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jamaisjoons · 5 years

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peach parfait I | ksj

⏤ 𝚜 𝚞 𝚖 𝚖 𝚊 𝚛 𝚢 : you and seokjin have always been at odds as the top two chefs at big hit academy of culinary arts. enemies to lovers au

⏤ 𝚙 𝚊 𝚒 𝚛 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 : seokjin x reader

⏤ 𝚐 𝚎 𝚗 𝚛 𝚎 : fluff, smut, slight? angst

⏤ 𝚠 𝚘 𝚛 𝚍 𝚌 𝚘 𝚞 𝚗 𝚝 : 19k

⏤ 𝚠 𝚊 𝚛 𝚗 𝚒 𝚗 𝚐 𝚜 : female solo masturbation, slight nipple play, sex toys - ring vibrator

⏤ 𝚊 / 𝚗 : hello demons!!!!!! welcome to my first ever ksj au!!! it finally happened wow,,,, honestly this wasn’t supposed to be this long but here we are,,,, 19k in on the first part whoops. there will be a second part out [hopefully soon, i already have about 8k of it written] but until then, i hope you enjoy this! // lowkey this was inspired by shokugeki no soma skfjak

⏤ Part I | Part II ⇥ complete

“Kim Seokjin, a perfect 100!” Head Chef Hobeom called out.

Your entire body stiffened as if you had just been drenched in ice-cold water. You could feel the tell-tale scowl already forming on your face, your features twisting in annoyance as you took in the sight of Kim Seokjin’s smug face. His dark, slightly wavy locks fell loosely around his stupid forehead and he was dressed casually, in a plain white t-shirt, further accentuating his unnecessarily broad shoulders. Light wash jeans hung low on his hips, the material of the denim tugging around his ridiculously toned thighs. Not that you were admiring him. No. You would never admire your greatest rival. Which is exactly what he was. Your gaze fell back to his face, his nose slightly scrunched, luscious lips pulled into a half-smirk and eyes shining with mirth.

That smug bastard.

You could hear the screams and cheers from all the female students, and even some male, as Seokjin bowed to the rest of the class while you angrily threw your spatula down. You grumbled to yourself and began cleaning up, ignoring the cheers for Seokjin as best as you could. You knew why you lost. You had made a stupid, rookie mistake. One that you were now kicking yourself for. How the hell had you managed to forget to season the meat before cooking? It was probably the most fundamental step of any recipe and yet in the heat of the moment and under pressurised circumstances, you had completely neglected that crucial step and it had cost you the exam. Well not really, you still passed but Seokjin had scored higher. And now, Seokjin would be able to brag until the next time the two of you faced off. From the corner of your eye, you watched Seokjin saunter over to you and immediately growled to yourself, eyes narrowing.

Great, now he was here to gloat.

“Hey ____, that’s what, my three hundred and fifty-eighth win? Who’s winning right now? Cause according to my count it’s me” Seokjin taunts, his tone laced in both arrogance and glee. You could feel your eyebrow twitch, taking a deep breath before turning around, your eyes in slits as you scrutinised his smug face.

“Until the next round. You forget before this round, we were both tied at three hundred and fifty-seven” You spit out, tone saturated with hate and loathing. Seokjin, however, is unbothered, letting out a little snicker.

“Yeah we were both tied but you could have won this round. I can’t believe you lost because you didn’t salt the meat. Slacking a bit, aren’t you? Isn’t seasoning the most basic rule of cooking? Do you need to go back to the first year? Or if you really want, I could teach you? I think you’d benefit from my classes. We could call it, cooking for dummies: back to the basics” Seokjin jeers and you let out a low growl, slamming your most prized knife back into its case as you continue cleaning up your station. You’re trying not to let his words get to you, but you can’t help it. He’s completely right. You could have won if you had simply seasoned the god damned meat.

“Oh, bite me Seokjin, we’ve all done it once or twice. Or did you forget the time you forgot the soy sauce in a chow mein? A dish which is basically just noodles, bean sprouts and soy sauce. So, do us both a favour and kindly fuck off, I have pastry class now,” You sneer and Seokjin laughs as you grab your knife set before storming away. You can feel his eyes on your back the entire time, the hairs on your neck standing in irritation. You can still hear his stupid squeaky laugh up until you leave the class.

Once out, you take in a deep breath and calm yourself down, face pulled into a frown. There were many reasons you had lost that match. Many reasons the flavours of the dish didn’t tie in together as well as they should have. The biggest reason, was, of course, the lack of salt on the meat resulting in a bland tasting dish despite the number of spices and herbs mixed into the sauce. You had also overcooked the butter, leading to a slightly smoked flavour that offset the dish and because of that, you hadn’t been able to sauté the onions long enough and thus they weren’t caramelised enough to compliment the beef. You continued muttering what had gone wrong with the dish to yourself, noting them down so that next time you could and would beat Seokjin at his own game.

“Hey, you okay?” Jimin asked and you snapped out of your daze, slightly startled by your best friend appearing out of nowhere. You looked around, brows knitting in bewilderment as you wonder just when you’d gotten to class. Had you been lost in your thoughts that long?

“Huh? Yeah, sorry. I was lost in my own head” You said as you popped your knives under the counter and slipped your apron on, washing your hands before taking your place at one of the many counters in the room, awaiting the chef’s arrival.

“It seemed like you were mumbling about food. Oh wait, today was your exam with Jin-hyung wasn’t it? I take it, it didn’t end well” Jimin says and you scowl at him.

“I forgot to salt the fucking meat. And as usual, perfect Kim Seokjin’s dish was faultless. So yeah, that ass won” You lament and Jimin’s face scrunched in concern.

“You did pass the exam though yes?” Jimin asked, worry laced in his tone and you quickly shot him an exasperated look. Of course, you had passed. Failure in exams resulted in expulsion, no questions asked.

That was the reason Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts was the best culinary school in the entirety of Asia. Less than 5% of the students who enter graduate. The Head Chef’s at the school pushed until you were tired and pushed even more after. The academy had no place for people who couldn’t stand the heat of the kitchen nor the pressure or competition. And you’d be damned if you weren’t in the top 5% of graduates. Of course, graduating paid off handsomely. Graduates from Big Hit were guaranteed to get jobs in the most prestigious of restaurants across the world. The Big Hit name carried weight; hell, even if you made it to the third year before failing would guarantee you a job in a high class, albeit small restaurant.

“Jimin, if I failed, I wouldn’t be here. I passed the exam. I came second, after stupid Seokjin. I scored a 95 whereas he scored a perfect 100” You replied and Jimin beamed at you, his eyes scrunching up into half-moons.

“That’s great ____! You should be really proud of that” Jimin says cheerily but at the annoyance still carved in your face, he deflates, rolling his eyes at you in exasperation.

“It’s in 90s ____. Some people would kill for that score. Some people never even reach that boundary, you and Seokjin-hyung are the only two to consistently get scores over 90 so stop pouting. Besides, I don’t understand why you both still go head to head. You’re trained in completely different backgrounds. Of course, Jin-hyung was going to do better on the exam. He’s a rotisseur. Someone who is trained and specialised in cooking meat and savoury dishes. You’re a god damn pâtissier. You bake bread and make desserts. They’re two completely different ballparks” Jimin, forever the voice of reason, argues and you shrug.

“It’s just always been like that. Ever since we both entered this academy. Besides we didn’t always specialise in what we do now. There was a time when we both cooked whatever. We still do. We just tend to focus on our specialities more now. You know the best chefs are experts in all disciplines and masters in their own discipline,” You refute and Jimin nods, barely paying attention to you now.

“Please don’t throw Headmaster Bang’s words at me. I still can’t believe he does that exact same speech at the start of every year. But I guess you’re correct. Besides, according to everyone, including the head chefs, you both are the best chefs this academy has seen in years. It’s alright though, the next exam is a sweet based one isn’t it? He’s never beaten you on one of those,” Jimin says offhandedly, as he too starts preparing for class and you nod.

It was true.

Ever since you entered Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts those three years ago, you and Seokjin had gone head to head countless – except of course you both kept count – of times. But it was almost predictable at this point. If the exam had anything to do with baked goods or desserts, you would score nothing less than a perfect 100. You were currently unrivalled in the academy when it came to desserts. However, the same could be said for Seokjin and any meat dishes. He too had yet to score less than a perfect 100 on any of his dishes that included meat. Hence, you both would win those respectively and those exams were almost predictable. However, there were anomalies. If either of you were in an exam for fish, sauces or any specific cuisines, it was anyone’s game. Sometimes Seokjin scored higher; sometimes you would. Hence, the two of you were tied at three hundred and fifty-seven wins each. That was until today. When Seokjin took the lead with his latest win.

You scowled once more.

Stupid Seokjin and his stupid pretty face and stupid cooking skills.

“Alright. Welcome to today’s exam. As mentioned before, the theme is Chantilly cream. You will find an assortment of ingredients at your counter. You may prepare whatever you want, so long as you only use the ingredients at your counter. You have two hours to complete your dishes. You may begin,” Head Chef Sejin calls out and you immediately begin looking at your ingredients. This was one of the hardest challenges; everyone was given ingredients and could prepare whatever you wanted. However, you were limited by your ingredient supply and variety.

Your eyes quickly scanned over all the ingredients; butter, flour, vanilla extract; strawberries; cream; chocolate; sugar. Damn no eggs. You discarded any recipe at the top of your head that would need eggs. Suddenly, an idea popped into your head and your eyes lit up with excitement. You quickly began gathering the ingredients before grabbing any equipment you’d need. You looked up briefly, taking in the sight of the other student chefs, panic etched into their faces. Your eyes fleetingly wandered over to Seokjin, who like you, had already begun grabbing ingredients. You scowled slightly before going through the recipe in your head.

You slowly began to work, beginning by creating your base. You submersed yourself into creating the dough, white dust puffing up in a cloud around you as you added the flour. Your shoulders relaxed, fingers moving in soft circles as you incorporated the butter into the flour. Briefly, you glanced up, slightly startled when you realised Seokjin was watching you work. As soon as your eyes made contact, he winked at you. You felt the vein in your head pop and immediately grew agitated. Sneering at him, you went back to focusing on your kneading, now a lot less gentle than before as you began pounding the dough, working out your frustration with Seokjin on it.

Realising the force behind your kneading, you quickly stopped, fearing that you’d overwork it resulting in a tough pastry. Wrapping it in clingfilm, you placed it into the fridge to cool before taking a deep breath. You wouldn’t allow Kim Seokjin to crawl under your skin. No matter how irritatingly handsome he was. Wait- where had that come from? You quickly shook your head, thinking over your recipe as you hurry to begin your next step lest you run out of time. You grabbed the strawberries, as needlessly red as Seokjin’s lips, chopping off the leaves before dumping them into a saucepan along with vanilla bean paste, a squeeze of orange juice and cinnamon. Your secret ingredients to enhance the flavour of the strawberry coulis and gain an edge over whatever Seokjin had planned.

You waited for the strawberry mixture to begin boiling, stirring continuously as it began to reduce. The task was mindless and involuntarily your thoughts wandered off to Seokjin, a frown marring your face. You couldn’t resist chancing another glance at him, brows furrowing when you realised he was placing cake tins into the oven. An eggless cake? You scoff haughtily. Most of the other students were also making eggless cakes. You turned your attention back to your saucepan, the strawberries were completely mushy and reduced, leaving a thick scarlet sauce. You grabbed a bowl and strained it, removing any clumps of skin or seeds and leaving a completely clear coulis. Placing it to the side, you checked your timer before grabbing your dough out of the fridge.

Moving onto your next step, you grabbed your previously abused dough from the fridge. The heels of your palm pressed into the soft, chilled dough as you began working it once again. Once you deemed it was ready, you grabbed the rolling pin and began rolling and folding it into what was to become your puff pastry. From your peripheral vision, you noticed that Seokjin was idly standing around, leaning against his counter in a completely relaxed position. Your brows furrowed, wondering just why he was sitting around doing nothing when the timer was still running. You cursed internally; why the hell were you so caught up in what Seokjin was doing? He was your rival. If he failed, it worked out better for you. But that didn’t sit well with you. You wanted to win on your own merit, wanted to be better than him because you were better; not because he threw the exam. You look up once again, locking eyes with him.

This time, when your eyes meet Seokjin simply stares. Against your will, you send him a questioning, albeit concerned look. Seokjin reels slightly in surprise before he composes himself. His hand moves and soon he’s blowing you a kiss causing you to roll your eyes at his antics. You hear the female students swoon, cheers surrounding the entire class causing you to roll your eyes. Seokjin simply ignored them, smirking at you before getting to work on whatever he needed to. Satisfied that he was taking this seriously, you turned back to your dough. Realising it was ready, the butter marbled perfectly through the flour; you wrapped it in cling film again before placing it in the fridge once again.

Taking a look at the timer, you realised you had just under an hour. Clearing up your counter hurriedly, you began preheating the oven. The last bits would undoubtedly be the easiest; just whip the cream with vanilla and sugar in order to satisfy the Chantilly cream requirement and you’d be golden. All of a sudden, your individual timer went off; you swiftly wipe your hands clean and pulled the dough from the fridge once again, this time rolling it out and cutting it into perfect rectangles, placing them into the oven. Then, you continued clearing up, realising Seokjin was doing the same.

Both of you had your bases in the oven, which meant, you’d both most likely finish around the same time. Although, he was a bit pressed for time. It’d most likely take him longer to assemble and decorate his cake than you would. You both had about forty-five minutes left. It was time to get serious. You pulled your pastry out of the oven, ensuring they were golden and crisp, but more importantly, cooked all the way through. You needed to cool them quick; you walked to the blast chiller, depositing your tray into the machine. You turned around and bumped into someone, immediately apologising before you looked up and realised it was Seokjin.

“Hey ____” Seokjin sing songs, looking down at you with a small smirk, his voice playful, and you instantly rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. You watch as he carefully places his tins into the machine, just under your tray. The two of you stay by the chiller, your arms crossed as you look around at all the other chefs, some of who were panicking as they ran out of time.

“Looks like we’re both going to be in the top again,” Seokjin says nonchalantly and you snort.

“When are we not at the top?” You snidely retort. It’s a rhetorical question considering both of you were always in the top and Seokjin knew that. Seokjin simply shrugs, looking back at you, his eyes glistening with something you just can’t seem to place. If you didn’t know any better, you’d assume it was pride. But there was no reason for him to be proud of you. In fact, if it was pride, it’d mainly because he was proud of himself.

“So, what are you making? Didn’t look like a cake” Seokjin asks casually and you feel your eyebrow twitch. It seemed to do that a lot whenever he was involved.

“If you can’t tell then maybe you should just drop out” You sarcastically respond and Seokjin laughs in that squeaky, carefree way that he does, that leaves you wanting to punch him in the throat.

“Well I know you’re making a mille-feuille, I just thought you’d make something a bit more interesting, you know? I guess I overestimated your skills” Seokjin says nonchalantly and you can feel the nerve on your forehead throb in anger.

“Excuse me? Those are big words coming from someone making a cake” You retort and Seokjin shrugs.

“Yeah, maybe. But I’m not the pâtissier out of the two of us, am I?” He replies with a smirk and your fingers twitch, the urge to smack him coursing through your palms. How dare he? How dare he just come here and insult you like that!

“Anyway, my cakes should be cool now. See you at the end. Maybe I’ll win this round,” Seokjin says with a wink and your eyes widen before you let out an incredulous laugh.

“I don’t think so, Kim. You have yet to beat me when it comes to desserts” You replied smugly and Seokjin snickers, his eyes glinting mischievously.

“There’s a first time for everything. Maybe you’ll forget to add sugar to your dish, who knows” Seokjin taunts and you clench your jaw lest you scream at him.

That bastard.

As if you would ever make such a stupid mistake in your own discipline. That ass. One day you’d wipe that stupid smirk off of his stupidly pretty face. Really who was that stupidly pretty?!

You grab your tray from the blast chiller and stalk over to your counter, grumbling the entire time. You’d show him. You quickly whip up the Chantilly cream, ensuring it’s stiff but light and flavoured just right before you carefully begin assembling your mille-feuille. You place the first pastry layer on the presentation dish, dusting it with a light coating of icing sugar before pipping on the cream over, garnishing with the strawberries and drizzling a sparing layer of the coulis. Not too much; just enough to enhance the flavour but not enough to turn the pastry, that you worked so hard into making crispy and flaky, soggy. You continue layering until you hit the third and last layer.

You place the pastry gently on top, making sure all the edges line up. When satisfied, you pipe small dollops of cream, topping them off with strawberries and mint leaves to add some vibrant colours to your dish. You quickly glance at the time, smiling when you realise you have just enough to finish with a light dusting of icing sugar and cinnamon and then clear up so your counter is sparklingly clean. You finish up quickly and then gently cover up your dish. It’s a beautiful concoction of reds, greens, whites and golden brown. The dessert almost makes your mouth water and you know you’re sure to pass. It may not be extravagant but it was perfect.

“A minute left. Please start bringing your dishes up” Head Chef Sejin calls out and you grab your dish, walking up to the judges. You place yours down and bow, the chefs all smiling at you. From the corner of your eye, you see Seokjin bring up his own dish and briefly, very, very briefly you wonder what would happen if you just tripped him up. However, both of you believed in the integrity of healthy competition and neither of you had ever sabotaged each other before. So instead, you just glared at the huge expanse of the back of his shoulders as he walked up to the table, placing his own dish down.

Soon, other students began bringing up their dishes and you winced slightly at some of them. Even now, in the third year, people made stupid mistakes when cooking. It was why these exams took place, to put people under the time pressure and stress they’d face when in the kitchen of their own restaurants someday. One person had forgotten to cool down their cake and thus the cream was slowly melting. It seemed like another hadn’t had enough time to cook their cake, causing it to collapse in the middle. You grimaced at those two; a mishap that big was sure to lead in failure and as a result expulsion.

Sadly, Seokjin’s cake was as beautiful as your mille-feuille, with pristine piping, delectable, soft-looking peaks of Chantilly cream and a vibrant array of fruit from kiwis to summer berries. There wasn’t much you could fault him for in his presentation. Even when compared to your perfect dessert. The deciding factor would be the taste. You were sure of it.

The judging process slowly began, and slowly people were eliminated. The two who had panicked had received 0s like you had predicted. Other than that, the lowest score was 46 and the highest so far 78. And then, Head Chef Sejin looked at you and Seokjin. He regarded you both with smiles and you immediately feel nervous. Chef Sejin was currently the best pâtissier in Asia and he was your idol. No matter how many times he judged and approved of your work, you still got nervous, hoping it was up to his expectations.

“I take it you two are competing again?” Head Chef Sejin asks and both you and Seokjin nod, causing Chef Sejin to laugh. Your rivalry with Seokjin was widely known throughout the school, most people anticipating it. The Head Chefs even actively encouraged the friendly competition, sometimes pitting other students against each other in order to drive them further and give them a purpose, a reason to excel and do better than they already could. Of course, you and Seokjin had been non-stop competing for three years now.

“Alright then, Seokjin, I believe you are the current winner, from your last exam? Would you like to go first?” Chef Sejin asks and Seokjin nods. You watch with bated breath as Chef Sejin cuts up the cake, the judges oohing at the soft, airy texture of the sponge. How he managed that without eggs, you’d forever be surprised but you wouldn’t dare openly compliment him. The judges begin tasting small bites, all smiling and noting down their scores. They quickly look at each other, discussing the results and then Chef Sejin smiles at Seokjin.

“Truly, a beautiful sponge. Airy and soft, despite the lack of eggs provided. How did you manage this?” Chef Sejin asks and Seokjin smiles.

“I substituted the butter for oil to give the sponge a lighter texture and added both baking soda and baking powder with a little bit of lemon juice react with the two powders to make it airier,” Seokjin says simply and the corner of your lip twitches. Damn him.

“Ah, of course. A wonderful job, and 98, the highest score of the class so far. And now for ____ 's mille-feuille” Chef Sejin compliments Seokjin before looking at you kindly; however, your shoulders stiffen. That was an awfully high score. It meant you now had to score a 99 or perfect 100 in order to beat him. You could feel the hairs on your spine stand as you anxiously awaited the judging of your own dessert. You were almost sure it was perfect, to you it was. And granted, you’d never scored anything less than a perfect on a dessert or bread dish. But Seokjin was right. There was a first time for everything.

There could be a number of times in the future when your dish wouldn’t score a perfect. Today could be one of those times. You watched with bated breath as the judges cut up your mille-feuille, the pastry crackling under the knife before it glided through the cream and fruit. You sucked in a deep breath, watching as the judges daintily put a spoonful of the pastry and cream into their mouths. It was as if time moved slowly. Every chew, every ooh and ah. The palpitating of your heart pounded in your eardrums, your palms behind your back sweaty, wrists wringing nervously. Chef Sejin placed his fork down and then the judges began writing down their own scores. You can feel Seokjin near you but you’re too tense to even give him a second thought. You don’t notice the way he looks at you, a knowing look on his face. You don’t notice the way he lets out a small, displeased sigh before shaking his head.

“Once again ____, you’ve outdone yourself. This was… absolutely perfect. The texture of the pastry was crumbly and flaky, cooked to perfection. The cream soft but stiff and the sweetness of the strawberries are cut beautifully by the cinnamon and tanginess of the orange in the coulis. Truly a masterpiece. Congratulations, another perfect 100” Chef Sejin compliments and you release your breath, grinning brightly at the older man despite your still shaky hands. You quickly bow in thanks, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you beam with pride. The chefs thank all the students before they begin leaving. You spin on your heels, grinning at Seokjin.

“Well, Seokjin. That brings us both to three hundred and fifty-eight. I believe that means it’s another tie. Of course, I’ll be sure to win the next round” You say and Seokjin looks down at you, his face blank. Your fists clench slightly because despite his blank expression, you can still see the slight disappointment in his eyes and you know it’s not because he lost.

“Any first-year could have made that. Like I said, I was hoping for something more. Besides, win? Lose? Who cares, at the end of the day, I still have this face. Therefore, who is the real winner here?” Seokjin says and with that, he walked away. You can feel your cheeks and ears burn with rage, your fists clenched on either side of your body. And that was exactly why you’d never compliment him on anything, his dishes, his looks or anything. Because not once, not a single time had he ever admitted your dishes were good or that you had done well. All he ever did was criticise you and your work.

God, you hated him.

Storming into your apartment, you slam the door shut, the vibrations reverberating through the room. You stomp into the living room, throwing your stuff haphazardly onto the sofa before making your way into your bedroom. You let out a frustrated scream, flinging yourself into the bed before kicking your legs rather childishly. You could not believe him. Where did he get off telling you that any first-year could have made your mille-feuille? It was perfect! You’d pay any first-year 500,000 won if they could replicate it!

You scowl into your pillow, eyes narrowed as your blood boils at the thought of Seokjin’s words. He was honestly so full of himself. You couldn’t wait to triumph over him and put him in his place. Granted, it would only last for a short time. But still! You were determined to come out on top. His words flash through your head once again and you let out another scream, this time muffled by your pillow. You grabbed your pillow and threw it against the wall, finally working out most of your frustration.

You sat up with a groan, a scowl still on your face. Your shoulders were tense and your back ached from standing up all day cooking. A shower, you decide, was the best course to work off not only the day’s grime but also to calm you down. You tut slightly at yourself, reprimanding yourself for allowing Seokjin to work you up so much. Getting off your bed, you stripped down to just your panties, exhaling with relief as soon as your breasts were out of the wretched cage that was your bra.

Stepping into the en-suite bathroom, you turned the shower on, letting it heat up for a few minutes before stepping in. With a loud sigh, you let the hot water run along your body. The heat of the water, powered with the steam, slowly worked your exhaustion and frustration out. You felt your sore muscles slowly relaxing, rolling your shoulders to remove the kinks. You lathered your body in soap, allowing the loofa to gently exfoliate your skin. It was almost ritualistic, with each stroke you could feel your ire at Seokjin slowly decreasing.

You spend another fifteen minutes under the shower, letting the hot water run over your body. Finally, when your fingers start pruning, you decide to step out. Wrapping a large fluffy terry cloth towel around yourself, you pad bag into your bedroom. As much as the shower has helped, you still can’t help but feel the slightest bit of tension persist in your muscles. Your eyes flick to beside your bed and you make a split-second decision.

Crawling in bed, you made yourself comfy. You slowly unwrapped the towel from your body, dropping it to the floor. You shivered slightly, your nipples hardening from the cool air. The difference in temperate from the steamy bathroom to your cool bedroom was highly noticeable, especially considering you were completely naked. You relaxed further, sinking into your bed as you’re hand slowly drifted down to your stomach, working your way towards your naked sex. Your body was already slowly heating up and you can no longer register the chill of the room against your still slightly damp body.

Your fingers circled your belly button, your skin prickling under the sensation as you gradually lose yourself in the pleasurable haze, your breath hitching. Without a second thought, your hand slowly worked down towards your wettening pussy, letting out a low groan when your hand brushed lightly against your clit, the small bundle of nerves hardening against your hand. You loosely played with your slit, a finger barely dipping in before pulling out, spreading your wetness all over your lips.

You bit your lip at the sensation, needing more but wanting to draw out the feeling. Involuntarily, you rolled your hips, trying to get more friction against your hands, your breathing heavy now. Unconsciously, one of your hands moved to your breast and your eyes immediately slipped shut. You imagined a faceless man, with dark hair and broad shoulders hovering over you. You imagined it was his hand playing with your nipple instead, rolling your breast in his palms before flicking the nipple with his thumb. Vaguely, the man you’d imagined looked familiar to you, but in your lust induced haze, you didn’t care.

You moved your second hand to your other breast, lightly squeezing and massaging, pinching one nipple between your thumb and forefinger as the other continued rolling your other nipple. You let out a shuddering breath, hips now grinding against the bed as you pussy cried out for attention, weeping with your arousal. Your nipple aches against the hand pinching it, the delicious pain only making you cry out weakly at the sensation. You squeeze harder, twisting slightly and moaning at the sharper pain before releasing it. Desire burned in your veins, imagining the man squeezing even harder, wishing his puffy pink lips could wrap around them. Pink lips? When did the faceless man have lips?

Your mind floods with fervour, mouth dry as if all your wetness seeped from it towards your aching cunt. A wanton cry escapes your lips, your sex crying out to be touched, to give it some friction and relieve the ache deep within your cunt. You raise your knees slightly before spreading your thighs almost obscenely, shivering at the sensation of the cold air against your hot, needy pussy. Your fingers flit against the soft flesh of your sensitive thighs. You’re so close and you curse yourself for drawing out the pleasure for this long. You still imagine the man is over you; it’s him that’s teasing you and you now find yourself cursing him.

You gingerly move your fingers to your folds, back arching slightly. Your nerves are afire, your lust seeping into every pore in your body. Fingers slowly splay your pussy open, and you imagine it’s the faceless man’s crooked fingers instead of your own, shuddering once again at the cold air. The heady, musky scent of your arousal fills the room. Every one of your senses is clogged by desire; your arousal is so thick that you can both smell and taste it. You can feel the stickiness between your legs, your juices coating your thighs and you can hear the slight squelching of your pussy lips.

A prolonged, needy groan escapes your throat as your fingers finally come into contact with your hard clit. Your middle finger pushed down, pressing into the bundle and you exhale breathily, rolling it under the pad of your fingertip. Your finger slowly pushed down, spreading your lips and wetness coating your pussy before you curl your finger back towards your bud. You cry out again and again as you work your clit over and over again but you need more.

You blindly reach over to your bedside table, opening the draw as you continue playing with your clit. You open the drawer, reaching inside and feeling around until you touch the cool plastic of your vibrator ring. You claw at it, grabbing it before reluctantly removing your hand from your clit. You slip the ring onto your finger, before switching it on. Your hand hastily moves back to your sex and you cry out at the low reverberations of the vibrator strumming against your clit, eyes almost rolling back.

Your pussy is on fire, clenching and unclenching uncontrollably; your abdomen flips and tightens, your orgasm slowly nearing. But you’re still missing something. You let the vibrator rest against your clit, stimulating you over and over again, your heart beating rapidly, thundering in your ears. You suddenly plunge one finger into you, mewling at the sensation, imagining it was the man’s long crooked fingers instead, while simultaneously wishing your fingers were longer. Slowly, you press a second finger into you, wincing at the stretch before your mouth gapes open in pleasure. You imagine it’s the faceless man who is rapidly sinking two fingers into you, his plush lips pulled into a small smirk, nose slightly scrunched and strong, thick eyebrows furrowed as he brings you the most pleasure you’ve had in a while. You’re too lost in your own pleasure to even realise the faceless man’s features slowly forming.

Your cunt feels like velvet, gripping and rippling against your fingers, leaking with your arousal. Your hips grind down against your hand, thrusting into them as you force your clit harder against the vibrating ring, trying to press your fingers deeper into your cunt. You press a third finger in, wincing even more at the stinging sensation and the stretch but you need more and so you persevere against the pain, pushing deeper and deeper until your pussy swallows all three of your fingers. You almost shriek, pistoning them in harder, in and out, repetitively.

You grind harder and harder, moaning and groaning, eyes rolling back into your skull as you pant. Your orgasm is so close. Your pussy is dripping all over your hand and you’re sure you’ve left a slight puddle of your juices on your bedsheets but you don’t care. You push your hips harder once again and curl your fingers, pressing the pad against the rough skin of your g-spot. The overwhelming sensations of your thrusting fingers against the spongy highly sensitised skin inside you paired with the vibration against your clit has your legs trembling.

You feel yourself climbing higher and higher until finally, you release. You let out a stuttering scream. Your orgasm ricochets through you faster than you can process. You cry out louder, chasing your high and riding your fingers. Your walls ripple uncontrollably against your fingers, savouring the touch and high as you tremble and quake violently, legs spasming as you press the vibrator harder against your clit. You let the tide of your climax wash through you, carrying you along with the wave and drowning you in intoxication until you finally pull out, the sensitivity in your cunt too much to handle.

You breathe heavily, the buzzing of the vibrator still continuous as you come down from your high. You pant, your skin flushed and tingling from the post aftershocks of your orgasm, your sweat matted hair sticking to your forehead. Your brain slowly adjusts, pulling itself out of the lust-filled cloud it had found itself in. The man slowly faded from your mind’s eye. You let out a satiated sigh, wondering just who you had been imagining. Deciding not to dwell too much of it however, you slowly pull yourself under the covers, allowing sleep to take you.

It’s a week later when you see him. The exam period had ended and once again, the two of you were tied at three hundred and ninety-six each. You were getting frustrated which each and every win and loss. The balance had to tip in someone’s favour. You couldn’t keep winning and losing against him forever. You couldn’t tie forever. Someone had to give. You’re currently stood in the assembly area; you and the rest of the third-year students all gathered. A slight sense of dread fills you. You have no idea why you’ve all been gathered together, but it cannot be good. Headmaster Bang was known for throwing loops into the student’s schedules; planning hard tasks after exams to weed out the worst chefs and to have the top of the top chefs further excel.

“____!” Jimin called, running up to you with Jungkook and Taehyung in tow. You waved and smiled at the two of them. You were glad they had made it passed the exams. Jimin, was your best friend; the two of you as thick as thieves since your first class when Jimin had somehow preheated the oven too high, resulting in the glass shattering from heat and pressure. Don’t get it wrong, Jimin was a wonderful chef, albeit a bit clumsy. His own speciality was spice. The boy could create spicy foods that had your mouth screaming and your throat burning and yet you couldn’t help but spoon more mouthfuls as it was just that addicting. Jungkook was a ramen specialist. Give the boy some noodles and an array of ingredients and he could create a bountiful concoction of savoury flavours that would make anyone’s mouths water. Including yours. And finally, there was poor Taehyung.

You weren’t even sure how he’d managed to progress to the third year. He wasn’t bad per se but he wasn’t Academy level either. But somehow, he’d survived to the third year. His foods couldn’t rival with the top of the academy, but there was something about Taehyung’s food. It tasted like home. Kind of like a mother’s love. Homey and comforting. It may not have been perfect and he may not be at the top of the academy, but it was his. A style completely unique to Taehyung. The kind of comfort food you crave when sick or hungover, the food you crave after a broken heart, the food you crave when you miss home or your family. Soul food. That was Taehyung’s speciality.

The four of you stood quietly chatting amongst yourselves, wondering what Headmaster Bang had prepared for the third-year students. You continue looking around, realising that the exams had resulted in even more expulsions. At the start of your third year, there were roughly three hundred students still left and now, there were only about half of that, maybe a few more. The hair at the nape of your neck stands on edge and you feel the presence of someone behind you. You quickly turn around, yelping when you come face to chest with someone. You look up and almost growl when you’re met with Seokjin’s face. He’s surrounded by his best friends, Hoseok, Namjoon and Yoongi.

“Is there a reason you’re so close to me, asshole?” You scorn and Seokjin smirks down at you.

“Awfully hostile today, aren’t we ____?” Seokjin jests and you feel your eyebrow begin to twitch. Honestly, at this point, it was almost like a reflex whenever he was concerned.

“Can we not have a single time when we meet that you both don’t fight?” Namjoon asks and you pout. Namjoon was similar to Taehyung, as in no one had any idea how he’d managed to make it into the third year with next to no cooking skills. He was clumsy, often hurt himself in the kitchen and made stupid mistakes like the time he put his hand in boiling water to check if his udon noodles were done. However, if there was one thing Namjoon was good at, it was leading. He was incredibly intelligent with vast amounts of charisma and patience, all which made him excellent at any leadership role. Consequently, that was why he was training to be a restaurant manager rather than a chef. The boy couldn’t cook to save his life, but no one could run and lead a restaurant better than he could.

“He started it!” You childishly reply and Hoseok chuckles, shaking his head while Yoongi huffs.

“You’re not six ____,” Yoongi reprimands and once again you pout. Yoongi was a master fermenter. Anything from alcohol to cheeses, if you could ferment it, Yoongi would master it and ensure that anything he fermented was the highest quality.

“It’s not like Jin-hyung doesn’t act six himself whenever ____ is concerned” Hoseok defends and you quickly send him an appreciative glance, causing him to wink at you. Hoseok, for as bright and bubbly as he was, was a demon in the kitchen. Specifically, if it included seafood. He could butcher a hanging monkfish with precision unlike any other and deshell and plate a lobster blindfolded. The man was legendary when it came to seafood.

See the worst thing about Seokjin, were his friends. Not because you hated them or anything, your rivalry was with Seokjin and Seokjin only. Your hatred stemmed from the fact that they were also your friends. The issue was that both his friendship group and yours were pretty damn integrated, meaning that even outside of class you had to sometimes see and interact with him. Although, most of those interactions ended up with either the both of you challenging each other to another cook-off or you screaming and stomping away from how ridiculously annoying he could be. Before either you or Seokjin can retaliate, you notice everyone begin to stand straighter. You quickly turn back around to the podium, watching all the academy head chefs begin bowing as Headmaster Bang walks onto the stage. You take a deep breath, steeling in all your nerves for whatever he was about to announce.

“Good afternoon. You’re all probably wondering why, just after your last exams, I’ve gathered all third years here. Well, that is because passing those exams means that you are one step closer to your goals. Graduating from Big Hit Academy of Culinary Arts. For decades, my family has cultivated the best chefs in Asia through this academy. This academy has a reputation for producing the best of the best. However, that comes at a price. The exams are increasingly difficult and any failures result in immediate expulsion. However, this process has led to the production of world-class chef graduates. Congratulations to all of you who have made it here today. But, your assessment doesn’t end there. With the end of your exams, comes your next challenge” Headmaster Bang begins and as soon as the words leave his mouth, you hear everyone begin to groan.

“You are all third years, soon to graduate. However, we cannot let you graduate without first-hand experience of working in a restaurant. Therefore, you will all be paired up and placed in a restaurant for a week. Each restaurant has a different passing criterion, meaning the condition to pass in one restaurant will be different from the condition to pass in another. Anyone who fails to meet their criteria will fail and be expelled. Pairings are based on your performance within the academy within the last three years. Now, we will begin calling out your pairings along with the restaurant you will be working at” Headmaster Bang concludes and you let out a little sigh, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to catch a break for the next week at least.

Your small group of friends listen as names are called out along with pairings. Namjoon and Taehyung are paired together, which makes sense considering both of them somehow fail half their classes; Namjoon due to his lack of cooking skills – knowledge only helps so much – and Taehyung because of how nervous he can get during exams. Jimin and Hoseok are also paired off together with Yoongi and Jungkook making up another pair. You snicker slightly, wondering which idiot would be stuck with Seokjin considering all your friends are now paired up. You grin mirthfully when Headmaster Bang calls out Seokjin’s name, listening eagerly for the name of his poor, poor partner.

“Kim Seokjin and _____ _____, you will be in Hunan, a small Chinese restaurant. Please see head chef Hobeom for details” Headmaster Bang calls out and you immediately pale when your name is called out. Now that you thought about it, of course, it was you. Your grades were only matched by Seokjin so of course, it was you who was his poor, poor partner.

“Well, guess it’s you and me partner” You hear Seokjin snigger against your ear and immediately feel despair wash over you at his overly pleased tone.

This was, undoubtedly, going to be the worst week of your life.

A couple days later, you find yourself staring curiously at the restaurant your challenge would be taking place at. The academy had arranged for you and Seokjin to stay in a nearby hotel considering the restaurant was pretty far from campus. However, the more you look at the restaurant, the more you’re confused. It’s completely empty. At first, you had thought that perhaps it was just closed; but that wasn’t the case. The sign read open, the lights were on and you could see the staff milling about idly inside, doing nothing as they stared out the window. You frowned slightly before checking the time. It read 7:30pm, which was prime time for a restaurant to be busy. You looked around, the streets were bustling and other restaurants were full of happy customers. So why was this one completely empty?

“Weird isn’t it? I wonder why it’s empty” a voice says from right beside your ear and you immediately jump, almost screaming at the sudden presence of someone next to you. Seokjin lets out a shrill laugh, shoulders shaking as he watches you glare at him.

“Don’t fucking do that you ass!” You reprimand with a glower, Seokjin shrugging.

“Not my fault you weren’t paying attention. I did say hi, you just weren’t listening” Seokjin says and a small part of you wants to slap him but you know that won’t get you anywhere. So instead, you take a deep breath and calm yourself down.

“Whatever. Let’s go” You say, approaching the restaurant. The two of you enter, the staff immediately standing with bright, hopeful grins as one of the wait staff approaches both of you with menus.

“Hello! Welcome to Hunan! Table for two?” The man asks with a bright smile. So, the emptiness of the restaurant didn't have anything to do with the customer service then. You look at him sheepishly before bowing.

“We apologise, we’re not here to dine. We’re the students from Big Hit Academy, we’re here to work in your restaurant for a week” You say apologetically and the staff deflate immediately.

“I see. Let me go get the owner” The waiter says and you nod before watching him disappear into the back. A couple moments later, he returns, this time with a young, slender woman.

“Hello! You must be ____ and Seokjin! Thank you so much for coming. I’m Wei Meilin, but you can call me Mei. I’m both the owner and the chef of Hunan” She says, greeting you both with a bow. You and Seokjin both introduce yourselves with a small bow too.

“How can we help you?” Seokjin asks and Mei sighs, looking around forlornly.

“As you can see, my restaurant is completely empty. This has been happening for a while actually. You see, I was gifted this restaurant by my parents because it’s been my lifelong dream to own an authentic Chinese restaurant. It’s even in a prime location and the restaurant is newly renovated. But I can’t seem to draw in customers at all. That’s where you guys come in. I need help to bring in customers” Mei says and you immediately blanch. So, your entire challenge was to prevent a restaurant from going bankrupt and closing down? How the hell were you supposed to do that?

“We’ll try our hardest! But first, do you have any idea why the restaurant could be failing?” Seokjin asks and you gape at him, completely agog. Did he really believe there was a chance the two of you could save this place? You were just students, granted at the top of your class in the best culinary academy in Asia, but still, this seemed almost like an impossible task.

“Honestly, it could just be due to the competition. When I first opened, we had customers who wanted to try the new restaurant and business was good at first. But considering there are a number of Chinese restaurants around here, we just started losing customers until it became like this” Mei says, looking slightly downcast. Your heart gripes for her and you send her a reassuring smile, solidifying your resolve.

“We’ll help you in any way we can! By the end of this week, your restaurant will be back on its feet!” You say, determination sparkling in your eyes. Mei’s eyes widen and she immediately nods, fists balling up as she pumps them.

“I’ll show you both to the kitchen! I don’t know how I can help you because I’ve tried everything, but if you have any ideas please let me know! I’ll be in the office going over the books” Mei says before leaving you and Seokjin to yourselves. As soon as she leaves, you let out a sigh; glowering at Seokjin.

“What’s your issue?” Seokjin asks causing you to frown.

“What do you mean what’s my issue? Do you honestly think we could do this?” You ask and Seokjin’s left eyebrow rises.

“You’re the one who promised we’d get the restaurant back on its feet” Seokjin points out.

“Only because you said we’d try our hardest! We’re students, how are we supposed to stop a restaurant going bankrupt?” You snapped.

“It doesn’t matter, does it? Because this is our task. If we don’t complete it, we fail and both get expelled. And I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be expelled when graduation is so near” Seokjin says simply and immediately your anger deflates, knowing he was correct.

“Uh whatever, let’s just figure out the problem” You replied, taking a seat at one of the counters. Seokjin takes a seat beside you, flicking through the recipe book Mei had most likely left out for the two of you to browse through.

“Could it be the menu?” You asked curiously, peering over his shoulder to peep at the different recipes.

“No,” Seokjin says, shutting your question down immediately. You clench your fists, ire rising as you grow agitated at his short response. However, you take a deep breath, knowing that you needed to somehow work with him in order to complete the test set by your academy.

“And why is that? You grit out and Seokjin shows you Mei’s recipes. You quickly skim through them, a small frown marring your face when you reach the end.

“See? Her recipes are good. In fact, they’re great. Any of these dishes would be wonderfully flavoured. The spices are harmonious with each other and if the meat or vegetables are cooked to perfection, then she should have no issue with her actual food. It’s not the menu that’s the problem” Seokjin says matter of factly and you grimace.

“Yes, thank you, I’m not completely incompetent, I got that” You mutter under your breath even though you know he can hear you.

“Never said you were incompetent” Seokjin deadpans.

“You’ve never said I was competent either” You rebuke, Seokjin’s mouth quirks slightly before he shrugs you off. You sincerely hated how much he did that.

“If it’s not the menu, then maybe the location?” You ask and once again Seokjin shoots you down as soon as the words escape your lips.

“No. This is a prime location, she shouldn’t have problems with it, especially enough to be a completely deserted restaurant. You saw the number of people outside. The streets were busy” Seokjin recounts. You clench your fists tight, nails digging into your palms as he once again shuts you down.

“Then it has to be the competition like she said” You grit out through clenched teeth. This time Seokjin sighs, looking at you stoically.

“No. There are multiple Chinese restaurants, they’re all competing with each other. Why is it only Hunan that’s completely empty? It doesn’t make sense” Seokjin says calmly and this time, your fists bang into the table, startling him.

“What’s wrong?” Seokjin asks as you glower at him.

“What’s wrong? What’s wrong?! You! That’s what’s wrong. You keep shutting down my suggestions. If it’s not any of that then what could be the issue? Considering you keep saying no to my suggestions, it means you have to know right? You know what’s wrong? Because you’re so much better than me. So, go on. What is it? What’s the problem Mr-I’m-Better-Than-You? Tell me so you can brag about how you figured it out before me and gloat about how much better of a chef than me you are” You finally blow up, unable to contain yourself anymore. Seokjin reels, baulking at you.

“Where is this coming from? Firstly, I’m not shutting you down, I’m just telling you that it couldn’t be the problems you raised. Was I being difficult or unreasonable? Or did I not give you valid reasons as to why the issues with the restaurant couldn’t be what you thought? Secondly, I have never once said I was better than you, nor have I ever thought it, so I have no idea where you got those ideas from” Seokjin says calmly and you let out a humourless laugh.

“Oh please. Don’t act like you haven’t. Of course, you think you’re better than me. That’s why you never compliment my dishes, that’s why we have this stupid rivalry where we continuously try to beat each other. Because you think you’re better than me. Because you think my desserts and dishes suck. Because you think your cooking is better than mine!” You exploded, pointing an accusatory finger at Seokjin.

"Is that why you think I don't compliment your dishes? Have you really deluded yourself that much that you think I don't compliment you because I'm better than you?" Seokjin questions, a mixture of disbelief and incredulity marring his face.

"Well, what else could it be? You always look disappointed every time I score higher on an exam. That's the reason for our rivalry, right? Because you're upset I beat you even though you think you're a better chef than I am?" You scoff. Seokjin shakes his head, letting out a little exasperated sigh.

"Is that the reason you're always so hostile towards me? Because you think that I think I'm better than you?" Seokjin asks, tone calm as he looks at you, completely bewildered.

"I mean... yes? Why else?" You say, now more confused than angry. Why was he just randomly bringing this up? What else could it have been? Your entire rivalry stemmed from how much he grated your nerves. From how he thought he was better than you. It's the reason you had started competing all those years ago. No one rubbed you the wrong way like Seokjin did.

"Okay. Well, let's get something straight. I don't think I'm better than you. Nor have I ever thought that. That's not the reason I'm disappointed nor is that the reason for our rivalry, at least not in my case. I don't understand how you've managed to twist this so much. Here I thought you got mad because we always drew or because we've always been around the same level and you wanted to do better than me. But clearly, that's not the case. If I had realised it earlier, I would have set you straight" Seokjin says; your brows immediately furrow, your back straightening as you regard him with scepticism.

"Well, then what's the reason?" You snap impatiently. You watch as Seokjin's shoulder slump slightly before he turns back to the menu, flicking through it idly.

"I have never once thought that you were beneath me, or that I was better than you. In fact, it's the opposite. I consider us both equals. You, as a chef, are entirely on my level. No one else could rival me the way you do, no one else could keep up with me the way you do. That's the reason I compete with you. Because you keep me on my toes. Because you make me a better chef. I like competing with you because you inspire me to do better, to make my dishes that bit more delicious, to make them a bit more appetising. No one motivates me like you do. No one makes me want to cook or be a better chef than you do" Seokjin starts and with each and every one of his words you're left astounded.

You're completely speechless, unable to reply or even say anything. Because really, what could you say to that? The entire time he speaks, he doesn't look at you but you see his ears turn from their lightly tanned shade to a bright red; a clear sign that he's embarrassed, even if it's not apparent on his face. You startle slightly, since when did you pay enough attention to Kim Seokjin to be able to read him like that?

"And the reason behind my disappointment every time you score higher has nothing to do with me thinking someone worse than me beat me. It's everything to do with how despite the fact that I consider you to be on my level, you have no faith in yourself. Have you ever realised how much you rely on others to compliment your dishes? How much you care about what the Head Chef's think? Okay sure, their words mean something as they're examining us. But it's like… if they said anything bad about your dish that you'd completely fall apart. You're entirely too reliant on what other people think of your desserts and I don’t like that. It disappoints me that my rival, someone who can keep up with me, someone I consider equal to me, cares so much about another person’s opinion. It annoys me that you don't have confidence in your own dishes" Seokjin continues; you take in a sharp breath, nervously shifting now. He turns towards you, staring at you straight and making you gulp.

There's a certain fire behind his eyes, a slight intensity that has you on edge. Because you know he's right. You never were confident in your dishes. You always focused too much on the what ifs. What if it was overly sweetened? What if you hadn't whipped the cream to perfection. What if you overworked the dough and the bread turned out to be hard and chewy rather than soft and fluffy like you wanted it? Often, you were held back by your own securities. Sometimes, you'd panic during exams and need to take a deep breath even though history has proven that you were at the top of Big Hit Academy. That is unless Seokjin was involved. The epiphany comes as a slight shock to you.

"Except for when you're in an exam with me. You're never as sure in your own dishes unless you're up against me. You're always confident and you believe that you can score a better grade than me. That makes me happy. It makes me happy that somehow you have enough confidence in yourself to trash talk and tell me that you're the better chef. But then the judging begins, and you turn back into that anxious ball of stress, so worried that you may not score high enough or that you may fail. Why is that? Why do you, the joint top chef with me, worry so much about failing? When have you ever scored a grade lower than a 90? I hate it. I hate that you rely on others opinions. Yes, as chefs we cook for other people. But what do other people's opinions matter when you're not confident in your own dessert or own dish? You need to learn to rely on yourself. You're only ever confident with me because your annoyance for me apparently outweighs your insecurities. But I want to see that in you always, in any exam. I want to see you be more confident in yourself, as a chef" Seokjin finishes and you're entirely blown away by his sudden tangent.

Your heart is palpitating in your chest as you realise that Seokjin was entirely correct. You were only ever confident with him, how had you never realised that? But more importantly, how much had Seokjin been paying attention to you to have realised that before even you had? You think back to all the times you had caught Seokjin watching you during any exams you'd both had together. Previously, you'd always believed that he was trying to unnerve you or trying to get under your skin, but now you wonder if he was simply watching you. If he was simply learning about you. You have no idea why, but the thought of it causes your heart to race even quicker, your face heating up.

"I- I didn't know that" You replied quietly, unable to look him in the eye. For three years you had hated Seokjin because you thought that he mocked you. Because you thought he thought he was better than you. You had always considered your rivalry something where you had to beat him, where you had to come up on top. Never had you thought of it like Seokjin had; as a way to make you a better chef. But now that you thought about it, it was true. Just like Seokjin, no one motivated you to do better. You always wanted to beat him and in doing so, you always wanted to experiment and strive to be a better chef. For three years you had hated Seokjin for reasons you had clearly deluded yourself into believing. But now, that wasn't the case. You had no idea what to say or how to respond.

"It's late. Why don't we call it a night?" You suddenly say, pushing your chair back as you abruptly get up. Seokjin jerks at the sound of your chair scraping against the linoleum tiled floor. He watches as you run out the kitchen, brows furrowed, wanting to call out to you. But you’re long gone.

You hurriedly walked through the restaurant, bowing to the servers and staff before quickly exiting. You take in a deep breath, Seokjin's words running through your head at a mile a minute. Your hand moves to your chest, palm flat as you try and still your racing heart. Confusion clouds your every fibre, as you ponder his words. Really what the hell was his problem? How dare he simply confuse you like that? You had spent three years hating him and now what? You knew very well that you couldn't hate him, not when he confessed that he didn't think he was better than you. Because now your hate isn’t justified and if you continued being hostile, it’d just be because you were being petty. You take another deep breath, once again trying to still your rapidly beating heart to no avail. Why did he have to mess you up and confuse you like that? And why the hell was your heart racing so much?

Damn Kim Seokjin.

He really was an ass.

The next day you walk into the restaurant, this time a lot calmer than you had been the night before when you'd all but run out on Seokjin after his confession. You hadn't even waited for him to join you, instead, racing back to the hotel as quickly as you could. You were still somewhat confused about where you now stood with Seokjin. You'd hated him for years and you knew you couldn't just continue hating him. Not when he had inadvertently made you a better chef than you thought. But you couldn't suddenly be best friends with him either, thus leaving you in a weird place where he was concerned. So, with determination coursing through your veins, you decide that you'd be civil. You enter the kitchen, noting that Seokjin is already there. Once again, he has the restaurant's recipe book out but this time, you note, he also has other pieces of scrap paper around him.

"Hey," Seokjin greets and you smile shortly, greeting him back. A large part of you feels completely awkward; this is foreign ground. You'd never been civil to Seokjin, much less had a pleasant conversation with him. But now, looking back at it, that was more your own fault than anything considering you’d usually be the first to get agitated. Of course, it didn't help that Seokjin taunted you either. But more often than not, you'd be the one who'd start the arguments.

"Hi. What's this?" You ask, pointing towards the papers littered around him. The words are slightly stilted and your tone more than awkward but you remind yourself that you'd be polite and try and work things out with him.

"I visited a few restaurants nearby and took some notes. I think I figured out the problem" Seokjin says. You look at him with wide eyed wonder, quickly approaching him. You skim through the pieces of paper around him, realising they have restaurant names and then a few dishes under the name. With a frown, you realise that on each piece of paper there's one dish name circled.

"What's the issue?" You ask, taking a seat next to him.

"Signature dishes. Each and every restaurant around here has a signature dish that their restaurant specialises in. Hunan doesn't have that. I think that's the issue. A lot of the dishes between each restaurant are the same as Hunan's. But the others have a speciality that draws their customers in" Seokjin explains and your eyes bug out of your skull.

“That makes sense! That’s probably why other people are drawn to the other restaurants. If most of the menu is the same, there’s no reason to go to one over the other. But having a signature dish gives a restaurant a certain edge because no one can replicate that specific dish” You quickly respond, catching onto Seokjin’s explanation.

“Exactly and therefore since Hunan doesn’t have one, there’s no reason to come here. Especially when they could get any dishes on this menu at the other restaurants” Seokjin finishes.

“Wow, okay so we should create a signature dish for Hunan? What do you think we should do?” You ask and Seokjin lets out a small sigh, looking up at the ceiling as he ponders the thought.

“Well it needs to be something we can both contribute to, so desserts are out. We probably need something that includes both dough and something with meat. But nothing comes to mind right now and we also need to be sure other restaurants don’t have the same dish. I think we need to go around. I only managed to look at a couple restaurants before I had to be here. Do you want to go check the others out with me?” Seokjin asks, turning his gaze towards you.

“That sounds like a plan. Are we gonna sit in and try dishes or?” You question and Seokjin stares at you blankly.

“Why?”

“Well, it gives us time to look at the menu in more detail but also to check out their specialities, right? It’ll give us ideas for Hunan’s speciality if we try their food too” You explain, Seokjin nodding enthusiastically.

“That sounds like a really good idea. Come on, let’s go” Seokjin says, immediately grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the kitchen.

A few hours later, you find yourself treading besides Seokjin. The two of you had been to various restaurants around Hunan, and it was safe to say that you were more than full. In fact, you were sure the two of you had overeaten and you could feel your body becoming lethargic, needing a post food nap. You let out a slight yawn causing the man walking beside you to giggle. You felt yourself grow slightly agitated, elbowing him for mocking you. Although, even you could tell it had lost its usual angry lustre, now being more playful than anything.

“Sorry, you just look so cute yawning,” Seokjin says from beside you. His words are entirely nonchalant and he says them as if it’s no big deal but your entire body freezes and you instantaneously stop, gaping at his back as he continues walking. He gets a few steps ahead of you before realising you were no longer beside him. Seokjin turns around, raising his brow at you; silently questioning why you were no longer walking.

“What’s wrong?” He asks and you immediately close your jaw, shaking your head furiously as you stalk towards him. Your face is heated from his casual compliment and internally you curse him for his confusing words. You were rivals, why the hell was he calling you cute all of a sudden?

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing” You answer quickly, indignation lacing your tone. Seokjin stares at you in confusion before shrugging it off, chalking it up to one of your usual moods around him. You quickly catch up to him, but your pace is brisk and Seokjin is left reeling from your sudden mood change. He quickly thinks back to what he could have done to cause you to behave the way you are when it suddenly dawns on him. His entire face lights up, an impish smile on his face as he looks down at you.

“Are you embarrassed because I called you cute?” He asks slyly and your blood freezes before you shake your head furiously.

“No! Of course not! Why would I care what you think? Me? Embarrassed? Ha! Absolutely not. I’m not embarrassed that you called me c-c-cute. No, absolutely not!” You rapidly blurt out, flailing your arms around you. Seokjin watches you with poorly masked amusement and as soon as you stutter out your final words, you quickly catch yourself.

“Right, of course, you’re not,” Seokjin says, a knowing smile on his face. You let out a small scowl before clearing your throat.

“We don’t have a lot of time. Come on, let’s get back so we can brainstorm new ideas for Hunan’s speciality” You say quietly, tucking your hair behind your ear before once again stalking off.

“Cute” Seokjin chuckles, watching your retreating figure before jogging to catch up with you.

Another few hours later, the two of you find yourself in your hotel room. Seokjin is sat on the floor, leaning against your bed with a cushion in his lap while you lie on the bed beside him. You’ve both got various recipe cards, scrap paper with a mix of yours and Seokjin’s notes scrawled on them and various snack wrappers littered around you. Both your hair is messy from running your hands through it as you brainstormed different ideas but nothing was clicking so far.

“How about a signature hotpot?” Seokjin suggests and you shake your head once again, pointing towards a scrap piece of paper.

“There’s literally an entire restaurant dedicated to hotpot,” You remarked, Seokjin groaning.

“That was such a good idea. Everyone loves hotpot” He comments and you snort.

“Agreed, hotpots are amazing. But how was it a good idea? What would I have contributed?” You question and Seokjin shrugs.

“I don’t know, the noodles?” He jokes and you playfully smack the back of his head.

“You know I’m not a noodle expert. They don’t count as part of my discipline” You point out, causing him to sigh. He throws his head back, neck rested on your bed as he stares at the ceiling.

“Are we ever going to find something? The more I think about it, the more I think that our disciplines are complete opposites. Is there something that we could both create together?” Seokjin mumbles, more to himself than anything. You share in his slightly dejected thoughts. The number of Chinese restaurants around meant that there were very few things that weren’t already specialities and then if you added that you both needed to contribute, it was even slimmer to find a perfect dish. You quickly glanced over to the clock on your bedside table, before exhaling deeply.

“I think it’s time to call it a night. we’re both exhausted and we’ve been at this for hours. It may help to get a good night’s sleep and looking at this with fresh eyes in the morning” You say, Seokjin nodding as he yawns loudly. You watch his lips in a slight trance, the way they stretch out before returning to their usual plush and puffy state. Briefly, you wonder if they feel as soft as they look before shaking your head. You look away, gaping at the wall. Just how tired were you that your thoughts were straying to completely unnecessary and uncharted territory?

“That sounds like a good plan. I’ll see you tomorrow then” Seokjin says, grabbing the snack wrappers before standing to his full height. Your neck strains to look up at him from your position and you’re taken aback from how tall he really is. You’d never really noticed it, usually too busy scowling at him as you thought up ways you could beat him in your exams. But now that the two of you were alone, and on more civilized terms, you were truly able to take in his figure.

He was tall; so tall that he stood an entire head over you. And ridiculously broad; was it even possible to have such broad shoulders naturally? Especially with how narrow his waist and hips were, leading to long legs and thick thighs. With a startling realisation, you realise that Seokjin is handsome and far more beautiful than you had ever pegged him for. It should have been illegal or at least completely impossible to have been built like that with a face like that. It was unfair; how was anyone supposed to compete? You’d always thought he was stupidly attractive but this level of handsome was completely unnecessary.

“____? You okay?” Seokjin calls out and you abruptly jerk back, realising how close he was. His face is almost touching yours, and you can feel his warm breath against your lips as he stares curiously at you. All of a sudden, you let out a little squeal, pushing him away as you roll, trying to put more distance between him and you.

“Woah, you okay?” Seokjin asks and you nod rapidly, trying to stay as calm as possible despite your previously traitorous thoughts and rapidly pumping heartbeat.

“Perfectly fine!” You call out, quickly getting off the bed before placing your palms on his chest in an effort to push him out of your room. The minute your palms touch his chest however, you’re quickly wondering just what he looks like underneath his shirt because his chest feels hard and perfectly chiselled.

“____?” Seokjin asks curiously, and once again you realise that your mind was wandering to places you definitely did not want it to be.

“GOODNIGHT! BYE” You all but scream, pushing him towards the door before practically throwing him out, slamming the door in his face. As soon as he’s out, you scrunch your flushed face, leaning your head against the cool door.

“What is wrong with you? Get a grip of yourself! He’s your rival! Whether you’re on better terms not or not! You still have to beat him” You chastise yourself, reigning in your mind as you refuse to let your treacherous mind wander into that territory once again. You quickly slap your face with both hands before rushing into the bathroom to get changed. This was, undoubtedly, going to be a long week.

Two days later and you and Seokjin still haven’t come up with a solution to your task, no matter how much you’d brainstormed. You walk into the restaurant dejectedly on the fourth day. You had four days left until your challenge ended, which included today. How you were going to pass, you had no idea. You press open the steel door of the kitchen; however, instead of seeing Seokjin hunched over the counter with various pieces of paper like you were used to, you see him grinning with a wide array of ingredients around him. Your face crunches as you approach him curiously.

“What’s going on?” You ask as Seokjin throws you a chef jacket.

“BAO!” Seokjin all but yells in triumphant and you lurch slightly, astounded by his sudden outburst.

“What?” You question, puzzlement lacing your tone.

“Bao! I don’t know how we didn’t think of it before! But Hunan’s speciality should be Bao!” Seokjin explains and your eyes widen, shining with hope as you nod enthusiastically.

“Yes! Oh my god! That’s perfect!” You cry, abruptly and inadvertently throwing your hands around him in joy. Seokjin’s arms instinctively wrap around you and soon you’re both stiffening, unsure how to respond to the unfamiliar situation. You stare up at him, his dark gaze on you. It takes you a couple moments for you brain to kick back into gear; realising exactly what you’d done, you quickly let him go before clearing your throat, trying to stifle your blush.

“Right. Sorry about that, I wasn’t thinking” You quickly apologise; Seokjin simply laughs it off, hand rubbing the back of his head as he tries to play it cool, despite his red-hot ears.

“That’s fine, you were excited, it’s completely understandable,” Seokjin says, brushing it off. The two of you stand still, unsure of how to continue as an awkward tension washes over the two of you.

“So… how did you come up with bao?” You ask, trying to move on from the painful silence.

“Oh! I visited a small convenience store and they were selling frozen bao and it got me thinking. There is not a single bao restaurant in the vicinity and none of the restaurants have them on their menu. I think that’s why we completely forgot about them. But, it has both our disciplines. I can make the meat filling and you can make the bao dough yes?” Seokjin asks with a grin, beaming with pride.

“That’s…” You start with a smile before it slowly falls off your face. You want to congratulate him and tell him he’s done well, but you’re unsure how to. This was completely new territory for the both of you. You glance at Seokjin, realising he’s waiting for you to continue. You take in a deep breath, gathering all your strength and courage before stomping down your own screaming pride. Plastering a genuine smile on your face, you beam at him.

“That’s amazing Seokjin. Thanks…. I was starting to lose hope in completing this challenge” You mumble earnestly, rubbing your arm shyly. Seokjin’s eyes soften at how small you look before placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey! We’re two of the best students at the Academy. There was no way we’d fail this, right?” Seokjin says in an effort to cheer you up. You nod, the entire situation slightly jarring because here was Kim Seokjin, you sworn rival, comforting you. You shake off your thoughts, instead, taking off your outer jacket and slipping on the chef jacket as you get ready to work. You quickly tie your hair up and wash your hands, turning to him in determination.

“Alright! Let’s do this. You get started on the meat filling and I’ll start the dough” You immediately delegate. Seokjin raises his eyebrow at your sudden change in demeanour before he lets out a lopsided smile. With a mock salute, he turns and begins pulling out various meats from the fridge, getting to work.

Half an hour later, you spot Seokjin placing his pork into the oven. You turn back to your dough, kneading it as hard as you can as you try to get it to the correct consistency. Seokjin quickly clears up before walking up to you, watching you curiously. He takes a look at the large bowl, letting out a whistle at the amount of dough you have inside.

“That’s a lot of dough” Seokjin comments and you roll your eyes at the obvious statement.

“Yes, well done Sherlock. I figured we’d need more than one portion considering we need the staff to try it. Also, I assume you have more than one type of filling” You reply but Seokjin simply shakes his head, rolling his sleeves up.

“No, I thought we’d keep it simple and go with a classic. Char Siu Bao, a fan favourite and guaranteed to draw customers in” Seokjin states, sending you a thumbs up, as if he’d just advertised the best dish. You deflate slightly.

“It’s a good plan but this just means I’ve made too much dough” You almost whine, your arms already tired from all the kneading. Seokjin simply pats your head, drawing closer towards you.

“Here, let me help,” He says before placing his hand into the bowl with you. Your startle slightly, gawking up at him in astonishment. He ignores you, instead, focusing on kneading the dough in the bowl with you.

“I know I’m handsome but are you just going to stare or are you going to help? Your hand’s kind of in the way” Seokjin grins playfully and you feel the vein in your forehead throb as you tut at him.

“With the amount you call yourself handsome, some would think you were in love with yourself,” You remark, Seokjin chuckling at you.

“Is there something wrong with loving yourself?” He asks.

“I said in love with yourself, not loving yourself. There’s a difference” You reply, causing Seokjin to shrug.

“In love, loving yourself. It’s all the same when you have a face like a flower” Seokjin says, flicking his hair out of his forehead before fluttering his eyelashes at you. You burst into laughter at his ridiculousness, giggling as he grins at you.

“Wow, never thought I’d see the day you actually laughed at something I said. Usually, you’d just insult me and walk away. Does this mean you no longer hate me?” Seokjin questions out of curiosity and you immediately sober up from your giggling fit. Having Seokjin point it out feels weird, but the more you think about it, the more you realise he was right. This was weird. You were having a pleasant conversation with your rival and hadn’t felt the surge of hatred you usually felt when interacting with him.

“Hm. I guess I don’t. It’s easier to not hate you when I know you don’t think I’m beneath you. Besides, if I continued hating you now, it would only be out of pettiness” You explain, Seokjin grinning at your words.

“Aha! I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist my charms for too long” Seokjin teases, eyebrows rising suggestively, and you roll your eyes at his antics, refusing to even dignify him with a response.

“Yes, that’s what happened. Let’s just go back to kneading the dough. We still have the challenge to pass” You say, ending the conversation. Seokjin nods, saluting once again causing you to roll your eyes again.

You focus on kneading the dough once again; it’s almost to the consistency it needs to be; but with the amount of dough in the bowl, you know it’s going to take slightly longer than planned. Suddenly, you feel Seokjin’s hands bump against you, your fingers brushing against each other’s as he gently but firmly kneads the dough. Involuntarily, you watch the way his long but slightly crooked fingers work the dough, heel of his palm pressing into the bao mix... You’re almost mesmerised by the movements; you had never truly taken time to watch Seokjin work but right now, as he was gently working the dough, you realise that he, like you, truly loved cooking. You could feel the amount he cared for his craft through the gentleness of his touch, slowly but surely kneading the dough into submission. You watch the way his heel compresses into the soft mixture, dough pooling on either end of his palm.

“It looks about done, right? What do you think oh great Dough Master?” Seokjin jokes, looking at you for advice on whether to keep going or to stop. You glance up, and you faintly acknowledge that he’s said something. In fact, his lips are moving but you can no longer focus on his words, nor can you comprehend them. Instead, you’re completely lost in the way his lips move. They look incredibly pillowy and pink, a slight sheen on his upper lip from the heat of the kitchen. You wonder what they’d feel like against your own lips.

“____?” Seokjin finally says, waving dough covered hands in front of your face. You blink owlishly, your eyes coming back into focus as you’re brought out of your thoughts. You stare up at him questioningly, hoping he’ll repeat himself.

“What?” You say, but Seokjin can tell that you’re slightly dazed. He stares at you, puzzlement etched into his face before pointing at the dough.

“Do you think this is okay? It looks pretty much done” He repeats and you turn back to the dough, blinking owlishly. Your brain slowly kicks back into gear and your face heats as you nod furiously.

“Oh! Um yes! This is perfect! It just needs to rest for two hours now” You say, hastily letting go of the dough, almost as if it had burned you. Briskly walking to the sink, you wash your hands, silently berating yourself for once again getting distracted by Kim Seokjin.

The next few hours move quickly, you and Seokjin throwing yourselves into creating the char Siu bao to the best of both your abilities, presenting the dish to Mei and the rest of her staff. Thankfully, everyone loves the idea of a speciality dish and you and Seokjin grin at each other, happy that you had some sort of plan to tackle Hunan’s lack of customer base.

The following days passed in a blur. Day five sees both you and Seokjin teaching Mei how to create Hunan’s signature bao. Seokjin and Mei work on the meat filling together, Mei chiming in with her own two cents every now and then on what ingredients would make the dish more authentic and which spices would complement each other better, bringing out the flavours of the pork even more. When she’s done with Seokjin, she works with you learning your dough recipe and some techniques you’d picked up during your three years on how to create the perfect dough texture every single time.

Days six and seven you have no time to speak to Seokjin; you both take turns, one trying to promote the new bao on the street, drawing in customers while the other helps in the kitchen. By the end of both days, you’re both completely exhausted and as soon as you get to your hotel rooms, you crash. Luckily, by the end of the week, you’re back in the academy in your own studio apartment, ready to sleep for an entire week after having accomplished your challenge. You were completely exhausted, from your exams, which you had not managed to recover from and from the consecutive week-long excursion to Hunan, in order to gain some restaurant experience.

“Hey ____, your burner is too high. We’re supposed to slow cook the meat,” Seokjin says from a counter diagonally to yours. You hear everyone take in a deep breath, the head chef at the front of the classroom suddenly sitting straight. You know exactly why the class responded the way they did; they were most likely expecting you to blow up and yell at Seokjin to mind his own business, the head chef even getting ready to break up the impending fight.

“Oh? You’re right. Thanks, Jin,” you simply say, turning your burner down before turning back to your task of chopping up the vegetables. Everyone stares in disbelief at your casual acceptance of Seokjin’s advice. The head chef is completely still, mouth dropped at the unexpected occurrence. In all three years of teaching both you and Seokjin, you had never once been civil. The class slowly came to life, some students eagerly whispering to one another, undoubtedly gossiping while others just stared nervously at both you and Seokjin, wondering what the hell had happened.

The rest of the class follows without a hitch, and as usual, you and Seokjin scored the top marks in the class, although Seokjin scores slightly higher than you. Surprisingly, you’re not filled with a burning all-consuming rage to beat him. It had been a month since your trip to Hunan and unsurprisingly you and Seokjin were on much friendlier terms; although no one was as happy as your little friendship group, who were just glad that you could all hang out without you and Seokjin being at each other’s throats. Or, well, more you being at Seokjin’s throat. Sure, the two of you still argued and still had your little competition to see who was the better chef, but everyone could tell that there was no real heat behind the little spats anymore. Now, whenever Seokjin teased or taunted you, you were filled with annoyance and exasperation more than hate.

Seokjin catches your eye as he’s leaving the room; he pauses briefly before grinning, winking and then waving as he leaves. You awkwardly wave back at him before you continue gathering your things. Everyone else, however, just stands in complete astonishment as they watch the little interaction between the two of you. You slowly wander down the long corridor, face slightly scrunched as people stare at you, whispering between themselves. You strain your ears slightly, trying to listen to the hushed conversations.

“Do you think they’re together?”

“Oh my god, Seokjin totally winked at her and she didn’t even yell at him! She just smiled and waved back!”

“Have you noticed that they actually… like, get along now?”

“Yes! They don’t fight anymore, it’s so weird. I never thought I’d see the day”

“It’s really kind of weird… like it’s just weird to see them getting along”

“Really? I always thought they’d end up together”

“WHAT?”

“What? You can’t hate someone that much without wanting to fuck. They always say there’s a thin line between love and hate”

“You’re right! And oh my god, weren’t they paired up for the restaurant challenge? And they stayed in a hotel away from campus!”

“Oh yeah they totally hate fucked and now are in love with each other”

“Ugh, she’s so lucky!”

“Wah! I could totally see that! Even when they argue now it’s like flirting more than an actual argument”

“Agreed! They’re totally secretly dating.”

Throughout your entire eavesdropping session, your face slowly grows warmer and warmer until your ears are hot red. For most of it, you can ignore them. They’re just baseless rumours running through students who had nothing better to do with their time. However, the last few have you suddenly stopping and instantly turning on your heel, stalking towards the two girls who had now moved on from speculating that you and Seokjin were both secret lovers to when it began. They watch you approach them, immediately shutting up as their eyes widen in slight fear, exchanging a nervous glance between each other.

“No! That would never happen! How could you even think of such a thing? M-M-Me and him? Not in this world! Not in any alternate world either! So, what if we get along now? Nothing wrong with it… right? RIGHT! Yes, we just get along. But that would never happen. No, no it wouldn’t! It couldn’t! He likes cooking meat and I like cooking sweet things! See, complete opposites. It would never happen!” You burst, arms flailing around before stomping your foot down. You cross your arms and nod as if you’d made the world’s most flawless argument.

Everyone stares in confusion, murmurs of ‘what is she talking about’ and ‘did you even understand her’ roaming around the corridor. You grow slightly sheepish as even more eyes stare at you. You quickly pull your bag closer to you before briskly walking - really you were practically running - down the corridor. The students all stared at your back, wondering if your rivalry with Seokjin had finally caused you to lose the plot and go insane.

“That was weird right?”

“Do you think she was listening to us?”

“I mean, even if she was… I still have no idea what she was talking about.

“Bro… she didn’t even make any sense”

“God, I can’t believe they thought Seokjin and I would be secretly dating… it’s completely insane! We’re rivals… nothing more! Although we are becoming friends I guess,” You begrudgingly admit to yourself as you slowly open your apartment door. You place your bag down by the door before taking your shoes off and slipping into your house slippers.

“There’s no way. I don’t even like him like that… right?” You speak out loud, more to yourself than anything. But even you have to admit that it sounded more like you were trying to convince yourself than anything. Admittedly, you’re still somewhat confused by your entire relationship - or lack thereof - with Seokjin. It was strange to go from hating him to suddenly being somewhat friendly with him. Although, you have to admit that you had always been moderately confused by Seokjin. Even when you had hated him, you had somewhat admired him reluctantly. A small part of you even acknowledges that the admiration was most likely why you needed him to admit you were a good enough chef. Granted, he now had admitted he thought you were a good chef, hell he’d even said he considered you on his level. Perhaps that was why you were suddenly flustered by him.

Yes. Of course! That had to be it!

Hours later, you were still plagued by thoughts of Seokjin. You lay in bed, mindlessly scrolling through twitter, barely reading the tweets. Your eyes flicked to the top of your phone, groaning when you realised it was nearing two am. You jostled in bed, turning onto your side as you continued scrolling aimlessly, mind still preoccupied on Seokjin. Ten minutes later however you stumbled on a video of two teens snorting crushed ramen. You shook your head, wondering just where people got the idea for this stuff. However, at that very minute, your stomach began growling and suddenly you were craving something sweet.

You pulled yourself out of bed, trudging through your bedroom and into the kitchen. You quickly opened the cabinets, realising you had absolutely no snacks before checking your fridge, hopeful that maybe you had something left over from one of your earlier experiments. However, you had no such luck. Your stomach growled again and you shut your fridge with a groan. You swiftly threw on your jacket, slipping into your trainers before grabbing your keys and wallet, heading out to the twenty-four-hour convenience store next to campus.

The spring night air is crisp and the cool breeze chills your bones slightly, causing you to pull your jacket closer to your body. You wander through the well-lit streets, thoughts once again wandering to Seokjin and your bizarre friendship with him. No matter how much you think about it, you simply can’t comprehend him nor the sudden confusion that clouds your mind whenever it comes to him. Briefly, you wonder if you’ll ever be able to figure it out. It had been hours and you couldn’t come to a single, plausible solution that made sense to you.

Soon you arrive at the convenience store, however, just as you’re about to go in, someone steps out. And of course, that person is none other than the man who had been plaguing your thoughts for most of the day. You blink owlishly, staring at the tall man in front of you. He’s dressed in a loose white t-shirt and grey sweatpants, a long blank jacket draped over him. Your gaze briefly snaps to the plastic bag he’s holding, your face scrunching up before you burst into laughter at the contents of his bag.

“Yah! What the hell are you laughing at?” Seokjin says in indignation, in the same loud voice he usually speaks in whenever Jungkook insults him.

“Why do you have instant ramen?! Oh my god, this is priceless” You cackle, eyes practically tearing up and doubling over as you point at his bag. Seokjin’s ears immediately turn red and he swiftly hides the bag behind him, tutting at you.

“What’s wrong with instant ramen? I’m allowed to buy it!” Seokjin grumbles but his words only cause you to laugh harder.

“Because you’re a top-rated chef, that’s why! Oh my god, I cannot believe you’re buying instant ramen at 2am…” You gasp out, trying to catch your breath from your sudden fit of laughter. Seokjin glowers at you, grumbling to himself before shoving his hands in his pocket, the plastic bag hanging from his wrist.

“Shut up… I was hungry and I didn’t have anything that I could make quickly” Seokjin reasons, but you only grinned brightly at him, as if you had been handed the best prize in the world.

“There, there. I’m only joking” You say and Seokjin nods curtly, his ears still red.

“So why are you here?” He asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I was craving something sweet cause I was hungry… but I think I could do with some ramen too. Come on, let me go buy a packet and I’ll make it for you” You say, grabbing his jacket sleeve without thinking before dragging him back into the store. Seokjin allows you to pull him toward the ramen isle and you soon pick your favourite ramen off the shelf as well as some eggs before paying for it. You and Seokjin walk outside toward the little ramen area.

“Why are you making it for me?” Seokjin asks curiously as he hands you his ramen packet, watching the way you open it, placing the noodles in the tin foil before adding the sachet and hot water.

“Jungkook specialises in ramen remember? His guilty pleasure is instant ramen. But you can’t tell anyone that! He’ll lose his credibility as a ramen master! Anyway, he’s taught me a thing or two about perfecting instant ramen” You explain Seokjin laughing mischievously.

“Oh, that’s some good blackmail material for when he calls me old” Seokjin says and you turn to him, eyes wide before shaking your head furiously.

“No! Absolutely not! I’m the only one who knows, so if you bring it up he’ll definitely know it was me that told you,” You quickly retaliate, your eyes wild at the thought of what Jungkook would do if his little secret got out.

“It’s really not that bad-” Seokjin starts, but you cut him off.

“No! Promise me you won’t say anything!” You quickly shout and Seokjin immediately nods, deflating slightly.

“God! Fine! I won’t say anything. I promise” Seokjin calls out and you smile, nodding before turning to the ramen.

“Oh, nice! It's done! Come eat” You call, grabbing the two tinfoil containers before sitting on one of the wooden benches. Seokjin sits opposite you; you offer him the disposable wooden chopsticks but he shakes his head, pulling out his own from his jacket.

“Why the hell do you just carry chopsticks in your jacket?” You ask, blowing on your ramen before slurping on them.

“You never know when you need them! Like now, see. Now I’m not wasting disposable chopsticks like some people,” He says pointedly causing you to roll your eyes.

"Okay yeah, whatever just eat your damn ramen" You retort, Seokjin laughing before picking some noodles between his chopstick, blowing and placing them in his mouth.

“How is it?” You asked curiously.

“Hmm. It’s good” Seokjin replies as he slurps some more. You grin, tucking into your own container. The two of you sit in silence for a couple moments, unsure of what to say. You haven't really been alone with him since a month ago when you'd both been paired up for the restaurant challenge.

"So," You say, uncomfortable with the tense silence between the two of you. You had foolishly offered to cook him ramen in a spur of the moment decision but you had completely forgotten that you'd have to sit and eat with him. Of course, you had sat and eaten with him when you’d visited all those restaurants at Hunan, but at least then you could talk about the menu and food. What were you supposed to do now? Talk about the history of ramen?

"Why did you become a chef?" Seokjin asked, breaking the silence. He looks at you curiously, slurping some more ramen into his mouth.

"That's... kind of a personal question don't you think?" You answer back, Seokjin snorting slightly before pointing his chopsticks towards you.

"I thought we were friends" comes Seokjin's direct reply.

"I mean... I wouldn't go that far but okay" You respond, looking away, his words startling you. Were you friends? Sure, you weren't exactly enemies anymore, but wasn't friends pushing it? If it were up to you, you'd call it casual acquaintances or something similar.

"Go on then, why did you become a chef?" Seokjin repeats. You let out a little sigh before placing your chopsticks down. You glance up at the sky, the city lights drown out most of the sky, but there are still a few stars that lit up the night sky.

"My parents used to run a small cake shop in our town, so I basically just grew up baking and making desserts. I learnt a lot from mom and grandpa and eventually just got better than them. I think the first time I baked one of grandpa's recipes was around the age of five. Mom helped obviously, but grandpa loved it so much. He'd started baking for grandma and he loved that I picked up the skill and well, that's why I started baking" You say, a small wistful smile on your face as you remember your grandfather's smile when you'd presented the cake to him.

"That doesn't explain why you became a chef though. A pâtissier yeah, but not why you joined Big Hit. You don’t have to have studied professionally to run a family-run cake shop" Seokjin points out and you turn back to him, cocking your head to the side.

"That was because by the time it got to applying for universities, mom and grandpa knew there was nothing more they could teach me. They both had been saving up to send me here because they thought my talents were wasted in their little bakery and well, after all the years of saving, I didn't have the heart to tell them no and so here I am, three years later. It was probably the best decision of my life" You say, a wistful smile on your face as you remembered their kindness.

"So, you decided on a whim then?" He clarifies and you shrug.

"I guess so. I never really thought about anything other than baking in grandpa's bakery but they both knew there were bigger things out there than a small cake shop in Busan" You say Seokjin nodding.

"That's fair enough, I just thought that maybe it would have been a big dream of yours of something. I always wondered why you were so hell-bent on always being the top," Seokjin comments offhandedly and you sneer slightly at him.

"Grandpa and mom spent a lot of time and money on my tuition here. I can't exactly disappoint them by failing, now can I... especially now after I've come so far" You point out, Seokjin nodding in accord.

"Still doesn't explain why you wanted to beat me so bad. You didn't have to fail but that didn't mean you had to try so hard to be first either" Seokjin points out, causing you to scowl at him again before your face turns passive once again.

"No, you’re right. A lot of that was to do with how much you annoyed me," You deadpan, Seokjin snickering, causing you to roll your eyes.

"Okay, enough about me. Why did you become a chef?" You ask, curious to find out Seokjin's reasons for becoming a chef.

"It's not as meaningful as yours. I did it more as an act of defiance than anything" Seokjin replies, both of you long since finished with your ramen. You quirk an eyebrow, waiting for him to delve deeper into his explanation.

"Well my dad wanted to go into the family business, but I really didn't want to. This was... let's say a compromise" Seokjin responds.

"Okay yes, because that isn't cryptic or anything... come on! I told you my reasons" You whine slightly, and Seokjin chuckles.

"Stop pouting, I can't say no to you when you do that," Seokjin says all of a sudden and you immediately jerk, face flushing as you process his words.

"W-What? Don't just say things like that!" You scream, pointing at him accusingly. Really, what was his problem? What was he so flirty for?

"But if I didn't then I wouldn't be being true to myself. But anyway, if you really want to know... my dad's a CEO, he owns a chain of restaurants and wanted me to take over even though I didn't want to. I wanted to be an actor but he said no to that. My other hobby was cooking considering I’d been in professional kitchens since I could walk, so I said I'd take over if he let me attend Big Hit Academy. He agreed" Seokjin elaborates but you simply scrunch your eyebrows.

"Where's the compromise in that? Doesn’t he get what he wants in the end anyway?" You refuted but Seokjin just sends you a sly glance before leaning in.

"See, what he doesn't know is that I'll only be taking over one restaurant, which I won't manage but be the head chef of" Seokjin loudly whispers, his tone conspiratorial.

"Won't that piss him off? But also, who will run the restaurants then?" You ask, curious about Seokjin's future plan. Seokjin's face contorts with pride as he grins at you.

"It won't matter because I'll be in charge anyway so he won't have a say in it. But also, I'll just hire a professional CEO or something, someone who could actually manage the restaurants. To be honest, as graduation is nearing, I was wondering if I could just hire Namjoonie to do it. No one is as good a manager as him, plus it's all boring like numbers and graphs and he likes that stuff, right?" Seokjin asks, staring at you earnestly. You giggle slightly, imagining Namjoon's face if Seokjin offered him the job before nodding enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I think he'd really love that to be honest," You replied, smiling softly at Seokjin, causing him to respond with his own smile, the wells in his cheeks at the corner of his lips deepening. It's adorable and only further draws attention to his already perfect lips. How had you not noticed them before?

"Damn, it's almost three am. Do you want to head back? I'll walk you home" Seokjin offers as he gathers up your empty foil containers, plopping them in the bin before wiping down his chopsticks, placing them back in his pocket.

"Oh, you really don't have to! It's not a long walk from here anyway" You quickly say, trying to refuse his offer. Seokjin simply sends you a look that has you sighing, immediately knowing that there was no way he'd be letting you off that easily.

"Come on, I can’t let you walk alone at this time of the night," Seokjin says and you quickly follow him, leading the way.

The two of you spend the short walk speaking more about your life out of the academy. You tell Seokjin about running the little cake shop with your mother and grandfather, your father spending most of his time in the city with his office job. You don't even stop and think about opening up to him as it all comes naturally to you. You'd never really noticed how easy it was to talk to Seokjin, not that you'd really had any reason to beforehand considering your - now that you thought about it - petty rivalry. You tell him about how you'd bake a special cake for the bakery once a week that would have people bustling in for your desserts. You even tell him about how you and your grandfather bake a special cake for your mother on her birthday. In turn, Seokjin tells you more about his home life. His father, as loving and doting as he was, would usually be too busy running the business, leaving his mother to look after both his brother and himself.

"If I was being completely honest... the reason I started cooking wasn’t that I grew up around kitchens. Sure, it interested me… seeing how basic ingredients turn into something else. But, I started because my mother is an awful cook and my brother is no better. I got tired of eating inedible food and took over the cooking in the house. And well, it turned out that I was really good at it. Sometimes I wonder if I should stop and just take over the family business like dad wants but then I remember my mother's smile every time I would cook her something, and I remember why I started and how much I love it, and it just motivates me to keep going" Seokjin says, a wistful look on his face as the two of you near your apartment complex. Your head snaps to him in slight awe of his sudden confession.

"Wow... I had no idea you thought about quitting or giving up" You mutter, Seokjin looking down at you with a rueful smile.

"Does it not get too much for you sometimes? The pressure...? Everyone expects you to always be at the top or for you to come up with amazing dishes time after time. Sometimes I forget how much I love cooking and the pressure just builds up but I just remember mom and her smile and everything gets better" Seokjin states, his tone light again, a genuine smile returning to his face. Your fingers twitch slightly, wanting to reach out and grasp his hand to offer him some semblance of comfort. But you can't do that. You may be somewhat friends, but your relationship was nowhere near that level of intimacy. So, you settle for the next best thing.

"If it makes you feel better, I'm glad you didn't quit. I'd miss our rivalry... and you do make me a better chef" You admit grudgingly, Seokjin raises an eyebrow at your statement, an amused smirk on his face. You immediately flush, "B-Besides, winning by default isn't really winning" You stammer, trying to explain yourself but you and Seokjin both know you're lying.

"I'm glad I stayed. You make me a better chef too" Seokjin says with a wink. Your face heats further and you try to respond, but instead, you simply stutter, unable to think of a response.

"Oh look! We're here! Wow, it's really late. I'll see you at the academy!" You suddenly blurt, your words rushed as you try and get away from him. Seokjin instantly reaches out and grabs your hand, pulling you back.

"Hey! We've got a break now, I won't see you for a week or something. Besides, that's not a proper goodbye" Seokjin points out and you scowl despite the prominent blush on your face.

"What do you... mean?" You start before trailing off, watching as Seokjin bends over to the rose bushes planted at the bottom of your complex. He plucks one off of the bush, it's not fully bloomed yet, only a few petals unfurling from the bud, before handing it to you.

"Goodnight ____," Seokjin says with an over-exaggerated bow. You roll your eyes at his antics before accepting the flower, breathing in the subtle scent of the rose. Seokjin stands straight again and then winks at you before turning around and walking away. You roll your eyes at him again before you too turn around and enter your building.

A couple moments later and you're back in your small studio apartment. You wander to the kitchen, pulling out a vase from the cabinet before filling it with water. Carrying the vase, you place it in the living room on your coffee table before placing the rose in it. The vase is slightly too big for the single flower, but it still looks pretty nonetheless. You glance at the rose one last time before returning to bed, a small smile on your face.

a/n: uwu what did you think?? please let me know!!

▷ Part II | Masterlist

#btssmutclub #hyunglinenetwork #kpopwonderlandtag #kwritersworldnet #bangtanarmynet #btsguild #btsprotectnet #thekimlinenet #seokjin x reader #jin x reader #kim seokjin x reader #bts jin x reader #bts seokjin x reader #bts au #bts fic #bts imagine #bts kim seokjin x reader

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yehet-me-up · 5 years

Text

Mine

pairing: Minseok x reader (female)

rating: M - explicit sex, unprotected sex, mentions of violence

genre: undercover federal agents!AU, angst, smut

word count: 3,165

For @gingersaysjump - requesting either "Make me" or "You should be mine by now" for my Min, smut style. I peach emoji YOU TOO BISH 🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑🍑

‘We shouldn’t even be talking, Min. It’s dangerous. He could have this place bugged,’ you say harshly, desperate to get away.

Shoving your phone in your bag, you turn to him. The lighting in the apartment makes his eyes appear golden and you almost cave. But if you don’t leave now, you never will.

‘Y/N, come on.’ he implores, reaching for you. His carefully constructed facade of strength cracks. ‘Please don’t go there tonight. Say you’re sick, that you -’

‘You know what we both signed up for. Why do you suddenly care?’ The waver in your voice is a dangerous giveaway and you swallow it down, willing yourself to keep it together.

Before you can let him talk you out of it, you turn and push through the door.

‘Stay out of the way and let me do my job,’ you yell over your shoulder.

‘Don’t walk away from me, I’m talking to -’ Minseok calls after you, the last word muffled by the door closing.

You ignore him, heart hammering in your chest, and continue striding down the black marble hallway. The sound of your heels echo in the expensive penthouse apartment. With a jam of your thumb you call the private elevator and wait, knowing he’ll catch up with you any second.

‘Come on, come on,’ you plead, hoping it will reach you before Minseok does.

The polished chrome of the doors reflects you back to yourself. The tight red dress barely reaches your mid-thigh, hugs your curves. The shoes cost more than what you paid for rent each month back in college.

The sharp wing of your eyeliner, mussed waves of hair that spill across your shoulders, the scent of the cologne he bought you; all claim you as property a man you despise. A man who is not the man you love.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open silently. As they should. The apartment your boyfriend bought for you must have cost upwards of five hundred grand. The thought of it makes you feel sick. No part of your training prepared you for how it would feel to be so thoroughly owned by a mafia boss.

Your life isn’t your own, not until you and your partner get a confession, evidence, anything to prove that Jimmy De Luca murdered his brother Donny after he turned state’s witness. After eight months you feel like you’re about to break.

Minseok comes around the corner, striding into the elevator to stand next to you just as the doors close, radiating intensity and frustration.

Neither of you press a button and stand there, waiting. When you dart a look at him you see his hair has become even more undone. You can picture him standing in the apartment, running his fingers through it in frustration, or concern, after you’d left. It’s become impossible to read him.

The image makes you want to wrap your arms around his waist and press your face to his neck; to beg him to hold you and tell you it will be alright. That it will be over soon.

The ceiling of the private elevator is black and you look up at the tiny lights in the ceiling, dotted to look like stars. Neither of you can afford to be soft right now. If Jimmy realizes his girlfriend and his driver are both undercover FBI agents, you’ll be dead before you can blink.

‘Please don’t go to him tonight,’ Minseok hisses under his breath.

You turn to meet the heat in his eyes. ‘We both have to do our jobs,’ you start, staring him down. ‘You have to collect me and I have to... go to him.’

He opens his mouth to object and you reach a reckless hand to his shoulder, clutching the fabric. The motion brings you closer together, toe to toe. He brings a hand to your waist without seeming to notice. It settles on your lower back, hot and possessive.

‘We have to do it. No matter how much we don’t want to,’ you say softly.

Emotion blossoms in his features, raw and open. ‘I can’t take much more of Jimmy talking about how you’re his. How much he loves fucking you. It makes me sick, I -’

‘Me too, Min.’ Dread pools in your stomach. The tears and anguish you’ve suppressed for so long bubble to the surface.

‘I don’t know how much longer I can do this,’ you say, the truth escaping around the one person you know you can trust.

His breath ghosts along your lips, sensitive from long nights of biting them to hide your disgust at the man that the entire De Luca mob and all of the Chicago underground thinks you belong to.

Minseok leans into you, his other hand reaching to cup your head, so gently that you gasp. He walks you back so you rest against the wall of the elevator. With a noise of frustration he rests his forehead against yours and breathes as if he’s fighting himself.

‘You should be mine by now,’ he whispers against your lips, fragile enough that he sounds ready to break.

You watch him, hope roaring in your chest, washing away the acidic fear and disgust. Even though you love him, he’s never breathed a word to you about how he feels. Never let anything but concern and focus color his expression when he speaks to you.

It took you by surprise, the way you fell in love with Minseok. Your first big undercover op was supposed to be fast. Jimmy was known for bragging, for being careless. It was only the work of his lawyer that kept him out of jail in the past.

But instead, as the weeks turned into months, you and Minseok had forged an unbreakable bond over late nights strategizing, in the minutes when he’d pick you up to take you to Jimmy’s.

Minseok’s eyes on you from across the room are the only thing that holds you together some nights at the club, when you’re forced to sit on Jimmy’s lap and tolerate his hands and his lips on you.

Even if he never said it, you know you’re the reason he stays sane, too. The way he returns after a shakedown, blood on his knuckles and a dead look in his eyes, always terrifies you. For months you’ve been there to steady him when he looks ready to come apart at the things this job has forced him to do, to become.

Somehow, against it all, you found love in a horrifying situation. Maybe he has too.

‘Min, I-’ you drop your purse to the elevator floor and cup his face in both your hands.

He searches your face, his brows pulling together. ‘Do you want me?’

You nod, fingers digging into the flesh of his neck, already pulling him closer. He makes a low noise that’s almost a growl of triumph and pulls you flush against him, claiming your lips with his.

The way he kisses you is not gentle, pressing against you hard enough to bruise. The way you return his kiss is not gentle either, but just as rough and needy. Neither of you have it in you to be soft and patient tonight.

Months of being shaped and grated down into the kind of people who could survive this life have turned you both into people you’d never have imagined. His kiss is a baptism, a cleansing for all the things you’ve done that keep you up at night, the things you’ve done to cope.

In the field office, the first time you saw him you thought he was a bit of a nerd, but in a cute way. Answering all the captain’s questions a millisecond after he asked them, like a teacher’s pet. Boxy glasses, a bad haircut, even a pocket protector - you couldn’t imagine how he’d survive an undercover op. But then again, you’re sure you looked just as green and untested.

He groans against you, kneading the flesh of your hips with strong hands. Tonight he feels like the only real and solid thing you can hold onto. You pour everything you feel into his open mouth, desperate to shed the lies and find the forgotten truth of who you are.

You surrender to the moment like a forest surrenders to a wildfire - completely, knowing nothing will be left behind but ashes. With your lips you beg him to bring you back to yourself, to remind you what hope tastes like. To remind him in return that goodness exists.

Weeks of agony and desperation fall away as he holds your waist so tightly you want to crawl inside him and live, safe and protected, forever. Months disappear, sliding from your soul, as he traces your lip with his tongue, begging entrance into you.

You moan into his mouth, shuddering as his tongue strokes yours, clinging to him like he’s the life raft that will carry you through this nightmare. He slides a hand down to your thigh, pulling your leg along his waist and gripping the flesh of your ass. You feel his need against your core, as insistent and unquenchable as your own.

He pulls back and looks at you again. His eyes are wilder, his breath coming faster. ‘You should be mine by now,’ he repeats on a groan.

‘Make me,’ you plead, dipping your head to pull his lower lip between your teeth. ‘Jimmy owns my entire life. We have to finish this assignment, Min. But first, please give me this. Make me yours.’

He looks down at your heaving chest, at the way you look slotted against him - perfect, as if you were always meant to be there. ‘Are you sure?’

His hand slides along your thigh, towards your center, and your eyes fall closed with a sound of need. ‘Please.’

When you look back to him you can’t remember anything you’ve wanted as much as you want to be with someone like him. Someone who respects you and knows you down to your soul.

‘Yes, Minseok. Now. Tonight.’

‘Thank God,’ he says and recaptures your lips.

You work your mouth against his with equal hunger. If he’s going to take you tonight, you’re going to make sure you claim him, too.

He must feel the same about you. You know it when you kiss along his jaw, scraping your teeth along the spot where it joins his neck. You know it when you tug on the hair at his nape and he groans into your skin. You know it when you grind yourself against his length through his slacks and feel him shudder with need.

Suddenly, he drops to his knees, slowly kissing his way down your neck. Trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down into your cleavage. Ghosting his mouth along your stomach before lifting the edge of your dress and pressing his lips to the sensitive skin above your underwear.

You grip his hair to steady yourself, watching in fascination as he slides his hands up your bare legs, teasing the skin. When his fingers reach the edges of the fabric he waits for your permission to carry on.

The warmth and kindness in his eyes is so starkly offset by the barely healed scar along his cheek, the bruises on his knuckles. You can’t help but love him, this complex man who is your partner and your equal.

After a beat you nod, desperate to feel him against all your most desperate places. He slides the fabric down and you step out, helping him.

‘Are you wet for me, love?’ he asks softly, drawing a hand upward to lightly work his thumb against your inner thigh.

You laugh, your first real one in days. ‘Why don’t you be a good detective and find out for yourself?’

He smirks up at you, his brow raising. And then he disappears beneath your dress. His free hand holds the material to your hip, firmly grounding you to the wall. With no preamble his tongue traces your slit, tasting the wetness of your arousal.

‘Oh fuck,’ you moan.

Dropping your head back against the wall you stare up at the fake stars on the ceiling and allow yourself to imagine you’re free to love each other.

You reach out a hand and it hits the wall behind you, sliding down, slick with heat. The enclosed space feels like a sauna as he explores you, his agile tongue finding every spot except the one you most want him to.

He pulls back to look up at you, his cheeks pink with desire and his lips wet with your need. He shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it to the floor. You have half a mind to call him ‘the devil’ in jest as holds your gaze. But then he lifts a hand to cup your mound, massaging the flesh, and the words scatter from your mind.

‘If we had the time,’ he says darkly, standing, not moving his hand from you. ‘I’d take you somewhere where I could kiss every inch of you. I’d eat out this sweet pussy for hours until you were satiated. I’d work myself so hard and so deep in you that you’d feel nothing but me for weeks.’

‘But we only have tonight,’ he says against your ear, stepping close. ‘And I’ve got to make it count.’

He sinks a finger inside you and you gasp against him, clutching his arm. It feels like time has frozen, locked you in this moment. The stroking of his finger feels so good you can’t help the moans that fall from your lips.

Need courses along your skin, jagged and insistent. ‘It’s not enough, Min. I need you closer. I want you inside me, now.’

He nods and the floodgates open. Time slams back into motion and you reach for him.

You unbutton his belt while he works the digit inside you, faster. He adds a second finger and you clench around him, crying out. Once his belt is undone you work at his pants, undoing the button and sliding the zipper down, finger stroking along the press of his erection.

He grunts, pulling his hand from you and fitting his lips against yours. You shove his pants down as far as you’re able, whining with need against him. Before you have time to bemoan the loss of his fingers within you he’s lifted you onto the railing and shoved his pants and underwear down his legs.

Holding your gaze, he positions himself at your entrance. With one stroke he’s sheathed himself inside you, filling you to the hilt with a grunt. You gasp into his open mouth and tighten around him.

After a beat he moves, gripping your hips and slamming into you. Months of frustrating and boring sex with Jimmy and you’d forgotten how it feels to be filled, to be with someone who knows what they’re doing. He angles your hips down and every stroke of his length inside you brings him against your clit.

You cling to him, bringing your mouth to his exposed shoulder. Orgasm building fast at the base of your spine, you grip his arms, digging your nails into his clothed skin.

After months of wanting to put your hands on him, you savor the opportunity. You reach inside the collar of his shirt and run your fingers down the column of his neck, slick with perspiration. You stroke his sides and explore his chest.

He teases the skin behind your ear with his breath, his lips, his tongue. While he buries himself inside you he captures the lobe of your ear with his teeth. The bite of it sends a shock to your core and you feel yourself open further for him, taking him even deeper.

You ache to be consumed by him, to have him covering every inch of you and obliterating the fact that anyone else’s hands have ever known the way you feel.

Your attention narrows to the delicious friction of him inside you. How long have you been in this elevator? Minutes? Hours? Days? You couldn’t care less. Fuck the rest of the world except you and Minseok in this hot, black metal space. You dig your fingers into his hair and pull, drawing a groan from him.

‘I knew you’d feel perfect,’ he pants against your neck. ‘Shit.’

He slows his pace, pulling back to rest his forehead against yours and holding your focus. Every stroke of his is hard and deep now and you cry out, eyes closing from the intensity of it.

He kneads the undersides of your thighs, willing you to stay with him. ‘I want to see you when you come around me,’ he demands. ‘I need you.’

Capsizing in need, in him, you force your eyes open. If he wasn’t holding you up you’d melt into the floor. You almost come instantly from the sight of him - chest exposed, shining with sweat. Eyes half-lidded and lip pulled between his teeth as he watches you take all of him, over and over.

‘Come with me,’ you plead, body already giving way to the heat and electricity blooming low inside you.

He nods and you drop a hand to your clit, swirling around the hypersensitive bud. His insistent, deep strokes send you over the edge and you clench around him as you come apart. He makes a noise that’s half a whine and half a growl as he bucks into you messily, finding his own climax.

When he stills you can’t help the grin that tugs at your lips. With a heavy hand you brush away the hair that clings to his forehead before pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

He eases you down off the railing and slowly rubs feeling into your numb back and legs, surrounding you with care. Without words he puts you back together, kissing your cheeks, your mouth, your chin. For now, you are his and at the tenderness in his eyes you know that he is yours.

He pulls you into a hug and sighs, tension draining out of him as he holds you.

For as long as you dare you allow yourself to rest in his arms, safe in the enclosure of his body and this space. He relaxes slowly, sinking into you and you smile as you feel his heartbeat slow and his breathing settle into a rhythm.

But even perfect moments have to end at some point.

Your phone vibrates and you know who’s calling. You lift your head and see he’s staring at your purse as well.

‘Nothing’s changed. I’m still his, for now,’ you say softly.

He cups your face gently and presses a kiss to your lips. ‘Everything’s changed. You’re mine. As long as we both know that, the rest of the world doesn’t matter.’

The words are barely a whisper, but they reach straight to your heart.

#DRABBLEPALOOZA #xiumin x reader #minseok x reader #xiumin smut #minseok smut #exo smut #exo x reader #exo fanfic

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duncvns · 5 years

Text

Good Boys Don’t Beg (Sub!Duncan one shot)

this was a little idea @lathraios and I came up with about sub!duncan getting gangbanged by some of his coworkers. this was totally self-indulgent and i know i have some shit to write a second part to but i just really needed to get this out of my head before i lost it forever. summary- after one too many times of fucking over his co-workers, they finally have enough and decide to teach the rich boy a lesson

warnings- lgbtq+, sub!duncan, deepthroating, dubcon, gangbanging, pegging, creampie, spitroasting, femme-domme, oral (male receiving), tiny bit of ass eating lmaoo, degradation, humiliation, hate fucking, verbal humiliation, slapping, namecalling, orgasm denial, unprotected sex, anal sex, anal play

(if this isn’t your thing don’t read it. don’t say i didn’t warn you)

words- 2017

Duncan was used to getting what he desired, and fast.

You could say it didn't make him very famous around the halls of The Shepherd Freedom Foundation which he owned more than half of. He was known for being an all-out brat, tossing a fit when something didn't go his way or firing subordinates just because he was sick of looking at them, and his mother and uncle allowed him to.

The Shepherd-boy was gifted at pissing off rich, high-profile businessmen and women, making him rather unpopular at galas and balls, which he frequented often. However, he did attract sexual attention from both men and women, pulling them in like an invisible magnet.

But, after one incident of Duncan suspending the yearly pay raise due and after he let half of the charity accounts down the toilet because they weren't pulling in the funds necessary, the angry and frustrated men and women of the foundation have had enough. They were tired of the sickening games that Duncan was playing. He knew he had control over their happiness and he abused it, not knowing what trouble he could get into.

It was in Shepherd tradition to invite the foundation over to their multi-million dollar mansions for meetings. Annette thought it took more of a gentler approach instead of cramming twenty men and women into a conference room for over three hours to drone on and on about potential accounts.

It was Duncans first time hosting without his mother or uncle and he was excited, to say the least. He could finally show off his impressive home and lifestyle without openly bragging about it. He made sure to fish out the most expensive suit he owned, an impressive Tom Ford one that he purchased with the money he received by not giving out the yearly bonuses.

He made it obvious to everyone in the office that he did receive his bonus of a hearty two million dollars, and they utterly despised him for it.

All of the guests invited, arrived no later than six in the evening, giving them ample time to speak business over dinner. Duncan was cocky as he invited his colleagues inside of his home, mentioning some of the most expensive art on the walls and just how much the impressive mansion cost him.

It was early in the evening and he managed to stir up anger in the seven men and one woman he invited. Little did he know, everyone was expected him to flaunt, and they had the perfect surprise to knock him down a few pegs.

"You see that diamond vase sitting atop my mantle? Yes, that must have cost me damn near thirteen thousand dollars? It's a rare diamond, only ten of them were made. Impressive, no?" He babbled, a shit-eating smirk rested atop his face. The woman watching him flaunt rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her robust red wine.

"Is that supposed to make me jealous, Shepherd?" One of the businessmen questioned, anger laced in his voice. Duncan chuckled, furrowing his eyebrows together slightly.

"Uh... yes?" He flicked his eyes over his angry guests, slightly confused.

"I've had about enough of your bullshit, Duncan."

"You just can't stop running your mouth? Can you?"

"Flaunting around your million dollar cars and rare diamond vases,"

"Playing with our livelihoods like it's a goddamn game of monopoly."

"Wait, what the fuck is going on?" Duncan questions, swallowing the offensive jabs the angry group threw at him.

"We have big plans for you, baby boy." The woman set her glass of wine on the table before stalking over to him, her heels eliciting a steady clack over the dark wood floors. Duncan scoffed at the female, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And just what are you going to do?"

"Such a pretty boy, shame we have to do this. Right, boys?" She quickly became the ringleader, putting up a suffocating dominant stance that even Duncan couldn't resist.

"'S not a shame at all, the cocky fucker deserves it,"

She chuckled dryly, gaze burning deep into Duncan's blue-green irises. Her tight black pencil skirt was slightly tented, something Duncan hadn't noticed the entire night. "Get on your knees. Now."

He sputtered in disbelief, tearing his gaze from her as he shook his head. "What the hell? No!" She shrugged and motioned one of the men from behind Duncan. He kicked the backs of his knees, sending him toppling to the floor where he groaned out in pain.

"You're making this so hard, baby boy." She squatted, combing some of his hair in between her red-manicured fingers. He was pulled up so he was on his knees, heavy breathing making his chest rise and fall rapidly.

"Is this your form of payback?" He spat, eyes deviant as they glared up at her. "You're gonna have your boys spitroast me while you watch? Playing with your pussy as you hear me whine and beg?"

"Bold of you to assume I won't be fucking you too, baby boy." She palmed the decent sized bulge in her skirt, watching as Duncan's eyes bulged from his skull. "Gender roles are very constricting, don't you think? If I want to fuck you, hard and fast, nothing should be stopping me from that." She strode in circles around him, her bony hands tight around the surprise in her panties.

Duncan couldn't deny the dull ache of his hardening cock in his confining boxer briefs as her dominance radiated throughout the room, and throughout him. "Look at me, don't take your eyes off of mine." She demanded, slowly reaching to the hem of her skirt and lifting up the stretchy material. You could see the hard outline of her strap through her sheer black panties and Duncan wanted so badly to look at it. She didn't allow him, however, as she slowly slid her panties down her legs. She took the dense, hard cock in her hand and stroked it a few times, watching as Duncan struggled to not look down at it.

"Whew! Look at that! The boy is even drooling for a fake cock,"

"Real or fake, you know he's a filthy cockslut."

"Open up, baby boy, I'm gonna stretch out that pretty throat of yours." Duncan obediently parted his lips, finally able to watch as she lowered the strap closer and closer to his lips before pressing in softly. He reached his hands over to her thighs for leverage as the rubber slipped down his throat. He gagged around the black toy, stomach clenching painfully as she slowly fucks his throat.

"So pretty, baby boy." She swooned, lowering his mouth on her cock. "We're going to teach you a nice little lesson." The tips of her nails ghosted over his skin before quickly pulling her strap from his mouth, a line of drool seeping from his lips.

"Destroy this slut, boys." She smirked before taking a seat on one of the love chairs, keeping her hand busy by stroking her spit-slick length. The group of men closed around him, leaking cocks red and hard for Duncan's pretty mouth.

Large hands tossed him around as he choked on cock, eyes screwing closed as the man he remembers from finance fucks his throat roughly. His hands were busy stroking off the other horny men, spreading beads of leaking precum around the head of their cock. He was tossed off and choked down onto another cock, tears springing to his eyes as it hit the back of his throat roughly. A low sob ripped from his abused throat as heavy shafts slapped against his face, back, chest. Anywhere they could reach, they abused.

He was reduced to whimpers as she stepped back into the circle, pushing Duncan off of the current cock he was gagging on with her heel. "That's enough," She murmured. "I want him coherent." Her long brown locks framed her structured face beautifully as she tilted her head to the side.

"Undress him."

Busy hands erupted in the circle, ripping the expensive fabric from his red flushed body as he whined, being tossed around like a useless fish. Once she was satisfied in his lack of clothing she ushered the men's hands away, taking a long look at the needy boy whimpering at her feet. Duncan's cock was red and angry, straining against his chest, begging for release. She smirked, bringing the tip of her stilettos to his sensitive cock and gently pressed on it. He bucked up in surprise, a long hiss escaping his raw throat.

"Please, please!" He begged, looking up at her with pleading eyes.

"Say, please daddy."

"P-please daddy! I need to cum!" He whined, pulling away from the jab of her heel.

"No. We didn't get to fuck you yet." She spoke slowly, removing her shoe from her leaking cock. Duncan hissed at the sudden loss of contact, bucking his hips up for more.

"We're gonna fill that tight little cunt up with so much cock, you'll never be able to walk the same again," She leaned closer to his face, her minty breath hot against his overheated skin. She winked before motioning the men to toss him over the couch. He fell heavily, having to claw the modern material to regain his composure. She stalked over to him, strap hung and heavy between her thighs.

She situated herself behind him, parting his cheeks so she could get a look at his tight hole. She moaned lightly, leaning down to lap at it. He cracked out a moan, crying in pleasure as he bucked back onto her tongue. She steadied his hips with a tight grasp, her nails digging into his skin as she pushed her warm, thick tongue into his ass.

One of the men slid his cock down Duncan's empty throat, fucking him roughly as she continued to eat him out, stretching him just enough for her strap to fit inside of him comfortably. She pulled her mouth from him and wiped her face before lining her cock with his spit-soaked entrance and pushing in. He cried out against the man's cock filling his mouth as she rocked inside of him, the stretch searing and hot.

The cock in his mouth was replaced as she quickly built up a rough, hard pace. Fucking in and out of him. He was a mess, cock purple from the need to cum and skin red and sweaty. She fucked in and out of him a couple more times before sliding her cock out of him and stepping to the side. Another man took her place, sliding his dry cock into Duncan's exposed asshole and plowing into him brutally.

"You like this, huh? Little fucking slut, I'm gonna teach you to not fuck with my money," He growled, chasing his high in the fucked out boys willing ass. Duncan's throat was never empty for more than two seconds before it was filled again with even more cock. The domme was gentle, brushing some of his sweaty hair from his eyes as his mouth was stretched and worked open quickly.

Duncan's weak body shook, convulsing with the strength of his orgasm as he spilled all over the couch. She shook her head in disappointment, placing a series of quick slaps to his face. "Good boys don't cum without permission." He whined as he recovered from the stinging pain.

The man fucking into Duncan from behind finally came with a shout, pulling out of the boy's ass, watching as a mixture of seven different loads slid down his ass and onto the couch. Duncan collapsed onto the couch weakly, hissing at the pain of his sore skin hitting the rough white leather.

He pulled his knees into his chest and let out a small, shivering chuckle. He was in disbelief that he let himself be fucked like that. Spitroasted like the whore he was. All he could think about as everybody redressed, was how he could get payback, and if that meant getting fucked raw in his office by seven of his coworkers, then so be it.

tagging- @avesatanormalpeoplescareme @1-800-bitchcraft @icylangdon @langdonsrapture @langdonsinferno @wroteclassicaly @lvngdvns @daaddddysprincesss @sojourne

#Duncan Shepherd #duncan shepherd x you #duncan shepherd one shot #duncan shepherd x reader #my writing #michael langdon #michael x reader #michael langdon x reader

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tuckermouse · 5 years

Text

OHSHC x Reader: 1

It was inevitable, sure. But it wouldn’t be taken lightly.

My dad was transferred to Japan for his job and frankly, it’s been hard to adjust. I mean, come on. The culture is so different-cool and fun too, but I’m not quite ready to admit that yet-and the language? It took forever to learn. Despite all that, moving wasn’t unfamiliar to me. This was just a level up, after all those years of only moving state to state. I was disappointed, as my parents promised that we would no longer move once I was in high school. Yet here I am, ready for my first day at Ouran. I’m not one to brag or anything like that, but I was luckily accepted into the school on scholarship. This scholarship covers tuition cost and books, but not uniforms. Frankly, I am not disappointed in missing out on that. Those banana peel dresses would be the death of me, and I’m not quite ready to die (despite the numerous jokes I may or may not make).

My phone buzzed and I looked to see a message from Mom. “Thanks for making lunches, sweetheart!” my mom texted. I already forgot that I made lunches for my siblings-two of them. My third sibling is only a toddler so she doesn’t have school yet. The other two are 8 and 6, making me the oldest. I replied, “no problem,” before getting into my car. It’s old, but it works. That’s all that matters to me. I started the car and drove to school...with all those damn rich people.

Once I got there, I parked and gawked at the size of the building. That, and the fact that it was pink. That’s...interesting. Before I could even stroll in, however, two people linked their arms with mine. “Hello, scholarship student,” they began, “welcome to Ouran. Need a tour?”. I glanced to my left and then to my right. Identical twins were wiggling their eyebrows back at me. “Not right now, but I do need to get my class schedule fixed. Can you two lead me to the guidance office?”

They looked surprised for a moment. “It’s unusual for Ouran,” began one, “to screw up a schedule,” finished the other. “Let us see!” They snatched the paper away. “Hey, we have the exact same schedule! There’s nothing to fix here!” I laughed at their antics. “Well, I’ve already taken Biology and Geometry, and I don’t plan on taking either again.” They stared at me like an animal at the zoo and said, “Wow, you really ARE an honors student.”

“Thanks...can you take me now?” I responded a bit nervously. I don’t need recognition, it’s embarrassing! Kinda! “Absolutely!” they exclaimed as they began to drag me to the office. “Woah woah woah, guys that’s okay, I can walk myself-”

“Here!” they interjected. And here it was. “Thank you both so much, I’m sure I would have gotten lost.” I looked at the one to the right first and then the left. The one to the right responded by smirking, and the one to the left responded through his eyes widening. I already can tell a difference between them, point (Y/N). “Of course, it’s always pleasure-”

“-to help a maiden in need.”

“Need a hand with anything else?” they said in unison while getting way too close to my face. “Anything at all?” they asked, winking. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be off now. See ya!” I said rather loudly before rushing into the office. I felt how hot my face was. Gosh, they push my buttons.

“And what are you doing here?” an old voice croaked rudely. I looked up to see an elderly woman sitting at a receptionist desk and glaring at me. “Oh! Good morning, I’m new here and I needed my schedule fixed. Is there a way that I can-”

“Oh, you Americans think you’re so smart and entitled. Psh, you go on now before you keep wasting my time.” I was so shocked at this small woman’s harshness. “I-I’m sorry ma’am, but I need this fixed-”

“You’re still here? Go to the other office. This isn’t the right one for that nonsense,” she spat. “Oh, o-okay,” I mumbled before sprinting out. I slowed to a walk and became consumed in my thoughts. How could I find the other office? This place needs one of those maps like the ones at the mall. How can I possibly find my way around-

“Hey!” a male voice rang as I felt a force hit my front. I ran into a person on the first day. A rich person, probably. Oh, no. “Oh my gosh, are you okay? I’m so sorry, I was lost in thought and I wasn’t paying attention and-”

“It’s okay, princess. It was only an accident. What had you worried so?” I followed the smooth voice to the owner and saw-wow-a tall blonde looking at me with his blue eyes. Who knew so many handsome young men went here? “Well, I was led by identical twins to the guidance office so I could get my schedule fixed, but the woman there was super rude to me and basically called me a stupid, entitled American and coldly told me to find the other office. Now I’m here,” I concluded, smiling up at him. “Those shady twins! They should know by now where to take you!” the boy began, “I’ll take you to my father, he’s the chairman. He’ll be able to help you and take care of that mean lady!”. He grabbed my hand and led the way. I blushed at the gesture but decided to ignore it. It’s friendly, just as the twin’s teasing was. When we finally reached the chairman’s office, the boy knocked on the door. “We’ll get this solved, princess” he smiled at me. “Thank you so much,” I replied. The door opened to reveal a man that did in fact look like the boy’s father. “Why, hello, Tamaki. I see you’ve befriended the new honors student.” Before Tamaki could respond, I said, “So your name is Tamaki? I’m (Y/N).”

“My boy didn’t introduce himself?! Oh my, how rude that is. Did I not teach you better?” the older man cried. Tamaki sulked as he tried to explain, “I was too busy trying to help her! She needs her schedule fixed and the receptionist called her mean names!”. The chairman looked a bit surprised. “Is this true?” he questioned, looking at me. “Yes, she said that as an American I am stupid and entitled...but I don’t want any trouble! I just want a corrected schedule.”

“Well then, step inside my office. I’m Mr. Suoh, and as you already know I am the chairman here. I will surely have that woman out by the end of the day, and we’ll get you a schedule right now. Good thing you came in early, (Y/N)-chan.” The chairman offered a rose to me. I took it, a bit shocked that he used “chan” to address me and wondering where he got that rose from. Seeing this, Tamaki pouted. I chuckled at his reaction before saying, “please, I really don’t mean any trouble with the woman. Maybe she was having a bad morning.”

“She spoke rudely and unprofessionally to a student. Regardless of where you are from, you are as much of a student here as anyone else. You’ve gained entry on wit and intelligence alone, and you deserve to be recognized for it. Her behavior is not tolerated here,” Mr. Suoh spoke, suddenly serious. I nodded and whispered a quick “thank you,”.

“Now about that schedule...”

“So you have every class with us except math and science. You’ll be with the year 2 students!” the twins exclaimed, gazing at my schedule. “I guess so. Would it be alright if you two allowed for me to join you on your way to classes?”

“Of course, (Y/N)” the twins responded. They’ve already introduced themselves, but I couldn’t help but to continue to scroll through the list of characteristics I’ve taken note on so far. Hikaru has a deeper voice and Kaoru has a raspier voice. Hikaru tends to be more mischievous and starts sentences first when the two aren’t speaking in unison. Kaoru is a bit calmer, quieter, and more observant. The homeroom president began announcements. “...and welcome our new student, all the way from America: (L/N) (Y/N)!” I snapped out of my thoughts when I heard my name. Crap! The president gestured for me to come to the front. I sighed and walked up to the front of the class. “Hello,” I said, mustering as much confidence as I could, “I look forward to learning more about you all, the culture, and the school. I’m sure we’ll have a great year!”. The class clapped while some people started to whisper to one another. Great...

The first few classes were...interesting. It was the first day, so I wasn’t assigned much homework yet. However, now it’s time for the twins and I to go our different ways. “We will miss you greatly, (Y/N),” they whined. “Oh, hush. I’ll see you two at lunch?” They brightened up, “yeah! See ya!”, and off they ran. I chuckled before realizing that I had no idea how to get to my next class. Naturally, I was just a few seconds after the bell walking into class...which is full of second year students. This is exactly what I fear in life. “Nice of you to join us, miss (Y/N),” the teacher said. “I’m very sorry, I got lost,” I explained, a bit flushed. “It won’t count against you as you are new here. While you’re up here, introduce yourself.”

God, no. “Okay...” I said despite my inner thoughts screaming to just say hi and sit down. “My name is (L/N) (Y/N) and I am a first year here. I transferred from America if you can’t tell from my accent. I look forward to getting to know you all and having a great year!” I said, smiling at the end while hoping to win some people over. Wow, I need friends. “Thank you, now please take a seat next to Tamaki,” the teacher gestured to the blonde waiting at his seat in excitement. “(Y/N)! That was great!” Tamaki said to me. “Thank you, I was pretty nervous.” I glanced around the room and saw people occasionally looking at me before whispering to a companion. This is my worst nightmare. As I was looking around the room, my eyes met with grey ones looking intently in my direction. There was a boy with raven hair and glasses perched a bit too low, perhaps for dramatic effect. He then turned away. “Oh, that’s Kyoya! Wanna go meet him?” Tamaki asked enthusiastically. “Um, okay. If he doesn’t mind.” Hearing my confirmation, Tamaki grabbed my hand for the second time that day and led me over to Kyoya. “Kyoya, isn’t the transfer student cute? She’s gonna do just fine here, isn’t she?” Tamaki said dramatically. I blushed at this and said, “Hey, I’m only a transfer student. Thanks, though.”

“Ootori Kyoya. Pleasure to meet you, miss (Y/N),” the raven haired boy spoke while smiling rather...artificially. His hand was held out towards me, so I shook it firmly and said, “The pleasure is all mine, mister Kyoya.” If he was going to be purely professional, maybe that’s how he liked his friendships. So I thought I’d give it a try. “(Y/N)...”

“Yes, Tamaki?”

“Call me mister Tamaki! Just once!”

“What? No!”

“Oh, come on! Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaasssse!”

“Pllllleeeeeeaaaaassssseee!”

This boy with his damn puppy eyes was about to break me. “Fine! I don’t know why you’re being such a weirdo about it...mister Tamaki,” I grumbled. “Yes! The princess finally did it! Just for me!”

“Actually, she called me mister Kyoya first. It was originally just for me,” Kyoya said, smirking at the elated blonde. Just like that, Tamaki deflated. “You’re so mean, Kyoya!” Tamaki claimed before pouting. I laughed and said, “Good one” to Kyoya. He smirked at me as well. When Tamaki didn’t move for a solid minute, I went over to check up on him. “Tamaki, we’re going to be late for lunch! Let’s go eat,” I said, touching his shoulder as he crouched. Suddenly standing up, Tamaki was filled with determination. “To the cafeteria!” he pointed heroically. I wasn’t falling for it. “Let’s go. Romeo,” I said, beginning to walk with Kyoya.

Once we were at the cafeteria, I was shocked at the sight. School food never looked better. I was so used to seeing the gross pizza and slimy fries that I grew accustomed to just bringing my own lunch. Regardless, I probably couldn’t afford the food here anyway, so a packed lunch still served a purpose. “Aren’t you coming?” Kyoya asked. “This is just...bizarre,” I said, still dazed. “This is quite normal here at Ouran. After all, this is a highly elite school,” Kyoya responded rather posh-like. I rolled my eyes at this and scoffed. “I promised Hikaru and Kaoru that I’d have lunch with them. Do either of you know where I can find them?”

“We eat with them, princess. Come with us!” Tamaki said, pulling me along. This made some girls turn and glare. Jeez...it seems he has a fan club. “Oh, (Y/NNNNNN). We miiiissed yoooouuuu,” the twins said as Tamaki, Kyoya, and I approached the table. “Leave my (Y/N) alone, you shady twins!” Tamaki exclaimed, launching the three into a little debate. I turned to Kyoya and asked, “Are they always like this?” Kyoya then replied, “Usually, but it’s best to ignore them. This is Honey-senpai and Mori-senpai, two third years. Honey-senpai, Mori-senpai, this is (Y/N). The new transfer student.” I saw the two third years as they sat at the table. The smaller boy cutely said, “Hello, (Y/N)-chan! I’m Honey! Would you like a piece of my cake? Oh, and can I have the strawberry? That’s my favorite part. Maybe we can go halfsies?” I smiled warmly at the boy and said, “Thank you, Honey-senpai. I would love some of your cake.” Then I looked up at the much taller and much more stoic boy. “I assume you’re Mori-senpai?” I asked. He nodded and said a small, “yes”. I smiled at him and I swear I saw the smallest bit of a smile on his lips. This made me smile more. “Speaking of senpai, (Y/N), you should call ME senpai! It only makes sense, as I am your strong and noble upperclassman! Now go on! Call me senpai, princess!” Tamaki exclaimed whilst gazing at me in anticipation. “Sorry, Tamaki, but I don’t think I should feed your ego that much,” I said, jokingly. Tamaki began to sulk as the twins began to laugh. “That was-” “-too good!” they said. Tamaki snapped, “You two hush! She will call me senpai one day! I know it!” and the three launched into another playful argument. I laughed at this. “Here’s your piece. (Y/N)-chan! It’s not really halfsies...I got too hungry while you were talking. So it was quartersies until I got even more hungry...now its eighthsies? I’m sorry...” Honey said, sadly. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Honey. Thank you for sharing! It means a lot to me,” I said genuinely, smiling at my upperclassman. His eyes widened a bit until he giggled said, “No problem!”. Mori gave me a pat on the head. Huh, those two are quite the duo.

It was about time to leave lunch, and on the way out I spotted a girl without a uniform eating alone outside. Perhaps she’s also an honors student? “I’ll catch you guys later,” I said before walking up to her. “Hello,” I said, “I’m (Y/N). What’s your name?”

A bit taken aback by the sudden visitor-aka me-the girl said, “Haruhi. I’m in your homeroom.”

“Really? Cool! Do we have any other classes together?” The girl nodded, “Every class you have with those twins, I have with you as well.”

“I’m terribly sorry I haven’t spoken to you before, but at least we know each other now! Us ‘commoners’ have to stick together!” I said. Haruhi laughed and replied, “You got that right.”

Glad to make a new friend, I suddenly remembered that the bell will ring soon. “Now let’s get to Literature, I heard the teacher is super strict.” And so the two girls walked to class, happily chatting along the way.

Note: None of these characters are mine, I just want to write about them. I thought this chapter was getting a bit too long so I cut it off there, even though it’s a bit of an awkward place to stop. Each line is a text break that means that a period of time has passed.

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sugoi-writes · 6 years

Note

Matsus reaction to female s/o wearing a black male suit? (She's cross-dressing, but her hair is still normal) please? >.

(Bwuh, uhhm, I’ll try to take this in the context that the female s/o is cosplaying a Drag King, etc. because that context makes this ask a little better to me. Or perhaps if that’s how people truly embrace it or call it, that’s fine. I just hope that this will not offend anyone! Clothes are just clothes to me, and don’t really match a gender label, but uh. Yeah! Interpret this as you wish!

Sorry, maybe it’s just the way I read it? I’m sure you meant no harm by it! Here is some scenarios, tho!)

Osomatsu

He would probably walk in on their s/o in the middle of getting ready. They know they have a show today, some sort of convention, or what have you. Not once did it cross his mind to knock. Although, he’s pleasantly surprised.

His s/o looks really shapely in a tuxedo, despite the fact that she had hoped to hide ever inch of curves on her body. He would definitely be bold, and walk right up to her, and depending on the context of the situation, he’d probably say something corny like “Hey Handsome~” if you were further along. Oso doesn’t have a specific preference with his s/o physical attributes, be it sexual orientation, gender, what have you.

But this guy will gobble her up if she let him. He secretly likes the nice and sleek look, due to how much it can contrast against his own. And he feels like she would look SO good against him. If the two of them ended up kissing, fooling around, etc., he would DEFINITELY let her finish getting ready AFTER she promises to wear this for him again.

Karamatsu

Oh boy. Does this man care about his own looks and fashion. But to see his wonderful honey, in something so… sophisticated? He would probably melt. Don’t blame him if he suddenly gets a little embarrassed, unable to look away. If she invites him closer, he would smile down to her, taking her chin,” My love, never hide yourself, or your beautiful body… I understand that this makes you feel comfortable, but always remember your natural radiance is just as captivating~” He’ll try to woo his s/o so that she couldn’t see what she was doing to him. He’s intoxicated by it all. It makes him want to dance with his s/o, and have her in his arms, basking in her looks.

“That’s my s/o!,” he would say,” That’s my beautiful, heavenly Karamatsu Love~”

She’d have to shoo him away, but much like Osomatsu, he would love to see her in this again. Honestly, if she were to model some more attire for him, he would die. He’d want to throw a little fashion show for her, and is WAY more willing to let you steal his stuff. Especially if it makes his s/o happy! He aims to please, and will embrace any hobby or lifestyle that she chooses.

Choromatsu

I feel like with our frog prince, he would also have no qualms (will any of the matsus have any, though?) with his s/o dressing up like this. He will be surprised, sure, and try to run out of the room out of embarrassment… but he certainly will support his s/o in all of her endeavors. He hates interrupting things, and would apologize profusely.

With him, he would think that she would look cute at first, maybe thinking that the suit was a little bit too much, but… it would really grow on him. And she would look DAMN cute in it (even if she was going for the more “masculine” look). He would often compliment her, and ask if she needed to borrow anything. Hair gel, cuff links, undershirts, dress shoes, corsages, ties, the works. He would be as supportive, fashion wise, as Karamatsu. Although, I would say Choro’s attire is definitely more professional looking at the end of the day, and may be more fitting for a business meeting. Aka: maybe a little much for a hobby or even an everyday lifestyle.

He’s always around to help, though, and will learn to freaking knock from now on. Don’t blame him if he may ask to get a picture of you. He loves being able to brag to Totty and Kara that HE helped his s/o, and HE was just a fashionable, dammit! So take THAT, you shitheads!!!

…Ahem. Yes. Green bean is a good bean.

Ichimatsu

This would be something that took Ichi FOREVER to notice. He doesn’t care about clothes all that much, and honestly, his is usually in tatters somehow. But, when his s/o stumbles across him in the hallway or something, he’ll kind of pause, blinking. Why did it take him this long to notice? Out of all the brothers, he will be one of the few to NOT make a big deal of things. It’s just nice.

He’ll blush, yeah, and maybe ask you why you were doing it. And if he gets a little invasive, he’ll apologize, and pat you on the shoulder.

“It suits you. You should wear what makes you happy… even if it makes me more trashy.” If his s/o pulls him in for a hug, he’ll get all blush and not remember how to hug properly. You do look pretty dabber, and honestly… if his s/o ever left the house, he would sneak into their room and try on their clothes, if he could. If not, he would probably just stare in awe. This was a lot of cool stuff! He may even be a bit jealous!

He’ll get defensive if his s/o insists on helping him, still scarred by the Karamatsu experience… but as long as he wouldn’t get teased, he’ll eventually give in. The both of you can show off your new looks, and Ichi will gain some confidence. He’ll think that his s/o is perfect the way she is, and won’t expect her to dress like this constantly, or on dates. But it’s a pleasant surprise. It will definitely be appreciated, and returned somehow.

Jyushimatsu

“Hah? Where are your boobies?”

He may scare the ever-living daylights out of his s/o at first. And like Ichi, he may question her a lot. Where did she get the stuff? Did it cost a lot? Why? What for? When did she start?

It’s all innocent questions at the end of the day, and though he may not completely understand his s/o’s reasons, he is okay with it! He likes seeing his s/o smile, and if wearing nice stuff makes her happy, he’s happy too! He won’t be able to help much, because his s/o is usually the one to help him look decent, but he will give her an honest opinion if she asks for one.

And he will always be happy to go get his s/o something, whether she forgot something at home or in another room. He likes seeing his s/o in his clothes anyway, so this is kind of similar to him. He gets a little excited to see you strut out in something, and will be sure to let you know. He’s like a little puppy, and likes following you around if you go into town, being sure no one hits on you or anything. S/o may look cute, but you were his s/o!

If you’re in a community that shuns this sort of thing, because of bigots, he will be the one to shut it down, and protectively keep you out of harms way, whether it’s nasty people or ridicule. He’ll be sure to take you out for food if something were to happen, and give you lots of kisses! It isn’t weird, and no one should make it feel weird to make you feel bad!

He loves you so much, and will do anything to make that smile on your face shine on through!

Todomatsu

Ahhh I don’t want to copy/paste, but Totty will react very similarly to Karamatsu in some ways. He will get pretty flustered, but he can’t be too bold with you looking like this. If his s/o really pulled out the stops on their look, don’t be surprised to see him shaking in the knees. He’s a complete SUCKER for suits. He will collapse if his s/o leaves the top two or so buttons unbuttoned, going for a more sensual look.

Need shoes? He’s on it. Cuff links? Bribe Choromatsu for them. Hair gel? Set Karamatsu’s on fire, and gets his s/o her own bottle. His lovely s/o is experimenting with her fashion!!! There’s no way he couldn’t embrace that! Watch out, he may get a little overbearing. He will absolutely BEG to take pictures of his s/o, and spread the photos like wildfire, if he gets permission. If not, they are his secret treasures, and he’ll hold them dear to his heart.

His s/o looks so good, he will try to flaunt his DAMNEST to show you off. He may offer to take his s/o for some dinner. He may eventually get a bit bolder, and try dancing with you, purposely going to a place where the lights are low, and there’s great music. It makes him really happy to see her try things that make her comfortable. And it makes his heart swell, because his s/o can pull off a suit WAY better than a lot of people he’s known. He will 11/10 support you, but don’t get too caught up in Totty’s praise and whirlwind of social media spamming. He’ll convince you to wear this way more often, if you aren’t careful~ It’s a really easy way to get his blood bumping, if you pull this stunt on him.

#osomatsu san imagines #all matsus #female reader #fem!reader #asdfgdsj I didn't know if the term cross dressing was okay so I kinda played around with things a bit #hhhh #osomatsu #karamatsu #choromatsu #ichimatsu #jyushimatsu #todomatsu #my writing #a sfw thing??? W o w #pinch me I must be dreaming lmao #asks #scenarios #x reader

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loonietunes · 3 years

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This is going to be a massive rant against americans constantly barking about spaying/neutering cats on any and every online space so don't read further if that's who you are.

Let me explain the context of my rant. I'm Indian. Specifically a remote hilly corner of India that barely has any adequate medical facilities for humans, forget animals and pets. Some remotes villagers have to travel miles on foot carrying a sick/pregnant patient to get to a local hospital. So can you imagine the state of sick animals? In places like mine, state sponsored veterinary clinics have forever languished away in an awful run-down state with none/badly-trained staff and minimal funding. The vets that are available are trained mostly for commerical cattle/poultry farm animals, then for pet dogs and rarely for domestic cats/birds. Anyone who has ever visited these badly maintained and unhygienic spaces will probably want to take their chances keeping a sick cat at home instead of even considering a vet visit. There are vets here who don't even consider house cats as worthwhile pets and will tell you to get a 'loyal dog' instead, right while they're trying to treat one. Here feral and stray cats are the day-to-day normal, indoor-outdoor cats a growing reality, and completely indoor cats- almost a futuristic science fiction concept that nobody understands.

So imagine someone in this situation, who finds a helpless stray cat on the roads, hungry and sick, perhaps even pregnant, and brings her home. They try to feed the cat with whatever food they have in the house (because commercial cat foods are rarely seen in stores). Maybe a little rice, fish, chicken. A lot of people even give milk because they don't know it's bad for kitties. But then we have low cost internet even though we don't have good vets, so this person goes online to the magical place called the internet to ask for help from strangers all over the world. They ask about what to feed the poor kitty, how to keep it warm and safe, how to get rid of ticks and fleas and what to expect as their little furball grows. There is lots of good advice, even though quite a bit of it is impractical for their circumstances, but the person is immensely grateful to now possess enough knowledge to take care of their new found pet.

This is the good part. Now comes the ranty part. As the person goes through all the info diligently, they keep seeing a section of people (a lot of whom appear to be white americans in their bios) give the same answer to every cat question asked on the internet. It didn't matter if the question was about cat food, cat sleeping habits, cat play, cat poop or just getting a cat in general. All the answers were 'GET YOUR CAT SPAYED/NEUTERED ASAP'. Repeated a thousand times like a broken tape player. The tone was almost intimidating, like being held at gunpoint while being screamed at. This person from this remote corner of a poor country, where cats are not even regarding as proper pets, with no good vet clinics within a good distance, who was just trying to feed and shelter a lost cat, and who wasn't even aware that spaying/neutering is a legit thing done in many countries, keeps seeing these similar messages/answers wherever they look online for help. The ones answering didn't even bother to ask or find out where the OP was from. The only words in their vocab seemed to be 'SPAY/NEUTER'. The person tried to explain their circumstances, but it seemed like there was no room for understanding, not even a little. 'SPAY/NEUTER' they kept screaming in unison. 'HOW!?' asked the person. 'Should I get a knife and scissors at home and try to neuter it myself? There is no vet here, what do I do?'

'YOU ARE SO SELFISH FOR NOT NEUTERING/SPAYING YOUR KITTEN. YOU DESERVE TO DIE THAN KEEP A PET', they screamed back. The person found it strange and almost comical, how these privileged white americans assumed that the whole world resided in america. That there were efficient and fancy vet clinics, cat rescue shelters, and even low-cost cat surgery clinics in every remote corner of the world. They didn't ask, they just assumed. The whole world was either NJ, Texas or Cali. And of course these places have great low cost vets, did you not know? Here take this address of one I went to. Oh you said you stayed somewhere remote, here take these contacts of low cost vet clinics in Alaska. Oh you stay on an island? Must be Hawaii. Do other countries even exist?

I swear everytime I see someone post a well-meaning question about a kitten/pregnant cat anywhere online, I can almost immediately smell a bloodthirsty horde of white americans on their way to scream about SPAYING/NEUTERING in the answers. Heck, I don't even need cat whiskers to do it. It's crazy how absolutely narcissistic an entire nation of people can be, and how belligerently ignorant and dismissive of another person's set of circumstances.

Rant over.

Next time someone asks a genuine question about a kitty/any other animal, try to find out where they're coming from. Mould your answer to fit their situation, not just brag about how well-kept your own cats in a first world country are. If you can't do that, don't say anything. And don't go hysterically scream about SPAYING/NEUTERING in every unrelated question about a cat that's asked online. Know that some people don't have that facility readily available in the country they live in but are trying to do everything else to provide for their pet. I know I am. And I'll do my best to try to get them spayed/neutered when I can find a safe place to get it done. Until then maybe the americans can give their fingers some rest.

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sweetlifetownsville · 5 years

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Taking Double Dipping To An Art Form: Are Townsville Airport Owners QAL Asking Us To Pay TWICE for their airport upgrade?

Its a genuine question now that the Townsville Airport has somehow managed to wangle a $50million low interest loan from the Northern Australia Infrastructure Fund (NAIF) for the terminal upgrade. You decide if youre being had. Also this week, try and blame this on evaporation the much-ballyhooed Strand lagoon on the Strand is reported to be a dead duck. And nothing to do with the floods The Pie hears this unicorn project from a financially wobbly council was scuttled mid-last year. And seems one TCC councillor will be calling it quits at the next election. And the council offers it;s own classic Whos on first comedy routine when asked a simple question by a ratepayer. And an unmistakable message to ISIS maniacs who now want to return home. But first Why Outsiders See Some Queenslanders As Special as in safety helmet and crayons special. One moment their a dangerous pest that should be culled, and the next well The good folks of Cardwell are mourning the loss of Bismarck, the reputedly 100 year old croc that has patrolled Cardwells off-shore water front for years, keeping other more aggressive animals out of his territory. Understandably, the locals loved Bismarck albeit from a sensible distance, were outraged when some knuckle-dragging drongo used the old croc for target practice.

Now, in the best tradition of what is known as recreational grief in a town where there isnt ever a lot to do, a memorial dayis plannedBismarck which may eventually result in a more tangible reminder. At least, according to Bentley.

An interesting, quirky story, but not as quirky as the Astonishers usual grasp of basic maths , the numbers thingy has brought them undone again. Magpies Nest regular commenter Peewee Herman didnt miss them when he sent this in: Peewee Herman Submitted on2019/03/05 at 8:31 am Iconic crocodile? Page 7 of todays papers has a story with the headline Iconic saltie feared killed that starts THERE are fears an iconic North Queensland saltwater crocodile has been shot and killed. It then goes on to quote a police officer Sgt Gillinder said police were yet to determine if the 4.5m crocodile had been shot, died of natural causes or been killed by a rival. Okay, so its 4.5m long, weve established that quite easily thanks to the police who have also got no idea how it died. THEN we have this ripper par It is an offence under the Nature Conservation Act 1992 to take an estuarine crocodile without authority and there are greater penalties in place for the unlawful take of an iconic crocodile, defined as 5m or greater in length. The maximum penalty for the unlawful take of an iconic crocodile is $28,383.75. So hang on, weve got a 4.5m dead croc which clearly isnt iconic (because its not 5m or longer), we dont know how it died but we are subjected to more moronic garbage from the Astonisher who dont seem to have a single clue even when its spelled out in THEIR OWN STORY! As The Pie has said elsewhere, it would seem the papers continual incorrect overuse of the word iconic is now iconic of the Bulletins sloppy stupidity. What Townsville Today Can Learn From Chicago Then Back early last century, world heavyweight champ James J Corbett had to endure the downside of the fame his sport brought. Every barroom brawler in America would try to pick a fight with him, to either have a shot at being able to brag they decked the former world champ, or just boast down the years about the time Corbett decked them.

Boxer James Corbett Corbett generally avoided such confrontations, more often than not with good humour. On one occasion, in a Chicago bar, one bantam weight challenger, a small, wiry guy who boasted he was faster and quicker than the champ because he had won several amateur lightweight titles, persisted in taunting Corbett, up to and including dancing up besides the big several times, and throwing real punches into his arm and body. Corbett stoically ignored the pest, but finally, beer in hand, he turned to face his tormentor, and told him If you hit me one more time Id better not find out about it, or youre in trouble. The Pie was put in mind of this when reading about a non-existent stoush between Qantas and the rapacious grasping efforts of Queensland Airports Limited to impose a ticket tax so passengers fund work that will benefit the companys bottom line.

Iditor Jenna Cairney is what we kids knew in playgrounds as a promoter, a third party urging two others to have a fight. Qantas has been and remains James J Corbett in this updated scenario, imperiously swatting away would-be barroom pests like QAL boss Chris Mills, the gormless and mostly irrelevant QAL office boy in Townsville Kevin Gill and our own dear Mayor Mullet, who caused great mirth in Qantas HQ and deep embarrassment in this city by calling for a boycott because Qantas wouldnt agree to tax her citizens and visitors to her city with a ticket tax (an issue with which she as mayor had no business shit stirring about, and shouldve vehemently opposed). But her gal pal forever willing to don the jesters motley and belled cap, Jenna Cairney is again trying to talk up faux controversy in the hope of sales and good favour from the power elite. But its instructive to take a look at QALs other development in its network, the $380million expansion of its Gold Coast Airport. Theyve just signed a deal with Lendlease for the whizz bang upgrade, a very well worthwhile project for the premier tourist strip.

And taking a look at crucial aspects of this project is very informative, in relation to the aspirations for their Townsville Airport. The Gold Coast operation is in a competitive arena, vying with Brisbane for passengers, and therefore needs to upgrade to boost their through-put. Townsville is not in competition with anyone, it is a monopoly in a vastly smaller market and is already subsidized to an extent by public money, in the form of a deal with the RAAF.It appears to be in QALs DNA to get any enhancement to their assets bottom line to be paid by the public, and they make no bones about it. This from a QAL question and answer release about the Goldie project: Who will pay for the project? Will Gold Coast Airport passengers pay more as a result? When Project LIFT is approved by the Australian Government and proceeds to construction, the project will be undertaken by GCAPL in its role as specialist operator. As with any major development, GCAPL as the proponent will seek to recover the costs of the development over its operational life. We will do this through revenue from commercial developments on the Airport as well as Airport charges. And, according to QAL boss Mills, this is the formula they want to apply to the vastly different case for Townsville. But allow The Magpie, no accountant he by any means, ask this: If we, as taxpayers, have already lent QAL the bulk of this money through the recently announced $50million NAIF low interest loan, why does the company think it is OK to charge US to pay back what WE have loaned THEM? As Dame Edna says, Spooky, eh, possums? Note That QAL Head Honcho Is Now On The Scene Maybe Gill Is Being Sidelined. But asking questions like this is going to have Kevin Rhymes With Gill wringing his hanky in knocked-kneed dismay. Last year, he had a public sniffle which was clearly heaping hot coals on the Magpies blameless head when he told BD Magazine: The toxic cycle of social media and those feeding off it are harming our city. Those types of people are just negative, theyre not representative of Townsville. They may look representative because its so easy and its anonymous, but we need to switch off to that. Reasonable complaints and feedback is fine, but this horrid stuff is too toxic to let in. Harming our city? Oh, Kevvy this self-serving tosh from a man who wont answer a straight question about the upgrade when faced with a list of queries n the ticket tax upgrade from former journo Doug Kingston, Gill wanted a closed door meeting to discuss them. Doug said no, he wanted the answers out in public. No meeting open or otherwise ever happened. But look, maybe The Pie should dial down the rhetoric a bit, he has been chastised by one reader for rushing to criticise Mr Gill. Perhaps a more conciliatory, philosophical approach is called for, so

A Footnote Interesting to note one of the NAIF board members is this bloke

Not surprising that Mr Rolfe is kindly disposed towards airports he is also a board member of NQ Airports, which owns Cairns and Mackay. Wonder why he has a soft spot for Townsville Airport, though, since the $55million Cairns airport upgrade currently underway will be fully funded by NQ Airports! And their PR people tell The Pie no ticket tax is even contemplated, let alone a NAIF loan. How do they do it? The Unicorn Rainbow Fart Of The Week. As we know, a mirage is an optical illusion of atmospheric conditions, especially the appearance of a sheet of water caused by the refraction of light by heated air. Water? Illusion? Hot air? No description is more fitting for the unicorn rainbow fart of a 10 hectare lagoon for the Strand.

Even the artists impression in the Bulletin at the time was lifted from a Cairns project. Of all the things that this town needs to be realized, this shiny beads and blankets offering to the electorates natives was perhaps the most egregious. It seemed unlikely from the outset, and now seems to have been quietly dropped from Mayor Mullets regular mewlings. Perhaps this is why. The Pie understands that a prominent citizen (a genuine leading citizen, who employs many people and invests his own money in this town) decided to put an apartment in Mariners North on the market. But in the middle of last year, he withdrew it because the Strand lagoon proposal suddenly came out of nowhere. He figured such a scheme would add considerable value to the property if he sat tight for a while. However, when he made some further high level inquiries hes the sort of bloke who has this level of access and quickly learned that the proposal was largely bullshit, he promptly put the property back on the market and sold it a month later, about August last year. So keep this timeline in mind if Mayor Mullet or any of her pack of urgers tries to tell you that the lagoon project has been delayed/abandoned because of the January flood the lagoon was long gone from the drawing board before Jenny managed to create her own temporary lagoon and canal estates out of several usually dry suburbs. Then There Were Nine

Did you notice that Clr Murray Soars sounded a tad exasperated with the high-handed state governments jack-booting decision to plonk a five storey up-market flop-house for young people in the middle of Aikenvale.? Soars told the Bulletin he had delivered a letter from the mayor to the member for Brisbane who lives in Mundingburra Coralee ORort, objecting to the planned project. Neat move by the old Mullet, no dill she, because it makes it look like shes championing the locals but since she doesnt have a real say in a state matter, she chumship with Premier Alphabet will not be dented. A sorry Soars told the Astonisher: We [on Thursday] presented [Mundingburra MP] Coralee ORourke with a letter signed by the Mayor objecting to this structure in its format that theyre suggesting, he said. Essentially no councillor was advised of this program. We are a toothless tiger unfortunately, its just the way the Act is written. Not that Maurie gives much of a toss anyway, word is that he will bail before March next year, having done his bit as a desperate lasted minute inclusion drafted onto Team Mullet, when Jenny has been rebuffed by a number of other choices asked to plug the vacant team spot. But when you resign Maury, whatever you do, dont shed any tears, otherwise you will forever be get the nickname Weeping which would be most unfortunate, Mr Soars, if you get my drift. Communication Breakdown: A Conversation With The Council Regular Nest correspondent The Wulguru Wonder was indeed left wondering during the week, after trying to tease out an answer to the simplest of questions from the TCCs open and transparent media people. The WW was a bit confused by this TCC media release during the week. Townsville Mayor Jenny Hill has welcomed the announcement of $1.96 million in Federal funding for the Castle Hill Concept Plan as part of Townsville 2020 vision for our city. Id like to thank the Federal Government for their funding commitment for the Castle Hill Concept Plan, Cr Hill said. The Castle Hill Concept Plan includes a vivid-style light show installation, a caf at the summit, a zipline and a pedestrian connection to Walker Street. The Castle Hill project is a key part of the Townsville 2020 Master Plan and vision for our city, Cr Hill said. The Wulguru Wonder thought this a bit ambiguous; was the money was for the concept plan, or for the actual elements mentioned in the plan (ziplines, food trucks, a footpath to the top from CBD). He decided to make a polite inquiry of the council, and enjoyed this chat for his trouble.

laurel a If you think the Townsville Council sometimes acts like the Mafia, there is one big difference the council makes you an offer you cant understand. Speaking Of Which .. A most enlightening comment sent in today from Mark Harvey, a former pooh-bah in the councils water area. Mark wrote: The Water Supply (S&R) Act is the head of power for TCC to apply a water restriction. S41 details that the only time a restriction can be applied is: Urgent need (ie something broke); if the available water supply has fallen to such a level that unrestricted use is not in the best public interest (40% in RRD in the current policy); or if the restriction is an essential part of a comprehensive demand management strategy. This is why the 2015 restriction policy did away with the old permanent Level 1 restriction it was illegal. The intention at the time was that when restrictions were lifted we would go to Permanent Water Saving Measures simple non-mandatory ways of saving water: do not water during the heat of the day and you do not need to water more than 3 times per week. Following odds and evens is sensible if everyone waters on the same day you get a drop in water pressure, and it gives the system operators a low demand Monday during which major works are conducted. So now the dam is full and we have Water Conservation Measures which according to the Council resolution are interim until the 3 point plan is implemented. Apparently good practice has an end date! The resolution makes no reference to restrictions at all. The summary does however state that the measures allow watering over 3 days on odds and evens. It is reasonable to assume that they do not allow watering at other times, and therefore constitute a restriction. This is also supported by the language in the promotional material, which would lead the average resident to believe that these are in fact a restriction. By the wording of the resolution, I do not believe that this was intended to be a legitimate restriction under the Act. I am sure it could be legally argued however that the language makes it a restriction even if it is not badged as one, and it could therefore be alleged that it is an illegal restriction. Any legal opinion out there? Miracles Yet Remain To Cease

Craig Gore has returned to face trial on multiple fraud charges. Many folk, including The Magpie, were skeptical when last December Gore was refused to allow to leave the country one day and the next, had his passport returned by the very same judge, allowing him to skedaddle forthwith to the bosom of his tax-evading missus in Sweden. The deal was that he return after three months to face trial on charges of swindling $800,000 from self-managed fund investors in 2013-14. We all thought that was going to be the start of Skase Redux, with the taxpayer facing a hefty legal bill for extradition proceedings. But no, our man hopped off his return flight as scheduled, and he appeared in court on time last Wednesday., where the judge set a trial date of September 23, with a pre-trial hearing on May 24. But in the past, Gore has proven to be smarter than the average outhouse rodent, and may have productively used his time in Sweden to work out a family move to a non-extradition country and then wheedle his way into another conjugal visit before the trial starts. Gore is a grub of such ego that jail time certainly does not suit his lifestyle, and he certainly has plenty stashed away. Hence the cynicism. A Note On Climate Change The debate on climate change goes on, and gets more confusing every day.

Taken 2 months ago in the US.

Vax-uous Thinking There is a big court case involving anti-vaccination nutters in NSW coming up shortly. These thoughtless anti-social twerps need to be sorted out before there is a really serious incident, especially among very young children.

This Week In Trumpistan And many an editorial pen is noticing the number of Democrats coming out of the woodwork, eager to get the presidential nomination to take on Trump. (The Pies money, purely from a betting standpoint, is Elizabeth Pochahontas Warren). And much is made of one who wont be running.

Even A Stopped Clock Is Right Twice A Day.

In Britain, this rather horsey looking individual is a rather unpleasant woman named Katie Hopkins has been the Pommy rights gift to the leftish outrage industry. a darling of the tabloids, she outlandishes Pauline Hanson, that Burston bloke and the ninny Fraser Anning rolled into one. But, as occasionally happens, this sort of person makes a point with which it is hard to disagree. And thus it was a homily applicable to Australia when Ms Hopkins sent a message to the stupid British teenager who ran off to join ISIS, got pregnant and now wanted to return home to have her baby and live a quiet life not as quiet an existence as many of those she was complicit in killing. Unfortunately, the baby died shortly after birth this weekend, but the girl still wants to be allowed to go back to Britain, which may prove an impossible, and unmerited change of heart Hopkins blunt message, dripping with understandable venom, rings true for those Aussie mental deficients to traipsed off to fight for ISIS. We Learn Something New Every Day and sometimes wish we didnt. An occasional miscellany. The band Steely Dan was named after Steely Dan 111 from Yokohama, an over-sized, steam-powered, strap-on dildo mentioned in the William S. Burroughs novel Naked Lunch. But of course, you knew that. . As you can see, everything from weak jokes to serious and worthwhile comment keep coming in to be published in the blog comments throughout the week its your platform, join in. And as always, a donation to support the Magpies Nest is always appreciated and always needed. The how to donate button is below. http://www.townsvillemagpie.com.au/double-dipping-to-an-art-form-are-townsville-airport-owners-qal-asking-us-to-pay-twice-for-their-airport-upgrade/

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theloudpedal · 5 years

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2019 Sonoma Speed Festival: Where did the time go?

What the hell happened?

When did the 90s become “vintage?”

“Retro,” maybe, but “vintage?”

I guess the writing has been on the wall for a few years now, but recent events have woken me from my blissfully ignorant slumber…more on that later…

One such recent event was the inaugural Sonoma Speed Festival at Sonoma Raceway. I was interested to see a new interpretation/incarnation of what I think was formerly the Wine Country Classic and then Wine Country Motorsports Festival, mainstay Northern California vintage events that have been must-sees for us for at least a couple of decades. I’ll admit that I was a little skeptical of this new incarnation of one of my favorite things, and honestly, I was a bit surprised by the cost of entry for the first run of the event. That aside, I went into the weekend with an open mind, and empty memory card in my camera and hopes that this event would deliver on it’s many promises.

What I got, from the word “GO” was all of that (maybe a little more), and also an unanticipated revelation.

The event was about as as tidy as any racing affair I’ve ever attended. In an obvious nod to the Goodwood Festival of speed, the paddock area of Sonoma Raceway was transformed into quite a civilized occasion. There wasn’t a transporter, trailer, RV or easy-up in sight. In their stead were several long open-sided tents featuring cars arranged by racing group with minimal team equipment or infrastructure. Though the cars were fairly close to each other, I never got the sense that I had any less access to walk around the cars and to take pictures and chat with drivers and mechanics that I’ve had in the past. Though I’m sure the teams missed having their kit closer, the situation really presented well.

At the ends of the rows of long tents were various corrals, carpeted with artificial turf, and surrounded with low white picket fences. Some of the corrals featured several priceless Italian cars on static display, one a stunning de Tomaso Sport 5000 racer destined for the upcoming Bonhams auction at The Quail, A Motorsports Gathering and others provided chairs and tables and benches on which to soak in the sites, partake in some fine food and local wines or just rest weary feet.

The permanent pit garages were packed with a dazzling array of vintage dragsters, classic Formula 1 cars, a zillion dollars worth of French pre-war hardware (both road and racing cars), and a display featuring Jim Clark’s Indy 500 winning 1965 Lotus 38. These alone would have made for a pretty decent vintage event, but there was more….so much more.

Nestled in the heart of the event was the ever changing corral of Radwood cars. I’m an unabashed fan of Radwood, and I relish every opportunity to sing their praises and preach their message. True to form, they presented a tour-de-force of 80s and 90s cars, fashion, culture, tons of free swag and a photo op area for any and all to enjoy. I take my hat off to this group for representing their unique brand of retro, jank and period style to an event that would not normally pay proper homage to the all but forgotten modern classics of the Rad era. Well done to them and good on the event’s promoters for featuring the cars and culture of the 80s and 90s as those things become the new “classic.” (again, more on that later)

The cherry on top of this event was something that I frankly thought was a BS promise by the event planners. I was beyond skeptical that ANYONE would be able to deliver a modern era F1 car to Sonoma Raceway, let alone have it take to the track in hopes of snatching the track record. Well, they did just that, and quite a bit more. They didn’t just present us with a used up back marker of a car, they got a factory supported 2016 Mercedes-AMG F1 W07/04. This wasn’t some cobbled together test mule…it was the car Lewis Hamilton’s world championship winner, the most successful individual chassis in F1 history. As if that wasn’t a lot to deliver, Mercedes even threw in factory test driver and former F1 hotshoe Esteban Gutiérrez to attempt to snatch the track’s lap record of 1:21.688. (Without wading into the politics bragging rights and records, I will only note that the track’s standing “race record” time was set by Marco Werner in an Audi R8 in 2004 in an actual race) Gutierrez completed his fastest lap (on a clean and empty track and under ideal racing conditions) in an astounding 1:15:430!

Now I’m Ferrari Tifosi through and through, but I was humbled just to see the thing. As much as it pains me to say nice things about the car and the team that belittle my beloved Ferrari every other weekend, I have to give praise where it’s due. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity for me to be up close to a remarkable machine driven by one of the greatest drivers in the history of F1 racing.

Also on hand, in the Mercedes-AMG Petronas garage were two other examples of Mercedes’ participation and dominance in Grand Prix racing. Positioned to the left of the F1 W07/04 was the ex-Rudolf Caracciola 1938 W154 which was the last of Mercedes’ pre-war grand prix cars. The sheer size and overall presence of this car is almost unfathomable. It looks sounds and smells like almost nothing else in the universe. Of the thousands of cars I’ve seen in my lifetime, the only cars that I could begin to compare it with would be the other Silver Arrows, the cars of the Audi Auto Union. That’s some pretty rare and hallowed company.

The car stationed to the right of the modern Mercedes hybrid was an example of one of the most recognizable cars from the dreams of any fan of vintage cars, racing or design for that matter. This particular ex Fangio/Moss 1954 W196 was not the most successful car of its kind, but nobody really cares about that. It’s one of those masterworks of automotive technology and design that you get to see once in your lifetime and you never forget. After taking this car in for the first time on Saturday morning, I quietly uttered the phrase, “this thing on its own was worth coming for.” This is a phrase I would utter several more times over the weekend.

I guess this is a good segue to try to quantify the event without blubbering on about specific things with (more) superfluous language. You probably wouldn’t want to read it all, and frankly there was a lot going on. As much time as I spent walking around the event over two days, my travels on social media sites have shown me that I missed some things….a lot of things. Upon reflection, this event was bigger than I thought it was.

The other things at the event that are noteworthy:

The event featured no less than three Ferrari 250 GTOs (2 races and a road car)!

On that note, there were a lot of other Ferraris 250 variants on display too. (GTOs, SWBS, Testarossas, Oh My!)

A 1997 McLaren F1 GTR Longtail graced the grounds and the track. This was the first F1 GTR to win a race.

A spectacular 1992 Ferrari F40 LM dazzled in the paddock and on the track, driven by Johannes van Overbeek.

Saturday afternoon featured a nostalgic dragster demonstration on the track’s legendary drag strip. (Never seen that at a historic event before!)

When I began composing my thoughts about the Speed Festival, I was ready to say that the event was pretty good, but also that I was a little shocked at the ticket prices. I wasn’t sure that any first time happening could be worth the admission. We’ll unflinchingly pony up for events we know and love. We have the benefit of history on which to judge whether or not we want to drop the coin. Good value is worth the money. This in mind, after deliberation on my experience, reading the accounts of others and looking at all of the comments pictures and write-ups all other the internet, I’ve changed my mind. As I said earlier, I’ve been to a lot of historic events over the last few decades, but really, this one packed more good stuff into its program than most. It was well presented, it was well thought out, and most importantly it delivered much more than I expected and I really couldn’t find a flaw with it. We will absolutely put and keep the event on our calendar in the future. It truly is an event not to be missed. It is worth the spot on your calendar too and absolutely fantastic value for your racing dollar.

And a final thought, because the writing was on the wall….

As I mentioned at the top of this piece, I’ve been woken from ignorance by this event and also from a few others in the last couple of years. What’s really slapped me in the face is that I’ve discovered that vintage racing is evolving into something interesting. It will always be a place to watch the cars of yesteryear…things made of brass and hand hammered metal, things with big blocks and things that make smoke….but now there’s more to it. Vintage racing events are becoming places to see things that are very much modern…things made by and with computers….things made of plastic and things that aren’t necessarily loud and things that might not shake the ground. The Audi R8 is now a vintage race car, as well as the slightly older, McLaren F1. In the paddock, the cars of Radwood, the cars of the 80s and 90s, don’t seem out of place at all. In fact, these cars seem to be drawing on a couple of generations of car lovers who might not otherwise want to go to type of event that would normally feature relative dinosaurs. I’m turning 43 in August and I have to relate that both my 12 year old son and I seem to be gravitating and embracing these relatively new arrivals to the scene, and in some cases were getting more out of them than we are the more “standard fare.” (look out 250 GTOs!)

As we’ve opined numerous times, we see many difficulties in the future for vintage racing. Cars are taken out of commission because they become too valuable (or they get wrecked), many drivers and caretakers of vintage cars are (respectfully) “advanced in years” and, well, nothing lasts forever. These things are true, and they will remain so. The good news…the writing on the wall…is that the (relatively) new kids on the block are making themselves known, and they’re establishing their place in the paddock. For this, we are grateful. Because of this, events like the Sonoma Speed Festival with exist and thrive to provide all of us with what we love.

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oselatra · 6 years

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2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

Exotic sodas, cool relief in July, sweet treats on the cheap and more.

Best multicultural experience on the cheap

My wife loves to cook different curries, so we occasionally find ourselves at Indian Grocers, Mr. Chen's or other Little Rock Asian markets in search of certain ingredients not typically available at the neighborhood Kroger. While there, I invariably am drawn toward the beverage coolers. I don't usually drink sodas, but I lived for a year in Japan and grew fond of its delightful array of canned drinks (with names like "Sparkling Beatnik" and "Pocari Sweat"), and I just can't help myself when confronted with strange beverages from faraway lands featuring a flavor profile fundamentally different from what we usually imbibe. For example, Jeera Masala and Bisleri Spyci (both from India) seem made for people who thought the fundamental problem with New Coke was the lack of an overpowering cumin taste. And if you like your beverages with a little bit of chew, there's Grass Jelly Drink (Taiwan), which comes in an array of flavors from banana to lychee and contains little cubes of grass jelly, a tapioca-like substance. In a similar vein, the Hemani company of Thailand produces several varieties of basil seed drinks that have the consistency of loose Jello with little crunchy seeds held in suspension; my current favorite is lemon mint, but you can also buy rose-flavored. And if you need something to quench your thirst after mowing the lawn under the hot sun, try Yeo's White Gourd Drink (Malaysia), which tastes like a crisp cucumber crossed with caramel.

But let me reassure the less adventurous that there is plenty for you, too, to sample. Quice Ice Cream Soda (Pakistan) is a pleasant variant of the classic cream soda, full-bodied and delightfully sweet, while Sosyo (India) proves an odd little fruit drink just crying out for a shot of rum.

However, even my expansive cosmopolitanism fails when confronted with Bird's Nest Nice Look Drink (Taiwan), the main ingredients of which are water, white fungus, rock sugar and bird's nest. The nest in question is made by Southeast Asian swifts from solidified saliva, so you get bird spit and fungus, all in one little can! The actual experience of drinking it is nowhere near worth the bragging rights, I am sorry to report, for it tastes rather like a mushroom just sneezed into your mouth. But aside from that one, I highly recommend going out and embracing the unknown at $1.50 a can — it's a small price to pay for a glimpse into the other side of the world.

— Guy Lancaster Best escape from Interstate 40 homogeneity

It's probably hard for the youngsters who have never known Northwest Arkansas as anything but the hurly-burly of rampant capitalism and rampant highway ramps to fathom, but the now-sleepy section of U.S. Highway 71 in the region was once the main conduit between that part of Arkansas and the rest of the world.

This section of 71 is the road to get into a literal and metaphoric lower gear — not as low as the steep, serpentine Pig Trail, but getting there. After you hit the antique stores and do the Tony Alamo trail in Alma, head north and make a pickup (or drop off) at the vacuum cleaner hospital. See Winslow — birthplace of writer Douglas C. Jones and forever the home of the Squirrels! Stop for a Mountainburger at Mountainburg's Dairy Dream; it's a loose mix of ground beef with onion and mustard, and a favorite in Crawford County and beyond since the 1950s. Get a milkshake and sit for a spell on the newly renovated patio behind the restaurant and ponder the vistas ... and is that a large, live pig roaming in someone's front yard? Yes, it is a large, live pig.

Other areas just have the skeletal stone remains of attractions like restaurants, tourist courts and artists' galleries slowly becoming kudzu sculpture, but remain just as compelling to sightseers as they were decades ago. (Brentwood in Crawford County — a once-happening burg?) There are breathtaking views of the valleys and peaks of the Boston Mountains throughout. Once you get into the ever-connecting hub of Springdale/Fayetteville/Bentonville, it's a fascinating glimpse of what were once the faces of these older parts of towns. Travelers can take U.S. 71 all the way to Canada. We hope someone we know will do this soon and take us along for the ride.

— Stephen Koch Best venue for emerging artists

Young Arkansas artists whose obvious talent could still use a boost in the public arena have an invaluable leg up: The Thea Foundation's The Art Department, a quarterly showcase of art in all its forms. The foundation, at 401 Main St. in North Little Rock, supports Arkansas schoolchildren with its scholarships for high school students, its Arkansas A+ Schools that weave the arts into the fabric of academic work, and providing music programs and art supplies. With The Art Department, the foundation has brought high-quality work in a wide variety of styles and embodying social and cultural messages. Over the past five years, The Art Department series has shown a spotlight on the gender-focused works of Lyon College art professor Carly Dahl and the abstract, pattern-heavy work of her husband, gallery director Dustyn Bork; Emily Wood's paintings of friends and family; John Harlan Norris' fantasy depictions of people as occupations; Jon Rogers' landscapes; Guy Bell's levitating pyramid. It's shown Michael Church's surreal collages, Sandra Sells' wood assemblages and video art, Kat Wilson's "Habitat" photographs of people in their homes, Michael Shaeffer's images of drag queens, illustrator Chad Maupin's pulp-fiction-inspired printmaking. Coming up: "The Mind Unveiled," an exhibition of works by painter and printmaker Carmen Alexandria Thompson that address mental illness. In her artist's statement, Thompson writes, the work "seeks to unveil, expose and open up a discussion for everyone about the beauty and tragic workings of the human mind." Like all Art Department shows, the Friday, Aug. 3, opening reception will feature heavy hors d'oeuvres, an open beer and wine bar and a chance to win a work of art by the featured artist. Tickets are $10.

— Leslie Newell Peacock Best culinary bargain

Mike's Place at 5501 Asher Ave. is an outpost for Vietnamese food, which is good in its own right. The bun (rice vermicelli) enlivened with bean sprouts, a fried pork egg roll and bits of pig skin, once doused with fish sauce and a dash of squirt bottle hoisin, is interesting, crunchy and filling. But here's the thing: There's a one-line item on the appetizer list that is Little Rock's single best food bargain. It's the banh mih thit, or the Vietnamese sandwich. No slice of pate here. You choose beef, pork or chicken; each comes dipped in a sticky sauce. The meat is dressed with crunchy fresh and pickled vegetables, plenty of fresh cilantro and slices of fresh hot peppers (watch out!). They stuff a torpedo-shaped bun that is served hot and crusty. They call it an appetizer, but it's easily a lunch. And it costs THREE DOLLARS. That's right. THREE DOLLARS.

— Max Brantley Best place to pair an egg roll with a milkshake

For the past few years, Park Avenue (aka "Uptown," aka "Highway 7") in Hot Springs has been attempting an upswing. There's a dope neighborhood community garden, the much-lauded Deluca's Pizzeria and the crisp, clean Cottage Courts tourist court, which looks freshly sprung from a time machine. The Hot Springy Dingy costume shop at 409 Park Ave. keeps it comfortingly weird. But our nation has learned that the path to righteousness isn't a straight line, and there are still pockets of Park Avenue that are ripe for renovation — former Bohemia Restaurant, we're looking at you ... with increasingly misty eyes.

But stalwart amongst the comings and goings in this funky cool section of the Spa City is the tidy and tiny Bailey's Dairy Treat, 510 Park Ave., with its distinctive neon ice cream cone serving as a beacon to those who not only tolerate lactose, but revel in it.

Every Arkansas community needs at least one of these — an ice cream and burger drive-up, hopefully from the Truman era, but at least strongly evoking the days of sock hops and cult of personality radio DJs. (Lucky Hot Springs has an embarrassment of creamy riches in this arena, with Mamoo's ParadICE Cream and a Kilwin's on Bathhouse Row nearby, crosstown rivals King Kone on Malvern Avenue and Frosty Treat on Grand Avenue, and with bougie Dolce Gelato and Scoops "Yes We Really Make It Here" Ice Cream holding frozen court on the other end of Highway 7.)

Bailey's mixes up its menu from the standard dairy bar fare with offerings of fried rice and egg rolls and the like, and they are a refreshing off-script surprise. But if you're here, you're here for shakes, ice cream or burgers, probably in that order, and that's where Bailey's shines brightest. Long may you anchor Park Avenue, Bailey's Dairy Treat.

— Stephen Koch Best non-museum museum

The only place that has issued me a handwritten IOU this century sits on Grand Avenue in Hot Springs, just south of historic Bathhouse Row and the Hot Springs Farmers Market. Google Maps calls it Young's Trading Center Inc., but the business name printed in Durango Western font across the old general store-style façade — Young's Trading Post — gives a much more accurate indicator of what lies within. James Henry, the 83-year-old patriarch of the antique palace, sat in a rocking chair at the open-air entrance last Saturday, occasionally chiming in as his daughter (and Young's co-owner), Karrie Jackson, regaled a few curious visitors about the history of the place.

Jackson pulled out a color photo she says was taken sometime between 1952 and 1955. In it, a surlier twentysomething Henry stands in front of the very same storefront, dressed in a striped linen shirt and dark blue jeans with the cuffs rolled up, with what appears to be a red pencil tucked behind his ear. Beside him are his parents, Willie Matilda and Jim Henry. James, as it turns out, had gone to California to work in the logging fields for three months or so when he was called back to help run the new family business, a store the Henrys had acquired from Monroe Young, whose family was sort of a big deal in mid-20th century Hot Springs. "One set of brothers were in the law," Jackson said, "and the other set of brothers were in the moonshine business." Before their ownership, as a photo with "October 1940" scrawled on the back reveals, it was a fruit and vegetable stand, with the same corrugated tin facade.

Now, it's a labyrinthian warehouse with every square foot of its walls lined with old farm tools and wicker baskets and light fixtures and cookbooks and oil cans. Metal box fans circulate air through the corners and wooden rafters, and there's a loft full of antique furniture up a staircase with a preemptive "Watch Your Step" sign at the top.

It's more likely to smell of WD-40 than Old English — a sort of agrarian counterpart to the strain of antique shops lined with lace and chandeliers. It's a place people tend to recommend when you've searched everywhere else and still can't find a replacement for the broken ceramic radiant on your old gas space heater, or when you want to outfit your workshed with some vintage tin beer signs. It's also good for picking up slightly dusty things you weren't looking for in the first place, which could include, but are not limited to: a maroon-and-gold footstool with the Lake Hamilton Gray Wolf mascot where your feet should rest; a briefcase bar lined in coral satin straight out of a "Mad Men" episode, with its rocks glasses still in their plastic packaging; a 1920s enamel gas range by Laurel; an oversized tin sign advertising Salem menthols ("Menthol Fresh!"); a pegboard full of swing locks and cabinet hinges; a vinyl record titled "Good Times with The Happy Goodmans" next to an Oak Ridge Boys cover album subtitled "Songs We Wish We'd Recorded First" and a Ray Charles LP called "Country and Western Meets Rhythm and Blues"; cast iron skillets in all shapes and sizes; drawers of mismatched silver flatware; hacksaws; old-school stand mixers; blank Scotch-brand VHS tapes; ceramic beer steins from Pabst's and Budweiser's classier days; brass doorknobs; pedestal sinks; snow shovels; birdhouses; birdcages; a Royal typewriter from the Roosevelt era; a rack of glass soda bottles; china cabinets; a "Legend of the Lone Ranger" tin lunchbox; a tiny beige Panasonic TV with an earphone jack; empty cans of every sort of salve, remedy and household cleaner imaginable (something called "$1,000.00 Guaranteed Moth Killer," for one); myriad lampshades and wrenches; washboards; an elaborate hinged octagonal jewelry box made of popsicle sticks; box fans from the days when box fans weren't plastic; and at least a hundred items whose original intended function eludes me. One of these items, I'm certain, is the perfect purchase to make with that lingering $7.50 IOU burning a hole in my pocket, and Young's is a perfectly fine place to get lost in, realizing that you've whittled away your afternoon muttering "Look at this" and "What is it?" to yourself at turns for a few more quarter hours than you'd planned.

— Stephanie Smittle Best summertime sweet treats under $3

There comes a time in the peak of every Arkansas summer when the heat's oppression feels historic: Lethargy sets in, the body humors are overwhelmed by choler and sweat, and even the best conversationalists are reduced to nonstop complaining about the temperature.

Treats of the sweet and frozen persuasion are the best salvation I've found for the proverbial dog days, and Little Rock has some pretty damn good ones. Here are my top three, all found at stellar local establishments, all quick, all easy to take on the road:

Paletas La Michoacana from Del Campo a la Ciudad

I was a paletas naysayer for some years, mostly because they're usually sold at top-dollar by people who don't speak Spanish and at a smaller-than-appropriate serving size for adults.

Enter Del Campo a la Ciudad, a taqueria mercado on South University with countless festive and culinary treasures — delightful paletas de hielo o crema (ice or cream), crispy chicharrón (fried pork belly) and an immaculate piñata display.

The paletas with a cream base are where it's at, particularly those de coco (coconut), arroz con leche (rice pudding), café (coffee), fresa (strawberry) and mango (mango). They are exceptionally rich and velvety, with some notable chunks of fruit or nuts of cookies dispersed throughout. Take the coconut paleta. Something about an opaque white popsicle is just plain satisfying, and the shredded coconut flakes are a welcome addition.

Del Campo a la Ciudad, at 6500 S. University Ave., is open 9 a.m. until 9 p.m. Monday through Saturday.

Frozen lemonade from Shark's

Sharks Fish & Chicken is a chain with a down-home feel and delicious food: Each franchise is locally owned and has specialty menu items, striking real-life shark photography, a bold teal and yellow color scheme, signature lemon-pepper dust (ask for it on everything!), and a brilliant condiment caddy that I give thanks for every time I set foot inside.

The frozen lemonade is of premium quality, and because there's a new Shark's popping up every which way in this town, they are easy to acquire. People tend to have views on ice, and they know what they like — I've heard the term "soft ice" uttered affectionately on many occasions. The frozen part of the drink is exceptionally cold, and the iciness falls somewhere on the spectrum between margarita and snow cone; it's somehow both crunchy and soft, and there's an unexpected delight that comes when the lemonade concentrates at the base of the cup. Last I asked about flavors, I was told each brick and mortar has its own selection (all have classic lemonade, my favorite), including Orange Tang, Pink Lemonade, Cherry Lemonade, Grape, Green Apple, Strawberry and Fruit Punch. I have yet to make this pairing, but I believe any aforementioned frozen drink would pair well with clear liquor.

Shark's Fish & Chicken is open 10 a.m. until 11 p.m. or midnight every day of the week at all of its locations in Central Arkansas.

Sugarcane Coke float from K. Hall and Sons

K. Hall and Sons holds a special place in the heart of the Little Rock community for a host of wonderful reasons. For me, it's a nostalgic spot, reminding me of my days of cutting class at Central High School to pick up a fried chicken to-go box and a bottle of Orange Fanta. K. Hall hosts a legendary Seafood Saturday during the hot months of the year with shrimp, lobster, crawfish and a line of customers around the block. And, for those who know where to look, it sells soft-serve homemade vanilla ice cream in Styrofoam cups.

Slide open the door on the glass-top freezer near the checkout and reach for the unmarked Styrofoam; it looks like a coffee cup with a pull-back drinking tab. The homemade ice cream somehow maintains its softness, even after being immersed in a deep freezer. I recommend purchasing a bottle of sugarcane sweetened Coca-Cola from the ice bath, consuming about half that vanilla cup, then pouring your soda inside the cup (may I suggest creating a few shallow caverns with your spoon for easier saturation?). What results is a coke float of the highest order, one that both quenches my thirst and brings me back to what it felt like to skip school looking for treats.

K. Hall & Sons Produce, at 1900 Wright Ave., is open 8 a.m. until 6 p.m. Monday through Saturday, 8 a.m. until 3 p.m. Sunday.

—Rachael Borne´ Best non-sexy way to be in the dark with strangers

High church and hot yoga are for the devout. And, while the net serenity yielded is, no doubt, commensurate to your 90-minute investment in mindfulness, sometimes you have more like ... 17 minutes. Tops. And an affinity for sleeping in on Sunday mornings. And perhaps a commitment to the idea of divinity that vacillates between lukewarm and "I'm not religious, but I'm spiritual, you know what I mean?" So, for the rest of us, there's the weekly Compline service at Christ Episcopal Church — a quarter-hour of sung prayers, short readings and silences, intoned by candlelight every Sunday at 6:45 p.m. in a 179-year-old church downtown. If you're looking to get right with the universe, and feel like that's better accomplished with psalm than with pranayama, pull up a pew (or a kneeler) at the corner of Scott Street and Capitol Avenue every now and again.

— Stephanie Smittle The best county for cool relief

Last week, some old friends who used to live in Arkansas but now live in New Jersey came for a visit with their kids. It's somehow remained light jacket weather at night in New Jersey and our friends came off the plane in long sleeve shirts and hoodies to 100 degrees. We spent several days talking about frying an egg on the sidewalk. Then we did one of the few things you can do outdoors in Arkansas in July and feel cool, even cold sometimes: We drove to Stone County and plopped our butts into the Sylamore, the mostly spring-fed creek that originates somewhere in the Ozark Mountains. The water was so cold that, even though I'd been cursing the sticky triple-digit heat for weeks, it took me a few minutes of hemming and hawing before I let anything above my knees get wet. It was also crystal clear; you could watch little bream nibbling at your toes. Swimming kept us occupied for the bulk of three days, but on our way home we made the obligatory visit to check in on the stalactites and stalagmites and bats of Blanchard Springs Cavern, where it was a blissful 57 degrees.

— Lindsey Millar Best pizza night shortcut

I can cook, but I can't bake. Whether that's due to some misunderstanding of the craft or some unnamable necrosis of the spirit infecting my being, I'm not sure. I've just never had success with yeast. My attempts at homemade bread or pizza always end up as airless and dead as the surface of the moon.

So, I was pleased to make the discovery recently that Vino's sells fresh pizza dough at a bargain rate. For $3, you can get a double-fist-sized portion of dough, equivalent to a large pizza. It comes ensconced in the same plastic clamshell used to package a calzone or a salad — flour-dusted and pregnant with possibilities, like some great ghostly mushroom harvested from a distant, malt-scented forest.

I like Vino's pizza. But honestly, I like what I've made at home from their dough quite a bit more — maybe from simple pride of ownership or maybe because I get to use exactly the ingredients I want. I suggest jalapeno escabeche (homemade, if possible), a little chorizo from Farm Girl Meats and a modest layer of shredded cheddar. Or, if you can get past the perversity of turning on the oven in August, a summertime Margherita with fresh Arkansas tomatoes and front-yard basil. It's life-affirming even for those of us dead at heart.

— Benjamin Hardy Best local spat

In September 2017, the Eureka Springs Independent reported that six box elder trees in the quaint, quirky mountainside town's North Main Music Park had been vandalized. Well, sort of. The vibrant crochet coverings that decorated the tree trunks — created by crochet artist Gina Gallina for the city's "Art of Crochet" Festival — had disappeared. Rumors circulated. Conjectures flew. Letters to the editor were written. Dendrological hypotheses about whether yarn-wrapped trees are more susceptible to disease and stunted growth were formed and discussed. The breathability of yarn was called into question. "If I find out who they are, and I catch 'em," Gallina said in a radio segment on KUAF-FM, 91.3, "I'm gonna make 'em learn how to crochet!" Would that social divisions in Little Rock could be woven of such stuff.

— Stephanie Smittle Best Little Rock collection

Earlier this summer, an anonymous local started the Instagram account @letterrockarkansas to document the wonderful and varied typography found around town. It's an essential follow for those who enjoy design ephemera or simply delight in trying to figure out where they've seen that type. Favorites include the massive wooden "Club Jimmy" sign, once wired with 255 lightbulbs, but knocked down by a storm long ago, that leans against the side of Jimmy Doyle's Country Club off Interstate 40; a modernist Church of Christ sign with a letter missing that reads "Church O Christ" with the caption "All out of F's"; and the chunky, hand-painted drop-shadow Sims Bar-B-Que sign outside the Barrow Road location.

— Lindsey Millar Best collection of business cards

Foster's Garage, the classic, no-frills body shop mainstay at 409 W. Eighth St., has been collecting the business cards of patrons and vendors apparently since the Eisenhower administration. They're contained within the span of an arm's-length corkboard on the wall in the garage's unceremonious lobby, and the card collection is augmented so gradually and delicately that each card is gingerly tucked into the folds of the cards that preceded it; our own tiny, greasy, secular version of the Wailing Wall.

— Stephanie Smittle Best political protest

Look, when you manage to piss off Willie Nelson — the unofficial ambassador of stoner serenity and goodwill toward men — your path is surely strewn with hubris and folly. The 85-year-old played a June 29 set at Verizon Arena — the finale to an Outlaw Music Festival that began at 4:30 p.m. that Friday — and included a rendition of his 1986 release "Living in the Promiseland." The song, sung as a trio with Nelson and his two sons, is a bittersweet anthem of an America that, theoretically, anyway, counts Lazarus' "New Colossus" as part of its ethos: "Give us your tired and weak/And we will make them strong/Bring us your foreign songs/And we will sing along." And, performed at such a crucial juncture of the family separation crisis at the nation's southern border, it read as a blistering indictment of our broken immigration policy.

— Stephanie Smittle Best return

After a long hiatus, David Jukes, one of Little Rock's greatest — and least heralded — singer/songwriters, dropped two EPs under his Magic Cropdusters moniker this summer. "Snowfall" collects songs Jukes recorded with Jeff Matika (Green Day) playing bass and Max Recordings head honcho Burt Taggart (Big Cats) playing drums in the mid-2000s in a Denton, Texas, studio owned by Matt Pence (Centro-Matic). Joe Cripps, the Little Rock native and famed percussionist, helped pay for an album from the sessions and to distribute it. When Cripps went missing in 2016 (he still hasn't been found), the record fell into limbo. "Snowfall" represents a scaled-down version of that album. It's five songs, many familiar to longtime Cropduster fans, like "Hey Wonder," "England" and "Marry Them for Free." The other EP, "Woodstock," was recorded more recently in Woodstock, N.Y., at a studio owned by Jukes' former bandmate in The Gunbunnies, Chris Maxwell. There's a cryptic beauty to Jukes' lyrics that emerges after repeated listens. That's easy to do because his warble and general pop sensibilities will have you immediately bopping along. The records, via Max Recordings, are available for purchase at maxrecordings.com, and on streaming platforms.

— Lindsey Millar Best, no, actually, the only music festival worth attending

The whole experience of attending a big music festival feels like participation in an overwrought performance art piece on the pitfalls of consumerism. You're looking for a special experience, a fun time, a little reward for your weeks of toil. You pay way too much money to gain entrance to a gated community that promises unique access to an array of precious goods — the bands and artists you adore — and spend hours of extra labor finagling the logistics. It'll all be worth it, though — because just look at that lineup.

You wind your way through an acre of security and get stamped with the imprimatur of elite access. Then, once inside, plot twist, YOU'RE the ones trapped in a borderline humanitarian crisis. It's hot, it's crowded, everything smells like a urinal cake. Induced scarcity jacks up the price of basic commodities (bottled water, kebabs) and you grow to loathe the hordes of fellow sweaty mammals jostling for limited resources. You retreat inward mentally, become beady-eyed and narrow-minded, jealously protect the pitiful patch of turf you've staked out in front of whatever beer-branded stage is presenting whatever performer you've come to see. You damn well better see them up close, and you damn well better enjoy yourself after all this trouble, because you paid for it with your own money, goddammit.

Then there's Valley of the Vapors, the antithesis of all that.

VoV, in case you haven't heard, is a five-day nonprofit-run festival in Hot Springs that captures bands as they travel to and from SXSW in Austin, allowing it to attract a fantastic spread of under-recognized national and international talent. This spring, a day pass was $10. The music is mostly to be found at one of two venerable venues in town, Low Key Arts — the driving force behind VoV — and Maxine's. There are also a few "secret shows" that pop up in unexpected places. Around 4 p.m. on a rainy Sunday this March, about two dozen of us crammed into a Waffle House on Central Avenue to watch a goofily too-cool-for-school Brooklyn rocker named Zuli churn out swaggering guitar riffs, occasionally using a sugar dispenser as a slide. Later, at Low Key Arts, I was treated to a succession of artists playing everything from country to bouncy indie pop to gloomy, Eels-esque bedroom ballads on a tiny electric keyboard. Some of it was good, some of it was not and at least two acts were genuinely terrific.

What makes VoV truly special, though, is the miracle of your fellow concertgoers: You don't despise them. There's just something about being crammed into a big festival that breeds contempt. At Valley of the Vapors, that sour note of impersonal hostility turns to one of, well, actual community. It's an all-ages affair, so you'll see teenagers, a handful of families, older folks. You're in it together, and you're there to hear music you'll probably never get the chance to hear again. What could be better than that?

— Benjamin Hardy

2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

#2018 Best of Arkansas editors' picks

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andrewdburton · 6 years

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3 systems to find your freelance hourly rate

Deciding on a freelance hourly rate can be nerve-wracking — especially if you’re a new freelancer.

You don’t want to charge too much and lose potential clients. On the other hand, you don’t want to undersell yourself and lose out on potential profits.

So what’s a new freelancer to do?

Luckily, there are a few rules of thumb that you can use to find a good freelance hourly rate to start with. I’m going to walk you through each one and even give you a tip on how to RAISE your rate in the future.

Key things to remember for a good freelance hourly rate

Freelance hourly rate #1: Drop three zeros

Freelance hourly rate #2: Double your resentment number

Freelance hourly rate #3: Do what the next guy does

Still stuck? Try these freelance hourly rates

How to raise your freelance hourly rate

Let’s get started.

3 key things to remember for a good freelance hourly rate

Before you jump into the rules of thumb to calculate your freelance hourly rate, keep in mind three things:

Remember your overhead. Freelancing gives you a lot of freedom and flexibility when it comes to when and where you work. However, freelancing can also be a cost burden in unexpected ways too. You need to factor that in when considering your rate.

For example, you might rent out a coworking space (~$200/month). You’re going to need internet (~$50/month). You’re going to need phone service to take client calls (~$70/month). All of that added up is going to impact your bottom line.

Have a goal salary. Ask yourself, how much do I want to earn in one year? Factor in your overhead as well as your monthly expenses to find out what your goal salary would be.

Not only will this come into play later, but setting goals can give you focus and motivation to finish your objectives. For more information on setting a good goal that you’ll accomplish, check out my article on SMART objectives.

This is just the start. It’s easy to get dejected as a new freelancer when you look at your first freelance hourly rate. It’s probably going to be low in all likelihood. You might even work for free occasionally while you’re building up a good portfolio.

BUT it’s important to keep in mind that this won’t be your salary forever. It might seem low at first — but freelancing allows you to scale your earnings. That’s part of the reason why I LOVE it so much.

Later, I’ll show you exactly how you can scale your freelance hourly rate so you’re earning more. For now, let’s jump into the first system to find an hourly rate.

Freelance hourly rate #1: Drop three zeros

Remember your goal salary? Take that number and drop three zeros from it.

Voila, you have an hourly rate!

For example, say you’d really like to earn at least $40,000. Just drop the three zeros from the end and you now have your rate: $40 / hour.

“Hey! That math doesn’t make any sense,” you might be saying. “If I work eight hours a day for $40 an hour, my salary would be $76,800 a year!”

That’s true. However, this rule of thumb accounts for the fact that you won’t be working eight hours a day in your freelancing role. Sporadic hours and spans of time when you just don’t have work to do is the nature of freelancing.

Also the clients don’t have to pay taxes and benefits. You do. You also may have to cover some of your own materials or transportation costs.

This method might not be good if you’re trying to charge for your very first client. You’re still new after all. BUT it can give you a good idea of where you can go and charge later when you get experience.

If you’re still stuck on what your goal salary should be, check out sites like PayScale or Glassdoor for good average pay rates for your freelance gig.

Freelance hourly rate #2: Double your resentment number

I love this one because it’s effective AND it’ll vary from person to person.

Ask yourself: What’s the lowest rate I’ll work for that’ll leave me resentful of my work? This the number that is your floor — the absolute lowest amount you’ll work for, but you’ll resent the work because it’s so low.

Once you have that number, now double it. THAT is your hourly rate.

Say you’ll work for $10 / hour at the VERY LEAST. You won’t like it but you’ll do it. Now just double that number so you get your freelance hourly rate of $20 / hour.

Now, I want you to just be really careful about the double your resentment strategy because it’s easy to get delusional about it — especially if you’re a beginner.

I know because I have been very, very delusional in my day. I remember when I started a company a while back. We grew it a little bit, and all of a sudden, we had some people talking to us about potentially buying the company. But we were completely delusional about how much it was worth.

When we met to negotiate with someone about buying the company, he said, “So what do you guys think? Any numbers in your head?” And we kind of danced around the subject, but ultimately, we got down to a number we thought was fair — and he literally laughed.

He asked, “How’d you guys come to that number?” And we really had no justification. We just said, “Yeah, that’s what we’re worth. We think that that would be a nice number. You know, we could brag to our friends about it.”

Of course, it had no basis in reality.

Now, your resentment number is probably equally delusional. You may say, “Oh, I wouldn’t tutor someone for less than $25.00 an hour.” The truth is, you may need to do that, especially at first to get your first few clients.

After you get three, four, five paying clients, you’re going to have a much better idea about what your real resentment number is.

Freelance hourly rate #3: Do what the next guy does

I really like this method because of its simplicity.

When in doubt, do what the next guy does.

What does this mean? Find the going rate for other freelancers in your experience level and charge that amount or just a little above.

Many freelancers hate to hear this. They’d rather say things like, “Charge what you think you’re worth and ignore everyone else!”

Sorry, but here’s a reality check: Supply and demand is real.

As someone who frequently hires freelancers, I can attest to this. A while back, I had two different freelancers charging two different prices. I’m talking about a difference of 100%.

Both freelancers were equal in quality. However, one was charging DOUBLE the other one because they clearly didn’t know the going rate.

Who do you think I hired? Of course, I’m not going to pay double the price. As a client, I’m going with the cheaper option!

That’s why it’s so important to find the going rate and charge equal to that or just a little bit over (~10% more).

Here are a few good ways you can find the going rate:

Check job listings on sites like Glassdoor to see what other companies are paying.

Google average hourly rates for your specific industry.

Ask your friends or colleagues who have hired freelancers before.

Ask any freelancer friends of yours what they charged.

Still stuck? Try these freelance hourly rates

If you’re still stuck on this (which is totally fine), here are a few good starting numbers for beginners:

Writing and editing: $30 / hour

Graphic design: $40 / hour

Tech / programming: $50 / hour

This number will vary on your market, your positioning, and your level of experience. Remember the number though so you can quote it when you’re asked (you’ll look more professional that way).

Also, keep your rates flexible. These numbers are just starting points.

Your standard rate might be $40 / hour BUT if you really like a project a client offers you, you might be willing to do it for $20 / hour or even for free. When you do that, you might be able to ask your client to revisit the payment question in a month’s time. If you’ve done extraordinary work, you’ll have a huge bargaining chip when it comes to negotiating your rates.

Don’t spend more than 30 minutes thinking this over. Just pick a number and spend your time testing and validating it with your clients.

That’s a much better use of your time than debating it and running endless calculations in your head as to how much you can make.

To help you even more, check out the two videos below all about what to charge. The first one is a part of a discussion I had with Chase Jarvis. The second is a speech I gave during a past 99U conference. Enjoy!

youtube

How to raise your freelance hourly rate

When it comes to raising your freelance hourly rate, it all boils down to when you should raise your rates — not necessarily how much you should raise it by.

You don’t want to increase your rate right after you agree to your very first project with a client. After all, you haven’t proven yourself to them yet.

Why should they pay you more money when you haven’t given them anything worth paying more for?

Instead, you’re going to increase your rate only after you deliver a high-value product.

I’ll say that again:

Increase your rate after you deliver your client a high-value product.

Did you:

Just finish a landing page that generated a ton of qualified leads?

Create an email campaign with a record-high open rate?

Have a blog post go viral and increase traffic by 200%?

That’s why I LOVE increasing rates. It encourages you — the freelancer — to do great work and deliver fantastic products while letting the client know that you should be valued.

You can also raise your rates through referrals. Referrals are clients that you get from existing clients and they are the lifeblood of any freelancer.

For a few reasons:

You can raise your prices when you get a referral. The client who referred you has automatically added value to your work by recommending you. That means you can charge more for your work.

You get better clients. When you charge more, you’ll start attracting high-quality clients who can afford you. They’re also much less likely to waste your time if you’re being paid top dollar. It’s a win all around.

You can more than double your income. Check out this case study from a freelance project manager who went from charging $25 / hour to $75 / hour just by getting a referral. This is a HUGE win.

“At this point the majority of my clients and contracts come through referrals,” says LaPointe. “When clients are happy with what I’ve done, it’s natural for them to recommend me to their friends and colleagues.”

And asking for referrals is easy — if you have the right script.

Luckily, we have a proven script from our article on how to get clients to help you ask for referrals:

CLIENT’S NAME,

I’m so happy to hear that you enjoyed my work. If you know of anyone else who’s looking for my services as well, I’d be grateful if you passed my contact information along to them.

Thank you,

YOUR NAME

It’s simple, direct, and gets results.

BONUS: The Ultimate Guide to Making Money

If you want even more information on becoming a freelancer, be sure to check out our articles on the topic below:

How to make money online freelancing — 3 super simple steps

How to make extra money on the side

6 ways to get your first client

The Ultimate Guide to Digital Marketing

If you’re really interested in making money in freelance marketing, we here at IWT have a gift for you: The Ultimate Guide to Making Money.

In it, we’ve included our best strategies to:

Create multiple income streams so you always have a consistent source of revenue

Start your own business and escape the 9-to-5 for good

Increase your income by thousands of dollars a year through side hustles like freelancing

Download a FREE copy of the Ultimate Guide today by entering your name and email below — and jump into freelance marketing today.

3 systems to find your freelance hourly rate is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Finance https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/freelance-hourly-rate/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

0 notes

paulckrueger · 6 years

Text

3 systems to find your freelance hourly rate

Deciding on a freelance hourly rate can be nerve-wracking — especially if you’re a new freelancer.

You don’t want to charge too much and lose potential clients. On the other hand, you don’t want to undersell yourself and lose out on potential profits.

So what’s a new freelancer to do?

Key things to remember for a good freelance hourly rate

Freelance hourly rate #1: Drop three zeros

Freelance hourly rate #2: Double your resentment number

Freelance hourly rate #3: Do what the next guy does

Still stuck? Try these freelance hourly rates

How to raise your freelance hourly rate

Let’s get started.

3 key things to remember for a good freelance hourly rate

Before you jump into the rules of thumb to calculate your freelance hourly rate, keep in mind three things:

Have a goal salary. Ask yourself, how much do I want to earn in one year? Factor in your overhead as well as your monthly expenses to find out what your goal salary would be.

Later, I’ll show you exactly how you can scale your freelance hourly rate so you’re earning more. For now, let’s jump into the first system to find an hourly rate.

Freelance hourly rate #1: Drop three zeros

Remember your goal salary? Take that number and drop three zeros from it.

Voila, you have an hourly rate!

For example, say you’d really like to earn at least $40,000. Just drop the three zeros from the end and you now have your rate: $40 / hour.

“Hey! That math doesn’t make any sense,” you might be saying. “If I work eight hours a day for $40 an hour, my salary would be $76,800 a year!”

Also the clients don’t have to pay taxes and benefits. You do. You also may have to cover some of your own materials or transportation costs.

If you’re still stuck on what your goal salary should be, check out sites like PayScale or Glassdoor for good average pay rates for your freelance gig.

Freelance hourly rate #2: Double your resentment number

I love this one because it’s effective AND it’ll vary from person to person.

Once you have that number, now double it. THAT is your hourly rate.

Say you’ll work for $10 / hour at the VERY LEAST. You won’t like it but you’ll do it. Now just double that number so you get your freelance hourly rate of $20 / hour.

Now, I want you to just be really careful about the double your resentment strategy because it’s easy to get delusional about it — especially if you’re a beginner.

Of course, it had no basis in reality.

After you get three, four, five paying clients, you’re going to have a much better idea about what your real resentment number is.

Freelance hourly rate #3: Do what the next guy does

I really like this method because of its simplicity.

When in doubt, do what the next guy does.

What does this mean? Find the going rate for other freelancers in your experience level and charge that amount or just a little above.

Many freelancers hate to hear this. They’d rather say things like, “Charge what you think you’re worth and ignore everyone else!”

Sorry, but here’s a reality check: Supply and demand is real.

As someone who frequently hires freelancers, I can attest to this. A while back, I had two different freelancers charging two different prices. I’m talking about a difference of 100%.

Both freelancers were equal in quality. However, one was charging DOUBLE the other one because they clearly didn’t know the going rate.

Who do you think I hired? Of course, I’m not going to pay double the price. As a client, I’m going with the cheaper option!

That’s why it’s so important to find the going rate and charge equal to that or just a little bit over (~10% more).

Here are a few good ways you can find the going rate:

Check job listings on sites like Glassdoor to see what other companies are paying.

Google average hourly rates for your specific industry.

Ask your friends or colleagues who have hired freelancers before.

Ask any freelancer friends of yours what they charged.

Still stuck? Try these freelance hourly rates

If you’re still stuck on this (which is totally fine), here are a few good starting numbers for beginners:

Writing and editing: $30 / hour

Graphic design: $40 / hour

Tech / programming: $50 / hour

This number will vary on your market, your positioning, and your level of experience. Remember the number though so you can quote it when you’re asked (you’ll look more professional that way).

Also, keep your rates flexible. These numbers are just starting points.

Don’t spend more than 30 minutes thinking this over. Just pick a number and spend your time testing and validating it with your clients.

That’s a much better use of your time than debating it and running endless calculations in your head as to how much you can make.

youtube

How to raise your freelance hourly rate

When it comes to raising your freelance hourly rate, it all boils down to when you should raise your rates — not necessarily how much you should raise it by.

You don’t want to increase your rate right after you agree to your very first project with a client. After all, you haven’t proven yourself to them yet.

Why should they pay you more money when you haven’t given them anything worth paying more for?

Instead, you’re going to increase your rate only after you deliver a high-value product.

I’ll say that again:

Increase your rate after you deliver your client a high-value product.

Did you:

Just finish a landing page that generated a ton of qualified leads?

Create an email campaign with a record-high open rate?

Have a blog post go viral and increase traffic by 200%?

That’s why I LOVE increasing rates. It encourages you — the freelancer — to do great work and deliver fantastic products while letting the client know that you should be valued.

You can also raise your rates through referrals. Referrals are clients that you get from existing clients and they are the lifeblood of any freelancer.

For a few reasons:

You can raise your prices when you get a referral. The client who referred you has automatically added value to your work by recommending you. That means you can charge more for your work.

You can more than double your income. Check out this case study from a freelance project manager who went from charging $25 / hour to $75 / hour just by getting a referral. This is a HUGE win.

And asking for referrals is easy — if you have the right script.

Luckily, we have a proven script from our article on how to get clients to help you ask for referrals:

CLIENT’S NAME,

I’m so happy to hear that you enjoyed my work. If you know of anyone else who’s looking for my services as well, I’d be grateful if you passed my contact information along to them.

Thank you,

YOUR NAME

It’s simple, direct, and gets results.

BONUS: The Ultimate Guide to Making Money

If you want even more information on becoming a freelancer, be sure to check out our articles on the topic below:

How to make money online freelancing — 3 super simple steps

How to make extra money on the side

6 ways to get your first client

The Ultimate Guide to Digital Marketing

If you’re really interested in making money in freelance marketing, we here at IWT have a gift for you: The Ultimate Guide to Making Money.

In it, we’ve included our best strategies to:

Create multiple income streams so you always have a consistent source of revenue

Start your own business and escape the 9-to-5 for good

Increase your income by thousands of dollars a year through side hustles like freelancing

Download a FREE copy of the Ultimate Guide today by entering your name and email below — and jump into freelance marketing today.

3 systems to find your freelance hourly rate is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Surety Bond Brokers? Business https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/freelance-hourly-rate/

0 notes

samuelfields · 6 years

Text

How much to spend on an engagement ring

Ahhh! Enough with the same old boring posts about engagement rings!

Yes, we know the diamond industry wants us to spend more. Yes, De Beers is evil, and yes, synthetic diamonds are flooding the market, and yes, I saw “Blood Diamond” with Leonardo DiCaprio. And yes, we know about your aunt’s cousin’s brother who got a ring for $2.59 and they’ve been happily married for 80 years.

That’s great.

But when I decided to propose to my girlfriend, I started doing research — and I found myself getting increasingly frustrated. I had real questions.

What type of ring should I get? Do the “4 Cs” really matter? Is this jeweler going to rip me off? Do I really need to save two months’ salary?

I did a quick Google search and I felt myself getting even more frustrated. The advice on other sites told me to “do my research,” “find out her ring size,” and “pick my budget.”

Uh … I ALREADY KNOW THAT! No one addressed the real questions I had.

So, I did my own research and now I’m going to show you exactly what I ended up doing, including:

The exact word-for-word conversations I had to get on the same page with my girlfriend about the kind of ring she wanted

How I navigated the “cost” issue — including what I discovered about what really matters when buying a ring

What I learned from an NYC Diamond District jeweler who broke the diamond industry down for me

This is the stuff you won’t find in other engagement ring posts.

Hi, my name is Ramit Sethi. I’m the author of a New York Times best-selling book on personal finance. Don’t worry, I’m not going to make you feel bad about wanting to buy an engagement ring (or even spending a lot on it). I don’t have any secret backroom deals with diamond dealers. I just want to show you what nobody else is talking about when it comes to buying an engagement ring.

I spent a huge amount of time learning about the diamond industry and ended up buying a ring that my girlfriend Cass — now fiancée — loved.

Here’s what I knew going into the process: I’d met a woman I loved and I knew that an engagement ring was important to her. She never mentioned size or cost, but I knew she wanted a nice ring that was ethically sourced.

This is my personal experience finding the perfect ring for her with some additional insights from you guys, my readers.

So here we go…

The 1 thing that matters above all else

In my life, I have discovered one solitary truth:

Every single comment about engagement rings focuses on saving money. Always.

In ANY article about engagement — no matter which site, which author, which date — 99.99% of comments will say, “LOL! Buying an engagement ring? I spent $0.32 and we’ve been married for 43 years!”

Guys, there are plenty of ways to save money on a ring. You can find them on 50 million other articles where people race to the bottom of how little they spent, then brag about it.

But I have another view:

Your engagement ring is a unique gift, which you — in consultation with your partner — decide on.

If you want to spend $100 on a ring, great! If you want to spend $50,000 on a ring, and you can afford it, also great. Some people prefer a ring that was passed down from their mother. Others prefer an ultra-modern ring, or a heritage design, or an oval shape. I know a guy who spent $300 and I know a guy who spent $100,000 on his engagement ring. Both have great marriages.

In other words, I don’t believe in focusing solely on the price — I want to focus on the value of your gift, which ultimately only you decide. You should consider what your partner wants, but ultimately you decide. Not your friends, not society, not De Beers, and certainly not some random frugalista commenter on the internet.

So I knew I wasn’t going to focus on finding the cheapest ring. I was going to find the ring that was perfect for my fiancée. Here’s how I did it.

What to do before you buy

Until I got deep in the process, I didn’t truly understand the sales mechanisms that the industry has created to encourage you to spend more. These include creating their own rating system (the 4 Cs: cut, color, clarity, and carat), creating their own governing body (GIA), and even their own set of rituals and phrases (“A diamond is forever”).

Wait a sec. Is this a religion? Or buying a commodity?

As one friend told me, “I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I was doing it wrong.”

I realized that 80% of the work is done before you set foot in a jewelry shop. If you just walk in and say, “Uhh, I’m not sure … what do you recommend?” then you’re going to get taken for a ride and end up being one of those guys who gets bitter about the process. Average process, average results.

But if you arm yourself with information, this can actually be fun.

I went a little crazy and mapped out the entire process. Hey, what can I say? I love systems.

The map looked like this:

There are lots of sub-steps beneath each step. But remember the big insight that “80% of the work is done before you ever set foot in the room”? You can see it in the outline: Most of the work — 80% — is done before you ever get to the “Buy ring” step. Get these early steps right, and the rest is just details.

Start from zero

First of all, forget all the bullshit about two months of salary. That is pure marketing nonsense. Look at your own financial situation to decide what you can comfortably afford. I asked more than 1,500 of my readers, and depending on income, people typically spent between 4% and 8% of their yearly income.

Two months’ salary is 16%, by the way. Click to enlarge.

So I started with getting a general price down. It could be “$1,000 to $3,000” (with room to stretch to $3,500), or it could be “around $10,000” or even “$40,000 to $60,000.” Whatever it is, know it and remember it.

This data isn’t scientific. But with over 1,500 results, it gives you a general sense of how much people spend. Personally, these numbers seem low for what I know my friends in NYC spent. But this is the full dataset without regard for geography. Click to enlarge. If you’re having trouble settling on a budget, find your income bracket here for a general benchmark. Click to enlarge.

A general number helps because when you walk into a store, you’re not a mark — you’re in control. You wouldn’t ask a car salesman what kind of car you should buy. You’d do your homework first! Do the same thing for your engagement ring.

Talk to your partner. THIS IS IMPORTANT

Then have the conversation with your partner. (Note: I’m using “her” and “girlfriend” because my fiancée is a woman and I’m a man, but you can apply these same lessons to any relationship.)

Feel free to use this word-for-word script to get on the same page about your engagement ring:

“I really love you and I’m excited to spend the rest of our lives together. I know we’ve talked about marriage already, but there’s actually something I want to bring up that I want to be open with you about: I’d love to talk about the ring. It’s something I’ve been thinking about, and I’m guessing you’ve been thinking about it too.

What kind of ring do you have in mind? Have you thought about the band? I’d love to hear what you think.”

Things I did in the conversation:

I made sure to contextualize the ring as something we were doing together

I also made sure to be friendly and open

I didn’t bring any chips on my shoulder (e.g., anxiety about budget concerns) into the discussion

The big insight here is to actually ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS about the ring. Or, frankly, any questions at all! It’s amazing how many guys go into the ring-shopping process without knowing anything about what their partner wants. You knuckleheads create your own stress and anxiety — all because you’re not willing to open up the conversation and ask.

Over time, I came to believe part of the reason we’re afraid to talk it out is that many of us — men and women — absorb this Disney-esque invisible script that everything around the proposal should be a surprise.

Feel free to keep the date of your proposal a surprise, how you’re going to propose, even the ring itself — but the fact that you’re going to propose and the type of ring should not be a surprise. Stop being morons and trying to randomly decide on some of the biggest decisions of your lives together! Here are a few important things to talk about: “Do you want a public or private proposal? What color band? What shape? Let’s get on the same page about finances, because that will affect both of us as we build a life together.”

So, have the conversation. The script above shows the importance of your partner’s feelings to you. You’re asking her what kind of ring she envisions — is it oval? Round? Something passed down from your mom? (During the conversation, it’d be a great idea to ask her what her ring size is as well. Just a simple, “By the way, what is your ring size just so I know it?”) By asking your partner questions, you allow them to lead the conversation and create a really positive experience.

Wrapping up the conversation

“I really appreciate that we can be open about this. I’m going to think about it, but I just wanted to say thanks. It’s great to talk about this and I’m excited for this next step.”

OK, the conversation went well, but I’d also planned just in case it hadn’t gone well. What if she’d told me she wanted some ring that was totally out of my budget? Fortunately, I didn’t have to have this conversation — but I was ready just in case:

The backup plan: “What if she wants a ring that I can’t afford?”

“I want to talk to you about something that makes me a little uncomfortable but want to be honest about: From the last time we talked, it seemed like the ring you wanted was XYZ. Am I reading that right?” (Clarifies any misunderstandings you might have)

“I would love to get you the ring of your dreams … but I also want to be thoughtful about our finances as we build our lives together.” (Reiterates how you’re keeping the relationship in mind)

“Based on our budget, I can’t do the one you want right now. But I heard what you’re looking for and I’m going to do my best to find the most perfect ring to signify our relationship.” (Shows that you’re honest about the situation but also considerate of what she wants. Now begin wrapping up)

“Thanks, this was really great. I’m going to think about a few things. I really appreciate having this discussion. It feels really good to know we can have an honest discussion together.”

Ask your fiancée to send you what they like

After my fiancée and I talked, she proactively sent me an email with examples of rings she liked, rings she didn’t, band preference — everything.

I don’t think that’s weird, I think it’s awesome.

This is a gift she’s going to wear for the rest of her life. I want to know what she wants! I want her to be thrilled with it. Be sure to nudge your fiancée to do the same before you go shopping. Below is the email my fiancée sent. I added the yellow boxes and arrows to showcase what’s happening in the email.

Notice the details: color, shape, level of details, etc. This just helped me narrow down my choices in a huge way. Get this information from your partner!!

Size and bling: The only 2 things that matter

OK, now that you have a rough idea of what your partner wants and you’re ready to start looking, it’s time for some diamond-industry truths.

The diamond industry created the “4 Cs” as a way for you to “measure” the value of a diamond. This is a helpful framework to evaluate a diamond — but as soon as you learn it, you will realize how limiting it is.

Here’s what I learned from my experience: When it comes to the diamond, 2 things actually matter: size and bling (the visual appeal — think “sparkle”). In that order.

People get mad hearing this, but you should ask the experts: people who’ve bought diamonds. I remember a bunch of my guy friends at a bachelor party talking about when they bought engagement rings. “Everyone will say they care about all kinds of different parts of rings, but when it comes down to it, size and the bling are the only things that matter.”

Each married guy — guys who had actually bought diamonds for their partners — just nodded and laughed. They all knew it was true.

There’s a lot to unpack here, but I’m intentionally not getting into the socio-political aspects of diamonds. This post is specifically about what I learned buying a diamond.

In short: Yes, you should do your research on the 4 Cs to get a feel for the terminology that will be used by your jeweler. And yes, it’s good to compare diamonds to each other. But ultimately, size and bling (“sparkle”) are the primary things that matter.

This means that the most important aspects of the ring are purely visual. Now that you know the 4 Cs, forget about them. I’ve seen high-grade diamonds that looked duller than low-grade ones. I’ve seen two oval diamonds, both within $2,000 in price — and one looked about $20,000 more expensive.

“Clarity” is the absolute stupidest one of all. It describes tiny micro-blemishes on the diamond (this is where you use a jeweler’s loupe to inspect it). Guys, let’s get real. The naked eye can’t see these blemishes — and you will never use a loupe in real life — so it’s pointless to weigh this in your purchase.

As one jeweler told me, “You should get educated about the 4 Cs. But using cut and clarity is like buying a calculator based on its length and width.”

Call it the “Instagrammization” of diamond rings. The visual appeal matters more than anything else. If you dig deeper, there are a lot of reasons why: When your fiancée announces the engagement, there will be photos highlighting the ring. The first thing her friends will do is say, “Let me see the ring!” Whether you like it or not, the ring is a social statement. My philosophy is to acknowledge the game being played around you. You can choose whether or not to play, but know the game.

Some people find this distasteful. I found it liberating.

Out of 1,500+ respondents, these are the five most expensive rings. Here they are graphed according to income levels. Click to enlarge.

Think about it — now that I knew the visual appeal mattered most, I could focus my search around the look of the diamond. I could instantly discard most of the nonsense around the “perfect” diamond.

This is an area where you can “capture value,” or save money, since you don’t need to weigh it in your consideration.

So forget about micro-blemishes, the stories you hear about the diamond heritage, and resale value. This is a gift, not an investment. Focus on the two key drivers that people want — size and bling — and get the ring that you and your partner discussed.

In other words:

Use your eyes to judge a diamond your partner will love. Don’t let the 4 Cs lead you astray

In my experience, size and bling (“sparkle”) matter most. Be smart. Don’t buy a big diamond that has no bling. It’s important to balance the two

Above all, be sure you know what your partner wants and loves! Don’t let your preconceived notions (or worse, society’s) guide your decision. This gift is about your partner

By now, you know your budget, the type of ring and band, and you know to focus on size and bling. Time to get the ring.

How I went shopping for the ring

I love the phrase, “Play from a position of strength.” You’re about to make a large purchase — so act like it. Make the salespeople work for you. Be crystal clear with what you want and what you expect. Of course, be polite — but remember you’re playing from a position of strength.

Hey, I know everyone thinks the proposal is all about romance, but I also love LOGISTICS. I’ll show you exactly how I did it.

By now, you’ve had a conversation with your partner about what she’s thinking about when it comes to a ring. You’ve carefully thought about what you want to do and what you can afford. This is amazing — you’re light years ahead of most others.

Now, I’m going to show you how I approached the buying process so you can do a few key things differently.

Step 1: Find 3-5 jewelers and set up appointments

First, I asked a bunch of my male married friends which jewelers I should talk to. The most common response I got was, “I have a guy.” Everyone has a guy. I started to make a short list of jewelers in NYC they had used.

Next, I asked some of my female friends for their jeweler recommendations. Many of them had helped friends shop for their engagement rings. They had different perspectives on the rings, including things to pay attention to if you actually wear jewelry.

I ended up with a list of five jewelers. Four were in NYC and one was in the Caribbean (you call him and he ships the diamonds to a local NYC jeweler). In retrospect, three to five is a good range of jewelers to give you a sense of the different options and prices. Also, you want them to compete against each other.

Here are the jewelers I narrowed my shopping down to in NYC. Note that I have no affiliation with any of them (and also note that the diamond industry isn’t very online-savvy, so most of their sites aren’t great).

David at David S. Diamonds

Pash Daswani at Lucky Jewelers

Sam Dholakia at Adris Corporation

I also want to mention Zameer Kassam, who I met at a business event. He creates custom rings based on your story with your partner. I didn’t go with him but I think his business is fascinating.

Along the way, I was also cross-referencing my friends’ recommendations with Yelp and other online reviews. Online sites are helpful if you don’t have firsthand recommendations in your city, but in my experience, most of the jewelry industry isn’t really online-savvy yet.

Now I planned my visits. In an ideal world, you should start this process six to eight weeks before you propose since it takes time to find the ring. I was running a little late (Cass had told me she wanted to be engaged in “Q1” — yes, I knew she was the girl of my dreams when she used financial quarters to talk about engagements), so I had to accelerate things by getting efficient.

Remember, 80% of the work is done before you get there. I scheduled three visits on the same day. 60 minutes each, 15-minute break in between. Before I visited, I emailed ahead of time (like you would a car dealer) and told them exactly what I was looking for — the shape of the diamond, my budget, etc. — and asked them to have a few samples ready for when I went in. The email from Cass above made this MUCH easier.

Scheduling the visit

Hi George,

My name is Ramit. I’m planning on proposing to my girlfriend around X/X/XXXX and I’m beginning the process of buying a ring.

A friend of mine, NAME, recommended I come in and see you. I’m looking for an oval ring.

I’m free on Wednesday at 1pm or 3pm. Can we schedule an hour for me to visit?

Thanks,

Ramit

Jeweler response

Ramit, it is a pleasure to meet you. Wednesday at 1pm will work fine. Can you tell me more about the ring you are looking for?

George

Sending prep notes ahead of time

Great, looking forward to meeting! I’m including an email below from my girlfriend on the types of rings she likes. I would love to see examples of rings like this (and anything else you recommend) on Wednesday.

Ramit

(If this feels weird or demanding, remember: This is a huge purchase for you and they want your business. They’ll take care of you to make the sale. Play from a position of strength!)

ACTION STEP: Eight weeks before you propose, compile a list of three to five jewelers you can visit and set aside some time during the week to visit them. Plan to spend at least an hour at each one to look over rings.

Step 2: Visit the jewelers

It was funny. When I was a kid, I read “Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” (“too hot … too cold … just right”) but I never thought I’d be living it … while shopping for an ENGAGEMENT RING.

It turned out that one jeweler was on the top floor of a building in a super-luxe office. He brought out drinks, the lighting was stunning, and the diamonds were incredible — and expensive. Another jeweler was on a mid-level floor behind two security doors in a plainly furnished office. A third was on the ground floor, flooded with people, and he had the overall cheapest prices.

Even though I didn’t plan for this, it was great. I learned that the glamour of the office has nothing to do with finding the right ring. Don’t pay for your jeweler’s expensive rent — just focus on finding the ring! Also, broaden your horizons! Don’t just go to cheap jewelers or expensive ones. Get a feel for all price points. You might be surprised by what you find.

Visit 1: When you mention your plans to a few trusted friends, you might find one person who HAPPILY volunteers to help. Take them up on it. Chances are, they love helping people shop for engagement rings and they’ve done it multiple times.

Even with all the preparation, I was new to this entire game. So I asked one of my friends’ wives to come.

This was awesome because she knew my girlfriend, she knew jewelry, and she had helped other guys with their ring purchase. Perfect — I got the chance to get walked through the process by someone I trusted.

Here’s what she told me before we walked in:

“I’ve taken lots of people to buy their rings here”

“He’s going to try to wow you with stories about the heritage of the diamonds. Just ignore it. Cass wants an oval diamond from the pics she sent. Focus on finding that”

“He’s going to show you different rings that are cheaper and more expensive. Some people walk in and throw their budget out the window. Don’t feel pressured to make a decision today. Just learn and compare these rings with the other jewelers you see”

SUPER VALUABLE.

In this first visit (to the Glamorous Guy), the jeweler spent a lot of time educating me about the different types of rings, where to “capture value” (or save money on things that don’t matter), and how to think about diamond rings. Of course he was selling me! This approach is called “consultative sales.” Just take everything you learn with a grain of salt.

Visit 2: I went alone. I wanted time to myself to see the diamonds by myself. This was a quick trip and I only went to one of the jewelers.

Visit 3: I asked my sister and brother-in-law to come. I wanted their perspective since they knew Cass’s style, they knew my budget, and they’d been through the process before. I took them to three jewelers who I’d narrowed my search down to. I purchased the ring on this trip.

ACTION STEP: Invite one or two married friends out to go ring shopping with you. Use our script to send the perfect email.

Step 3: Negotiate, negotiate, negotiate

During the purchase process, one of the jewelers told me something I’ll never forget.

It was the third jeweler I’d visited, the guy on the ground floor. When I walked in and told him what I wanted, he looked me in the eye and said, “OK, I’m going to show you how my business works,” and took out his phone. He then pulled up an app and said, “Tell me exactly what you want — size, color, whatever — and I’ll plug it in here. I can get any diamond in the country here.”

So I told him what I wanted, and he pulled it up on the app. In fact, the craziest thing he did was pull up the exact diamond I had just seen two blocks away — a diamond that I was told was “the product of Flemish diamond cutters” who “have passed the knowledge down from generation to generation.”

He heard all that and said, “I can have that diamond here by tomorrow morning.” Get this: His price for the exact same diamond was $2,000 less!

Why tell you this story? To reiterate the fact that diamonds are a commodity. You can and will be able to negotiate a lower price on any stone you want because of that fact. Forget about the stories your jeweler tells you. Focus on what it looks like and if your partner will like it.

Also, DO NOT BE MISLED BY THINKING ABOUT RESALE VALUE. Your diamond is basically worthless the minute you walk out of the store. Lots of people think they can resell their diamond for a pretty good percentage of the original price — and they are all wrong. You can read a detailed account of trying to resell a diamond here (amazing article), but my personal rule of thumb is that if you ever tried to resell the diamond, you should assume a 15% return. In other words, if you have a $1,000 ring and try to sell it, you might get $150 — if you’re lucky.

In fact, once it’s clear you’re about to buy, you should be open about pricing: Don’t try to beat around the bush or “hint” about negotiation. Be open: Ask for the pricing chart.

Ask how they charge. They expect it, and many of the hungriest jewelers will just show you their pricing and charge you a small percentage over cost.

ACTION STEP: Prepare for your negotiations. For my very best negotiation tactics, be sure to check out my article on the 4 simple rules of negotiations.

Ramit’s big takeaways on buying an engagement ring

My overall insights on buying an engagement ring:

80% of the work is done before you set foot in a jewelry shop. As one of my friends said, “I didn’t know what I was doing, but I knew I was doing it wrong.” The best way to combat this is to intentionally prepare by making a few key decisions before you walk into your first jewelry store. Specifically, get on the same page with your partner, know your general spending range, see multiple jewelers, make them work for your business, and remember that a diamond is just a small part — but an important part — of building a life together. If you follow the steps in this post, you’ll be far ahead of almost everyone else.

The single-most important part of the process is having an open discussion with your partner. Too many people think the engagement ring should be a surprise. Wrong! Your proposal date should be a surprise. How you propose should be a surprise. But you should know exactly what kind of ring your partner wants. Get on the same page about the style of ring she wants. And clarify any questions about the budget using my scripts above.

Know that a ring is a symbol for something greater. Talking about a ring also means talking about your future together — and that’s where the real value of this process is apparent. Where do we want to live? Will both of us work? How do we want to raise kids? Do we even want kids? I consider this the “secret sauce” of this post: It was easy to get fixated on the ring shopping, the proposal, and thinking about the budget. But those were ultimately details. What really mattered was us creating a new chapter of our lives together — and being open about it with each other.

How to spend whatever you want on an engagement ring

The #1 question about engagement rings is almost always about cost.

And as I’ve shown you, I have a different view than most people: If you want a $1,000 ring, great. If you want a $50,000 ring, also great. Again, the real meaning isn’t in the dollars you spend, but in the new chapter of your relationship.

The easiest way to pay for a ring is to have followed the “automatic savings plan” in my book. Just like I wrote there, I’d been saving for a ring for about 10 years — even before I was in a relationship!

As the quote goes, “The best time to plant a tree was 20 years ago. The second best time is now.”

If you’re reading this, chances are you’re ready to pop the question, which means you don’t have 10 years to save up for the ring. That’s fine. I suggest my article on how to make money fast for some ideas on long-lasting ways to have more money to put toward your ring.

But if I’m catching you early, I have the perfect system for you to start saving for your engagement ring: Conscious Spending Plan.

This is the exact same system that my friend uses to spend $21,000 going out to bars and having a good time with friends. This is the exact same system I used to automatically save for the ring, so cost wasn’t a primary issue.

This system — which I’ll show you — lets you:

Automate your finances

Know where your money goes so you’re in complete control of the situation

If you want to learn more on how to automate your finances, check out this 12-minute video of me explaining the exact process I use below.

youtube

Being able to buy the engagement ring you want is only a small part of your journey to a Rich Life. That’s why I want to offer you something my team and I have been working on to help you earn more money to live the life you want: The Ultimate Guide to Making Money.

Download a free copy of my Ultimate Guide to learn my best strategies for creating multiple income streams, starting a business, and increasing your income by thousands of dollars a year.

(Thanks to Derek Halpern, Steve Kamb, Nick Gray, Vasu Vats, and my fiancée Cass for reviewing drafts of this post, and to all the readers who sent along their stories and advice.)

How much to spend on an engagement ring is a post from: I Will Teach You To Be Rich.

from Finance https://www.iwillteachyoutoberich.com/blog/how-much-should-a-man-spend-on-an-engagement-ring/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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