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jj-ktae · 4 years

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Game Ten - Enjoying -

Title : Survival Games Genre : AU, Angst, Fluff, Romance Pairing : Taeyong x You (reader) Summary : A deserted island and no hope left. There is only despair and this boy, Lee Taeyong, who seems to be the only survivor. You both were on the flight KAL134, from Auckland to Seoul. Words : 4454

Teaser - Discovering - Sharing - Thinking - Accepting - Hoping - Breathing - Missing - Treasuring - Longing -

Game Ten - Enjoying

It’s a different type of survival.

It’s wrapped into cotton, soft and sweet and cuddly. You go to sleep feeling complete and wake up mesmerised.

And it’s all thanks to Taeyong. He doesn’t change much but gets more obvious. There’s no hiding when he wraps his arms around your neck in the middle of the beach, no blushing when he pecks your lips, no embarrassment when he takes care of yet another bruise on your body.

It’s surprising.

Taeyong feels at ease with this situation, like he expected it to happen and was preparing himself to become a perfect boyfriend. Come to think of it, he has been doing the same thing when you were on your own in that jungle, minus the kisses.

It feels like he unleashed a love beast, smiling and unable to take his hands off you. You find yourself scolding him gently when he cuddles in the morning, blocking your body until you’re a suffocating mess.

His cheeky giggles are priceless, every single time.

His friends look appeased, their smiles making them look more relieved than anything. It’s like Taeyong is out of a hell he had been pushed into all his life.

One night you decide to try to know more. Taeyong has been asking questions about your life in New Zealand but never did he talk about his own past. You want to know why he acted the way he did, what he meant when he told you he would have loved to feel important back then. You drag Taeyong into the jungle one evening, looking for a place where it’s peaceful yet pretty enough to have that type of conversation.

You offer him the fruits you picked earlier that day, trying to make him comfortable enough but he seems to be cautious.

“Why are we eating this here?” He peels the tropical fruit – you’ll never remember its name but it’s juicy - and offers a piece, his free hand swatting yours as he feeds you.

You watch in awe, as he licks his fingers off the sweet juice and goes back to his task. Now isn’t the moment to focus on his actions. Taeyong is horribly attractive and hot without even trying but this isn’t the problem. You can do it.

“I thought we could stay…just the two of us…?” You find it hard to be convincing. Most of the time you prefer staying at the camp, the idea of walking down the jungle inducing a bit too much anxiety for your own good.

Taeyong knows it, he probably knows everything about you and his ability to observe things makes him snort sweetly, a smile appearing on his face as he leans against the rock next to you. “What do you want to know?”

“W-What?” he takes you off-guard as always with his no-bullshit policy. That’s something you have yet to get accustomed to. Taeyong doesn’t bullshit and hates beating around the bush. He might have taken forever to tell you his feelings but now that this is done, you discover how much of a franc person he can be. Especially when he not-so-subtly told Solene to stop following him because he had no interest in her and would rather spend time with you. She looked hurt but quickly recovered, mocking him for being so full of himself. Taeyong nodded, not the least offended by all the shit she threw at him before walking away, peacefully.

“You brought me here, brought fruits,” He shows your bag and the scenery before finding your eyes. “You look like you’re walking on eggs. You’re stuttering, too.”

You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest and looking bewildered. “And what makes you think that?”

Taeyong adores your annoyed face but keeps a straight expression, playing along. “You’re not so discreet, miss. You’d be the first one caught in a mission.”

Your smile flatters, the reference bringing you back on what you brought him here for. There is a whole part about Taeyong that you need to know about and something tells you it’s not going to be the most endearing story.

That is, if he agrees on telling you more.

As always he notices, his mouth forming a straight line as he nods. “So this is what we’re talking about….I guess I won’t be that mysterious guy anymore…” he tries to play it cool but deep inside he is freaking out. It has nothing to do with not wanting you to know more about him. He doesn’t want to hide anything but maybe you shouldn’t know more. He has done things he isn’t proud of and his story is not a fairy tale.

On top of that, Taeyong would never be able to handle it if you’d ever start pitying him.

You catch him deep in thoughts and try to stop him from overthinking the situation. “You don’t have to tell me anything. If you’re not comfortable it’s okay. I just…really want to know more about you and there’s nothing except that moment we met on that beach until now...” You trail off, biting your lip and looking away.

Taeyong puts your bag away and gives you the rest of the fruit you both started eating. “I want to put my head on your lap. Therapy style, you know,” he moves until his head finds your lap before smiling. “You have to promise that nothing will change. That you’ll still stay by my side.”

He looks awfully genuine, his eyes captivating as he finds a good position on the ground.

He makes you go vulnerable. The way he talks added to the way he looks at you breaks all the barriers. You feel naked, like you can’t protect yourself anymore but you understood that he is the one taking that spot now and preventing you from being exposed to the bad things of the world.

Taeyong is that unflattering and loyal barrier, the one you know will always be your ally.

You melt as he keeps on staring, hands letting the fruit rest next to you to cup his face with tender hands.

“There’s nothing you could say that would ever make me leave your side, Taeyong.”

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and you guess it’s the first time he hears this because when he opens them, they look shinier than before.

“Thank you.” Is all he answers, before starting from the beginning.

He looks hesitant at first, but doesn’t leave any details. You listen carefully, as he starts talking about his childhood. He tells you he was a very weak kid with not even an ounce of spitefulness. His childhood wasn’t so bad because he had a very protective older sister but he could see his parents weren’t glad with how weak he looked. He explains he gained weight in primary school and ended up being bullied for being “fat”. He tells you he didn’t care at first, until his sister started protecting him and he was mocked even more for being fat and hiding behind a girl.

He stops from time to time to smile at you because your face falls. He chuckles when you whisper about uneducated kids and how you would have probably beat them up for being so stupid.

“That was the problem. My sister isn’t that much older than me yet she was way stronger. I have nothing against it, these kids did. There was nothing I could have done; my sister was so worried and I couldn’t tell her to stop. She would go around and kick them, she even told my parents. They weren’t happy and said I should be able to look after myself.” Taeyong tries to give more details so he wouldn’t look miserable, but he notices your face and forces himself to continue.

Taeyong keep on going. He talks about how it kept going until secondary school, how he would be mocked and how he decided to lie to his sister when she went to high school and couldn’t look after him. He tries to explain how it transformed him into a bastard in high school, how he became a bully as soon as his body started changing with puberty. He was able to stop this mess by joining the group of bully and did the same thing he resented the most: hurt the others.

“I thought I was taking revenge, but not even once did I feel satisfied. Maybe I thought it would protect me. I don’t know, I was quite stupid back then.” He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at the sky. Your hand goes to his hair to brush the locks away and scratch his scalp in hope it’d make him relax a little bit. He quickly looks at you and closes his eyes in order to continue.

The story gets darker from here. Taeyong doesn’t know how to explain that moment when he had enough of being a bully and decided to free himself from the group. It looks like it’s a painful memory for him as he tells you how he ended up being rejected by his own group and by the rest of the school. He speaks fast, like he wants that moment to disappear but still tells you how he went back to being their victim.

“I went back to the start. I was the one being bullied for not following them anymore. But then, I wasn’t the same. I wasn’t the chubby and shy kid they got to know in primary school. One day, as I got my backpack stolen and received a note saying to come and take it back after school, I decided to stop being a such a weakling.” Taeyong stops and raises a hand to rub his face. “I took my backpack and beat two of them. I didn’t know how to fight, but I had strength so I hit and hit until I couldn’t breathe. The first one ran way but the other one…”

You stop moving, head tilted to the side, “What happened to him?” you encourage, voice soft enough to give him strength.

“He ended up at the hospital.”

You gasp, a hand going to your mouth in shock. Taeyong stops, worry appearing on his face when he sees you react.

“I was so upset. I didn’t even notice how I had broken his nose, how he was barely breathing. I couldn’t stop until a teacher came and pulled me away. I was…enraged.” He finishes.

You don’t know what to answer. Even though bullying is horrible, you can’t exactly say he was right.

You can’t blame him though. Taeyong waits, expectant, waiting for you to tell him he is nothing but a monster. He is used to this. Nothing was the same in his neighbourhood after this. Nothing was the same in his entire life.

But you don’t move. You hand goes back to petting his hair and you’re staring back.

“Then..?”

He tries to compose himself when you only ask for him to continue and picks to ignore the uneasy feeling in his chest.

“Then it quickly went downhill. The kid’s family went to the police station, but since I wasn’t legal they told my parents that I should probably go to a detention camp. They agreed. I was sent there two years before graduating. The kid went to the hospital and I heard he was in an intensive care unit.” Taeyong shrugs like it doesn’t matter anymore, but the regret is here.

You on the other hand, know enough about being left-out to understand how he feels.

“They didn’t know what to do with us. I wasn’t like the other kids. They were out of control, they would fight and steal and be disrespectful. I was lucky enough to have a reputation. I was the kid who almost killed his classmate. No one dared to mess with me. There were three kids, all speaking English, who could walk by our horrendous courtyard. I don’t think they ever understood what this place was. They kept on staying behind the fence, probably talking about the kid sitting away from the others. They were so damn goofy, they insisted until I answered and I finally did. They didn’t know what I had done and were always trying to make me feel better, never asked anything. Jaehyun would give me money so I could buy myself things and Johnny would sneak among us when we were allowed to go shopping with a supervisor.” He smiles then, “It’s not like I was a monster anyways…”

“You were not a monster. As much as I hate fights, you were too young to know what you were doing, and no one tried to help either. There’s only so little one can tolerate before doing something stupid.” You try to reassure him because it obviously affects him. You can see the worry, even after this. Taeyong looks like he hopes the guy is okay now.

“They tried to find us jobs that would accept us. Coming from a detention camp meant forgetting about high positions and university. They brought many people but no one cared. One day, two officers from the foreign legion came. We were about to turn eighteen and it meant either detention for some of us, or liberty. I was smart enough to agree going with the foreign legion. Considering the kid’s family, they would have probably asked for prison. This is how I went abroad.”

“This is where you learnt about all this…”

Taeyong nods, “It wasn’t easy. I’m not going to complain because I agreed to it, but it was hell. The foreign legion is worse than the army and they love leaving us in the woods, or kidnap us in the middle of the night to test our resistance. It turned out that I had handled too much to cry or beg for it to stop. At the beginning, I felt alive. No one was being rude or fighting, no one was being disrespectful, no one cared about me and this is what I wanted. I wanted people to leave me the fuck alone. I didn’t want to be ‘fattyong’ or ‘the kid who attempted murder’, I was the Asian solder, the one coming from a detention camp and doing what he was asked.”

He sits again, stretching his now sore limbs. “Then I understood my limits. I was losing way too much weight because I wasn’t focusing on the important and ended up being left out by the group. I was too weak to continue, I got left in a damn river at 3 in the morning and collapsed because of the cold. It’s only when they told me that I had to take care of myself that I decided to stop. I understood I was suffering willingly because I was trying to punish myself. I was hating myself for being such a weak bastard, for not meeting my parents’ expectations, for leaving my sister behind and for almost killing a kid who didn’t deserve such a fate. I couldn’t stand seeing my own impoverished face. When I realised that, I was literally a recluse, I had no idea how to deal with normal human beings. It’s not a happy story. It wasn’t a happy story. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, a tired smile appearing on your face. “How did you meet Doyoung, though?”

“Doyoung? He was the doctor’s son. He would come every week with his father and was even more asocial than me. He hated every kid. His father owns his own hospital now. Before leaving I told the guys I would come back and when I called them, three years later, to let them know I was done with the foreign legion, they wasted no time inviting me with them on their trip. It turns out they had become good friends while I was away.” Taeyong finally looks happy when he mentions his friends, you see it from the way he grabs tiny stones and throws them.

After a while he talks again. “I thought you’d tell me how much of a freak I am. I was so damn anxious.” He admits, his face falling.

You smile, feeling more in love because of his sincerity than disgusted. Taeyong has been through a lot and deserves happiness. You’re willing to give him just that.

“You do know you’re important to me, right?” you ask out of the blue, suddenly desperate to let him know he isn’t alone and can rely on you. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. I don’t resent nor pity you, Taeyong. I’m just glad you feel comfortable enough to share this with me.” It’s true. You feel nothing but tenderness for the boy, whose face lit up instantly.

Taeyong doesn’t know what to do with himself. He has no experience in that field and it makes him all weird and fuzzy. He likes the feeling and tries to come up with something but the words get caught in his throat. He wants to yell and cry.

He isn’t even sure he deserves someone like you.

So he doesn’t try to be fancy and keeps it simple. He approaches you and takes your face between his two shaking hands.

“I love you.”

You tell him you do, too.

Taeyong feels lighter. It’s like he has nothing to hide, like you know him fully and love him for what he is. That night he carried you back on his back, ignoring the elderly people looking at you two. He covered you and kissed your forehead, his body nestled and mouth whispering sweet words until you fell asleep.

He is in deep trouble now, though.

Especially when he tags along during your shower session. You almost beg him to come and he agrees, knowing damn well he isn’t going to enjoy the moment you both end up washing each other. He knows it’s natural for you, but he doesn’t think he can handle such situations yet.

He forgot to tell you the part where he only touched a woman once, during one leave at the foreign legion when he had way too much to drink.

Taeyong doesn’t know if you’re questioning yourself. Maybe it’s only him, but he feels too many things to ignore them. You probably expect him to be the manly guy who can handle any situations.

Unfortunately, he knows more about tropical plants than desires.

“Do you want me to wash your hair? One of the lady made this with sand and herbs.” You’re still wearing that tank top and he hates how the water made it turn awfully transparent. You’re showing him a pot with a weird, sticky substance and he has to tear his eyes away from you.

You smile. “Are you okay?” he has been acting weird lately, like touching you hurts him.

Taeyong breathes out, nodding softly and turning around to kneel in the water. “Sure.”

You comply, ignoring the awkwardness and working on his hair. They might be dirty but they are always so soft. You hum absent-mindedly, rubbing the skin as Taeyong becomes a puddle of grunts.

He is done for.

“Don Juan is back!” Johnny mocks as soon as he sees him. Mark laughs like a kid and Doyoung scoffs, whispering about love fools as he is counting his medical supplies.

“I wish.” Taeyong’s answer makes them halt. It’s true that he changed since he is in a relationship. He smiles more and looks truly happy, but the real Taeyong would never react that way.

“What’s happening?” Doyoung tries, throwing a bandage into his bag. “I can’t help. We don’t have Viagra here.” He laughs when Taeyong makes a face but stops when he doesn’t hear his friend deny anything. “Wait…do you have trouble…?”

“No!” Taeyong is quick to throw him an empty bottle. “I’m not- it’s not-,” he sighs. Maybe these guys aren’t the best counsellors in this island. “I don’t know…I don’t think I can…” he tries but stop, embarrassment evident on his face.

Jaehyun gets up from his position on the ground. “When was the last time you had sex?”

Mark almost chokes on his water, his body raising from the ground. “I think someone called my name. I…have to go.”

Johnny laughs, nodding. “The real question is, have you ever had sex with anyone?”

Taeyong shrugs, makes a face and even pinches his lips. “I did. Once.”

Three voices make him jump. “Once?!”

Two women turn around questioningly, making Taeyong close his eyes in despair. “Yes, once. Do you want to write it in big letters on the damn sand? Taeyong’s almost a virgin!”

“Bro, we’re just shocked. With a face like yours we thought you’d get laid every night. No wonder you didn’t even give your number to these girls back in New Zealand.” Johnny raises two hands in protest. “There’s nothing wrong with being…inexperienced. Right, guys?”

Doyoung nods, closing his bag with a sigh. “I spend too much time at the hospital anyways. What’s your problem, though? Just tell her.”

Johnny scoffs. “He doesn’t want to, why would he come and ask us dumbass about it otherwise? Concentrate, Doyoung.”

Taeyong coughs, “It’s not about telling her. I’m not going to ask for anything. I just…don’t know how to deal with myself.”

“Oh,” Johnny clicks his fingers, feeling like a genius. “You’re like a horny teen who doesn’t know how to deal with himself, then. Well it’s easy, you have to find a quiet place and then you grab your-” before he can finish Doyoung throws him the bottle he received from Taeyong earlier.

“Why are you telling him that? Seriously Taeyong, explain it to her. Tell her you’re inexperienced and being too intimate makes you uncomfortable because you don’t know how to deal with your emotions. She doesn’t look like a stupid girl. Do not listen to Johnny or you’ll end up polishing your meat like a creep in the jungle. You don’t want to be a creep.”

Johnny laughs loudly. “Polish your meat. I like that one. Okay then if we have to listen to our doctor, go and tell her. Then maybe from time to time you can-”

“SHUT UP!”

Taeyong is paralysed. He doesn’t know how you ended up on his lap but here you are, reading something he doesn’t care about and playing with your hair. You found this place away from the camp and insisted on staying here for the night so he complied because he can’t say no to you.

You’d ask him to fish with his teeth and he’d try.

But now you’re moving way too much. Taeyong tries to act like he is resting against that tree but he just can’t. His whole body is so tensed it hurts his back and legs but he can do it.

He can act like everything is fine.

It’s when you stretch that he stutters a couple of broken words. “Hurts- my…leg.”

You apologize quickly, moving away so you can kneel and pat his sore limbs. “I’m sorry, I’ll just lay down next to you, then.”

Taeyong still looks disturbed. You try not to focus on it but you can feel it. He avoids contact at all cost and is always super busy when you become too clingy. You lay down and go back to the story when you hear Taeyong’s voice, distinct yet soft.

“There’s something I need to tell you…”

You put the book away and roll on your side to look at him. “Yes?” he looks too worried to make you think he is going to say something positive.

“I have no idea how to explain it to you so, forget my bluntness. I feel uneasy whenever we’re intimate because I’ve only been physical with a girl once in my life and I don’t know how it is to have a girlfriend. I don’t know what to do with myself because I feel this pull toward you but at the same time, I don’t want to do something inappropriate.” He breathes loudly when he is done and waits for you answer.

Nothing comes.

You tilt your head, brows furrowed and Taeyong thinks you’re about to kick him for being such a pervert.

He doesn’t know you’re actually relieved.

“Do you want me to stop touching you?” You try slowly, not really understanding why he looks so uneasy.

“No! I mean- wow, that sounded desperate.” Taeyong’s laugh betrays his nervousness but he shakes his head before you think he doesn’t want to be around you. “It’s because I really want you to touch me that I’m uncomfortable.”

His answer makes you blush. Taeyong never sounds creepy when he speaks, even when he talks about how he needs you but doesn’t know how to deal with the matter.

“Would you mind if I was…more intimate?” You ask again, earning a grunt from Taeyong who doesn’t know what to answer.

“You don’t have to. I’m not saying this to push you into anything.”

You sigh, finding a sitting position in an instant. “I’m just asking if that would make you uncomfortable. You’re not being a push-over.”

Taeyong waits, eyes scanning the beach before looking at you again.

“No, not at all. I don’t want to disappoint you, that’s all.”

It’s funny how Taeyong became so insecure. He used to be so confident in his skills, so serious and unflattering when he would scold you for being a cry-baby.

Now he looks vulnerable and fragile. You can see how he doesn’t want to lose you.

You think it’s adorable.

He looks puzzled when you get up. Your book is left on the beach, completely forgotten as you straddle him.

Taeyong raises his hands, shocked to see you sit on his lap. He doesn’t protest but you don’t let him. Taeyong needs to feel more confident in himself so you’ll give him what he needs.

He is breathless when you kiss him.

Your gentleness destroys him. The way your lips trap his breaks him. Your core against his body annihilates his soul. By the time he is on the sand and into you, both his body and his soul are a mess.

Even though no one knows when they will be out of here, he prays all the gods.

Taeyong doesn’t want it to end.

You both wake up to people yelling though.

It’s noisy and scary so you both get up at the speed of light, glad you decided not to sleep naked.

The camp is going crazy by the time you join everyone and just like that, Taeyong’s prayers vanish.

There, in the endless sea, was a boat.

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thedarklightwithinus · 5 years

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Shadow of Darkness | Chapter One

A/N; Answers for the cause of the grey eyes :)

Summary; Revelations and unfamiliar territory.

Words; 1.8k

Series Masterlist

September 12th, 2023.

Undisclosed Location - USA.

The air around her seemed thicker than usual as consciousness came back to her ever so slowly. Grey eyes fluttered open as she surveyed her surroundings, breathing slightly deeper than usual through her nose. Her head felt like her brain was pounding against her skull, her whole body feeling stiff as though she had been out in minus degree weather. She understood exactly why she felt the way she did and knew that it was only a matter of time before she was feeling herself once again. However, that didn't change the fact that the chamber of coldness she so often visited was never any less pleasant.

She had long ago figured out exactly what use the chamber had for her. At first, she thought it was a means to keep her sedated until she was needed for whatever mission her superiors had created for her. However, it soon became clear to her that not only was she being kept sedated, but she was also being frozen in time.

From what she could tell in the glass her reflection bounced off, she seemed to stay the same age while the people around her grew out and frail. Their appearance's changed every time she was awoken and knew that a few of the men she had once saw were no longer among the living.

She was torn from her thoughts when a large man made his way towards her in a white lab coat that seemed to want to burst at the seams. He grinned at her, his discoloured teeth on show as she merely eyed him blankly. He was unfamiliar to her but that didn't bother her to much. She was used to be surrounded by people she didn't know. Mostly due to the fact that she didn't bother to get to know them. She had her orders and that was that.

"Nice of you to join us." He said, coming to a stop in front of the chamber she was strapped into, the door wide open. "You've been on your longest journey... Not that you know that of course." He told her, chuckling to himself as though his words were funny. "I have to say, it's such a pleasure to finally meet you. We've heard a lot about you here and we're so glad you're joining us."

He reached out and pulled the strap from around her waist, allowing her to move out from the chamber and come to a stop beside him. He eyed her slightly, frowning when he had to tilt his head down in order to take her in. He raised a brow, turning to look at the chamber that was clearly built to hold a shorter asset.

"I must admit, I thought you'd be taller." She didn't respond, her face blank as she looked at the badge on his coat. Dr. Hilson.

"You of all people should know that size does not matter, Phil." A familiar voice filled the air. "Example A-" The tall, grey haired man motioned towards Phil with his hands. "-You eat several puddings a day and as a result of this, you are now morbidly obese." Phil's face reddened as he pushed his glasses up his nose. "However, you are a damn good scientist. One of the only reasons you are still alive actually."

"Arthur I do-"

"It's Secretary Lewis to you, Phil." Arthur Lewis, Secretary of the United Kingdom's Government. "I have nothing more to say to you. Leave us alone for a moment, would you." He rhetorically asked, leaving no room for reply.

Phil stuttered for a moment. Trying to figure out a reply before he cleared his throat and nodded. He pulled his clipboard towards his chest before he turned on his heal and took off out the room, pulling the double doors closed behind him.

She watched as Arthur let out a breath, pulling his glasses from his face as he breathed on them, using his suit jacket to clean the lenses. He eyed her as he cleaned, a small smile on his face.

"You know, I remember the first time I met you." He began, tilting his head slightly at her. "You were much smaller, teeth to big for your mouth. You would talk and talk and then talk some more. I was young myself back then." She merely stared at him, her features blank. "You know, I almost envy you. You still have your youth while I am old... You know, you were always my favourite." At tat, her head tilted slightly, indicating that she had been listening to him. "Anyway, enough of that... I have to tell you my dear... This is the last we will be seeing of each other. You have done well over the years and I will miss you... For a moment."

"Что из меня?" What of me? She found herself muttering, not sure why she was so bothered by the fact that the man with whom she had reported to, for who knows how many years, was inevitably saying goodbye without actually saying the words.

"Ah, you still have work to do." Arthur told her with a smile, motioning around him. "Welcome to America. I can assure you that you've never been here. Call it a fresh start of sorts. Richard Jackson, you remember him?" She nodded slowly. She remembered meeting him a few years back in Germany. "He's been doing amazing work Stateside and he's the only person with whom I'm willing to leave you too."

She decided not to take notice to that fact that he had all but declared she was some type of trophy to be passed down to whomever the previous owner saw fit. If truth be told, she couldn't remember a time when she was bothered by anything anyone had said to her or about her. She had thrown herself time and time again into her work, trying and hoping to make those above her happy.

"I best be off now." Arthur said, looking as though he really couldn't wait to get off to wherever it was he was off to. "Oh and you're English my dear. Speak English when spoken to with the language. You've always been a smart girl, don't go letting me down now." With that said, he hummed slightly before turning and leaving the room.

The room fell silent as she stood on the spot, her hands behind her back and shoulders straight. She waited. Waited for direction in a room that she was the only occupant in. Waiting was something that came second nature to her. To her a day is a long time, a week even more. She's had all the practice she could ever need and more. What with being frozen throughout the years, her concept of time was simply so different to that of someone normal.

Normal, she scoffed under her breath. Was there anyone alive who was normal? Before she could dwell on the fact to much, the doors were pushed open and a group of men with guns came in. She raised a brow at them, finding it slightly funny that a few men with guns thought that could stop her from killing them all in seconds with her bare hands.

A man followed behind them, his features hard as stone. It took her no longer than five seconds to realise that the man who had come to a stop feet from her was Richard Jackson. He looked the same as when she had met him years ago. The only different being the slight sagging of his skin and the many more wrinkles that littered his face.

"Well, well, well." Jackson muttered, nodding slightly as he took her in. "You're finally Stateside." He eyed her with a tilt of his head. "What is it they call you again? The blessing in disguise? Hydra's Wayward Daughter? Or is it a mixture of the pair? Yeah, that's right isn't it?" She made no move to agree or disagree as she continued to stare at him blankly. "Let us pray that it hasn't gone to your head... No worries if it has, we can fix that in no time. You see, there was another like you... Not to long back, couple of years give or take.”

She continued to stare at Jackson blankly. He grinned, liking what he was seeing in her. He mostly liked that her artificial eyes were blanker than any he’d seen before. She really didn’t feel anything.

“He had a life before us. That was his downfall. He remembered.” Jackson tutted, shaking his head as though the thought disgusted him. “Such a shame. Hydra put everything into him and yet, he still broke free. No need to threat, we have no problem with you now do we? You’ve never met the chair because, to simply put it, there’s nothing for you to remember is there?”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes masterlist #bucky barnes x you #marvel #the winter soldier #the winter soldier x you #the winter solider x reader #bucky barnes x y/n

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stevie-writes-the-pain-away · 5 years

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Alcoholics Anonymous - Chapter Two

His name was Murdoc.

"I'm not here willingly, I won't speak willingly. I was told I didn't have to say anything as long as I listened, and I plan on doing exactly that."

He was 49 years old that Spring.

"You don't have to speak if you don't want to, Murdoc, there are people here who feel the same way. I just figured a little encouragement wouldn't hurt, huh?"

And just as secretive as I was minus the aggression.

"Great. Then I'll politely decline."

He was just as stubborn as I could be as well, which made up for the large difference in emotions we chose to express.

Defeated, Phoebe sighed and moved onward to the man who sat next to him. I found Murdoc’s behaviour and humour absolutely hilarious and inevitably interesting. I hadn't laughed as much those past weeks he'd been attending the program in years. Every night I go to bed and keep myself up remembering his wise remarks and creative responses he had for the counsellor or other attendees. Nothing negative, just entertaining and unique perks about him making the whole therapy process more enjoyable. He didn't make dark jokes about alcohol but little puns here and there to make people smile. At the beginning of the session he warmed up his attitude and by the end, he'd brightened everybody's day. His changes in moods fascinated me, too. He wasn't always that strangely happy guy people were met with first. He was the clown of the session until he was meant to talk about his issues, then he'd get a little grouchy and agitated. That was understandable, so I tried not to think about it so much and make a big deal about him for acting in a very natural way like I'm doing right now. I found it tough to avoid however, naturally wondering what brought him to group therapy in the first place.

"How was your weekend, (Y/N)?" I looked up from my hands on my lap, my eyes darting up to Phoebe at the sound of my name.

"I'm sorry?"

"How was your weekend?" Phoebe repeated with a patient smile.

I found myself stuttering. "Boring, I guess," I answered.

"How so?"

I'm not opening up, I told myself. I'm not ready yet. "I just . . . didn't do anything."

"Is that all?"

I sat silent, fiddling with my fingers. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to speak just a little more. "There's . . . not really any point of trying to get out of bed and doing nothing right when you can get drunk again. That way people won't set any expectations of you anymore." It wasn't the best of messages to send out there but it was all I could say at the moment. I couldn't even bring myself to apologize to the others who tried so hard to live without alcohol for acting so negative. I was just a party pooper.

I heard chuckling from the other side of the room and I looked up from my lap. Murdoc let his head fall into the palm of his hand and smirked, trying to stop himself from laughing. "You got that right, lass," he mumbled. He looked back up at me and I felt myself smile. Making him laugh made me feel a little better, I'm not gonna lie.

"What did you end up doing this weekend?" Phoebe asked.

"I've been sober for 65 days, I didn't wanna give up . . ."

"Staying away from the alcohol . . . how did it make you feel?"

"Uhh . . ." I looked away from Phoebe and bit my lip.

"Or maybe a better question is, looking back at it, how does it make you feel that you held on to your goal?"

"I feel . . . like I don't wanna talk about feelings?" I felt Murdoc's eyes on me and glanced back in his direction, watching another smirk craft his face into a kind of expression I hadn't seen before. This time it felt more genuine. All the other times he made jokes he wore a sort of smug grin, followed by some strange quacking noise. This time it didn't look smug, it looked understanding and authentic.

"Well, that's okay, (Y/N)," Phoebe accepted.

"At least you're talking more, that's progress," I heard the man beside me comment. I, as well as a few others, laughed in response and soon enough, we left the room for the gymnasium. The health clinic held the Boys and Girls Club every Wednesday night and every three to four weeks we got the chance to use it for us adults to express ourselves through art. I was wondering what Murdoc would do; he didn't seem like the artistic type. He looked like he road stolen motorcycles and spent his free time in his apartment doing drugs. Not that I was judging, I was an alcoholic myself, so that wouldn't be fair. I didn't mean it as an insult either - there's nothing wrong with doing those things (as long as you pay for the motorcycle eventually) and smoking weed in your apartment. I just felt like Murdoc’s life outside of therapy could’ve been anything; endless possibilities to discover if he let me. I think I'm rambling again.

"Well, during this crafting session, I want everybody to craft a card for somebody in the group. I want you to give them a positive message about something, whether it's some encouragement or any positive thought you've had about them," Phoebe said, lifting the plastic containers of coloured paper and writing utensils out from under the table. I turned in direction of Murdoc who stood a metre away from the rest of us. This was my chance to finally thank him. I smiled to myself at the thought of it and immediately began to craft.

"Dear Murdoc, I'm not sure if you remember but I'm the girl you pulled away from the traffic about four weeks ago. Thank you for saving my dumbass from being roadkill. I wish I could make it up to you."

From across the room, I noticed he picked up a pencil and paper, but never actually wrote anything down. It took twenty minutes to create a simple yet brightly coloured card showing my appreciation and then another ten to gain the courage to get up and walk over to him. I ambled my way across the gymnasium to the table he sat at, surprised he was sitting alone. He was liked greatly by the others in our session and I could see he had already received three cards, probably complimenting his wild personality and enjoyable humour. I didn't want to criticize him for sitting alone either; everybody needs a little alone time. I stood in front of him, unsure of how to make my presence acknowledged. He wasn't looking up at me so I assumed he didn't know I was there. Without a second thought, I stuck the card out closer to his face and, slightly startled, he backed up, looking up at me with an odd expression. Out of nervousness, I dropped it and pulled away.

"What's this?" he asked, gently picking it up and observing the front.

"I-it's a thank you card." I heard my voice shake and felt my pulse in my throat as he opened it up. "You ran off so quickly I never got the chance to say anything."

"Oh, sorry," he chuckled, looking back up at me. He took one last glance at the card before placing it down and tapping it lightly with his fingers.

"It's okay, it's not your fault. I'm sure you were busy. In fact, I'm sorry," I laughed anxiously.

Murdoc watched me carefully as if I was some strange unpredictable animal. "What'd you do?"

"For startling you."

"Oh, it's alright, no harm done," he said, using his hands to act out his sentences. I stood for a few seconds, nodding and tapping my foot awkwardly. He did the same but shook his head, chuckling and smiling. Did my discomfort and uncertainty amuse him? I was about to stop the unnecessary embarrassment by waving and leaving but he cleared his throat, laying his arm out on the chair next to him. "Wanna take a seat?"

I looked up at him and smiled, "Yeah, sure!" As I sat down he smirked and stared down at his empty card, twisting his lips in thought. His pencil twirled in between his fingers as he hopelessly thought about what to do. "Who do you think you'll give your card to?"

He shrugged, "No idea. I don't know if you've noticed but I don't really talk to anyone or do anything here aside from making stupid jokes."

"Are you secretly shy?" I teased, feeling good about the conversation.

He shook his head, his smile glued to his face. "Nah . . . Normally I'm talkative and sometimes a little obnoxious too, while I'm at it."

"What's changing that part of you?" I pushed with curiosity.

"Well, I guess I wasn't expecting to see somebody from outside of therapy inside," he explained, turning to me.

I lifted my arms onto the table, resting my chin on the backs on my hands as I intertwined my fingers. I leaned in a little close, not realizing what I was doing. "What, do you have different behaviours for certain scenarios?"

"I'd prefer to save my gentleman act for those who don't know me," he opened up, keeping his eyes attached to mine.

"Why's that? Don't like people to get past your grumpy castle walls?" I joked.

I officially made Murdoc laugh now. A wholesome exhale of joy fell from his lips and he looked the opposite way for a second. He looked back to me, "Let's leave those questions for Phoebe to ask."

I backed up and let my arms fall from the table, wrapping them around myself as I enjoyed my time in the company of this man. "If you say so, Oscar the Grouch."

We kept quiet for a minute and I looked around the gymnasium contently as I heard him beginning his writing. "How long have you been here?"

"Hm?" I turned my head to him once more. "Here? For a while now, about eight or nine months, maybe. In general, I've been referred to multiple places for the past ten years."

"Ten years?" Murdoc questioned, lifting his gaze up at me from the card beneath him.

"Yeah . . . It's been quite the journey."

"I can imagine. I'm impressed," he commented.

I furrowed my brows, confused. "What's impressive?"

"Well, a lot of people don't make it past five years of being an alcoholic before they're long gone, and you've been through this since your twenties I'm assuming?"

"I guess, but I'm sure others have it worse," I told him and convinced myself.

"Oh, come on, don't be like that," Murdoc encouraged. "Your story is just as important as anybody else's."

"What about you? How long have you been doing this?"

He sighed, "Well, as I said before, I'm here against my will." I looked at him, beginning to frown. He really didn't like it there, did he? Even if he looked like he was having fun he was just passing the time by laughing off how serious of a problem his alcoholism really was. And to be honest, I related to him from time to time. "Being in the position I'm in, group therapy alone isn't going to heal me, and my friends know that, but . . . if it makes them feel better that I'm here, I'll tolerate it until they realize how much of a lost cause I am," he laughed. He continued to write in his card and I observed him with sorrowful eyes.

"I'm sure if you keep going you'll find a light at the end of the tunnel."

Murdoc shook his head and his smile seemed to fade away. "I can't even bring myself to feel like I deserve it, honestly."

"Help?"

He nodded and sighed. "Ah, well. That's the way the cookie crumbles sometimes," he said, grabbing a black pencil crayon and beginning to draw.

"It doesn't have to be that way, though. You don't seem like that bad of a person, Murdoc. I know we don't know each other, but I think you're a pretty cool person."

Murdoc flickered his eyes up as if in realization. He turned to me and blinked a few times before breathing in deeply and leaning back in his chair. "Thanks, lass," he mumbled. "I mean that. Thank you," he reassured, looking back at me. "That's nice of you to say."

I nodded, "Yeah, of course. Ever since you came therapy's changed for the better." He smiled at me and I felt myself smile back.

"Alright, it's probably best we start putting everything away," Phoebe directed from across the gymnasium. Just like the simulations of a kindergarten class, everyone handed what they had left of their cards away and began to clean up. Murdoc finished writing what he had left and picked up the supplies from his table. I stood up too, his body movements guiding mine. With one hand he held his items and in the other, he stuck out the card in front of me. I stared at it, wondering if he was handing it to me.

I looked up at him to be sure and he cocked his eyebrows, smiling, "You gonna take it?" As I reached out and took it he chuckled and began to walk away from me. "See you next week, (Y/N)."

I watched him put away his things and leave through the gymnasium door as I stood, still processing what had happened. I was so ecstatic, my face flushed red, I couldn't believe he remembered my name! It sounded stupid but just the fact he offered me a seat and was opening up to me meant the world. I nearly forgot the card was in my hand, nearly dropping it from daydreaming. I blinked away my distracting thoughts and left the building, saying goodbye to Phoebe and the lady at the front desk on my way. As I left I pulled the card up and gazed at the front. It was a simple drawing of the okay hand symbol poorly shaded with a black coloured pencil.

"Dear (Y/N), You're very welcome. Thank you for the nice conversation, I haven't had one of those in a while. You seem like a pretty cool person as well, I hope you engage in more near-death experiences I can save you from, haha."

I smiled and closed the card, keeping it close to me as I walked home.

#gorillaz #murdoc niccals #murdoc x reader #2-d #2d pot #russel hobbs #noodle #fanfiction #romance #x reader

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honeyedhoseok · 5 years

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Plant A Kiss On These Tulips! |02|

Genre | Fluff

Pairing | plantwhisperer!hobi x female reader

Word Count | 6.3K

Summary | After your boss, Jisu–head wedding planner at Ornate Events–develops a ragweed allergy, you are put in charge of working with the florist company In Bloom. But instead of their top-notch flower arrangements, their incredibly radiant owner Jung Hoseok proves to be what catches your eye over the course of the months that follow.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

2 Months Later

“Hoseok!” you call out, pushing the front door to In Bloom open. The familiar bell chimes overhead, and you silence it with a gentle touch of your finger, reaching to flip the sign on the door from Open to Closed. “Where are you?”

“In the back!” he yells back, voice somewhat muffled from how far he is in the freezer when you finally make your way to him.

You stand at the door, leaning against the frame and watching as he places all the flowers for tomorrow’s shipment in, shutting the refrigerator and swiping a bead of sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt.

“Thanks for the help.” He turns around with a playful grin plastered across his face. When he finally lays eyes on you, he takes your outfit in with a rake of his eyes, eyebrows raising under his bright hair. “Fancy. What’s the occasion?”

Your mouth droops in disappointment, your anxiety rising a little. “You really don’t remember?”

“No?”

“The appointment,” you say. “The winter bride?” When you are met with another blank stare from the dashing florist in front of you, your blood starts to boil. “Hoseok! This is serious! This is my first wedding since I got put in charge of flowers and if I don’t make it happen, Jisu is going to stick her size eight heel so far up my—”

“Kidding!” Hoseok says, raising his hands in a surrendering gesture. He gives you a reassuring smile, coming over to place his hands on your shoulders. “I’m just kidding, okay? No one is going to stick any heels anywhere.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” you threaten, eyes narrowing at his stupidly handsome face smiling brightly at you. You step away to roll your ankle, flashing a pair of shiny black pumps. “Don’t give me any ideas.”

Hoseok’s knuckles brush your jaw, imitating a soft punch and the gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your neck. Regardless of the circumstances, Hoseok’s touches in the last couple of weeks were becoming more and more upsetting to your composure—he could make the simplest of gestures seem special to you—and you couldn’t tell if it was you reading too much into him, or just the kind of effect he had as a person.

“So feisty,” he murmurs, shaking his head. “Have I mentioned you would be my type if you weren’t, well, you?”

You feign annoyance with a roll of your eyes, despite your tripling heart beat threatening to thrum its way out of your chest. “Only a few dozen times this week,” you say. “It’s kind of an insult.”

“Well, it’s technically a compliment in the best way I can muster,” Hoseok teases, his eyes flickering with playfulness before he steps away from you. “My clothes are in the car. Let me go change, and we can meet Mrs. Winter Bride before it gets too late.”

“Ms. Winter Bride,” you correct with a shake of your head. “She isn’t married yet.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Hoseok says, dismissing you with a wave of his hand.

His smile, nor the playful twinkle in his eye disappear the entire car ride there. By the time you get out, wrapping your pea coat a little tighter around you in a last-ditch effort to keep some warmth as you walk into the building, your spirits feel slightly lifted; maybe the meeting would go so well, the winter bride would recommend you to other friends of hers and Jisu would get off your back about this flower business, finally.

You’re thankful for the toasty atmosphere of the hotel the winter bride was staying in. Whiffs of pastries and syrup from the continental breakfast in the next room fill your nose as you walk through the entryway with Hoseok in tow. He’s too busy looking at his phone to notice the smells of the breakfast that neither of you had time for because you were bordering on running late for the meet-up.

Your stomach rumbles but you can’t distinguish the feeling between nervousness and actual hunger, so you advert your eyes from the buffet for the time being in order to focus.

Finally, you spot a woman perched on one of the couches in the lobby, sipping a cup of coffee. Her face looks pinched, and she holds a scrapbook in her hands—you know immediately that it’s the winter bride from Jisu’s previous descriptions of her.

“Hoseok,” you murmur, nudging him hard with your elbow to put up his phone. “That’s her.”

Hoseok mutters something in disagreement but tucks his phone away in his pocket, letting you walk up to where the woman is sitting as he falls in step behind you.

“Hi, Ms.—” you raise your eyebrows in question.

“Jun,” she says, standing to full height. “Please, call me Sohyeon.”

“Sohyeon,” you repeat, taking her outstretched hand. “I’m Y/N, and this is Hoseok.”

Hoseok shakes with her as well, and the three of you take a seat around the dark wood coffee table in the middle of the lobby.

“I hope this place is okay,” Sohyeon says conversationally, reaching again for her coffee cup. “I was hoping for somewhere a little quieter than a coffee shop or a restaurant. My fiancé and I are staying at this hotel for a few days while we scope out wedding venues in town.”

“It’s perfect,” you say with a smile. Your eyes drop to the book clutched tightly in her hands. “Are those your ideas?”

Sohyeon nods, handing you the scrap book. Hoseok scoots closer to you on the love seat you two are sharing, looking over your shoulder as you flip slowly through the pages.

“We’re thinking of going with an industrial theme—my husband likes the thought of copper and dark wood at the wedding,” she says, pointing to a picture of a venue. “We’d been thinking about going with this one, but I called and they don’t have our date open. It was shame, really,” she adds sadly. “We liked that place.”

You nod, your eyes still grazing the pages.

“We want a big, open space,” she continues as you flip the page. “Something with nice, warm light and wood or brick or metal to contrast it. We’re thinking of doing nude colored bridesmaid dresses for contrast, and white and gold decorations to tie everything together for an elegant look.”

“Wow,” you say, for better lack of words. You’re ultimately impressed with the winter bride’s efficiency.

“Have you ever heard of The Atrium?” Hoseok says suddenly, looking up from the scrapbook. “They’re a wedding venue just outside of town—probably a 25-30 minute drive—and they have an industrial-type setting for weddings.”

“Oh?” Sohyeon says, digging for a pen in her purse. You slide the complementary hotel note pad on the table towards her, and she gives you a small smile. “The Atrium, you say?”

“Yes,” Hoseok says, pausing to spell it out for her. “A friend of a friend got married there, and I remember being in love with all of the dangling light bulbs over the seating area—made for great pictures.”

You were surprised at Hoseok’s sudden knowledge of venues—but you guessed you shouldn’t be, considering working with wedding planners was also part of his job.

“I’ll put that on the list to check out this weekend,” Sohyeon says with a smile. She turns her attention back to you, her expression hardening just a little from when she was previously discussing with Hoseok. “Now, I have been planning this day since I was younger. This scrapbook has changed and changed and changed, but now I have it narrowed down to exactly what I want—minus the venue, but that was a recent change in plans. I was hoping that Ornate Events could be my consultant rather than my planner,” she pauses, her eyes narrowing just the slightest bit before she continues, “especially since I’ll be working with you rather than Jisu.”

You clear your throat awkwardly, attempting to straighten your posture on the love seat and show some dominance. Jisu had warned you that the winter bride was one intimidating woman—and she certainly wasn’t lying, considering the fact that she’d just expressed her dislike for you to your face—but it was your time to shine.

“W-we have a Day-Of package,” you say shakily. “If you’d like to see it?”

Sohyeon nods, and so you dig around in your bag with frantic hands for a print-out of what your company had to offer.

“I can take down the numbers of the vendors you’ve picked out, and work with them on your requests,” you say. “I’ll be at the wedding the day of for set up and take down, and Hoseok here can help with any and all flower arrangements you wanted.”

Your palms sweat as Sohyeon looks it over, and Hoseok gives you a reassuring smile and a light nudge with his elbow that makes you feel a little better.

“These aren’t the prices we discussed,” she says sharply, looking at you with eyes that could cut steel. “Where are the prices I talked to Jisu about months ago?”

“Months ago?” you ask, your eyebrows furrowing. “I don’t know anything about those—”

Sohyeon taps the paper with an almond-shaped fingernail, shaking her head like she was clearing her thoughts and messing up the neat tuck of strands she had placed behind her ear.

“No, no,” she says, “this won’t work. I must speak to Jisu immediately. She’ll know what we discussed—I can’t work with anyone but her, obviously—”

You are a stuttering, stammering mess as you try to gather yourself and calm Sohyeon down. Finally, you get her to allow you to take a moment and call Jisu—when she’s not on her scheduled lunch break—to fix the mishap.

Hoseok allows you to do so without so much as a peep; you assume it’s because he can’t help you with whatever arrangement Jisu had made with the woman, but you find yourself wishing he’d come to your rescue, anyways. While you are finally on hold with Jisu, he decides to speak up.

“My flower package is just a small add-on cost to Ornate Event’s prices here—” Hoseok says in a small voice, “but it’s not too much of a price difference—”

Sohyeon cuts him off, shaking her head. “I’m not worried about money,” she says. “I’m worried about quality for price.”

She reaches over the table to flip a few pages of the scrapbook before she comes to a stop. She points a crisp, apple red fingernail at a picture in the bottom right corner—a golden, squat vase holding an arrangement of soft pink, orange and pale-yellow flowers.

“Would you be able to make these for table pieces? And these—” she points to another picture of white flowers you couldn’t recognize bundled up with twine, “as brides maid bouquets?”

Hoseok studies the flowers for a moment, before holding up a finger as he digs his phone out of his pocket. “I don’t have my book with me today, I’m sorry—but our website has every flower we have in the shop posted on-line.” He quickly pulls up the web address and turns the phone around to Sohyeon. “We have all the flowers in these pictures except for the white ones—they aren’t in season—”

“What? Not in season?” Sohyeon asks, her brow furrowing. The clamminess in your hands returns as you watch her expression darken. “I’m paying good money for this wedding and you’re telling me I can’t have the flowers I want because they’re not in season—”

“Not to worry,” Hoseok interjects with a soft, but firm tone, giving her a warm smile. He doesn’t allow her rising, frantic voice get to him like you did. “There’s another shop out of town we can check and just have them ship the flowers over here. I’ll do it without charge since we weren’t able to accommodate your choices at In Bloom.”

He lets his finger trail over the laminated page of her scrap book, looking at her other choices. “You have a great eye for these things,” he compliments, holding her gaze once again. “All florists could use a customer like you.”

Sohyeon deflates visibly, and Hoseok continues to smile his beautiful, cheery grin at her, coercing her until she returns it with a small tilt of her mouth.

“I like him,” she says to you with a satisfied hum.

You are dumbfounded at Hoseok’s ability to turn a situation around so quickly when you couldn’t—but it could only mean one thing: you had a lot more to learn from him.

You shrug, giving her a nervous chuckle from across the table. “Me too,” you agree, phone still tucked between your ear and shoulder. You catch Hoseok’s small, satisfied smirk right before you murmur affirmatively, “I think we’ll keep him.”

“That wasn’t so bad, right?” Hoseok says once you are in the safety of your car again, free from the shackling, penetrating gaze of the winter bride.

“She’s as cold as ice,” you mutter, sticking your key in the ignition and cranking the car. You hadn’t bothered to come out and heat it up before, so now you and Hoseok were sitting in it, forced to bare through the chilling breeze that came out of your vents until your engine could catch up.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, a joke bloomed—the inside of your car wasn’t much different from the atmosphere of the meeting you’d just escaped, technically—but you decided not to share it aloud.

“She’s just—” Hoseok pauses, searching for the right word. “Sure of herself.”

“Hoseok, don’t try to sugar coat it. She doesn’t like me,” you whine. “She was so irritated with me the whole time—if you hadn’t been there, I would have come out of that meeting headless!”

Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head as he sticks his hands under his armpits for warmth, slightly shivering in the passenger seat. “Oh, come on,” he says. “It wasn’t that bad. You did great!”

You are still unconvinced, but you let the topic drop as you back the car out of the parking space and pull back onto the main road.

“I’m starving,” you say. “Want to go get lunch?”

“Actually, I have to get back to the shop,” Hoseok says. When he sees your crestfallen expression, he backtracks, apologies lacing his tone. “But how about we get dinner? I get off at six.”

“Oh! Dinner?” you say, a little surprised. A face-cracking grin threatens to break the nonchalant facade you were trying to keep up, and you scold yourself internally. “Sure, I’ll pick you up from work.”

“That’s okay, I’ll have my car,” Hoseok says, shaking his head. “I’ll pick you up instead. Will you be at Ornate Events?”

You nod, and Hoseok gives you a little excited grin.

“Great,” he says. “I haven’t seen Jisu and Yoongi in forever!”

The day can’t go by quick enough for you.

You spend most of it trying to contact the winter bride’s established wedding vendors, who are much more willing to work with you than it felt like she was during your meeting. You exchange phone numbers, email addresses and other business information with them, working through the contracts that Sohyeon had already started, before finally, everything is on track to be completed.

There is only an hour left before Hoseok is supposed to come pick you up by the time you look up from your desk, glancing at the clock on the wall as you hang up the phone with your last consultant.

You mill around the office, cleaning out the coffee pot, washing the mugs, tidying up the table in the break room—just trying to fill the space of time before you can head out.

Yoongi comes into the back while you are doing all of this, the surgical mask over that he’d been wearing all day tucked under his chin for the time being.

You glance over at him with a smile. “You’re still bothering Jisu with this act?”

He shrugs. “Would I be me if I didn’t?”

“True.”

“What’s with the spring cleaning?” he asks, gesturing around at the spotless counters. “I thought you already got a promotion.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You jealous?” you ask. “Trying to move up from your receptionist job to do flower arrangements?”

“As if!” Yoongi scoffs, taking a seat at the break table. “I barely have the energy to answer phones, much less babysit brides through planning a wedding.”

You join him at the table, figuring you’d done enough cleaning for the day, and pull out the chair across from him to slump into.

“You don’t have to babysit the good ones,” you chide him, shaking your head. “The bride I’m working with now has this giant scrapbook she’s been working on since she was younger—she knows exactly what she wants and who she wants to do it—it’s amazing, honestly.”

“So what’s left for you to do?”

“A lot,” you sigh. “Contracts, venue booking, flowers . . .”

Yoongi makes a face before recognition sparks in his eyes. “Speaking of flowers,” he says. “How’s working with Hoseok?”

You can’t help the grin that flits across your face, breaking up the worry lines that were starting to crease your forehead. “Amazing. He’s really good at what he does—and he enjoys it, you know? It’s kind of . . . weird. But I would love to be like that.”

You pause, ignoring the surprised look Yoongi is giving you at the sudden enthusiasm at which you were going on about Hoseok.

“You should have seen him today with this client,” you say, shaking your head. “She was about to bite my head off but Hoseok was so nice to her and he was smooth with his words and she calmed down immediately! He does it all the time and I don’t know—”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Yoongi says, interrupting your rant. “I’ve been around him plenty of times. The guy basically shoots sunbeams and rainbows out of his ass and everyone loves him for it.”

“Stop being mean!” you say. “It’s nice.”

“Oh, I’m sure it is,” Yoongi says, a smile threatening to break the edges of his teasing demeanor. “What kind of weirdo likes their job in this day and time?”

You laugh loudly. “Right?”

Yoongi huffs, placing an elbow on the table and resting his chin on his palm. “You’re working with a ray of sunshine while I’m stuck here with a sneezing, whining Jisu.”

“I’m confused—do you want my job, or do you want to stay where you are?” you say, gigging. “You’re kind of going back and forth, here.”

“Neither,” Yoongi says. “I want to do nothing. In my next life, I’d like to be a rock.”

“I’ll be sure to mention that to Jisu when she’s doing payroll.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes. “I dare you.”

From the front, you hear the faint jingle of the chimes above the door, signaling the entrance of a customer—and not just any customer, because you can hear the delighted tone that Jisu answers them in is genuine and not the fake customer service voice she normally uses.

“Who’s here?” Yoongi asks, eyeing your form scrambling to get up from your chair.

“Hoseok,” you say happily, grinning. “We’re going to dinner. Come say hey to him!”

“Don’t tell me what to do—”

You don’t hear the rest of his snarky comment because you’re flying out from the back room, heart beating a little faster than normal in your chest at the sight of Hoseok leaning against the receptionist counter where Jisu sits.

“And to what do we owe this visit?” Jisu asks teasingly.

His eyes finally meet yours from where you stand near the break room door and he grins. “I’m taking Y/N out to dinner for all her hard work today.”

Jisu scoffs, mumbling something along the lines of Yeah right, and you narrow your eyes at her just briefly before you focus in on Hoseok’s wording. He was taking you? As in paying for it?

“Where’s the Yoongster?” Hoseok asks suddenly, looking around.

As if on cue, Yoongi strolls from the back as Jisu taps her watch. “That was a pretty long fifteen minutes, don’t you think?” she asks irritably.

Both of you ignore her.

“You’re the Yoongster?” you repeat, turning to him. “Since when?”

“Since forever!” Hoseok says, walking over to Yoongi and wrestling him into a hug. “We were pals in technical school.”

Your eyebrows raise at a scowling Yoongi underneath Hoseok’s arm. “Really? I thought Yoongi hated everyone.”

“Oh, he does,” Hoseok agrees, looking brightly at the blonde, pale boy beside him. “Just me a little less, I suppose.”

You hum in agreement, seeing exactly how that was possible. The two looked incredibly comfortable around each other—the gummy smile that you rarely saw was sneaking its way around the edges of Yoongi’s mouth as he chatted with his friend, his shoulders still under the weight of Hoseok’s resting arm.

The four of you talk for a while, and although you’re quite literally starving, you’re reluctant to break up the friendly reunion that is happening on a rather slow day at Ornate Events.

Hoseok—always the perceptive one—notices rather quickly that he is stalling you two from your plans. He looks over at you and raises his eyebrows before he smiles warmly one last time at Jisu and Yoongi.

“We really should get going,” he says, “I think the restaurant gets pretty busy around this time of night.”

“It was so good to see you Hoseok,” Jisu says, pulling him in for another hug. “Make sure it’s not so long next time, okay? And tell Granny Jung I said hello and I miss her!”

“I will, I will,” Hoseok says, laughing a little. He releases Jisu and roughhouses with Yoongi for a few more minutes before he’s finally ready to go.

You bid your boss and coworker goodbye, but not before you see Jisu raise a suspicious eyebrow at the way Hoseok leads you over to the front door with his hand pressed gently to your lower back—however, you chalk it up to him being the ever-persistent gentleman and give her an innocent smile before heading toward where Hoseok’s car is in the parking lot.

“I thought we could go Italian tonight,” Hoseok says once you two are on the road. He glances over at you quickly before returning his eyes to the front. “Do you like pasta?”

“That’s like asking me do I like breathing,” you say, giving him a tilted grin. “Duh.”

Hoseok chuckles and the atmosphere inside the car falls back into a comfortable silence. He relaxes in his seat as he drives, and you find yourself stealing glances at him every so often as he hums softly to a tune floating from the radio.

You follow Hoseok towards the front of the restaurant once you are parked, looking up at the illuminated sign overhead that reads Bocca Felice.

“Happy mouth,” Hoseok explains, noticing the direction of your eyes. He opens the door for you, gesturing for you to go in first.

“You speak Italian?” you ask, a little impressed.

“No,” he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He points to the window of the restaurant, where under the name written in big, looping cursive was a fine-print English definition.

“Oh,” you respond.

You would be embarrassed if it weren’t for the way Hoseok gives you an ear-splitting grin at your mistake, amused by the situation. You realize the place fits him—the way his wide smile made you feel better instantly was certainly reminiscent of a happy mouth—so instead, you roll your eyes and follow him and the hostess towards a booth in the back of the restaurant.

Low ambient lighting from lamps on the walls make you feel cozy as you slide into your side, bouncing a little on the leather seats. You glance around at the giant paintings depicting beautiful shops tucked into mountainsides, waves crashing onto rocky shorelines, elegant stucco houses with terraces and tons of greenery scattered around—all elements of a true Mediterranean-themed restaurant.

“Beautiful,” you murmur, and Hoseok looks up from his menu.

“Right?” he asks, eyes following yours. “Have you ever been?”

You shake your head. “I don’t get to travel much. You?”

“Once, a few years ago.” He smiles. “This place is the closest I’ll ever get to having authentic Arrabbiata.”

You raise your eyebrows in appreciation. Somehow you could see Hoseok fitting in well with the Mediterranean climate—his skin glowing and tan in the sunlight, board shorts and a light t-shirt donning his lean frame as he enjoys the view of the coastline from the open window of his Airbnb.

“I’m going to order a glass of wine,” he says. “You want one?”

“No, I can’t drink on the job—” you pause, catching yourself.

Hoseok wags a finger at you. “We’re off the clock, Y/N!” he says, laughing. “It feels weird to be hanging out outside of In Bloom, doesn’t it?”

You nod in agreement. “I hated to take you away from you Jisu and Yoongi,” you admit, lowering your eyes. “I had no idea you were so close to them.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, shaking his head. “I was really excited to take you out an get to talk a little more. I know we talk sometimes in the shop, but I’m always pretty busy, and you’re back and forth so I feel bad tying you up in conversation when you’re in the zone—” he gives you a knowing look, “which you normally are.”

You smile a little, trying to calm the excited thrumming of your pulse in your veins as Hoseok looks up at you from beneath his eyelashes across the table, giving a small, breathy laugh after his confession.

The waitress comes over before you can muster a remark, and Hoseok takes over ordering for the both of you since you seem reluctant to choose anything just yet.

“I’m Gia,” she says, “I’ll be your server tonight. What can I start you two off with to drink?”

“Can we have two glasses of wine?” Hoseok asks. His attention is once again on you as he adds, “I like white, is that okay?”

You nod enthusiastically.

“A Riesling, please,” he continues. “And can we get some fried ravioli to start?”

“And a glass of water for me please,” you add with a small smile. “With lemon.”

Gia repeats the drink requests before asking, “And are we ready to order?”

Hoseok orders the seafood arrabbiata and you order the least expensive pasta on the menu: spaghetti with Bocca Felice’s house-made tomato sauce. The waitress writes it down and dashes away, and Hoseok settles back in his seat, taking a deep breath.

“I’ll have you know, the Winter Bride really set my nerves on edge today,” he says, grinning. “I had no idea what to expect—but if I did, it certainly wasn’t that.”

“Right?” you say, leaning forward in your seat. “Jisu didn’t prepare me at all.”

“You did great though—it just took you a second to get your footing.” Hoseok flashes you a brilliant smile. “It’s your first client, don’t be too hard on yourself. I feel like you don’t give yourself enough credit, you know? You’re just starting out.”

You shrug. “I guess,” you say, unconvinced. “It’s just—“ you take a deep breath, letting it out with a huff. “This is more than me being down about not knowing how to talk to the winter bride. The flowers are one thing but wedding planning? I just—” you sigh, “don’t know.”

“What?” Hoseok asks, his eyebrows disappearing behind his persimmon bangs as he raises them questioningly. “What is it?”

You bite your lip. “It’s just—well, I think I’m feeling pressured because of this theory I have about weddings. I don’t know if you’ll think I’m weird or not.”

You pull your napkin towards you, twisting it between your fingers anxiously and avoiding Hoseok’s eyes across the table. He studies you for a minute, contemplating his own response to the serious tone you’ve taken at his comment.

“How about we get this wine first, and you can tell me over a glass?” he says, tilting his head. “I’m all for Y/N-based theories that may or may not be weird.”

You brighten, the knot in your stomach loosening at his playful tone. “Oh really?” you ask, going along with the joke.

“Oh yeah.” Hoseok nods. “It’s actually the name of my podcast—Y/N Theories and If Jung Hoseok Thinks They Qualify Her As A Nut Case.”

“Shut up,” you say, laughing fully at his antics. “Oh my god.”

Hoseok gives you a grin that envies the sun, and it suddenly makes you shy to be on the receiving end of its brightness. You look away at the napkin, crumpled a few inches away from your nervous hands on the tabletop thanks to your stressful handling of it, wondering how in the world you made it this long without noticing how truly beautiful he is.

Hoseok keeps his promise; he doesn’t ask you about your theories until you are two glasses of wine in. You’d said you were only going to drink one, but Hoseok insists to “treat yourself” because he’s paying for everything, which you argue over for a while. He wins.

Hoseok waits until the point where you are just feeling the warmth beneath your cheeks—due to the wine and his incessant playfulness that has you smiling like an idiot—the surfaces of your temples just starting to buzz with the lightening effects of the alcohol. You’re full of Bocca Felice’s hearty spaghetti sauce and Riesling and leaning back against the soft leather of the booth when he finally decides to revisit your conversation from earlier.

“So,” he says, giving you a knowing hint of a smile as if to buffer his question, “about earlier—what’s this story of yours about weddings?”

You avoid meeting his eyes as you pick up your wine glass, swirling it around a little by the stem as you focus on the stroke patterns of the painting hung on the wall beside your table.

“Really, Y/N,” Hoseok says softly, meeting your gaze. “If somethings bothering you, it’s my duty as your friend to listen and try to help.”

You shake your head. “It’s not really a helping matter, Hoseok,” you say. “You can’t make my parents get back together.”

“They’re separated?”

“Divorced,” you say flatly.

You try not to notice the way Hoseok’s face softens at the revelation, at the empathy that fills his expression as he waits for you to continue your story.

“The day of their wedding, over ten years ago, it rained,” you begin, eyes focused on the golden dregs of liquid at the bottom of your wine glass. “It was a pretty spring day, but during the setup outside of the venue we all noticed the way dark, grey clouds were gathering at the edges. We tried not to let it worry us—but it didn’t do any good.”

Hoseok nods once to encourage you, listening intently.

“In the middle of the ceremony it started to downpour,” you say. “It soaked everything—the flowers, the table cloths, the food, the guests—my mom’s wedding dress was big and pretty and it soaked that, too, in a matter of seconds. Left her trudging through the muddy yard to the building.”

You shrug. “I’ve always had this theory that it rained on their wedding day and ruined the process of them committing themselves to each other, so that’s why their marriage went south so fast.”

“Y/N—” Hoseok says, but you shake your head, already anticipating what he’s going to say.

“I know, I know,” you say, sighing. “There’s nothing I could have done about the weather, and people fall apart for a bunch of different reasons. But I don’t know, it just—” you bite your lip, trying to stop the trembling that’s suddenly taken over, “I wonder if the ceremony hadn’t been a disaster if they would still be together, you know? If we had just had it inside, would it have saved them?”

You put your wine glass down and smooth out some stray wrinkles in the tablecloth, feeling the erratic thudding of your heart in your chest as you wait for Hoseok to say something. He takes his time, as he always does, choosing to speak only when he’s sure of what he’s going to say.

“Y/N, why are you in the wedding business?”

You look up, shocked that he didn’t try to empathize with your situation. “What?”

“Why are you working at Ornate?” he asks again, softly. “What do you want to get out of it?”

You stare at him, sizing him up, wondering how in the hell this conversation went from you wallowing in your own unsettling past to analyzing your career choices.

“I wanted to work with weddings,” you say slowly. “I’ve always been interested in event planning.”

“And?” he prods, nodding encouragingly.

You think for a moment, your brow creasing. Hoseok looks at you so expectantly, it’s as if his knowing gaze drawls the words right out of your mouth.

“I wanted to do what I could to make sure no one else’s wedding ended like my parents,” you say finally. The words come out in a rushed embarrassment, sounding much less intelligent to say aloud once they are floating in the air between you and your coworker.

Hoseok leans forward over the table, refusing to let you drop your gaze from his. “And have you done that so far?”

“Yes,” you whisper, “The best I can.”

“Then that’s all you can do.”

He reaches out to where your hand still smooths wrinkles in the tablecloth anxiously, placing a warm palm over your own to comfort you.

“You’ve got to stop beating yourself up over the things you can’t control,” he says. Your breath stutters at the sincerity in his voice, the way it lowers and makes the vowels and consonants hum with gorgeous deepness that rattles your already unsteady heart. “You’re not letting anyone down but yourself, trust me—you’re doing great, Y/N.”

You smile at him, feeling his unrelenting optimism brighten something inside you.

“And I promise,” he adds suddenly, giving your hand a squeeze underneath his, “that as long as we are working together, I’ll offer all the help I can to make sure these next weddings go well, okay?”

You nod, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth because you aren’t quite sure what the feeling blossoming in your chest is, but you don’t want to fight it just yet.

The waitress comes back and Hoseok and you argue for a moment over who will pay the bill—he wins, because he takes your debit card from your outstretched hand, making you think for a moment that he is going to put it in the billfold, but slides his own in at the last second before the waitress takes it from his hand.

You scowl at him over the table and he gives you a signature grin that lasts until he has signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of the receipt along with a hearty tip.

You feel warm as Hoseok leads you out of the building, his hand ghosting your lower back again as you two walk alongside each other to the parking lot.

“Thank you for dinner, this was so lovely,” you hum, looking back at the neon sign that hovers above Bocca Felice.

He grins at you, murmuring something along the lines of no problem before making the slow walk by your side to the car.

“Y/N?” Hoseok says as you two near his black sedan, clicking the button on his keys once that makes the lights flash.

“Hmm?” you ask, suddenly noticing the shy demeanor that has overcome your companion—the red of his cheeks seems reminiscent of the strands that blow across his eyebrows in the chilling night breeze. “What is it?”

“So, I did have a motive for tonight that I didn’t get around to,” he asks, and when he sees the confusion on your face, he shakes his head quickly. “Nothing bad, I promise. I just—I’m going to a conference out of state in a few weeks. It’s a flower show.”

“Oh?” you say, eyebrows raising. “That sounds fun.”

“Yeah, well,” Hoseok scratches the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’ll be gone for a few days and it’ll be pretty boring to go by myself and I was wondering, you know, since you’re knowledgeable about the flower business now—”

A grin breaks out on your face. “Hoseok, are you asking me to go with you?”

The warmth of the wine and Hoseok’s invitation heat the apples of your cheeks—internally, you welcome the cold, autumn breeze that blows between you two as your face rises in temperature.

“Yes,” he breathes out, looking hopeful. “Would you uh, want to?”

“I’d love to,” you say, heart swelling unintentionally from the way he looks so cute, shuffling his feet and switching his car keys from hand to hand. “I just have to ask Jisu.”

“Leave Jisu to me,” Hoseok says with confidence, smiling hard enough to show both rows of teeth. “I need you for the whole weekend, and I have a feeling she’ll listen if I ask.”

You two get in on your opposite sides and you try to hide your wide grin by looking out the window as he backs the car up—little did Hoseok know, you were sure a lot of people would do anything he asked if it meant feeling the gentle fluttering in their stomach that you’d been experiencing the entire night.

#hoseok x reader #hoseok fluff #bts scenarios #bts x reader #hoseoknet #plant a kiss #jung hoseok scenario #bts hoseok scenario #honeyedhoseok #plantwhisperer!hobi

54 notes · View notes

tech-battery · 3 years

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ASUS ROG STRIX SCAR 15 REVIEW: POWERFUL PORTABLE GAMING

If you’re looking for the absolute most powerful gaming hardware out there... well, you don’t want the Asus ROG Strix Scar 15. You want a desktop or a laptop that weighs seven pounds, requires multiple power bricks, and is basically a desktop. But if you still want something you can realistically carry around, the Strix is about as powerful as it gets.

We’ve reviewed a number of Asus laptops this year that are members of the ROG Zephyrus gaming line — powerful, while still portable and attractive. You’d buy a Zephyrus if you want decent gaming results but also want an everyday work machine you could bring into the office or class. The Strix line eschews the latter role. These are gaming laptops. They are just for games. They’re not cheap, they’re not subtle, and they hold nothing back.

That’s where the Strix Scar 15 stands out. Every aspect is designed with the gaming enthusiast in mind, and there are a number of unique features for those customers. Of course, those also come with a few trade-offs — and folks who might need to use their machine for tasks besides gaming should consider other options.

The Strix Scar 15 starts at $2,199.99 on the Asus store. The base model comes with a Core i7-10875H, an Nvidia GeForce RTX 2070 Super, 1GB of SSD storage, and a 240Hz screen. The model we’re looking at today is a significant step up from that: it costs $2,799.99 and is powered by Intel’s eight-core Core i9-10980HK and an RTX 2070 Super, which are joined by 32GB of RAM, 2TB of storage, and a 1920 x 1080 300Hz screen (3ms response time). The 10980HK is a workhorse — it’s one of the most powerful mobile chips on the market — and 300Hz is the fastest display you can get on a 15-inch laptop.

If you clicked on this review, you’re probably most curious about the frame rates this laptop is putting up. Suffice to say: they’re good.

On CS:GO at maximum settings, the Strix Scar averaged 248fps. Thanks to this model’s 300Hz screen, the chips aren’t just rendering 248fps; you’re actually seeing 248fps. You’ll see a frame rate difference between this system and an identical one with a 240Hz display, albeit a small one. (But to folks who play a lot of esports and first-person shooters, a small difference can matter.)

Overall, CS:GO was a smooth experience. The Scar only dipped below 100fps once when I was running through a thick flurry of dust.

Not all titles are able to take full advantage of the 300Hz screen, unless you plan on bumping the quality settings down. The Strix put up 67fps on Shadow of the Tomb Raider’s highest settings with ray tracing on Ultra. On Red Dead Redemption II (one of the most demanding games out there) cranked up to Ultra, the Scar averaged 54fps. Both games were quite playable on those settings, without any stuttering or slowdown. Those results are right on par with the MSI GE66 Raider (which put up 50fps on Red Dead and 70fps on Tomb Raider) and beat the smaller Zephyrus G14 by a significant margin.

It’s worth noting that while I was letting the Scar rip in Turbo mode (the highest power profile available) the 10980HK got quite hot throughout my gaming session, spending a chunk of time in the mid-90s and even hitting 99 degrees Celsius a couple of times. When I swapped to the regular Performance profile, the CPU spent more time in the mid-high 80s, and I only saw a 1-2fps difference as a result. So if you’re worried about frying your hardware, you won’t miss much if you stay on the Performance profile.

Moving on to other laptop stuff. Apart from its chips, what distinguishes the Strix Scar 15 as a gaming laptop is the design. It features a customizable per-key RGB keyboard, a luminous logo on the lid, and a bright LED strip around the front three sides. A glowing strip may seem obnoxious, but this one is actually more subdued than strips you may have seen on gaming rigs like MSI’s GE66 Raider. It wraps around the underside of the deck, so you don’t see it full-on; the effect is less garish gamer than the GE66 Raider and more fancy nightclub. (You can turn all of the RGB stuff off, of course. But then, what’s the point?)

Another cool thing is the deck design, which is printed with what Asus calls “Cybertext.” Basically, Republic of Gamers is written all over it in an urban-chic sort of font. It’s subtle and far from distracting, but it gives the whole product a subtle sci-fi vibe.

Speaking of the keyboard deck: the palm rests are coated in a unique “soft-touch paint.” It’s much smoother than your typical palm rest (you can very much feel the difference when you touch the rest of the chassis) and is quite nice to lay your hands on.

Asus keyboards are often among my favorites, and the Strix Scar’s keyboard is no exception. I love typing on this. I feel like my fingers are flying while using it. There’s a satisfying click with very little resistance. And I especially appreciate the convenient row of hotkeys at the top, which includes volume controls, a microphone mute, one that changes the performance profile, and another button that brings up Armoury Crate (Asus’ app where you can adjust various settings and features).

If you’d rather plug in your own peripherals, you have a good port selection at your disposal. There are three USB 3.2 Gen 1 Type-A ports and an audio jack on the left side, while the back houses one USB 3.2 Gen 2 Type-C port (which supports DisplayPort, but not PD charging), the charging port, one LAN RJ-45, and one HDMI 2.0. That’s most of what you’ll need but there’s one glaring omission: Thunderbolt. Plenty of people may not care about this, but it’s a port I’m disappointed not to see on a $2,799 laptop.

On the right side is a Keystone II reader. A Keystone II is a physical key on which you can save personal settings. You can also use it to access a private storage space, which Asus refers to as a “shadow drive.” This can be encrypted if you have Windows 10 Pro. (Only this model ships with that operating system. You’ll need to upgrade from Windows 10 Home if you buy the base configuration.)

The Keystone II is a neat idea considering how many settings and profiles there are to keep track of on the Strix. In the ROG app GameVisual, you can choose between color presets for different types of games (FPS mode enhances brightness and contrast, RPG mode prioritizes vivid colors, etc.). In Aura Creator, you can customize your keyboard’s colors and animation. In GameFirst VI, you can prioritize bandwidth between the programs you have running; there are presets like Gaming First, Live Streaming First, and Multimedia First.

One more thing I like: the speakers. Music sounded great, with a nice surround quality. The Strix won’t replace a good external speaker and percussion was a bit tinny. But vocals were quite clear, and at maximum volume, I never heard distortion. The laptop’s fans get quite loud during gaming, but I had no trouble hearing my games’ audio over them. (You can also switch to the Silent profile if the whine is bothering you.)

There’s lots of good stuff on the Strix, as you can see. But there are trade-offs, too. Most of them aren’t super relevant to gaming (and thus, forgivable on a laptop like the Strix), but they’re worth bearing in mind nonetheless.

For one: there’s no webcam. It’s not a deal-breaker — streamers will be using their own equipment anyway — but it’s a big minus for anyone who would otherwise use the Strix for an occasional work meeting or virtual catch-up with friends.

I also have a couple of issues with the trackpad. It has discrete clickers, which require a bit more skittering around to press than integrated buttons. I like these particular clickers more than most, but they’re still easy to miss and I sometimes found myself whacking chassis when trying to click. Generally, I found it less responsive and less accurate than I wanted it to be. Occasionally, it thought I was clicking when I wasn’t, causing me to accidentally drag things everywhere.

The touchpad also has a nifty feature where it can morph into an LED number pad if you press an integrated NumLock button in the top-right corner — but I hit this button with my palm while typing and accidentally activated the Numpad several times. Unlike with Asus’ ZenBooks that also have this feature, you can’t navigate with the touchpad while the Numpad is up, so I kept having to interrupt my workflow to deactivate it. (You can disable the touchpad itself with F10, but there’s not an easy way to disable the NumPad without disabling the touchpad.)

The biggest downside, though, is battery life. I averaged two hours and 28 minutes of sustained multitasking and office work with the Strix on the Battery Saver profile with the screen around 200 nits of brightness. (With all the battery-saving features off and a slightly heavier load, I got as low as one hour.) The Strix is a gaming laptop, so I wasn’t expecting hours upon hours of juice. Still, plenty of competitors do better: The MSI GE66 Raider (also powering an LED strip and RGB keyboard) made it through four hours of that same workload.

AGREE TO CONTINUE: ASUS ROG STRIX SCAR 15

Every smart device now requires you to agree to a series of terms and conditions before you can use it — contracts that no one actually reads. It’s impossible for us to read and analyze every single one of these agreements. But we started counting exactly how many times you have to hit “agree” to use devices when we review them since these are agreements most people don’t read and definitely can’t negotiate.

As with other Windows 10 computers, the Asus ROG Strix Scar 15 presents you with multiple things to agree to or decline upon setup.

The mandatory policies, for which an agreement is required, are:

A request for your region and keyboard layout

Windows 10 License Agreement and Asus privacy agreement

A PIN

In addition, there is a slew of optional things to agree to:

Wi-Fi network

Microsoft account

Device privacy settings: online speech recognition, Find My Device, Inking and Typing, Advertising ID, Location, Diagnostic data, Tailored experiences

Customize your device for various purposes (gaming, schoolwork, creativity, entertainment, family, and/or business)

Link your Android smartphone

OneDrive backup

Office 365

Allow Microsoft to access your location, location history, contacts, voice input, speech and handwriting patterns, typing history, search history, calendar details, messages, apps, and Edge browsing history to aid Cortana’s personalized experiences and suggestions

Asus member registration

Set up McAfee account

That’s five mandatory agreements and 16 optional ones.

Gaming on battery is possible, but not great. Red Dead ran mostly in the high teens and low 20s. I got an hour and 15 minutes of the game on a charge, but I started to see stuttering when the Strix was down to 60 percent (about half an hour in) and the game became unplayable at 10 percent. Realistically, if you plan on bringing the Scar anywhere, you’ll need to bring the massive 280W adapter and spend some time charging the device. (It took 45 minutes to charge up to 60 percent during very light Chrome use.)

Overall, these nitpicks emphasize Asus’ priority with the Scar. It’s not a laptop that’s meant to double as a travel companion or a work-from-home driver — don’t buy it to be your primary PC.

But that doesn’t mean the Scar isn’t great at what it’s supposed to be great at, which is gaming. Its results are on par with those of the best 15-inch rigs on the market, and it offers useful customization software with a unique colorful design to boot. If you need the best frame rates and the fastest screen, the Strix Scar 15 is a fine purchase.

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tonydadisbestdad · 7 years

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Gym Misunderstandings

Peter ParkerxReader

Dad!Tony

Word count: 1990

Ever since you were young you weren’t allowed to your dad’s parties. That or you were and you dreaded them.

However, ever since he started working with the other Avenger’s, you looked forward to the ones you could go to.

Tonight was no different.

You were on a break from school and you surely needed it.

As you got ready there was a knock on your bedroom door.

“Come in,” You called, slipping your wedges on.

The door opened revealing your Aunt Nat. During her time working for your dad, the two of you had become close. She was like a mother to you, okay well more just like a cool aunt, but you still admired her.

The woman smiled at you. “Hey! Your dad said you were home, why didn’t you tell me?”

You smiled going over and hugging her. “I wasn’t sure if I was coming home or not, but dad convinced me.”

“Well I’m glad. There’s someone I want you to meet tonight.”

You cocked an eyebrow at her. “Who?”

“Just our new member’s that you haven’t met yet,” She said, nonchalantly.

You smiled. “That sounds awesome. I can’t wait.”

“I’ll see you up there.” She said, leaving your room.

You quickly finished getting ready and went up to the party.

The music was loud and there were way too many people.

You caught sight of your dad and went over to him.

“Hey kiddo,” He greeted, setting his drink down on the bar. He pulled you into a hug.

“Hey dad,” you greeted, hugging back.

“Glad you’re home.” He said, releasing you.

“Me too,” you sighed with relief. Nothing beat being at home, while you didn’t go to school far away, living there wasn’t the same as being home.

Where you could be surrounded by your super family.

You asked the bartender for a soda before leaving your dad to talk to some of his guests.

You were happy the avenger’s were all finally back together. You couldn’t take another minute of their fighting.

While walking around the party you caught up with some of the people you knew. Including; Bruce, Thor, and Steve. You also finally got to meet the infamous Bucky who quickly made your heart melt.

It was a shame he was still so much older than you minus his time being frozen. But still, as charming as he was, not really your type.

You now found yourself sitting with Clint, Wanda, and Vision. The two newer members were interesting to say the least.

“Y/N,” Nat called from behind.

When you turned to look at her she was dragging a blushing guy, around your age, towards you.

Clint pulled Wanda and Vision away before you could even think to look back.

“Y/N,” Nat said finally reaching you. “This is Peter.”

You smiled politely at him. “Hi.”

“Uh, h-hi, hi.” He said, fumbling over his words. He quickly slid a hand through his light brown hair and nervously looked to Nat.

“I’ll let you two talk, I figured it’d be nice for Peter to have someone his own age to speak to at these gatherings.” Nat informed, as she released him.

Before either of you could protest she slid away.

You looked up at Peter.

He was still blushing, and now nervously looking around with beautiful brown eyes.

“Do you wanna sit down?” You asked him, scooching over some to make room for him on the couch you occupied.

“S-sure,” Peter got out, he shifted around the couch and sat next to you.

You chuckled lightly at him. You never thought awkward could be this cute.

“What?” He asked, looking at you.

You smiled sweetly at him. “Nothing, it’s nice to meet you, Spider-man.”

“Uh y-yeah you too, but I just wish Nat would have told me a bit more about you? She sort of just ran up to me and said I want you to meet someone…,”

“That’s Aunt Nat for you.”

He looked like he was about to question you, but you beat him to it.

“So, what’s it like? Being a part of the Avenger’s?”

You asked. You were always curious, your dad insisted on keeping you as far as he could from their actual work.

Peter’s eyes lit up. “Amazing! I still can’t believe it.

Mr. Stark pretty much took me under his wing and ever since, it’s been great.”

You felt a small sting of jealousy. You knew your dad recruited Spider-man. What you didn’t know was that he was around your age and was close to him. “That’s awesome.”

He nodded quickly. “So, how do you know Nat?”

He seemed to be relaxing, which was good.

You were surprised by his question and weren’t sure how to answer. It was obvious he didn’t know that Mr. Stark was your dad. You weren’t sure if it was even okay to tell him, especially if your dad didn’t want him to know. “She’s like a mom to me, has been for quite some time.”

“That’s cool, but if that’s the case, how come I’ve never seen you at one of these parties before?”

“I go to a boarding school in Manhattan, I’m on break right now.” You told him.

He frowned slightly. “No way, that doesn’t sound very fun.”

“And let me guess you go to a gross public school where you’re too smart, right?”

Peter was blushing. “It’s not gross.”

You smiled. “Are you a senior at least?”

“Yes, I am thank you.”

“Me too. I can’t wait to finish up.”

From there the two of you continued to talk about anything and everything. You ended up arguing about who would win in a fight. Going through a majority of the team. Laughing the whole time.

“Okay, okay,” you said, catching your breath. “Who do you think would win, you or me?”

Peter gave you a look of confusion. “That would be an unfair fight, I wouldn’t fight you.”

You smirked at him. “I think you’re just scared I’d beat you.”

“You’re totally trying to get me to say I’d beat up a girl.” He accused.

“The only beating up there would be is me kicking your ass buddy.”

He shrugged. “If you say so.”

You stood abruptly. “Let’s go find out.”

“What?” Peter asked, looking up at you.

You grabbed his hand and pulled him up off the couch towards a set of stairs.

He blushed when you stopped a floor below, still holding his hand.

You also noticed and released him, blushing to yourself. But continuing on your way towards the gym.

When you arrived the lights automatically turned on.

“Do you want a change of clothes?” You asked Peter as you went to go change.

“I think I’m okay,” he told you.

You smiled at him before going off to change.

When you returned in a sports bra and leggings you found Peter without his sweater and button up, in an undershirt. His eyes widened slightly and he blushed as he took you in.

You smirked approaching him. “No powers, got it?”

He nodded quickly. “I still really don’t think-” he started, but quickly found himself on his back. His eyes wide.

“Come on, Peter, don’t hold back on me.”

He smiled. “Yeah, okay.”

It was an even match. You’d been trained by the best, your aunt Nat refusing to let you go off to boarding school without knowing how to defend yourself, much against your father’s will.

It’d been twenty minutes and neither of you had managed to pin the other yet. So you decided to play a little dirty.

“Come on, Peter. I know you can do better than this.” You teased.

“I just.. i don’t wanna hurt you.”

You smirked. “Maybe I’m masochist.”

Peter’s face lit up red and you took your chance to grab his arm and flip him.

He easily knocked you off your feet in one clean sweep of his legs before getting up.

You rolled back over your shoulders and stood to face him. You went to punch him.

Peter blocked every one of your hits and laid his own to your side.

He immediately looked like he regretted it.

This gave you a chance to lay a few of your own hits.

Both of you backed off.

“Come on, Peter,” you said, tone teasing. “Don’t be shy, I’m sure you’d love holding me down.”

It was the exact distraction you needed.

Peter’s cheeks flared for the nth time that evening as you landed a solid kick to his chest causing him to fall back.

You sought your chance and straddled him, pinning him to the mats. A smile spread across your face as you looked down at the blushing Spider-Man below you.

“You’re pretty cute you know that?” You asked, making his blush reach his ears.

“Y-yeah well.. so are you.” He managed to say, keeping his stuttering to a minimum.

This time it was your turn for your cheeks to turn pink.

“Would..,” Peter started, suddenly more nervous than when he met you only a few hours ago.

“Would you maybe wanna go on a date with me?”

You smiled and nodded.

“What is going on in here?” A voice called from the doorway.

You looked up finding your dad. He didn’t look happy.

Peter tilted his head back to look. “Oh uh h-hey, hey Mr. Stark,” he stuttered out.

“What’s up dad?” You asked, sitting back on Peter’s stomach.

Peter’s eyes almost shot out of his head. “Wh-wha.. d-dad?”

You glanced back down at Peter before getting off of him. “We were just sparring.” You shrugged.

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Tony snapped.

You rolled your eyes.

Peter got up the second you were off of him. How did he not realize that you were Mr. Stark’s daughter? Probably because he didn’t know you even existed. “Um M-Mr. Stark I can explain-”

“Get back upstairs spiderling.” Tony ordered, annoyed.

Peter quickly grabbed his shirts and sped past the now very scary man.

“Dad come on,” You whined. “We weren’t doing anything.”

“I heard everything thank you,” Tony said. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” You asked, shrugging.

“Go change and get back upstairs.” He demanded and turned around. “And stay away from Parker.”

You frowned but obeyed.

When you made it back upstairs most of the party had dispersed, with the exception of the team.

They were all gathered around in the living room, relaxing.

When you arrived they all gave you knowing looks.

“What?” You asked, looking at all of th. You quickly realized that not only was Peter missing so was your dad. “Where’s my dad?”

“Off lecturing, Peter,” Steve answered.

You groaned, slapping your forehead. “Aunt Nat what did you get me into?”

She gave you a cocky smirk. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Come on Nat, you totally tried to set them up and they hit it off,” Clint cut in.

“And now Dad’s totally pissed,” I finished for him.

“Yes,” Your father said, coming from his lab, Peter tailing him. “I’m very pissed.”

“If I want to date someone that obviously likes me, that I like back, I’m gonna date them. You can’t stop me.” You told him.

There were a few ooh’s and a couple laughs from the Avenger’s.

“You’re right,” Tony said, surprising everyone, even Peter beside him. “For the record. I never said you couldn’t. I’m just not happy about it. But I suppose if you’re going to date anyone, this kid’s probably a good option. At least then I’m sure two smart people will inherit the business.”

Everyone stared at him.

“What?” He asked.

No one knew what to say.

Tony rolled his eyes and went to the bar to get a drink.

Nat nudged your arm. She smiled up at you. “See what did I tell you.”

You smiled at her then turned your smile to Peter.

He smiled nervously and waved to you.

#peterparkerxreader #prompt #peterxreader #peterparker #spidermanxreader #spider man #spiderman #dadtony #imagine #insert

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