Are you listening to me?" She nods, alarmed by my intensity. She must know what's coming. "You can't leave again," I say. My mother's eyes find the floor. "I know. I won't. I couldn't help what - " "Well, you have to help it this time. You can't clock out and leave Prim on her own. There's no me now to keep you both alive. It doesn't matter what happens. Whatever you see on the screen. You have to promise me you'll fight through it!" My voice has risen to a shout. In it is all the anger, all the fear I felt at her abandonment. She pulls her arm from my grasp, moved to anger herself now. "I was ill. I could have treated myself if I'd had the medicine I have now." That part about her being ill might be true. I've seen her bring back people suffering from immobilizing sadness since. Perhaps it is a sickness, but it's one we can't afford. "Then take it. And take care of her!" I say. "I'll be all right, Katniss," says Prim, clasping my face in her hands. "But you have to take care, too. You're so fast and brave. Maybe you can win." I can't win. Prim must know that in her heart. The competition will be far beyond my abilities. Kids from wealthier districts, where winning is a huge honor, who've been trained their whole lives for this. Boys who are two to three times my size. Girls who know twenty different ways to kill you with a knife. Oh, there'll be people like me, too. People to weed out before the real fun begins. "Maybe," I say, because I can hardly tell my mother to carry on if I've already given up myself. Besides, it isn't in my nature to go down without a fight, even when things seem insurmountable. "Then we'd be rich as Haymitch." "I don't care if we're rich. I just want you to come home. You will try, won't you? Really, really try?" asks Prim. "Really, really try. I swear it," I say. And I know, because of Prim, I'll have to. And then the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling our time is up, and we're all hugging one another so hard it hurts and all I'm saying is "I love you. I love you both." And they're saying it back and then the Peacekeeper orders them out and the door closes. I bury my head in one of the velvet pillows as if this can block the whole thing out. Someone else enters the room, and when I look up, I'm surprised to see it's the baker, Peeta Mellark's father. I can't believe he's come to visit me. After all, I'll be trying to kill his son soon. But we do know each other a bit, and he knows Prim even better. When she sells her goat cheeses at the Hob, she puts two of them aside for him and he gives her a generous amount of bread in return. We always wait to trade with him when his witch of a wife isn't around because he's so much nicer. I feel certain he would never have hit his son the way she did over the burned bread. But why has he come to see me? The baker sits awkwardly on the edge of one of the plush chairs. He's a big, broad-shouldered man with burn scars from years at the ovens. He must have just said goodbye to his son. He pulls a white paper package from his jacket pocket and holds it out to me. I open it and find cookies. These are a luxury we can never afford. "Thank you," I say. The baker's not a very talkative man in the best of times, and today he has no words at all. "I had some of your bread this morning. My friend Gale gave you a squirrel for it." He nods, as if remembering the squirrel. "Not your best trade," I say. He shrugs as if it couldn't possibly matter. Then I can't think of anything else, so we sit in silence until a Peacemaker summons him. He rises and coughs to clear his throat. "I'll keep an eye on the little girl. Make sure she's eating." I feel some of the pressure in my chest lighten at his words. People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive. My next guest is also unexpected. Madge walks straight to me. She is not weepy or evasive, instead there's an urgency about her tone that surprises me. "They let you wear one thing from your district in the arena. One thing to remind you of home. Will you wear this?" She holds out the circular gold pin that was on her dress earlier. I hadn't paid much attention to it before, but now I see it's a small bird in flight. "Your pin?" I say. Wearing a token from my district is about the last thing on my mind. "Here, I'll put it on your dress, all right?" Madge doesn't wait for an answer, she just leans in and fixes the bird to my dress. "Promise you'll wear it into the arena, Katniss?" she asks. "Promise?" "Yes," I say. Cookies. A pin. I'm getting all kinds of gifts today. Madge gives me one more. A kiss on the cheek. Then she's gone and I'm left thinking that maybe Madge really has been my friend all along. Finally, Gale is here and maybe there is nothing romantic between us, but when he opens his arms I don't hesitate to go into them. His body is familiar to me  -  the way it moves, the smell of wood smoke, even the sound of his heart beating I know from quiet moments on a hunt  -  but this is the first time I really feel it, lean and hard-muscled against my own. "Listen," he says. "Getting a knife should be pretty easy, but you've got to get your hands on a bow. That's your best chance." "They don't always have bows," I say, thinking of the year there were only horrible spiked maces that the tributes had to bludgeon one another to death with. "Then make one," says Gale. "Even a weak bow is better than no bow at all." I have tried copying my father's bows with poor results. It's not that easy. Even he had to scrap his own work sometimes. "I don't even know if there'll be wood," I say. Another year, they tossed everybody into a landscape of nothing but boulders and sand and scruffy bushes. I particularly hated that year. Many contestants were bitten by venomous snakes or went insane from thirst. "There's almost always some wood," Gale says. "Since that year half of them died of cold. Not much entertainment in that." It's true. We spent one Hunger Games watching the players freeze to death at night. You could hardly see them because they were just huddled in balls and had no wood for fires or torches or anything. It was considered very anti-climactic in the Capitol, all those quiet, bloodless deaths. Since then, there's usually been wood to make fires. "Yes, there's usually some," I say. "Katniss, it's just hunting. You're the best hunter I know," says Gale. "It's not just hunting. They're armed. They think," I say. "So do you. And you've had more practice. Real practice," he says. "You know how to kill." "Not people," I say. "How different can it be, really?" says Gale grimly. The awful thing is that if I can forget they're people, it will be no different at all. The Peacekeepers are back too soon and Gale asks for more time, but they're taking him away and I start to panic. "Don't let them starve!" I cry out, clinging to his hand. "I won't! You know I won't! Katniss, remember I  - " he says, and they yank us apart and slam the door and I'll never know what it was he wanted me to remember. It's a short ride from the Justice Building to the train station. I've never been in a car before. Rarely even ridden in wagons. In the Seam, we travel on foot. I've been right not to cry. The station is swarming with reporters with their insectlike cameras trained directly on my face. But I've had a lot of practice at wiping my face clean of emotions and I do this now. I catch a glimpse of myself on the television screen on the wall that's airing my arrival live and feel gratified that I appear almost bored. Peeta Mellark, on the other hand, has obviously been crying and interestingly enough does not seem to be trying to cover it up. I immediately wonder if this will be his strategy in the Games. To appear weak and frightened, to reassure the other tributes that he is no competition at all, and then come out fighting. This worked very well for a girl, Johanna Mason, from District 7 a few years back. She seemed like such a sniveling, cowardly fool that no one bothered about her until there were only a handful of contestants left. It turned out she could kill viciously. Pretty clever, the way she played it. But this seems an odd strategy for Peeta Mellark because he's a baker's son. All those years of having enough to eat and hauling bread trays around have made him broad-shouldered and strong. It will take an awful lot of weeping to convince anyone to overlook him. We have to stand for a few minutes in the doorway of the train while the cameras gobble up our images, then we're allowed inside and the doors close mercifully behind us. The train begins to move at once. The speed initially takes my breath away. Of course, I've never been on a train, as travel between the districts is forbidden except for officially sanctioned duties. For us, that's mainly transporting coal. But this is no ordinary coal train. It's one of the high-speed Capitol models that average 250 miles per hour. Our journey to the Capitol will take less than a day. In school, they tell us the Capitol was built in a place once called the Rockies. District 12 was in a region known is Appalachia. Even hundreds of years ago, they mined coal here. Which is why our miners have to dig so deep. Somehow it all comes back to coal at school. Besides basic reading and math most of our instruction is coal-related. Except for the weekly lecture on the history of Panem. It's mostly a lot of blather about what we owe the Capitol. I know there must be more than they're telling us, an actual account of what happened during the rebellion. But I don't spend much time thinking about it. Whatever the truth is, I don't see how it will help me get food on the table. The tribute train is fancier than even the room in the Justice Building. We are each given our own chambers that have a bedroom, a dressing area, and a private bathroom with hot and cold running water. We don't have hot water at home, unless we boil it. There are drawers filled with fine clothes, and Effie Trinket tells me to do anything I want, wear anything I want, everything is at my disposal. Just be ready for supper in an hour. I peel off my mother's blue dress and take a hot shower. I've never had a shower before. It's like being in a summer rain, only warmer. I dress in a dark green shirt and pants. At the last minute, I remember Madge's little gold pin. For the first time, I get a good look at it. It's as if someone fashioned a small golden bird and then attached a ring around it. The bird is connected to the ring only by its wing tips. I suddenly recognize it. A mocking jay. They're funny birds and something of a slap in the face to the Capitol. During the rebellion, the Capitol bred a series of genetically altered animals as weapons. The common term for them was muttations, or sometimes mutts for short. One was a special bird called a jabber jay that had the ability to memorize and repeat whole human conversations. They were homing birds, exclusively male, that were released into regions where the Capitol's enemies were known to be hiding. After the birds gathered words, they'd fly back to centers to be recorded. It took people awhile to realize what was going on in the districts, how private conversations were being transmitted. Then, of course, the rebels fed the Capitol endless lies, and the joke was on it. So the centers were shut down and the birds were abandoned to die off in the wild. Only they didn't die off. Instead, the jabber jays mated with female mockingbirds creating a whole new species that could replicate both bird whistles and human melodies. They had lost the ability to enunciate words but could still mimic a range of human vocal sounds, from a child's high-pitched warble to a man's deep tones. And they could re-create songs. Not just a few notes, but whole songs with multiple verses, if you had the patience to sing them and if they liked your voice. My father was particularly fond of mockingjays. When we went hunting, he would whistle or sing complicated songs to them and, after a polite pause, they'd always sing back. Not everyone is treated with such respect. But whenever my father sang, all the birds in the area would fall silent and listen. His voice was that beautiful, high and clear and so filled with life it made you want to laugh and cry at the same time. I could never bring myself to continue the practice after he was gone. Still, there's something comforting about the little bird. It's like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me. I fasten the pin onto my shirt, and with the dark green fabric as a background, I can almost imagine the mockingjay flying through the trees. Effie Trinket comes to collect me for supper. I follow her through the narrow, rocking corridor into a dining room with polished paneled walls. There's a table where all the dishes are highly breakable. Peeta Mellark sits waiting for us, the chair next to him empty. "Where's Haymitch?" asks Effie Trinket brightly. "Last time I saw him, he said he was going to take a nap," says Peeta. "Well, it's been an exhausting day," says Effie Trinket. I think she's relieved by Haymitch's absence, and who can blame her? The supper comes in courses. A thick carrot soup, green salad, lamb chops and mashed potatoes, cheese and fruit, a chocolate cake. Throughout the meal, Effie Trinket keeps reminding us to save space because there's more to come. But I'm stuffing myself because I've never had food like this, so good and so much, and because probably the best thing I can do between now and the Games is put on a few pounds. "At least, you two have decent manners," says Effie as we're finishing the main course. "The pair last year ate everything with their hands like a couple of savages. It completely upset my digestion." The pair last year were two kids from the Seam who'd never, not one day of their lives, had enough to eat. And when they did have food, table manners were surely the last thing on their minds. Peeta's a baker's son. My mother taught Prim and I to eat properly, so yes, I can handle a fork and knife. But I hate Effie Trinket's comment so much I make a point of eating the rest of my meal with my fingers. Then I wipe my hands on the tablecloth. This makes her purse her lips tightly together. Now that the meal's over, I'm fighting to keep the food down. I can see Peeta's looking a little green, too. Neither of our stomachs is used to such rich fare. But if I can hold down Greasy Sae's concoction of mice meat, pig entrails, and tree bark  -  a winter specialty  -  I'm determined to hang on to this. We go to another compartment to watch the recap of the reapings across Panem. They try to stagger them throughout the day so a person could conceivably watch the whole thing live, but only people in the Capitol could really do that, since none of them have to attend reapings themselves. One by one, we see the other reapings, the names called, (the volunteers stepping forward or, more often, not. We examine the faces of the kids who will be our competition. A few stand out in my mind. A monstrous boy who lunges forward to volunteer from District 2. A fox-faced girl with sleek red hair from District 5. A boy with a crippled foot from District 10. And most hauntingly, a twelve-year-old girl from District 11. She has dark brown skin and eyes, but other than that, she's very like Prim in size and demeanor. Only when she mounts the stage and they ask for volunteers, all you can hear is the wind whistling through the decrepit buildings around her. There's no one willing to take her place. Last of all, they show District 12. Prim being called, me running forward to volunteer. You can't miss the desperation in my voice as I shove Prim behind me, as if I'm afraid no one will hear and they'll take Prim away. But, of course, they do hear. I see Gale pulling her off me and watch myself mount the stage. The commentators are not sure what to say about the crowd's refusal to applaud. The silent salute. One says that District 12 has always been a bit backward but that local customs can be charming. As if on cue, Haymitch falls off the stage, and they groan comically. Peeta's name is drawn, and he quietly takes his place. We shake hands. They cut to the anthem again, and the pro-gram ends. Effie Trinket is disgruntled about the state her wig was in. "Your mentor has a lot to learn about presentation. A lot about televised behavior." Peeta unexpectedly laughs. "He was drunk," says Peeta. "He's drunk every year." "Every day," I add. I can't help smirking a little. Effie Trinket makes it sound like Haymitch just has somewhat rough manners that could be corrected with a few tips from her. "Yes," hisses Effie Trinket. "How odd you two find it amusing. You know your mentor is your lifeline to the world in these Games. The one who advises you, lines up your sponsors, and dictates the presentation of any gifts. Haymitch can well be the difference between your life and your death!" Just then, Haymitch staggers into the compartment. "I miss supper?" he says in a slurred voice. Then he vomits all over the expensive carpet and falls in the mess. "So laugh away!" says Effie Trinket. She hops in her pointy shoes around the pool of vomit and flees the room.