#Also. 2 hour meeting before shift on thursday come on. Also another meeting on next monday. From 16-20. On sankthansaften også wtf boss

[what-does-the-moose-say]

Weather and mood so bad lately I consider putting up christmas decorations and watching christmas movies. See if that changes anything.

[jaehyunhour]

teenage dream | mark lee

genre + idol → fluff, smut, tiniest bit of angst if you squint, high school au, virgin!mark (x virgin fem!reader) [they’re both 18]

word count → 4.7k

warnings → alcohol consumption, unprotected sex (always wear a condom pls guys), tiniest bit of cursing

summary → mark lee moves to your hometown halfway through your sophomore year of high school, and once he arrives you quickly fall in love with both him and the town you grew to hate. after you graduate, mark has a surprise for you that may or may not include going across state lines, losing your virginity, and asking for your hand in marriage.

“Mark, you can’t leave me. You’re my soulmate.”

“If I could marry you tonight, I would.”

“You know... it’s only about a 5 hour drive to Vegas from here.”

a/n → i’ve been writing this fic for well over a month and it’s finally done!! this fic is purely self-indulgent because 1) i’m in love with mark lee and 2) i think of him every time i listen to teenage dream by katy perry... as always please let me know what you guys think of this one! i think this is one of my favorite fics i’ve written

Before you met Mark, life was bleak. That was the only way to describe it. Your life was monotone, shades of light blue and gray; your daily routine was the same, you walked through life as a zombie and hated everything about your hometown. But when Mark showed up halfway through your sophomore year of high school, when his family moved from Canada, everything changed. You got to show him the ins and outs of the city, turn him into a real native, and fall in love — both with your hometown, and with him.

You can still recall the first time you got to show Mark what it’s like to be a local. You went downtown, taking the light rail and getting off at each stop, enjoying what the city has to offer, before getting back on and staring out the window at the scenery. Mark’s hand rested in-between both of your thighs in an attempt to warm himself, while the other pressed onto the glass window of the light rail and tapped lightly. You pointed out the window at different buildings, telling Mark the story of your life in this little town, and he sat quietly and listened. His gaze lingered on the moving buildings as you spoke, and he immediately felt his entire body warm. This is when Mark knew you were special.

Your high school graduation was bittersweet. You were choosing to go to a college only thirty minutes away from your home because of your family, and Mark was on the waitlist for his dream college in Korea. After all the names were called, and all the caps thrown in the air, Mark wove his way through all of the graduates and straight to you. He picked you up in his arms, spun you around quickly, and set you down.

“We did it,” he said, eyes wide and smile bright. He placed his hands on your face and squished your cheeks before pulling you into another hug. “I have something to tell you.”

“I can’t believe we graduated. Tell me,” you responded.

“I got off the waitlist.”

You let out a scream, pulling back from Mark and hitting him on the chest. “Oh my god, Mark! Holy shit, that’s incredible. So you’re going to Korea? W-when do you leave?” Your stomach drops at the realization that Mark will be going to an entirely different country soon, meanwhile you have to stay in a town that you love only because he’s in it. It’s not the same without him.

“I don’t leave until the beginning of September.”

“So you’ll get to move me into my dorm before you leave?”

“You think I would leave without seeing where you’re going to be living? I need to make sure that you’re being well taken care of in my absence. You know I’m kidnapping you and taking you with me to Korea if I don’t like the dorm, right?”

“I expect absolutely nothing less,” you said, both you and Mark’s families rushing up to you on the football field to congratulate you. Your families forced you to pose for photos, talked amongst themselves about your college plans, and made plans to throw you two a joint graduation party.

Two weeks after graduation, you’re laying down on the trampoline in your backyard as the sun is setting. It’s a Thursday night, your parents are out of town for the weekend and have left you home alone. You could throw a huge party, celebrate the end of senior year, but instead you choose to enjoy the alone time in your childhood home before you move out. You stare at the moving clouds, your chest sitting on your phone as you talk to Mark who’s currently driving.

“You know, I’m kinda mad that your parents still won’t let you come spend the night at my house. We’re 18! We’re adults,” you say.

Mark lets out a laugh. “My parents are scared that if they let me spend the night at your house that I’ll do drugs, join a gang, and get you pregnant all in one night.”

“Do I really give that vibe off? I thought your parents liked me! We’ve been inseparable for well over 2 years now.”

“They love you, you know that. You’re home, right?”

“Yuuuup,” you say, standing up quickly and jumping a few times on the trampoline. He can hear the creaking of the trampoline and whines.

“No fairrrrr, you’re jumping without me!” Mark says. You hear Mark close the door to his car and lock it. Before you can ask him where he’s headed, he walks through the front door of your house, through the living room, and out into the backyard. Mark hangs up the call, before jumping onto the trampoline with you. 

You get back down onto your back on the trampoline, grabbing at Mark’s leg and trying to pull him down with you. He lays next to you, rolling over so half of his body is on top of yours. He nuzzles his head into your chest and lets out a content sigh.

“You should really keep the doors locked when you’re home alone. What are your plans for tonight?” He asks.

“Mmm, probably watch a movie and eat something. I might raid my mom’s wine cabinet and finish a whole bottle by myself.”

“Woooow, look at you breaking the rules. Who are you and what have you done to my best friend?”

“I’m just trying to enjoy myself before college!”

“Look at what I got today,” Mark says, flopping onto his back and pulling an ID out of his pocket. He hands it to you and you inspect it carefully.

“This is a Korean ID,” you start. “Aaaand, it doesn’t even have your name.”

“Yeah! It’s a fake ID. Says I’m 21.”

“Why’d you pick Kim Soohyun for your name? And why do you need a fake ID? You’re legal in Korea, you can drink.”

“My mom says Kim Soohyun is my long lost brother, I thought it would be funny. I got it for tonight.”

“Tonight?”

“Yep,” Mark says, plucking the ID out of your hands and shoving it back into his pocket. “Go pack a bag, we’re going on a road trip.”

“Where to?”

“It’s a secret, but it’s somewhere you’ve always wanted to go.” Mark lays on his side, and you can feel him staring at you. You turn onto your side to look at him. “Can you close your eyes for a second?”

You nod and close your eyes. Your heart begins beating faster and your breathing is labored. Before you can ask Mark what game he’s playing at, you feel Mark’s lips on yours. You gasp, returning his kiss, and he slips his tongue into your mouth. It’s not your first time kissing someone like this, but it’s definitely his and you can tell. His tongue peruses the inside of your mouth, and his lips are pressed firmly against yours. You try to push your tongue into his mouth in an attempt to control the kiss, but to no avail. Mark pulls back to catch his breath, and his eyes meet yours.

“You’re bad at that,” you whisper, letting out a giggle.

“Yeah, I thought I might be,” Mark says with a sigh.

“You’ll get better at it. W-we can practice,” you say, pecking his lips. “I’ll go pack a bag.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re sitting in the passenger’s seat of Mark’s car, watching him as he drives. His hands rest perfectly at 10 and 2, his lips pouting, and he watches the road ahead intensely. 

“You should probably sleep, it’s going to be a while before we get there.”

“How long?” you ask. You recline the seat and lay back, extending your hand out to rest on Mark’s thigh. “Hold my hand.”

One of his hands leaves the steering wheel and he intertwines your fingers with his. “About 16 hours? Just sleep, I’ll wake you up in like 8 hours so you can switch with me.” You nod, closing your eyes and willing yourself to go to sleep. 

You’re not sure how long you sleep, but when you wake up, Mark’s hand is still holding yours. The sun is shining through the windshield and you look over at Mark, who is also sleeping. You’re parked next to a gas station in what feels like the middle of nowhere. You check your phone: 8:35 a.m.

“Oh, fuck,” you groan, causing Mark to stir. You tear your hand away from his, shifting the seat up and pushing Mark to wake up. “Mark, get up.”

He groans too before sitting back up. “I just fell asleep.”

“Why did you let me sleep for so long? You drove for 12 straight hours! I’m going to go inside the gas station and buy some coffee, then I’ll drive the rest of the way. You can sleep until we get to wherever the hell you’re taking me.”

Mark tries to sleep for the remaining four hours of your drive, but he’s too excited to be able to sleep. Instead, he watches you drive and smiles proudly. Mark has always thought you are so beautiful, even in your current state — no makeup, hair messy from sleeping in the car, and bags underneath your eyes. He leans over and presses a rough kiss to your cheek before laying back down. 

“What’s gotten into you?”

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t like you. Yesterday before we left you practically shoved your tongue down my throat, and now you’re forcing me on a road trip. You’re not normally like this.”

“I just… I realized that I wasted so much time not doing the things I want to do with you, and I would’ve hated myself forever if I didn’t do it before I left to Korea.”

“You would’ve hated yourself forever if you didn’t make out with your best friend and force her to drive around before leaving to Korea?” You pause. “Where are we going?”

“Something like that. Uh… well, we’re in California,” Mark says, causing you to swerve.

“You brought me across state lines?! Maaaark, your parents are going to kill you!”

“They think I’m with Johnny-hyung for the weekend. Don’t worry, he’ll cover for me. I think we’re only like half an hour away from LA.”

“You’re insane, Mark. So so insane.”

“So this is Santa Monica, huh?” Mark says, looking out at the crashing waves in front of him and inhaling deeply, letting his lungs fill with the cool ocean air, sand getting stuck between his toes.

“This is so beautiful,” you whisper. “Thank you for bringing me, Mark.”

“I would do anything for you, I hope you know that,” Mark responds. He takes out a brown paper bag from his backpack, twisting off the cap of the bottle inside and taking a swig of it and gagging. You laugh, taking the bottle out of his hand and sniffing it before taking a drink yourself. 

“Why would you buy vodka? You know you can’t drink alcohol very well.”

“I wanted to see if my ID would work! It was pretty easy, I just handed it to the guy and spoke in Korean and he didn’t question it.” He takes the bottle out of your hand and takes another drink, this time more prepared and able to suppress the gag that bubbles in his throat. You turn to look at Mark, and he quickly shifts his head to stare back at you. Some people say they feel their heart skip a beat when the person they love looks at them, but when Mark looks at you, your heart stops completely. Your heart stops, your breath gets caught in your chest, and you stop blinking. You have to make a conscious effort to breathe in and out, and open and close your eyelids as Mark looks at you and overtakes your thoughts.

As you’re staring at Mark, memorizing every inch of his face as the Santa Monica sun sets, you feel your cheeks begin to heat up and your face begin to numb as the vodka hits you. He reaches out to pinch your cheek, smiling wide at your flushed face, and when you feel his fingers on your skin, you just know — this is real, this is love.

“You’re so cute,” Mark says.

“Says you.” You grab the bottle from Mark’s other hand, taking another deep chug before pressing the bottle to his lips. You tilt it and he drinks from it until he can’t handle the taste anymore, pushing it away slightly and letting you drop it between your bodies.

“Y/N, I—”

“Kiss me.”

Mark doesn’t need to be told twice; instantly pressing you down into the sand, body hovering above yours and attaching his lips to yours. He lets you lead the kiss this time, opening his mouth when he feels your tongue poking at his lips and allowing you to slip your tongue into his mouth. Your tongue traces over his teeth, before meeting his tongue and playing with it. Your hands come up to hold onto his face, and he softens into your touch. Mark feels dizzy — both from the feeling of your tongue in his mouth and the vodka hitting him all at once. He pulls away, panting as he tries to catch his breath.

“I feel like I’m living a dream,” Mark says, staring at your face with something you can only describe as love in his eyes.

“I want to go swimming,” you respond, quickly sitting up without thinking and hitting your head against his. “Owie, I’m sorry, honey. Don’t know why I got up so quickly.”

Mark giggles and sits up, peeling his shirt off and dropping it on the sand. “Let’s go swimming.” He stands up, trying to kick his skinny jeans off as you stand up and start walking to the water. “Y/N! Take your jeans off at least.”

“Nuh-uh, I wanna go swimming,” you say, stumbling as you walk through the hot sand as quickly as you can and into the water. You don’t even register how cold the water is, quickly walking deep into the ocean and letting the waves go over your head. Mark rushes to catch up with you, walking into the ocean in only his underwear. He pulls you into his arms and you wrap your legs around his waist, your arms around his neck, and rest your forehead up against his.

“I miss you already, Mark.”

“I don’t even leave for another 3 months.”

“I know, but I don’t want you to go,” you say quietly. Unwillingly, tears fall down your cheeks and mix with the salt water on your face.

“I’m so glad I finally found you,” Mark responds. “My missing puzzle piece. I’m complete.” He wipes the tears and water from your face and presses a kiss to your lips. 

“I can’t believe we’ve known each other for over 2 years and you waited for us to graduate before making a move on me,” you say, angrily pressing another kiss to his lips. “I’ve been in love with you since the day I took you downtown for the first time, Mark.”

“And I’ve been in love with you since the day you asked me to go downtown with you.”

“You’re so lame,” you say to Mark, just as a huge wave goes over your heads and crashes. You both burst into laughter and you untangle yourself from him, pushing the hair out of your face and trying to regain your breathe. You place your hands on Mark’s shoulders, letting them travel down his chest to the waistband of his underwear. You slip your fingers underneath, pulling the band back before letting it snap back on his skin. “Mark, have you ever… you know…”

He shakes his head no. “M-my mom told me I should s-save myself for someone special,” he says, nervously. “Have you, ever… you know…”

You shake your head no. “Let’s go all the way tonight. No regrets, just love. Just you and me.”

“Okay.”

You and Mark stumble into the Santa Monica Motel, only a 20 minute walk from the Santa Monica Pier, coming up to the front desk with your clothes still dripping and asking for whatever vacant room they have. The desk attendant rolls his eyes, handing you two a pair of room keys and sending you on your way. You walk into the room, one hand holding Mark’s hand, as the other held onto the mostly gone bottle of vodka.

As you walk into the room, Mark throws your things onto the floor and locks the door behind him. You drink half of what’s left in the bottle, giving the rest to Mark which he finishes quickly before stepping into the bathroom. As Mark is in the bathroom freshening up, you pull the sheets off the bed and throw them onto the floor. You then pull the cushions off the couch in the corner, attempting to make a fort in the tiny motel room. You set the cushions up, then use the pillows to try and complete the walls of your fort, before throwing a thin white sheet over everything and crawling underneath. Mark comes out of the bathroom and raises an eyebrow when he sees the mess you’ve created on the floor.

“Y/N?”

“Come meet me in the fort, honey.”

Mark crawls underneath the sheet carefully, trying not to destroy the fort he’s sure you worked hard on. Once he’s underneath and he sees your shirt sticking to your chest, and your skin-tight jeans seemingly sticking tighter to your skin, his heart begins to race.

“I don’t mean to sound like a broken record, but I feel like I’m living a dream,” Mark says, letting his hand rest on your stomach. You reach for his arm, pinching him slightly and he lets out a soft moan. “What was that for?”

“Just to remind you that this isn’t a dream. This is real, and I love you.”

“I love you,” Mark responds. You pull your wet shirt up and off your head, letting it fall to the floor before you unbutton your wet jeans and try to push them off.

“Mark, I need help,” you whine. He laughs before helping you pull your jeans down and setting them on the floor with your shirt. He looks at your entire body up and down, taking in the sight of your matching bra and underwear.

He groans. “Fuck, I really love you.” Mark lets his body hover over yours, quickly enveloping your lips in a quick, passionate kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer to you and bucking your hips up to meet his. Mark feels himself harden in his underwear and he whines into your mouth at the feeling of you grinding up into him. Your hands grip onto his cheeks softly just as they did when you kissed on the beach, and one of his hands reaches up to pull your bra down and let your breasts free. His hands grab at your chest as if he’s done this before, fingers tugging and tweaking your nipples and you can’t help the moan that escapes your mouth and is caught by his. 

You rip his hand away from your chest, bringing it down into your underwear and pressing his fingers onto your clit. His fingers reach down to your entrance, teasing it softly before collecting your slick and returning to your clit. He pushes down roughly, rubbing in circles and your hips buck up again. This is the first time anyone else has ever touched you, and you quickly feel the knot forming in your stomach. 

“Mark, I’m gonna—” you say, pulling back from his lips for a second and grinding harder into his fingers in an attempt to reach your high quicker.

“Really?” Mark asks in disbelief, eyes wide as he presses his fingers harder into you and takes in the sight of your body. Your chest is going up and down quickly, hips moving and grinding into his fingers, one hand gripping onto his wrist as the other grips on his hair. 

“Fuck, just a few more seconds, I swear, Mark,” you whine, and he speeds his fingers up. And surely enough, within a few seconds, you’re gripping onto his wrist tightly to stop his movements as you cum, clenching around nothing as you chant his name repeatedly. Mark lets you come down from your high on your own time, afraid of overstimulating you before he can even get inside of you. As soon as you’ve come down from your orgasm, you’re pulling Mark into another kiss and pushing his underwear down. 

“Y/N, I-I should p-probably get a c-c-condom,” Mark stutters as your hand grips onto his hard dick and pumps lightly. 

“Nuh-uh,” you say, letting go of him and bucking your hips, feeling the tip of his dick rub against your clit and letting out a content sigh. “I want to feel all of you.”

Mark nods, gripping onto the base of his dick and pushing himself into you slowly, letting you adjust to him. Once he’s all the way in, he lets out a shaky breath as you clench around him a few times, getting used to the feeling of being full of something more than your fingers. “You can move now, honey.” He nods again and slowly begins moving his hips, pulling all the way out before slamming back in.

Mark lowers himself more, making sure you’re chest to chest as he moves slowly inside of you. Your legs wrap around his waist again, arms around his neck, pulling him close to you as you close your eyes and focus on the feeling of Mark’s length moving in and out of you swiftly. Mark lowers his head, resting it on your shoulder and pressing a kiss as you let your mouth fall open in a moan.

“I love you,” Mark’s hips pick up speed at your confession and you let out another loud moan. “I love you, I love you, fuck, baby, I really love you.”

He balances his weight on his hands, pushing himself up to look into your eyes as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. You want to close your eyes so bad, want to focus on the feeling of Mark fucking you, but you’re mesmerized as his eyes look into yours. You’re afraid to even blink, not wanting to miss a moment of this, not wanting to miss a second of the way Mark’s eyebrows furrow as he looks into your eyes, then down at your chest, then down at where your hips meet, then back up into your eyes. He shifts his weight onto one hand, moving the other to your clit and your eyes instantly roll into the back of your head.

“Look at me, baby,” Mark says quietly, angling his hips to meet that spot inside of you, and you struggle to keep your eyes open and looking at him, but you try. 

“A-are you sure you’ve n-never done this before?” You ask, clenching tightly around Mark as he fucks you and rubs your clit. 

“N-never ever. Been saving myself for you.”

“You’re gonna make me cum,” you whine.

“Cum for me, baby, please.” Mark says, and you nod as he presses his fingers just a little harder, pushing you over the edge quickly. The feeling of you clenching around his length sporadically, and your fingernails digging into his back, is enough to push him over the edge, and he’s cumming in you in thick white ropes. He lets out a deep groan as he cuts inside of you, giving you everything he’s got. He falls on top of you, not even bothering to pull out, and you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. You wipe the sweat off from his forehead and let out a laugh that he returns.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you say.

“Are you on birth control?” Mark asks.

You flick his forehead and giggle. “Yes, I’m on birth control. I have been for like a year.”

“Oh thank God,” he lets out a sigh of relief.

You bask in the silence of the motel room for a second, realizing you’re still on the carpeted floor in the fort you’ve built. “Lets get into bed.”

Mark fixes the sheets and pillows onto the bed as you use the bathroom, and when you emerge from the bathroom naked and crawl into bed next to him, he feels his chest swell with love for you. As soon as you’re in bed with him, you snuggle into his body, resting your head on his chest and closing your eyes, listening to the sound of his heartbeat.

“Your heart is beating really fast,” you whisper.

“Because of you,” he responds. He pushes you off him slightly, pushing you onto your back and resting his head on your chest. “I wanna be held.”

“You’re such a baby.” You play with Mark’s hair, enjoying the silence before it hits you that Mark is going to leave you. You’ve finally gotten the boy you love, given everything to him, and within a few months he’s going to leave you and start a new life while you’re stuck in your tiny town. Your chest begins to warm in anxiety at the thought of having to be away from him, and tears well in your eyes. “Mark, you can’t leave me. You’re my soulmate.”

“Come with me, then.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny.” The tears drip down your face slowly and Mark can tell you’re crying by the way your chest contracts underneath him.

He sits up quickly and looks down at you, eyes flickering to your bare chest for a split second before looking back up into your eyes. He wipes the tears from your face. “Y/N, I’m serious. Just take a year off and come with me to Korea, and then you can start school there. I’ll take care of you, I promise.” He leans down and presses a kiss between your breasts before coming back up. “I can’t live my life without you.  Please come with me.”

“Mark, my parents would kill me. Moving to a new country for a boy I’m not even married to? You’re insane.”

“If I could marry you tonight, I would.” Mark thinks for a second and grabs his phone from the table next to the bed, unlocking it and shielding it from your view as he looks something up.

“What time is it?”

“It’s midnight,” he responds.

“You know… it’s only about a 5 hour drive to Vegas from here.”

“And?”

“If we start driving now, we can make it by the time the sun rises.”

“Aaaaand?”

“Aaaand, wecouldbeimpulsiveandgogetmarriedmaybeifyoureallymeantit,” you say quietly.

Mark lets out a hearty laugh before rolling over onto you and pressing a flurry of kisses all over your face, before pulling you into a long kiss.

“What was all that for?” you ask.

He unlocks his phone and hands it over to you, showing that he was looking up 24 hour pawn shops nearby.

“I had the same thought. I thought maybe we go out and get some food, hit one of these pawn shops and get some rings, then drive over to Vegas.”

You let out a laugh and peck his lips. “Let’s go then, baby.”

“I can’t wait to see the look on your parents’ face when you tell them I convinced you to drive across state lines, get married to me, and drop out of state university to move to another country with me.”

“They’ll just have to deal,” you say, getting up out of bed and cringing as you put your wet clothes back on. “I have dry clothes in the car. It’s still parked by the beach, isn’t it?” Mark nods in response, slipping his wet clothes back on and leaving the room keys with the front desk attendant. Your hand slips into his as you walk in the dark streets of the city, walking towards the beach where Mark’s car is parked. “Can we stop in San Francisco on our way back home? I want to see the Golden Gate Bridge.”

“We can do whatever you want, baby.”

“I love you. You know that, right?”

“I know. I love you, too. You know that, right?”

“I know,” you sigh contently. “I can’t wait to spend my life with you.”

[free-pancakes]

continuation of this famous!AU ask, aka the part 2 no one asked for :D

Levi stared back and forth between his phone and the little piece of paper in his hand. He bit his lip in hesitation. Perhaps she was just being nice—did she even want to see him again? Maybe she just wanted him to keep quiet about her hobby. That was fair, though. He wouldn’t reveal a secret she went to lengths to conceal, even if she did lie to him.

A knock woke him from his thoughts—he shoved the piece of paper into his pocket. “Come in.”

Erwin pushed through the door. “How was your week with Hange?”

Levi rolled his eyes.

“She was a goddamn handful, Erwin. I can’t believe you left me with such a mess,” he muttered, trying to cover up the fact that his heart was fluttering in his chest as he thought of Hange.

Erwin laughed to himself. “Sorry, Levi, I had that meeting about your upcoming tour.”

“Sure…”

He eyed Levi curiously, noticing him shifting in his seat, his fingers tapping nervously over his pants pocket. “…Well anyway, good news—we’ll have you touring over the next year. Your first concert we’ll be across the country, starting in May.”

“A whole year??” Levi gripped at his pocket tightly.

“Yeah, I thought that’s what we agreed on?”

Levi grunted and looked away. They had agreed on that. But that was before he met that weirdo…

He nodded, Erwin knowing he was heard and dismissed. He walked out of the room, but he took one peek back through the crack of the door. He stared at Levi, a hint of concern on his face.

“Hange really did him a number, huh,” he thought, and closed the door behind him quietly.

-------

Levi arrived home, placed his guitar case by the door, hung up his jacket, and plopped down on his couch. He pulled out the piece of paper again, fiddling with it. He took out his phone, swiping away the notifications from Mike—probably just a bunch of dumb memes.

He scrolled through his contacts to see the name “Four-Eyes” staring back him. He stared at the piece of paper again, her number scrawled on it, and a small note next to it, “Call me, Shorty!” He smiled, remembering the sound of her voice saying it to him before she left the room that day. He sighed and put the phone down. But as he stood up, a new notification from a number he didn’t recognize lit up on his phone.

Levi’s jaw dropped as he read the text: “Call her, she’s been waiting. Please, she won’t shut up about you and I can’t get any of my work done! Also, delete this when you read it, and please don’t text this number back. I won’t hear the end of it if she finds out I contact you.”

Levi stared, absolutely dumbfounded. He took note of the number in his planner, and deleted the text as asked. He took a deep breath, and pulled up her contact. Before he could change his mind, he clicked the green phone icon.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Levi? Is that you? Oh I KNOW it’s you! You finally called!”

“Relax Four-Eyes.”

“Guess you wanted to sing with me, huh?? What took you so long to call me? Your schedule isn’t even busy!”

“Wait, how did you know my schedule was light this week?”

“Well yeah, stupid! Your schedule was plastered in most of the rooms in the studio. You seem free on Thursday, I’ll send you my location that afternoon. See you then!”

“Wait—“

Before Levi could say another word, she hung up. God she really is such a mess, but he strangely enjoyed it, for someone who liked to carefully plan things meticulously. It made his heart race.

-------

Thursday morning came. As he tried to figure out what button-up to wear, his phone lit up with a location, and a short text saying, “See you at 4!”. He grabbed his guitar case, threw on a hat and sunglasses in hopes that no fans would recognize him, and hopped into his car, driving off to meet her.

Once he arrived, he scanned the park, until he saw a messy ponytail sticking out the back of a green baseball cap. She was sitting on the pavement at the edge of the grass, looking over the ocean. He practically ran over to her, and poked her shoulder to make sure it was her. She looked up and smiled up at him—he could just make out her bright brown eyes through her tinted lenses.

“What did you want to play?” Levi asked, pulling his guitar out of the case.

“Surprise me! I know all of your songs, so…” she mentioned. He felt his heart jump in his chest to hear that she really did like his music. So he played one of his lesser known ones, just to test her.

“Oh, trying to quiz me here, huh Shorty?” She pinched his cheek, and laughed when he responded with a groan. Soon he began singing, and she joined him. She definitely knew all the words. Their voices blended beautifully, her brightness mixed with his darker tone. Levi felt the notes swell in his chest, ringing as it complemented hers, crinkling his nose every time she let out her sweet vibrato.

They sat and sang together for hours—the setting sun rays hugged around them like a warm blanket, the smell of grass and sea salt tickling their noses as they made music so sweet as though they’d been performing together for a long time. Levi’s heart felt so full, and he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way.

Before they could slip into a whole extra hour of singing together, they noticed three people huddled together in the distance. “Do you see that, Hange?” Levi whispered. She looked over, and suddenly one of the three, a young brown-haired girl, exclaimed excitedly, “Is that… Hange Zoe?” Several heads turned towards them, as they tried to better hide their faces under their hats.

Another kid yelled out, “Hey isn’t that—“ “NOPE!” Hange yelled, interrupting the kid before he could say Levi’s name. She quickly picked up his guitar case as he hooked his guitar to his back by the strap. She smiled and grabbed his hand, and ran.

She sped along, dragging Levi behind her as he tried to make sure his hat didn’t fly off and reveal his identity. She laughed as she ran, and Levi found himself actually giggling behind her. They finally found themselves deep into a set of trees, bent over huffing and puffing from sprinting so fast.

“God, Hange… that was… close,” Levi said, out of breath. She slapped a hand on his back, almost causing him to fall over. “Thanks… for running… with me,” she said, also trying to catch her breath. At some point, they made eye contact again, and burst out into laughter.

“You sure you still want to keep this a secret?”

“What a secret?” she asked, tilting her head to the side with curiosity.

He paused. Oh God. He hope she didn’t think he meant seeing the two of them together. He meant just the whole secret about keeping her singing ability under wraps. “No, just you said you didn’t want anyone to know that you sang so well—“

She grinned, and playfully punched him in the shoulder. “I’m just kidding, Levi, don’t get your panties in a rut! I knew what you were referring to.”

She paused for a second. “But yeah, isn’t this so much more fun?”

“You think almost going into cardiac arrest sprinting away from being caught is… fun???”

“Yeah!”

Before Levi could lecture her about the thousand reasons why this should not be thought of as “fun”, she grabbed his hand once again, causing him to shut up on the spot.

“Come on, we’re actually at the bottom of my favorite trail. I want to show you something.” She pointed up the dirt path up a tall hill. He held her hand, focusing on how soft her skin felt under his fingertips, and stared at the dimples that formed on her cheeks every time she smiled at him.

“Okay.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you get me” (famous!y/n x harry)

Famous!y/n x Harry Styles

First Harry fic so please be kind, but feedback is SUPER appreciated

Initially inspired by the picture of Harry leaving the Gucci store with 15 bags but barely has anything to do with that lol

Definitely thought of Ellen for the interview idk why tho - also I struggle with writing Harry’s dialogue because I really want to get it right, but hopefully the more practice I get, the better/more natural it will sound. ALSO i have like no music or music industry background lol. Somewhat proofread, but its 2:30 am so it could be shit

Fluff!

Warnings: maybe some angst over being famous per say, past loneliness

Word Count: 3.7k literally howwww, i’m going to do a pt. 2 though because it was kind of a long set up and feelingsssss

---

Interviewer: Please, welcome our next guest, a woman who’s sure to have her name written up beside the music greats someday, Ms. Y/N L/N!

You can’t contain the grin that spreads to your face as you carry yourself out onto the stage and see the audience cheering for you. It was your third big interview since your first album had been released and you’d seen your fame skyrocket over night. This being the third one this week meant you’d gotten comfortable getting asked questions, but you also weren’t bored of it yet. It was exhilarating being the center of attention, especially for something that had been your life’s work up until this point. You always had to fight for whatever you got and the recognition you were starting to have was reassurance that you hadn’t been a fool to risk a safe and certain life for your dreams.

The interview begins as the rest had, a few pleasantries, how you were feeling, and then the introduction of the album. The host asked you what your inspiration was for some of the songs and the album name and cover. You loved to talk about the music, it was the whole reason you were there. The meaning, the sound, the name, it all meant so much to you and you talked about how music can be interpreted differently by everyone and even the shifts in someone’s mood can change a song’s meaning, but what it meant to you at the time of writing was always something specific. You practiced those answers in the mirror before the interviews because they were important to you and you didn’t want your words on your art to ever be misconstrued. The host then complimented your style and you were at the point where you thought your interview should be wrapping up when they asked you one more question, and it threw you for a loop.

Interviewer: So Y/N, we’ve been hearing some rumblings around, about you and another famous musician, Mr. Harry Styles. Anything going on there?

Your face heated up, you hadn’t been expecting a personal question about possible relationships. Nothing like this had been asked of you at your previous interviews. It’s about the music, the art, and who you were, it’s always about that and nothing more. To be honest, you were a bit annoyed the host had chosen to stray from those topics. You didn’t care for the celebrity side of being a famous musician, the lack of privacy, the prying eyes of media and the general public. They saw enough of you through your art, you bore your soul through music why did they want to peak into your heart as well?

Y/N: I don’t know if I’d rather be with Harry Styles or actually be Harry Styles. Like, he’s literally such an icon, I want to be able to walk out of a Gucci store after spending hours there with 15 bags full of my purchases and helpers to carry it all out c’mon… He’s also an amazing songwriter, musician, and performer, of course. Didn’t mean to sound superficial, but I’d also love to own even half of his closet.

You hadn’t really answered the question, but the audience laughed and the host obviously got the hint that you weren’t interested in fanning any flames of romance with Harry Styles or anyone else. For one, you didn’t even know the man, but you had always been a loving fan of his. You cited him as one of your role models when you were first starting to try and break into the music world. Second, if you did know him, that wouldn’t be an appropriate topic for your album press junket going on, even if it meant more publicity because of Harry’s big celebrity status. The host decided to qualify their original question with a final sentiment.

Interviewer: I totally feel the same way! I only ask because the outpouring of support you’ve received seems to be from similar groups who also follow Harry. Many have been comparing your sound to his solo career work.

Y/N: Ah...well that’s very kind of people to say. He’s definitely a big inspiration, his creativity and drive is incredible. I’d love to be as successful as him someday.

The interview ended. You and the host shook hands and you waved and sent kisses to the crowd before retreating backstage. You were exhausted, but happy. You hoped to avoid anymore stressful interview questions that didn’t truly revolve around music. Of course, life is never that simple.

-

One month later

You had done countless more interviews and talk shows as promo for your album and the buzz around it had continued to grow. Your fame continued to rise as well and that one question you had dodged at your third interview had come back around to bite you, naturally. Daily Mail’s dumb headline read: “Y/N can’t decide! Date Harry Styles or Steal His Closet?” The Sun was also running with your response and miscontruing it completely, something about how you were madly in love with Harry but jealous of his designer partnerships, you couldn’t even stomach reading the garbage. This was your worst nightmare. Not only was it taking away the focus from your album, but you were also sure this dumb gossip had reached the very set of ears that the gossip was allegedly also about.

You had signed with Columbia Records for your first album, the same record label as Harry Styles, so managers had been in contact with one another about the whole fiasco trying to get the actual truth - which was that the two of you didn’t even know each other and there were no problems whatsoever. Your manager also brought along the good news that Harry had actually listened to your album and loved it, “He said ‘Congratulations’ by the way, loved the sound. Said he’d heard you were very music focused and be open to do some mentoring on songwriting and vocal specifics, if you wanted. It’d have to be in private though, obviously.” She had added the last bit, but you understood why. To have the opportunity to discuss your music with one of your longtime role models, heroes even, was beyond anything you could have imagined coming from your album’s success. And it made the drama all the more palatable because now you at least got to talk to Harry like the media was so adamantly saying you were doing already.

You nodded quickly and agreed, while trying to keep your teenage fangirl excitement hidden below your mature now-famous musician facade. Like you said, Harry was your hero, he’d been your hero since you were in middle school and had Up All Night downloaded on your iPod touch, blasting it as loud as possible, sound hitting your poster-filled walls. You weren’t the same girl as you were then, obviously, you had grown up to be a strong, independent, and confident woman. But, you still smiled at the thought of your younger self with your baby face squealing in the nosebleeds at the Take Me Home Tour (where you swore Harry had looked straight at you) and her seeing you now, dressed in a sleek outfit setting up an appointment to meet with Harry to discuss your first album, a success.

-

The next Thursday evening

You took a deep breath, in through your nose and out through your pursed lips. You were anxious and excited at the exact same time. Your meeting with Harry was tonight, right now actually, and you hadn’t been able to think about much else since your manager had confirmed the meeting last week. She got you the details a couple of days ago, the location: his house in Malibu, the time: 5:45 P.M. You had brought along a copy of your album on vinyl because you thought it sounded best this way, second only to performing it live.

Choosing your outfit for tonight was probably the toughest decision you’d ever made, harder than choosing between an education and following your dreams, harder than choosing your favorite Beatles song. You didn’t want to worry so much, this wasn’t a date you kept reminding yourself, but everything you tried on earlier kept having something wrong with it, too dressy, too boring, too ‘not yourself’. You had settled for these blue high-waisted pants that you’d worn to your first ever podcast interview, a thin black long sleeve, and a brown leather coat that fell below your hips with vans sneakers, casual, simple, yet still true to you and your vibe.

You raised your free arm and formed a fist, hesitant to knock, as if you’d damage Harry’s seemingly perfect Malibu beachfront home by knocking too hard on the wooden front door. You waited a few moments and could here some shuffling behind the door, some incoherent words were seemingly said, but the walls muffled them before they could reach for ears. Soon enough, Harry Styles in the flesh was before you. He beamed down at you, huffing, slightly out of breath as if he had been clear across the house when you knocked. His strong figure towered above your far smaller stature. He was hanging onto the door since he had opened it only slightly. “Hello, Y/N?” he greeted and questioned simultaneously. “Hi,” you responded and extended the same hand that had just rapped against his now open door. He gripped it, ushering you into his home, “Come in, come in, it’s nice to meet you, don’t want you to catch a cold now do we?” He took note of your strong handshake and ring clad fingers.

He walked you into an area between the kitchen and a sitting area. The kitchen was open aside from a bar high top between the two rooms. You sat down at his prompting and made yourself comfortable. “I brought my record on vinyl, sounds best in my opinion, otherwise I’d recommend seeing it live,” you laughed as you handed the vinyl to him and took off your coat. “Technically, y’know, I could hear it live right now, if you were willin’ f’course,” Harry had responded over his shoulder as he placed the vinyl by his idle record player, “Anything to drink?” “Just water for me, please.” His accent was even stronger in person, especially since he had moved back to London and seldomly stayed in California, except for business and quick trips. As far as you knew, he had already been here on business for the week and was able to pencil you in.

You two settled in, with your waters, seated at the bar top beside each other, but swivelling the chairs to face one another more. Again, you were overwhelmed with the reality of the situation, sitting beside Harry Styles as professionals, peers even. He had heard your work and liked it enough to want to discuss it with you. It was a day you never thought would come to pass. He started off not by asking about the music right away, but about how you were doing with the whirlwind that stardom is. “How are you, Y/N? It’s been somewhat of a out of the frying pan into the fire kind of moment for you?” He stared at you intently, caring to hear your answer.

You couldn’t help but chuckle again and contain your smile, “Thank you for asking, Harry. Yeah, its been definitely stressful, but it’s everything I’ve ever wanted and more so the good is still outweighing any bad. Definitely, fucking exhausted though, dunno how many more interviews I can do before my jaw goes completely rigid from talking so much.” It’s Harry’s turn to laugh, his eyes shone with intrigue at what you said and how you said it. You were gorgeous, but it was how your hands helped you through what you were trying to say and the small laughs you tried to keep in while you amused yourself with your words that really made him want to hear you talk all night long.

He agreed about how the promo junket for an album can get tedious and tiresome, but also the absolute fulfillment you get from people loving the music you’ve made. The two of you chatted about surface level personal matters for a little more, but quickly moved to the music. “I took a listen a couple weeks after the album was released. I especially loved the last track. It reminded me so much of a song I never released, actually…” he trailed off.

Your final track had been a ballad, an homage to George Harrison with your use of guitar and sitar, but the lyrics were a story based off of a poem you had written one night in high school. It surrounded a girl never feeling quite good enough for the person she wanted to be with and how it happened everytime, everytime she was ready to giver herself to someone, they were always closed off. Of course it held some truth to your own life and feelings, but you wrote this girl as someone with a seemingly perfect life - when yours was obviously far from any semblance of perfection.

You wondered what Harry’s song would have sounded like, had it been about a seemingly perfect girl or a guy with a seemingly perfect life, always giving himself to the wrong person and getting destroyed by that very fact because he was impatient as the girl in your song had been. “Can I ask, how so? How’d it remind you of your own song, the words or the music?” “Oh, the story, I felt like that for a time in my life and I like to be vulnerable in my songs because it helps me process, but listening to it back has always been too painful. Could never release that or perform it, it’d wreck me.” You nodded, you completely got where he was coming from. You noticed his downcast eyes and his somber tone, you knew not to push it any further.

It was quiet and you decided it’d be okay to take his hand resting between the two of you. “Harry, I understand,” your sincerity spilled into the words, filling the quiet house, “It’s not easy. Feeling that way. Thinking you’re the only goddamn one and why the fuck does it always happen to you? I used to ask my ceiling ‘why me?’ every night of high school” you smiled then. “But you know how it is,” you rubbed your thumb over his large warm hand and he lifted his head, “it gets so much better - c’mon look at us now! It can get hard, too, all this, I’m sure. But our lives? They’re amazing!” He beamed as he had when he had first seen you at his door and when you’d first really spoke. He moved his hand from under your palm to weave your fingers with his, both of your hands with covered in rings and they clinked to fit together, finally resting perfectly fitted. He shook your two hands up and down, “God, you’re so right! That damn song, m’sorry always puts me in a mood,” he shakes his head, “not yours though, f’course, s’lovely, better than my sodding song” he finishes quickly.

After that, the mood lightened right back up. It filled you with such appreciation for Harry that he would trust you so much with such a personal detail since you two had just met. But maybe, he had trusted you because he had felt that same spark between you. It wasn’t necessarily a romantic spark, but it was obvious the two of you were kindred spirits. Besides your album, the two of you talked about everything. You loved the same bands, movies and books, you both loved to cook and had similar fashion taste, you even had the same person type - something you found out late into the night.

At the end of the Side B of your album, Harry switched to a Bill Evans record that had ‘Peace Piece’ on it. You loved that song. So did he. “So...planning to raid my closet?” Harry raised his brows from the record player and walked back to you. You almost sputtered the water in your mouth. Luckily, you got it down. “Pardon?” “All that bad press the two of us have been getting...I watched the interview that kind of ignited the tabloids. You’re obviously not used to those overstepping personal questions.” You nodded. “It’s fine, even if you’d completely shut it down, the tabloids probably would have picked it up still, they snap up anything and everything, true or not.” You softened at his reassurance. You hadn’t expected Harry to bring the interview up, but you were sure he wasn’t happy about it, he was so private, especially about his love life. “Thanks, I’m sorry I tried to laugh it off, kind of made it worse, didn’t I?” “No! Thought it was hilarious and I totally appreciated the sentiment. Little ol’me, an icon? And an amazing artist? All I gotta do is watch that clip and I’ve fed my narcissistic side for the week!” You giggled and replied slyly, “So does that mean I can raid your closet? As compensation, of course.” Harry threw his head back in an all consuming laughter, when he’d composed himself he looked in your eyes again and said, “You just...God, you get me.”

Harry had continued to put records on throughout the night, diligently flipping sides and asking for requests, he of course had an extensive collection. The two of you had moved onto his plush couch that looked out his french doors to the beautiful ocean view. Finally, your exhaustion caught up to you, mid-Harry describing his latest travel fiasco, you glanced up at the clock. You gasped. Harry stopped. “When did it get to be half 12?” you questioned almost incredulously, “I’ve gotta get home, Harry, but this has been truly amazing, more than I could have asked for, so thank you.” Your speech began to rush as you started to get up and gather your things, that had slowly scattered as you’d gotten more comfortable, jacket by the table, shoes around the back of the couch, your phone forgotten somewhere in the couch. You couldn’t believe you’d spent almost seven hours just talking with Harry Styles.

Harry quickly stood up from his relaxed positioned on the couch and asked if you were alright to drive this late. You scoffed, “Oh please, I’ve driven around at 3 am before, I just have to turn up the music and I can cruise.” He smiled, “This was great, Y/N, I know we didn’t really go super in depth into your writing process, but I’d love to write with you sometime or just hang out again f’course. Your seriously talented and obviously a wonderful person.” He didn’t include that he felt like he’d never met anyone like you, never met someone so perfectly matched to himself, in passions but also in work ethic and demeanor - compassionate yet confident. He felt like you got him perfectly and he got you. You had stopped your scramble to gather yourself and now you were both smiling at one another.

This had really been an unforgettable night, you couldn’t believe how well you two had meshed, like childhood friends reconnecting after years apart. “Can I give yeh a hug before you go?” Harry’s voice had grown raspier as the night had progressed. He had grown rather tired an hour ago, but had pushed through because they had been having so much fun and you hadn’t noticed his physical fading or the time, obviously. You stepped toward him and his large tattooed arms enveloped you into his body. His body truly dwarfed yours now as he held you to his chest. You both were warm and soft. He tucked his head on top of yours that rested on his chest. Your arms were loosely resting where his back met his waist because you would have had to strain to get them to encircle him. His arms rested around your small frame. “Love your jacket,” he mumbled into your hair. His rough voice was quiet, but the house was silent otherwise, Tusk Side C had finished around when you had noticed the time. The embrace lasted long, but it felt so amazing you had a hard time pulling yourself away, but you had to get back home.

“G’night Harry” you said softly at the threshold of his home. He had insisted on walking you to the front door at least, since you had declined his offer to walk you out to your car on the street. “G’night. Safe travels.”

You got in your car and headed to your apartment in the city. You didn’t bother digging for your phone so you turned on the radio and drove home singing whatever came on, including your own song at one point. The whole time you drove with a grin. Harry was the nicest person you’d ever met and you were confident that the two of you were friends now. As you pulled into your parking garage it dawned on you why you hadn’t connected your phone immediately when you got in your car. “Stupid, stupid, stupid,” you put the car in park and rested your palms in the depressions of your eyesockets, over your closed eyelids, and rubbed hard. “Fuck!” It was far too late to drive back out to Malibu for your phone and you obviously couldn’t text Harry that you’d left your phone at his place, despite the two of you exchanging numbers during the night for future hang outs, so they didn’t have to be arranged through your managers, like playdates. Even if he found your phone between the cushions, he couldn’t drop it at your place in the morning because he didn’t know your address. This was a whole mess, you thought. You’d have to drive over in the morning and hope he was still there or email your manager from your computer. The former meant you got to see Harry sooner and likely your phone, too.

part 2

-

@berrynarrybanana​

[rubix-writings]

Punisher Pt. 2

Second part of Punisher. This is a Chicago PD/Fire imagine with an original character. I don’t own any of the plot points or characters from the show. Also, it doesn’t follow any particular season or sequence in the show.

Series Summary: Josephine (Jo) never expected to find support and pure love when she left Los Angeles. She ran away to Chicago and was content with living an insignificant, hidden life. But everything changes when she walks into Molly’s to get a job.

Josephine (OC) x Jay Halstead

The italicized lines are internal thoughts of the character.

Warnings: language, mentions of drinking

Shit, shit, shit. I sprint down the dry cement while dodging walkers and people standing on the sidewalk. I look down at my watch again hoping in some magical way time has stopped. I’m about to be late to my first shift at Molly’s, I wish I could lie and say this is a new low for me, but alas. This time wasn’t my fault though, a portion of my ceiling in my shit apartment fell onto my even shitter sofa in the middle of the night and the super was zero help about cleaning it or caring about fixing it. 

I quickly duck out of the way of a couple holding hands and immediately am met with a loud honk from the car that I stepped in front of. Without a thought, I jump back onto the sidewalk and mouth a quick “sorry.” Without gauging the driver’s reaction, I turn and run around the corner. Molly’s is in my eyesight now, I have seconds to get there before being late. Thankfully the cold air is keeping me from sweating profusely, but it’s burning my lungs with each breath. But finally, I burst through the heavy, wooden door of Molly’s.

“I’m not late!” I lean over, put my hands above my knees and start wheezing. The run quickly caught up to me leaving my lungs dry and my forehead damp. 

“Yeah, you’re right on time,” the man with grey hair behind the bar states confused. 

“Did I say that out loud?” my throat hurts, I would definitely die early in the apocalypse with this stamina. 

“Yeah you did,” he states again. Shit. I look to him again to see if I finally regained control of my body. Standing back up and pushing my shoulders back I walk over to the bar. 

“I’m Jo, Stella hired me for the open position,” I say, still somewhat out of breath.

“Yeah, everyone calls me Hermann. I’m one of the owners along with Stella,” he shakes my hand. “Welcome to Molly’s!” he smiles.

Hermann dances around the room showing off different memorabilia and letting me in on the various secrets of the pub. Like how one of the floorboards near the front window will dip when it gets really cold outside and how the register might need a hard hit every now and then since it’s the original. Hermann is like a kid in a candy store showing me around, I can’t help but smile at his passion. Even the boring stuff about cleaning empty bottles and finding more napkins, it seemed like he was going to jump out of his skin from enthusiasm. 

“I know it’s a lot, but you’ll catch on quick,” Hermann and I stand behind the bar as people slowly start flowing in. Most people ordered simple drinks of beer or wine, I try to keep up with all the work that Hermann mentioned before so everything doesn’t fall on him. 

Hours passed when Stella walks in with a gang of men following behind her. The group raises the level of chatter in the bar, women gawk while the other men roll their eyes. They all crowd around the bartop laughing loudly about a story that I definitely missed the punchline to. The men are skyscrapers, tall and wide. I finish up an order and make my way over to Stella.

“Jo! Look at you behind the bar,” she smiles. “I hired her,” she turns to the man next to her and boasts. He shakes his head while smiling.

“You’ll have to excuse her, some of us had a few before heading over here. I’m Kelly,” he extends his gigantic hand to me, it easily swallows mine.

“I’m Jo, she’s right though, she did hire me,” Stella lightly slaps his arm.

“See I told you,” Kelly just laughs and nods. “You gotta meet the rest of the guys. Guys! Guys! Guys!” She yells, getting the rest of the men to quiet down. “This is Jo, Jo meet Firehouse 51.” The guys all wave and go down the line introducing themselves. 

“Well, what can I get you guys?” They all order various beers and whiskey drinks. I fly up and down the bar fulfilling their orders, it’s weird how good it felt to be behind the bar.

“So Jo, where are you coming from?” Matt Casey asks while putting his beer bottle to his lips. 

“LA, came in a little while ago,” I answer casually as I clean off some empty glasses.

“Oh Los Angeles, the land of sunshine and the best taquitos I’ve ever had. Why would you leave?” Cruz askes, he didn’t make eye contact. His eyes were staring off at the ceiling, like he was imagining those taquitos. 

“I apparently have a deep desire to freeze to death,” the men laugh and agree. I leave my answer at that and no one asks a question prying deeper. They all fall into conversation with one another, they include me whenever they can, but I enjoyed listening to their interactions. I hadn’t seen people act like this in a while, when they smile it’s genuine rather for manipulation and by the way they talk to each other you can tell they care for one another. 

The bar becomes a tight squeeze despite it being a Thursday night and most people have work tomorrow morning. A few girls have tried and failed with the men of Firehouse 51, I give them credit for trying. I’m finishing up an order when everyone begins to welcome a few new members to the group. 

“Hey doc!” Kelly cheers at the couple. “We can move down,” he looks around at the guys. It was a nice gesture, but there was no way they were fitting two more people into their group. The woman standing is gorgeous with shiny brown hair and big brown eyes, she looks up at a tall, broad redhead with a beard. She doesn’t want to hang with him, her eyes are begging him to find an excuse. 

“No don’t worry about it, we’re gonna grab a table. Thanks though!” The redhead plays it off well. 

“Oh! Oh! Meet Molly’s newest addition!” Stella yells from behind Kelly. They’re off shift tomorrow and Stella is taking full advantage of her day off tomorrow. A part of me feels grateful for how inclusive she’s being. I laugh and extend my hand.

“I’m Jo,” he quickly takes my hand and shakes it twice.

“Will,” he smiles, he’s incredibly handsome with a great smile.

“Natalie,” she extends her hand after I let go of Will’s. 

“What can I get you guys?”

“A glass of chardonnay please,” Natalie says.

“Ugh… a manhattan for me,” Will says. By the reaction of the other guys and Natalie, this isn’t Will’s normal drink or possibly a drink anyone orders here. A manhattan is a bitch of a drink to make, it’s a lot of different alcohols with very specific measurements. 

“Rye or Canadian whiskey?” 

“Rye,” I nod and get Natalie her glass of wine. All eyes seem to be on me about this drink.

“Any particular brand?”

“No, I’m good with anything.” I lean over to the small fridge behind the bar and pull out a glass bottle of beer and pop the top off. I smile and set it in front of Will. 

“Sixteen dollars, or do you want to open a tab?” Stella bangs on the bar top while the other men snicker. Will bites his bottom lip to keep from smiling, he pulls out a twenty and puts it on the bar top. 

“I like her,” Natalie says to Will as they walk away.

[likeahorribledream]

The One That Got Away

Chapter 3: One True Love

Summary: Bucky and Charlie bond over their mutual love for litterature, opening a little bit more of themselves to the other.

Word Count: 5.7k

TW: Fluff, so much fluff.

Summary | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4

Bucky and Charlie could have stayed on the phone for hours without getting bored or tired but Charlie’s mom needed to use the phone and made her hang-up after an hour of them talking.

Bucky seemed better than when she left him that afternoon but she was still worried about him. She wondered if he had told Steve yet, or if he was waiting until it was official. He clearly wasn’t taking the news very well and Steve would only be excited, hoping he would get drafted too when the moment came.

Charlie spent the rest of her night thinking about Bucky and what she could do to help him. From what the soldiers had said, they still had two months before they would start drafting men and she was determined to make the most of it.

She woke up the next day feeling a little bit anxious and nervous for her friend. Charlie had a habit of taking on other people’s problems and making them her own. Friends and family had told her on multiple occasions to be careful, that it wasn’t her responsibility to help the whole world but that was who Charlie was, at least she was trying to do something to help.

It was Thursday, and on Thursdays Charlie would be in the back office working on updating all the patients’ files that hadn’t been updated throughout the week for a lack of time. She was thankful for that, her thoughts being anywhere but at work. She had asked the woman who took her place at the front desk to let her know if Steve came in at some point during the day.

She spent the whole morning listening to music on the radio while slowly working her way through the files that had piled up during the week. Most people hated updating the files but Charlie loved it. It allowed her to catch up on the patients, sometimes wondering what had happened to them and it was a lot more relaxing than being with the patients. As much as she loved being with them, she needed some time alone from time to time. A small break from all the action.

When noon came around, Charlie had just finished updating a file and thought it was the perfect time for a break. She took the time to clean up her desk, knowing that if she didn’t do it now she would put it off until the end of the day and then curse herself for it. After making sure that everything that was done was put away, she walked out of the small office and closed the door behind her, locking it.

She went to the break room to get her lunch, walking in she saw that most nurses and doctors were sitting down at the large table and there weren’t any seat left for her. She grabbed her brown paper bag containing her lunch and decided to go eat outside, it was a nice sunny day might as well enjoy it, she thought.

When she walked outside, it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to how bright the sun was shining. The office where she had been all morning didn’t have any windows and she had gotten used to the darkness. After blinking a few times to get her eyes into focus, she noticed a familiar face waiting for her in front of the clinic.

Bucky.

She panicked. Was something wrong? Did she forget that they had made plans?

Bucky, seeing her confusion, smiled and approached her.

‘’I hope you don’t mind. I thought we could eat together again today.’’ He smiled, shyly.

Charlie felt relief wash over her and allowed herself to smile back.

‘’I would love to.’’ She grinned.

She took a moment to look him over. He looked a lot better than he did yesterday, his eyes had that spark she loved so much again.

‘’D’you want to go back to the diner?’’ He asked, no specific plans in mind.

Charlie looked at the diner across the street and then looked down to the sad little paper bag she was holding, a soggy sandwich waiting for her at the bottom of it.

‘’Sounds a lot better than the lunch I was about to have. Just give me a minute, I’ll go put it back.’’ She raised her hand that was holding the bag and gave it a sad look.

Bucky laughed and nodded, letting her know he would be waiting right here.

Charlie made her way inside, all the way to the back to the break room and put her lunch back. She’ll just save it for tomorrow. She quickly made her way back outside, this time her eyes getting used to the light a lot quicker and she smiled at Bucky.

‘’Let’s go.’’ She said, walking towards Bucky.

She had almost reached the street to cross, no cars in sight when she felt a hand grab her wrist and slowly pull her back. She turned her head to look at the hand holding her and stepped back. She was confused as to why Bucky had held her back, it had been safe to cross the street.

‘’Is everything ok?’’ She looked at him, concerned. He was frowning and looked nervous.

He was biting his lower lip, just like Charlie did when she was nervous. He pulled gently on her arm, bringing her closer to him while walking towards her, closing the distance between them. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and hugged tightly, just like he had done yesterday.

It only took a second before Charlie realized what was happening, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him right back. Bucky was taller than her and she loved the height difference when they hugged.

She let her head rest on his chest, waiting until he let go before stepping back and looking at him.

‘’Feeling better?’’ A small smile forming on her lips, seeing the red flush his cheeks.

Bucky hadn’t planned on hugging her. Being close to her reminded him of the hug they had shared yesterday before she had to go back to work and how calming it had been. He wanted, and needed, to feel the calm again. Without even thinking about it he had grabbed her and before he knew it she was snuggled tightly in his arms.

He felt a lot more calm but he was also embarrassed by what he had just done. He wasn’t really the hugging type, especially not with people he barely knew but there was something about Charlie that made him want to be vulnerable. Like he could bare his soul to her and she would heal every little piece that needed healing.

He looked at her for a few seconds, still not over what he had just done and blushed. She looked at him with such warmth and concern that his embarrassment quickly dissipated.

‘’A lot better.’’

He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together, they crossed the street to their new favourite spot.

The next day, exactly at noon, Bucky was waiting for her again. This time he had brought his own little paper bag and together they sad on the grass under a tree to hide in the shade.

They spent the entire lunch time talking, sharing some of their lunch with the other.

After the whole Wednesday incident, they had gotten closer. The only person he trusted when he felt vulnerable was Steve and now Charlie had seen him in a very vulnerable moment and the way she reacted to it just made him trust her more.

Charlie quickly learned that once Bucky liked you, he really liked to touch. He was hugging her a lot more often, when they were walking he had one of his arms wrapped around her shoulders, whenever she had to walk in front of him he often had his hand on the small of her back, letting her know he was still there.

At first, it made her blush a lot. She wasn’t used to that kind of attention from men. She quickly learned to love it, looking forward to his hugs. She found herself leaning into him automatically when they were walking, almost he sync with the movement of his arm being wrapped around her.

It was crazy to think that in as little as 48 hours they had gotten so close. It was just so easy for them to be comfortable with one another.

They had finished their lunch, Charlie was picking up their leftovers to throw them in the garbage can out front. She walked back to Bucky and sat next to him.

‘’You should come over tonight.’’ She said, turning her heard to look at him. ‘’I want to show you my book collection.’’

Bucky nodded.

‘’Books, uh? Count me in.’’ He grinned. ‘’What time is your shift over? Should I just meet you back here and then we can walk together?’’

‘’That’s perfect. I’m usually done around 4. If I’m not outside you can come in, it shouldn’t go past that. That’s when the night shift starts.’’

Bucky stood up, holding out both his hands in front of her. She put her hands in his and let him help her get up. She used her hands to straighten up her dress, sitting on the grass with it hadn’t been a really good idea.

‘’I’ll be here at 4, then.’’

It was time for her to go back to work, Bucky walked to her and hugged her, once again. He was still a little bit hesitant, so far it hadn’t looked like it was bothering her but he promised himself that if there was any sign from her that he was making her uncomfortable, he would stop immediately. Little did he know that he didn’t have to worry, Charlie loved his hugs as much as he loved hers.

‘’I’ll see you later, James.’’

‘’See you later, Lily.’’ He watched her walk back inside and made his way home.

After her lunch break, Charlie made her way to the back office and finished the work she had started the day before. It was a slow day and there were enough girls to cover the front, nurse Jones suggesting to Charlie that she could continue updating the files if she wanted. An offer that she gladly accepted, needing the calm. Plus it was Friday and she loved Fridays because it meant that she would leave work earlier than the rest of the week. It was shaping up to be a good day.

The last 3 hours of her shift went by painfully slow. She kept looking at the clock on the wall in front of her, every time she thought 10 minutes had gone by she would look up to realize that it had barely been 2 minutes since the last time she looked. She was excited to show Bucky all of her books and spend time with him which made working feel like a nuisance.

Looking up only to notice it had barely been 5 minutes since the last time she checked, she let a groan escaped her lips and she fell back into her chair. She covered her face with both her hands and sighed. She usually didn’t mind being at work, but today was not the case. She got up and walked over to the wall, bringing her chair with her. She climbed on it and grabbed the clock that had been driving her crazy. Stepping back, she placed the clocked face down on the ground and walked to her desk with her chair, moving it to its original place and sitting down.

‘’Okay Charlie. You need to focus now.’’ She told herself, out lout, as if it would help.

It strangely did. The rest of the afternoon went by a lot faster. The first few minutes after taking down the clock, she had the urge to walk over to it and look at the time but fought against it and finally won. She focused on her work, never bothering to look up again, until she heard a small knock on her door. Taking her attention away from her files and to the door, she told them to come in.

She was surprised to see the man in charge of the night shift looking back at her once the door had opened.

‘’Miss Mathews, your shift ended 10 minutes ago. What are you still doing here?’’ He looked amused.

Charlie jumped up from her chair, panicked.

‘’Is it really 4:10 already?’’

The man only nodded as an answer and couldn’t help but chuckle, seeing Charlie trying to rush and clean up the desk. Being called by one of the night nurses, he wished her a good weekend and left.

Charlie had never cleared up her desk as quickly as she did that afternoon. She grabbed her bag and her jacket and rushed to the front of the clinic, hoping Bucky would be late and that she hadn’t made him wait. Unfortunately for her, Bucky had been on time. Even a little bit early. He patiently waited for her, sitting on a chair in the waiting area and reading whatever book they had left out on the small table for patients while they waited.

When she noticed him sitting patiently, engrossed in what he was reading, she softly cursed under her breath and rushed to him.

‘’James! I’m so sorry, I lost track of time. Which is ironic because after coming back from our lunch I thought the afternoon would never end, I even took down the clock from the wall because I felt like it kept nagging me on how slowly time passed and then suddenly it was 10 past 4 and I am late I am so, so, sorry.’’ She rambled on, not even taking a second to breathe in between sentences.

Bucky looked up at her and put down the book he had been holding. He stood up, listening to Charlie, a small smile on his lips. He chuckled and grabbed her by the shoulders to break her from her trance.

‘’Charlie..’’ He tried to cut her off, but she kept going. ‘’Lily!!!’’ He said a little bit louder.

Her eyes found his quickly at her nickname, finally making her stop apologizing. When she finally looked at him he smiled at her.

‘’Hi.’’ He said. She smiled at him. ‘’It’s fine, don’t worry about it. It’s Friday, we have all the time in the world.’’

She felt a wave of embarrassment rushing through her, finally realizing at how insane she must have sounded. She blushed and looked down.

‘’Sorry.’’ She whispered.

Bucky started laughing. ‘’Please, stop apologizing, it’s okay.’’

Still holding her by the shoulders, he slowly pulled her towards him and hugged her. He felt her relax against him and then felt her arms wrapping around him, hugging him back. Always waiting for Bucky to be the first to let go, she stepped back when she felt him loosen his hold on her.

‘’Let’s go.’’ She turned around to walk out.

She waved goodbye to her coworkers, wishing them a great weekend and smiling at everyone. Bucky walked in front of her to open the door and held it open for her, following behind once she was outside. He wrapped one of his arms around her shoulders and they started making their way to her house. They walked in a comfortable silence, enjoying the sun and watching kids running around the streets, coming back from school.

With her house in sight, Bucky turned his head towards Charlie and looked down at her.

‘’Won’t your parents mind me coming over?’’ His question made Charlie look up at him.

She shrugged. ‘’They aren’t going to be home for a few more hours.’’

Getting closer to her front door, Charlie started going through her purse, looking for her keys. After a few seconds of fumbling around, she finally felt them under her fingers and grabbed them, bringing them to the locks. Opening the door she walked inside, stepping aside to let Bucky walk in and then closed the door behind him.

Bucky had seen her house, at least the outside, on multiple occasions when he walked her home with Steve. It was a gorgeous house, clearly her parents had money and lots of it. But now, being inside, he felt so out of place.

His family wasn’t what you would call poor but they were far from being rich. They would have enough money for necessities but not a cent left for ‘’extras’’ as his mom called luxuries. Bucky found a few odd jobs, working here and there to make money. He gave most of his paychecks to his mom, keeping just a little bit aside for when he wanted to go out or buy presents for his family members.

Standing in Charlie’s house, Bucky felt like he didn’t belong in here. The house was even more beautiful inside and it looked even bigger, somehow, than when he was standing outside. He looked around, looking almost nervous. As if someone would know he wasn’t supposed to be there and come kick him out.

Charlie took off her shoes, Bucky doing the same thing shortly after.

‘’Welcome to my home.’’ She said with a warm smile.

He finally turned his attention back to her, her smile making him feel better. There was something about her that made him feel... special. The way she would look at him, smile at him or cheer him on whenever he was doing something he didn’t think he could. Charlie made him feel like he was worthy of anything, even a house like this. Clearly, she had the means to be looking down on him and his entire family. Like every other rich families did with people like him, but she never did. She was kind to everybody, never looking down on anyone. She always made everybody feel like they were important and worthy of her time. He thought she had one of the most beautiful hearts he had seen, even better than Steve’s and he didn’t think such a thing was possible.

Charlie gave Bucky a quick tour, walking around, pointing at rooms. After finishing their ‘’tour’’, Charlie guided them upstairs to her room. When she opened the door to let him in, Bucky was surprised to see what was in front of him.

Her room was big, huge compared to his that he had to share with one of his siblings, and it was extremely neat. Her bed was made, not a single wrinkle could be seen on her covers. An entire wall was covered in book shelves, but clearly they weren’t enough because there were small piles of books on the floor and even those piles were neatly stacked near the shelves.

‘’I knew you liked to read but this...’’ He waved his hand around, gesturing towards her book collection ‘’This is insane.’’ Charlie laughed.

‘’I know, I know. It’s a problem’’ She laughed once more. ‘’I just...’’ She paused, thinking for a few seconds and blushed. ‘’I just love to escape reality sometimes.’’

He nodded, agreeing with her. He must admit, if he had the kind of money her parents did, his room would probably look very similar to hers. He looked around a little, curious. He walked over to her desk, the one she used to get ready every morning. Her hairbrush, hair ties, hair pins were all placed neatly in front of the mirror along with her makeup. What surprised him was the amount of jewellery she owned, especially necklaces. There must have been 10 different ones placed on small hooks, and yet ever since he had met her he always saw her with the same one.

He turned towards her, pointing at all the necklaces and raising an eyebrow, curiously.

‘’You have all these necklaces, but you always wear the same one.’’ He then pointed at the necklace she was wearing. She nodded and he let his hand fall back next to his body. ‘’Why?’’ He asked.

Charlie chewed on her bottom lip and her hand reached up to touch her necklace, she looked nervous.

‘’If I tell you, promise you won’t laugh at me.’’ She says while sitting down on the edge of her bed.

‘’I would never laugh at you. I promise.’’ He was even more curious.

He grabbed the chair from her desk and brought it closer to her bed, sitting in front of her.

‘’My grandmother gave me this necklace when I was 10 years old.’’ She started.

Her necklace was made of silver, a thin chain was holding a small heart locket. The locket lying between both her collarbones. She raised a hand to it and smiled.

‘’She had one very similar that I had always loved, ever since I was a little girl. She said that my grandfather gave it to her when they started dating. I think it was on their second date. He said that the moment he had laid eyes on her he knew she was going to be his wife. When he gave it to her, he opened the locket and inside one of the halves was a picture of him and the other half was empty. He told her that she was meant to put her picture on the other side and this way they would always be together, near her heart, even when they weren’t.’’

‘’They were so in love.’’ She continued, not really looking at Bucky. Just remembering the moment her grandmother had given her the necklace, a sad smile formed on her lips. Charlie opened her own locket.

One half was empty and the other one had a picture of herself.

‘’She gave this one to me, saying that when I meet the man I was going to marry, the love of my life, I’ll be able to put his picture in it with mine, that way he’ll always be close to my heart like the love of her life was close to hers.’’ She took a small pause, snapping the heart shut. ‘’My grandfather died the next year and she followed soon after. Broken heart syndrome the doctor told us. She literally couldn’t live without him.’’

She was smiling but a few tears fell down her cheeks. It had been almost 15 years but she still missed them every single day. Bucky quickly reached up and wiped away her tears.

‘’My parents got married because it was a good business move for both their families. They get along fine but they aren’t in love. Not the way my grandparents were and I don’t want that. I want to marry someone because we love each other and can’t live without one another, not because it’s the ‘’right’’ thing to do. I wear the necklace every day to remind myself, but mostly remind my parents, that I won’t settle for less. They have been pushing me for years to marry any guy that can ‘’provide’’ for me so I can be a dutiful housewife.’’

Bucky chuckled, knowing full well that wasn’t going to happen. She was too independent and she loved her job too much to give it all up for some guy and spend all her days at home, by herself, cleaning and cooking.

‘’Like that’s ever gonna happen.’’ Charlie snorted, as if she could read his mind.

‘’That’s a beautiful story.’’ He smiled at her. ‘’Whoever ends up in the other half is going to be a very lucky man, and he better treat you right because it’ll be my pleasure to hurt him if he doesn’t.’’

She laughed at the threat.

‘’What? It’s true.’’

‘’Oh, I know. That’s why I laughed. Because I know you will be more than happy to remind him about that.’’

‘’Damn right.’’ Bucky smiled and winked.

Charlie shook her head, rolling her eyes as if she was annoyed but the big smile on her face proved differently.

They looked at each other, smiling for what felt like hours but in reality was just a minute. Both subconsciously hoping that Bucky would be her other half but never willingly admitting it to themselves.

They finally broke eye contact and Bucky got up, walking over to her book shelves. He looked the books over, glancing at them. He turned around to look at Charlie who had gotten up short after and was now standing behind him, raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.

‘’Are they in alphabetical order?’’ He teased.

Charlie nodded and chewed on her bottom lip a few seconds before adding ‘’And sorted by genre.’’

‘’Amazing.’’ Bucky said, turning back to the books and starting at the far left to make his way through the alphabets and genres.

After a few minute he gasped.

‘’Is that a first edition of The Hobbit?’’ He looked at her with wild eyes.

‘’Yes!’’ She said, excitedly.

‘’It’s such a good book, isn’t it? I used to have a first edition copy, too. I brought it with me everywhere I went and I ended up losing it.’’ He pouted at the memory of the heartbreak he felt when he realized he had lost one of his favourite books.

Charlie mimicked his pout, sympathizing with him. ‘’I’m sorry James.’’

She reached out and squeezed his shoulder in her hand, trying to comfort him.

‘’It’s okay.’’ Bucky said dramatically ‘’I’ve grieved. I still miss it, but I try to not think about it. It hurts too much, you know?’’ Wiping a tear that isn’t there.

‘’I understand.’’ She nodded, being just as dramatic as he was being.

They looked at each other, completely serious before starting to laugh like they had just told the most hilarious joke of all times.

‘’Dork.’’ She said, sticking out her tongue at him once they had calmed down.

‘’Takes one to know one, sweetheart.’’ He smirked and looked at the books again, missing the way Charlie blushed at the new nickname.

‘’You’re welcome to borrow whichever ones you like.’’ Noticing how Bucky was eyeing some of them. ‘’I haven’t read them all yet, but I really don’t mind if you want to bring some home with you. As long as you don’t keep them from me forever.’’ She laughed.

He smiled and pointed at a book. ‘’Could I borrow this one? I’ve been wanting to read it forever but never found it anywhere.’’

‘’I know! The reviews were so good, everyone jumped on it. I went to every book store I could think of to find it. There were only a few copies left and I never saw it for sell again. I haven’t read it yet, it was the next one on my list but you can definitely borrow it. I’ll just read it after you bring it back.’’ She smiled, not even hesitating to let him be the one to read it first.

He felt bad to be taking it from her, even if it was just for a couple of weeks. He shook his head, a shy smile on his face.

‘’No, no. It’s okay. You should be the one to read it first. I’ll look for something else.’’

‘’Nonsense. Take it. I have plenty more to keep me busy.’’

He almost melted right where he stood. The way she was looking at him, as if just the thought of making him happy by borrowing the book was more than enough to make her happy made his heart flutter. Hesitating for a few seconds, he grabbed the book in question and turned around to completely face her.

‘’Actually, I have a better idea.’’

She looked at him surprised and curious, following him with her eyes. He walked over to her bed and sat down, his back against her headboard, rearranging all her pillows and decorative cushions in a way that almost made it look like he had just made himself a cocoon made out of her pillows.

‘’What are you doing?’’ She laughed.

He grinned at her and patted the spot next to him.

‘’Come over here. We’ll read it together.’’

Charlie swore that in that moment her heart skipped a few beats and she tried to not think about what that meant. Without hesitating she made her way to her bed and sat down next to Bucky.

‘’How are we doing this?’’ She asked.

‘’Maybe I can read it to you? That way we’ll be following at the same time.’’

Again, her heart skipped a few more beats and with how close they were sitting and she sincerely hoped Bucky hadn’t noticed. Not trusting her voice in this moment, she simply nodded.

Bucky couldn’t have noticed, he was too busy focusing on the way his heartbeat had sped up when she agreed to sit next to him and let him read to her. He acted before thinking, mad at himself for doing so. Something he found himself doing a lot when he was around Charlie. He didn’t know what took over him but the idea popped into his mind and before he could stop himself, it was too late and he was already on her bed. He couldn’t understand why he was acting this way with her, he just hoped she wouldn’t think he was being too weird and that it wouldn’t make her want to stop hanging out with him. He feared that some day he’d cross the line between friendly and cute to clingy and annoying, scaring her away in the process.

He reached his arm around her, bringing her closer to him so he could hold the book for the both of them.

When she felt how close he was, she felt heat creep up on her cheeks and she was thankful that he was too busy getting comfortable to notice it.

Charlie sat down a little lower on her bed so that Bucky didn’t have to hold up the arm that was around her. Soon enough, he started reading to her and after a few pages Charlie thought that his voice was the best sound she had ever heard and that she would never get tired of hearing it.

By the end of chapter 2, Charlie had readjusted herself, feeling how Bucky’s body was already tiring from their position. She had gotten impossibly closer to him, the back of her head was now resting under his collarbone. His arm that had previously been around her shoulder was now around her middle, resting on her stomach. Her arm was resting on top his, playing with the hem of his sleeve.

Too engrossed in the story, and each other, neither Charlie or Bucky heard the front door open and close downstairs.

Her parents were home and were surprised to find a pair of shoes that clearly weren’t Charlie’s next to the front door. They stopped moving, listening to see if they could figure out where she was. The only sound in the house was coming from her room. A man’s voice. A voice they soon recognized to be Bucky’s. They listened for a few more minutes, trying to figure out what was being said and finally understanding that he was reading something to her.

They moved to the living room and slowly closed the door behind them, trying not to make a sound. Charlie’s mom looked panicked while her dad looked angry.

‘’That’s the boy she’s been spending all of her time with?’’ He hissed. ‘’I thought she was with the Rogers boy!’’

Her mom glared at her dad.

‘’Lower your voice before they hear you.’’ She hissed back. ‘’I thought it was the Rogers boy, this is news to me, too.’’

Charlie’s dad started pacing, shaking his head.

‘’This.’’ He waved in the general direction of Charlie’s room. ‘’Cannot happen. Steve Rogers wasn’t a threat but Barnes has a reputation. He can get any single girl he wants, not one of them being able to resist him. Every single person in this town knows how he is.’’ He was so angry, his skin looked almost purple.

Her mom wasn’t in a better shape.

It would have been easy to mistake their anger for concern, anyone who could have been listening in could have sympathized with her parents. They were concerned that their daughter could possibly get her heartbroken. Then, her dad spoke again.

‘’My daughter isn’t going to fall in love with some...’’ He trailed off, looking for the perfect word to describe Bucky. ‘’low-class bastard.’’ He added with disgust.

And there it was. Her parents weren’t concern with her well-being, they weren’t worried about her possibly getting hurt or having her heart broken. No. They were concerned that their daughter might be falling in love with a man they didn’t approve of. A man that couldn’t provide for her, that couldn’t bring anything to their family. Marriage had nothing to do with love, marriage was a business transaction. They needed to gain something out of it and love wasn’t something they were interested in.

They had noticed how their daughter seemed happier, chipper even. She was barely even home and she was always in a good mood. They thought it was because she had found a new friend in Steve but now they understood what it really was. James Buchanan Barnes was corrupting their daughter, ruining any chance for them to make her marry a man of their choice.

They stared at each other in silence, the faint sound of Bucky’s voice reaching the living room then the sound of laughter filled the house. Charlie’s laugh. It made her parents cringe.

‘’We need to put a stop to this.’’ Her mom whispered angrily.

‘’We are going to do everything we can, darling.’’ Her dad got even more angry when Charlie laughed again. ‘’There is no way in hell I’m letting Barnes anywhere near our daughter. I don’t give a damn about how she feels.’’

Her dad stopped for a minute, thinking.

‘’I’ll make it so that she won’t have a choice but to listen to what we want.’’ He smirked. ‘’It’s going to be us or him.’’

An ultimatum. Her family or her best friend. Either way, Charlie’s heart was about to be broken and her parents couldn’t wait to see it all happen.

[vanaera]

The Heart Holiday | Act 2 (1/2) | myg

Synopsis: Valentine’s Day is declared as an official holiday. However, private companies’ standards dictate it’s only for the people who are currently in a relationship. Unluckily for Y/N, she doesn’t have this year’s PRS’ (Proof of Relationship Status) “in a relationship” box ticked – the only ticket out she can have to enjoy one paid week of holiday leave away from her hellish job. And more unfortunately for Y/N, everyone around her is oh so conveniently currently committed in a relationship. Except for one person: Min Yoongi, Y/N’s biggest critic in every pitch meeting, the picky guy who always picks on her, and the most annoying jerk of the century. Desperate for that holiday leave, Y/N strikes Yoongi up with an offer: Fake date each other two weeks before February 14, just enough time for the Department of Relationship Management (DRM) to consider processing their PRSs. After Valentine’s Day, they will go back to their own ways and never speak about whatever that may happen during the plan. Good, plain, and simple. That is until, Yoongi uncharacteristically oh so enthusiastically agrees to Y/N’s offer, leaving her thinking that she may have bitten something too much more than she can chew.

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

AU/ Trope: Office AU (Creatives manager!myg x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

Genre: fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat)

Wordcount: 24k

Warnings: Just lots of cursing because of two characters who won’t stop fighting (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | I cut Act 2 into two parts because it has become enormously long. Expect the next part of Act 2 next week!

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               The irony did not escape Y/N that she’s wringing her hands non-stop since yesterday all because of a simple meeting. It’s not because Nancy Kim arranged it. She’s probably holding a champagne glass while yelling at room service in some posh hotel in Paris. No, Y/N is anxious not because of Nancy. Instead, it’s because of a meeting in a coffee shop with her supposed ticket-out from work: The Despicable Mean Yoongi.

               Y/N has handled every meeting she’s been invited to down to a T. Being Nancy’s PA for over two years and a half has done her good in learning how to manage the communication in a business setting among professionals who may more often than not, become unprofessional. Being Nancy’s PA means she has to be the boss’ human-filter for incoming human-bullshits. An investor wanted to pull out? Y/N can appease them with a quick but convincing rundown of Travel Loca’s steadying growth. The laptop suddenly hangs while Nancy is currently reporting to their business partners? Y/N knows some troubleshooting techniques to quickly get the gadget running again. The rich and flavorful coffee granules Nancy saves for important guests have run out right during a meeting with the said guests? Y/N has a speed of a 60-year old Asian grandma who can speed-walk through a 5 km marathon to make up for her legs’ lack of vertical length.  Y/N likes to believe she’s got the patience of a meditating monk, the wisdom of a quick-thinking electrician, and the perseverance and resilience of a cockroach. If universities had a bachelor in meetings program, Y/N would probably graduate summa cum laude, easily outshining her cum laude standing in BA Mass Communication.

               However, all of that goes down to drain the moment Y/N attended the same meeting as Min Yoongi for the very first time.

               It was a Thursday in March of 2019. Y/N’s not sure of the exact date. All she remembers is that it had to be a Thursday. That meeting was the wick that started the chain of her unfortunate Thursdays.

               Sure, Min Yoongi got on Y/N’s “off” side the moment she first met him in the new table set up beside hers. But even if Y/N thinks he’s one hell of an arrogant bastard, a 24/7 picky prick, and a condescending narcissist, Y/N still left a breathable room in her mind for Yoongi to disprove her assumptions.

               And Yoongi burned up that room into ash that Thursday meeting.

               “Since we’re done with the weekly reports of the Creatives and the Marketing, let’s go to the Writing Department,” Nancy leans back in her black swivel chair. She flips through the pages of the department’s report, sparing a glance once in a while to the department’s representative of the day, Lee Soojung.

               The rustle of the papers almost becomes the white noise in the tensely silent conference room. Nancy always had a stiff authoritarian aura that induces anyone to be constantly on their toes around her. Her intimidating effect on her employees doesn’t seem to wear off even if the latter had been in Travel Loca since day one. Soojung herself has been in the company one month after Travel Loca’s establishment. Yet, here she is, nervously biting on her lip as her feet shake under the table.

               Y/N’s glad Nancy’s chair isn’t set far back enough for her to see Soojung’s jittering legs, or else Nancy will go at the “confidence you should have in work in order to stay” sermon again. Y/N first heard that “speech” (it counts so because Nancy almost spoke for twenty-minutes straight) in her first two months in the company, during a meeting where Nancy spoke about Steven’s potential to have a higher position if he could be more confident. And just like Nancy’s words, Steven did indeed climb the hierarchy after being more confident in presenting his works. He’s now the head of the Creative’s Team and even someone Y/N can say Nancy has accountable respect for. Y/N learned a lot from that speech. But having Nancy repeat it again whenever she sees someone who’s insecure in talking about their work? It slowly loses its charm.

               Y/N loses her tight grip on her notebook. It’s understandable why everyone has their hackles raised high now. Nancy is currently judging one of their department’s progress and if something is not up to par, another excruciating hour of Nancy’s “speeches” is awaiting punishment. Except, Y/N knows Nancy. With her absorbed attention to the report, indicated by the longer time her eyes spend on the department’s drafts instead of Soojung, Y/N knows Nancy is satisfied with their work.

               Y/N leans back in her chair and releases a sigh. It’s been a while since she’s been in a meeting without Nancy scaring off an employee out of their wits. This momentary peace, however, is shattered when she feels a sharp poke on her shoulder.

               “Hey, what’s happening?”

               Y/N rolls her eyes. With an additional P.A., comes an additional table next to her station, an additional work tablet to coordinate with hers, and an additional seat in the conference room next to her. All of these would be okay to Y/N if the additional P.A. is not as much of a douche as Yoongi.

               Nevertheless, Y/N shifts in her seat to lean closer to Yoongi and whisper to his ear, “Nancy’s deliberating the Writing Department’s work.”

               Yoongi raises a brow, “Then why is Soojung shaking over there like a shivering dog kicked to the curb?”

              Y/N tries hard not to let her temper get the better of her. Yoongi’s only been in Travel Loca for one fucking week. How could he dare to describe his senior in such an insulting way? Y/N closes her eyes and says, “Because, Soojung is the representative of the department right now. And from what I’ve heard, most of the drafts were also written by her because most of her subordinates’ articles were too…raw for next month’s issue.

               Yoongi squints, “Soojung? As in Lee Soojung wrote most of them?”

               Y/N couldn’t understand why Yoongi is so perplexed as if he can’t believe what he just heard. Y/N cannot help but glare at him, “Yoongi, Soojung has been one of Travel Loca’s long-time writers. Of course, she’s already mastered the nitty-gritty of what Nancy wants for an issue. And look, Nancy is satisfied with her work. Otherwise, she would have already thrown their drafts across the table.”

               “Are you kidding me?” Yoongi whispers louder, “Have you read Soojung’s works? They all sound cardboard cut-outs of every travel magazine out there. Could be mistaken even as a feature in a newspaper instead of a magazine. Heck, they can’t even make me want to travel anywhere. They all sound like a scammer real estate agent except she’s telling me to unnecessarily spend a lot on plane tickets and hotel reservations and pretend to have a nice vacation when I know I most probably would not.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops, “Are you for real? You can’t just downgrade Soojung’s works! She wouldn’t stay this long here if Nancy didn’t find her works satisfactory. And look, even right now, Nancy is pretty much okay with it!”

               Yoongi tilts his head, “Nancy, Nancy, Nancy. Everything is about Nancy now, huh?”

               “Of course! Nancy is the boss! She gets to decide what’s okay or not for publishing!” Y/N rolls her eyes and finally lets out a scoff, “Why do you have to judge something that’s out of your expertise anyway? You don’t write. And I bet even if you try your best to, you can’t produce something better than even half of Soojung’s articles.”

               Yoongi lets out a humorless chuckle, “I don’t write because I don’t want to write. What about you? You act all-mighty judgmental of what articles are satisfactory or not. You even rant to Mina about writing a story you’ve been thinking about countless of times—especially the story about that Write and Backpack Trip Club you speak about again and again. And yet, you don’t even write anything all.”

               What the ever-living fucking audacity of this astounding jerk of an asshole—!

               “Okay, I like these drafts. Not the best we’ve had but pretty above passable for next month’s issue,” Nancy places the folder back on the table, “But, we’re quite short on stories. The Daily Pen reviewed our issues as promising but lacking a few stories to make our monthly themes more, quote-unquote ‘solid.’ And so, I’m thinking of expanding our usual count of nine to twelve stories for the next three months. Try to check if The Daily Pen’s suggestion may help increase our reader count as well as positive feedback from our reviewers. So,” Nancy places her clasped hands on the table, “does any of you have a story to share? Or any ideas? We can still rush the Writing Department for two or three more articles.”

               The room goes immediately silent. No one shakes their legs. No one taps their nails on the onyx conference table. No one skims through their reports. Everyone suddenly makes the floor-to-ceiling windows the most interesting object to stare at.

               Until the silence gets broken by Nancy herself.

               “Oh, Yoongi, what’s your story?”

               Y/N whips her head to her side. Yoongi is looking at her funny. She mouths ‘what the fuck are you trying to do?’ but Yoongi just smirks. He meets Nancy’s gaze, “I don’t have a story but I know someone who has: Y/N.”

               Everyone’s attention on the windows was now shifted to Y/N. Soojung shifts in her seat, feet no longer jittering, eyes curiously pinned on Y/N. The rest of her co-workers’ eyes are just pleading for her to give what Nancy likes to finally end this meeting. Y/N has never felt this much attention focused on her until her cum laude awarding in her graduation. Sure, having some attention felt nice. There are times when people really enjoy the spotlight, some even needing it—the pleasure of feeling being wanted and treated precious. But Y/N doesn’t want attention laced with risk—the risk of embarrassment, of disappointment, especially from someone Y/N has looked up to as her “writing idol” for years. But then, this could be an opportunity for her skills to get recognized by Nancy so she can finally leave her P.A. station and transfer her boxes to the Writing Department.  Y/N wrings her hands together before quickly placing them behind her back.

               “U-um, I have a s-story about the nine places broke college students usually go to for a backpacking trip.”

              “And what are these places?”

               “Um,” Y/N gulps, “mountains and hiking trails—N-no, I mean, places like unseen from the popular media, but places that may be popular to the locals. Like man-made hiking parks installed near the cliffy side of a mountain. ‘Cliffy’ because it looks like a cliff, but it’s not actually a cliff. It’s just a mountainside that’s steep enough to look like a cliff. A-and cool hangout places with aesthetically-pleasing but cheap restaurants. The-the-there are also beaches that usually have few visitors that don’t charge hefty on their entrance fee. T-they’re very affordable and I think we can do like a top-nine-ranking thing to make a recommendation list of these, as I know a few college orgs that have already created great itineraries—”

               “My bad, Nancy, I’m gonna take back what I said.”

               What just—Y/N turns to her right, to look at the man that’s suddenly cut her off, but Yoongi’s eyes are trained to Nancy as he says, “I don’t think Y/N has a story yet. I’m sorry, I’ve been mistaken.”

               “Apology accepted,” Nancy dismissively waves a hand. She turns her swivel chair back towards the conference table, “I’m glad you immediately stopped your co-P.A. before we get to hear her…story.”

               Y/N doesn’t remember much of what happened after that. She just slumped back on her seat, ears fading out the rest of her surroundings into white noise. When everyone has finally stood from their seats, their respective departments’ reports clutched in their hands, Y/N’s still unmoving on her seat. She could only give a tight smile as each representatives-of-the-day passed and gave her apologetic smiles. Even when Soojung neared her seat to give some reassurance, Y/N remained stone-still and just waved her off with a quick “It’s okay.” The hazy white noise only dissipates when Nancy stands up and taps Y/N’s shoulder, saying, “We’ve still got work to do.”

               Y/N nods and gathers her minutes and notebook before quickly following her boss. When she turns around to reach the lights switch, there’s no one left in the conference room. Yoongi has long left the room.

               Why did Yoongi recommend Y/N in the first place when he’s just gonna take back his recommendation? Is he just fucking around with her? To prove that she cannot write her own article? What did Y/N ever do to him, but internally judge him in her mind, to be publicly humiliated like this? Especially in front of Nancy! Y/N gets the answers to these questions in the two months that followed with the goddamned prick of a man lazing around her station: Yoongi hates her for no reason and he’s doing everything he can to sabotage her career. He proves this conclusion again and again as he messes up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy, refuses to coordinate like an immature prepubescent boy, and criticizes her for every story proposal, story idea, word choice, heck even pronunciation, in every pitch meeting Y/N attends.

               None of Y/N’s assumptions can ever be truer than her description of Min Yoongi: one hell of an arrogant bastard, a 24/7 picky prick, and a condescending narcissist who thinks he’s the only person viable for greatness just because he magically manages to not pay the consequences of his misdeeds.

               And today, Y/N jots down “unprofessionally late” to her list of descriptions for the man as she glances at her watch and deduces 15 minutes have passed since their agreed meeting time. Will Yoongi stand her up even after agreeing to her offer? Y/N doesn’t know and she’s starting to not care anymore. From the start, she knew going with this idea will only end up worse than bad. It’s always gonna end up worse than bad when it comes to Yoongi. Y/N’s no longer gonna be surprised. She has numerous dating apps installed on her phone for back-up plans anyway—

               “Hey, sorry I’m late,” Y/N looks up from her notebook and sees Yoongi pulling a chair in front of her.

               She stops wringing her hands.

DAY 1 – January 26; Sunday

               Y/N sips on her milkshake as she encircles the date on the calendar of her notebook, “So today’s January 26. This will mark the first day of our two weeks so we can make it to February 9, Sunday, the last day of PRS applications in the DRM.”

               Yoongi nods as he sips on his iced Americano.

               “And then—”

               “Wait, what does PRS mean again?”

               Y/N’s hand stills, “You seriously don’t know what PRS means?”

               “Obviously not, since I’m asking about it,” Yoongi deadpans, “I wouldn’t ask something I already know, you know? It’s not like me to be illogical—”

               “Okay, fine,” Y/N closes her eyes and purses her lips, “I will explain it as long as you shut up for just a minute and let me talk.”

              Yoongi tilts his head and Y/N takes it as his cue of agreement. She sighs as she flips a page on her notebook and writes “The Heart Holiday” on the header. “Okay, so you already know that The Heart Holiday guarantees anyone who’s in a relationship a work-free, full-paid vacation leave during the week of Valentines. This year, it’s gonna be from February 9 to 14. Now, to get the viability for that vacation leave, the DRM—Department of Relationship Management—"

              “You don’t have to tell me what DRM means. I already know that.”

              Y/N eyes Yoongi and blinks at him. Slowly. “Didn’t I tell you to let me talk for a minute? You’re asking me what’s with PRS and I’m giving you an answer right now.”

              “Sorry,” Yoongi mutters, far from being apologetic with his growing smirk on his face.

               Y/N closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, “Anyway, the DRM issues PRS or ‘Proof of Relationship Status.’ The PRS indicates your civil status.  Single, married, divorced, separated and widowed—the basics. What’s only new is the addition of “in a relationship” status, made effective by the DRM in 2015, the same year the department was established.  It was initially for the DRM to track the people’s progress in their love lives to better monitor any improvement in the country’s birth rates. Now it’s used for applications for the Heart Holiday.”

               “Seems like the government is desperate for everyone to make babies,” Yoongi snorts over his straw.

               “With a global declining birth rate and continuous decline of immigrants, of course, the government is gonna be desperate. Economic analysts say it’s because countries are afraid of risking their also-declining birth rates. But I think It’s got to do more with the growing discrimination of immigrants. Numerous blockheads of government officials are still holding onto the archaic nonsensical ‘conspiracy theory’ as the reason behind their irrational hatred of immigrants. Anyway,” Y/N draws a bullet below ‘PRS,’ “Everyone’s default PRS will be ‘single’ until they reach 18 and apply for a PRS-change to ‘in a relationship.’  As long as you’re 18 and above, you are viable for ‘in a relationship’ PRS-change.”

               Yoongi slices through his sandwich, “Why 18? Do only 18-and-above-year-olds have the right to be in a relationship?”

               Y/N sputters, “You seriously don’t know? Do you ever read any updates on our new laws?”

               “I told you,” Yoongi mumbles over his sandwich, “I don’t know that’s why I’m asking you. And, first off, you’re the one who tied me up in this deal. It’s only logical to ask about what I’m getting myself into before I fully commit to anything.”

               “‘Fu-fully commit’?” Y/N gawks, “So you’re not yet serious about this? You told me two days ago you’re in on my plan!”

               “Yeah, I am in your plan. I am in at the beginning of your plan. Not at the middle or end of it.”

               Y/N slams her hands on the table, “Then why the hell did you even agree to my offer if you’re not even serious in taking it seriously?!”

               “I agreed so I get to decide if I can make my exit before things get un-exit-able or if I can push through with your plan. Which is what I’m doing now. Weighing the pros and cons,” Yoongi leans back in his chair and crosses his arms, “Y/N, you need me in this plan. Not the other way around. So I get to have the upper hand here. And by the looks of it, this offer is starting to look exit-able.”

               Y/N tongues her cheek. She could feel red hot flames of rage tongue the confines of her throat. Min Yoongi cannot play her like this when she practically sacrificed her self-esteem and self-preservation when she proposed him this offer. He can’t just pull the “who needs who” card when he’s also going to benefit from this deal. Nevertheless, Y/N puts a lid on that rage before it can climb up and lap at her brain. She can’t let her temper get the better of her when she still needs Yoongi to fully commit to her plan. Think of this as delayed gratification, Y/N. It’s either suck up Yoongi’s bullshit and enjoy the holidays, or rejoice in calling him off but suffer Nancy’s workload during the holidays.

               Y/N sighs and continues on the diagram she was forming on her notebook while taking a bite from her pasta platter, “Going back, what was your question again?”

               “Why do only 18-year-olds and above get to have the ‘in a relationship’ PRS? What about 16-year-old high school couples? Are they not allowed to be in a relationship?”

               Y/N tries not to cringe at the nonsense of his question, “Minors are allowed to date—as long as it’s not a pedophilic relationship, of course. Just puppy love and all that. But they don’t get to have the PRS because they won’t even need it. PRS is only used for social security, healthcare benefits, and loan applications. Obviously, they’re not yet old enough to legally work to qualify for these applications. And also, education establishments are already ensured to have one week off during the Heart Holiday—including the school’s staff, whether or not they have ‘in a relationship’ ticked for that holiday.”

              “Hmm, then what happens in a PRS-change if you got married?”

              “The couple doesn’t have to go to DRM anymore for a PRS change. The DRM automatically changes it because the marriage certificate will go through them the same time it goes through the court. Whether a couple applied for ‘in a relationship’ before marrying each other, or if they didn’t, it doesn’t matter. DRM will automatically change their status from ‘in a relationship’ to ‘married’ or ‘single’ to ‘married.’ So when you have the PRS ‘married’ ticked, you’re automatically viable to avail the Heart Holiday, too, because you, by logic, are in a relationship if you’re already married.”

              Yoongi nods, “then what happens if you’re widowed, divorced, or separated?”

              “PRS-changes to ‘widowed’ and ‘divorced’ works the same way as ‘married.’ The DRM automatically changes them to these statuses when a death certificate is filed or divorce papers go through court. However, that means these status grant the people who have them no chance to avail the Heart Holiday anymore like single people. The DRM only recognizes people’s current—not recent— involvement in a relationship as the determining factor for the Heart Holiday’s benefits for ‘in a relationship’ PRS holders. With separated status, you need to go to DRM to apply the change of PRS from ‘married’ to ‘separated.’ Though this can be quite messy as DRM requires a lot of couples’ therapy for the couple before they can change the PRS. That’s why a lot of people suggest to just fake the annual interview of the DRM with your soon-to-be ex-partner for four years until you’re viable for the free divorce processing that comes only every four years in courts—or until you saved enough for an actual divorce.”

              “Why the hell does DRM fixate on separating couples and not on divorcing ones?” Yoongi frowns, “Are they blind? Both couples are breaking up their relationships. It’s the exact contrary to their goal of proliferating relationships.”

              “I know, right? It’s ridiculous,” Y/N shakes her head. “I’ve read a lot of critical essays against that separated and divorced PRS laws. And most of them say that DRM has no jurisdiction over divorce since money will be involved. That DRM wouldn’t attempt to hinder the cash flow to private law offices because of, you know, the government’s utter submission to large businesses and all that shit. Anyway, separated or widowed, you can apply for a PRS change to ‘in a relationship’ after six months. DRM states you need to heal first.”

              Y/N flips her notebook back onto the “Heart Holiday” page, “Now that I’ve educated you with the basics of PRS, let’s finally get down to what we will be doing.” Yoongi leans closer, setting his elbows on the wooden table. Y/N continues, “So, to change our ‘Single’ PRSs to ‘in a relationship,’ we need to have ten dates validated by DRM-approved establishments.”

              “Validated by what?”

              “DRM-approved establishments,” Y/N repeats, eyes turning into slits. “You don’t know date-site places have to go through the DRM? I get that you don’t know what PRS means. Just like how people use SIMs but don’t know they stand for ‘Subscriber Identity Module.’ I can also forgive you for the age technicalities of PRS since they were only updated last year. But for you not to know date sites—like this café—has to get approved by DRM first before it can stand as a business establishment? You’ve probably been single for a really looong time not to know this. Business requirements got changed the same time the DRM was established, Yoongi. Five years ago.”

              “I don’t know anything about this, okay? That’s why I’m asking you,” Yoongi also repeats. He sounds like a teacher reprimanding a student for asking a stupid question.

              Y/N smirks, “Oh, so it’s true then.”

              “What’s true?”

              The sight of utter confusion in Yoongi’s face makes Y/N smile to herself. She leans back in her chair, “Well…no one wants to date you.”

              “Excuse me,” Yoongi half-scoffs, half-sputters, “I’m single because I can’t find anyone worth losing some brain cells for.”

              “Ooh, says the man who I have seen eyeing Jeon Seoyeon beside my station for one whole year now but is too chicken to ask her out,” Y/N raises a brow. She tries not to make it look like she’s too enthralled to bring up this info. She wants to make Yoongi nervous she’s known about this Seoyeon thing for a while. However, she cannot help but let the smirk that’s been egging on her, grow on her face. Y/N doesn’t actually know anything about Seoyeon. She often forgets there’s also an employee stationed near her desk. It’s hard to recall a conversation she had with the business adviser that’s not work-related when there’s close to none. Y/N doesn’t even know if Soyeon has any associates she converses with other than her. Well to be fair, Nancy and work are enough to occupy Y/N’s focus for the day. She only knew something new about Soyeon when she hit up Mina last night for some counter-attack information on Yoongi. “A defense support should he piss me off,” as Y/N said.

              “Really?” Y/N’s eyes widen, “Yoongi actually has the heart to like someone in our office?”

              Mina nods, “I’m telling you right now. He’s into Seoyeon. From my cubicle, I’m sure I can see him definitely staring at Seoyeon. Break, lunch break, in-between working hours—it doesn’t matter. He just stands. And stares.”

              “How come you told me this only now?”

              “Because you don’t ask about Yoongi. You complain about him.” Y/N slaps her shoulder and Mina chuckles, “Fine, okay, I’ve only confirmed this last week when Jisoo sat with me and pointed out the same observation. You know I don’t just ask people about anybody should any drama arise about ‘Mina checking into everyone and scouring for some tea.’ I don’t want to be known ‘Mina the gossiper’ in the office. I’ve borne that title for 12 years in high school. I’m tired of that shit,” Mina waves off, “But you know?  After what Jisoo said, I know I had to ask. It’s not like only me and Jisoo have eyes. And that day proved it to me when everyone ‘round my cubicle said Yoongi’s indeed standing too long by your desk to look at someone beside your station—Seoyeon.” Mina grins, “you’ve finally got something on Yoongi, Y/N!”

              Hammurabi said “eye for an eye,” and so if someone pisses her off, Y/N should also piss them off. Yoongi’s been pissing her off for a while so it’s finally high-time Y/N also bare her canines.   Consulting Mina is definitely Y/N’s best decision so far ever since she thought about this shit-hole of a plan.

              “W-what?” Yoongi sputters, “I-I’m not into Seoyeon! I just find her…odd-looking for a civil lawyer. It’s weird to see Nancy have a business adviser. The Nancy Kim of all people? And Seoyeon, too! Especially with her rebellious vibe goin’ ‘round her multiple piercings and borderline appropriate-for-work punk outfits. She’s got her desk also awkwardly set up a foot from yours, making her look like a slave P.A. like you.”

              Y/N tries not to blow up at the red herring she just heard. She’s been arguing too long with Yoongi to know it’s his pathetic technique to change topics. Y/N’s not gonna skip on the chance card she used. “As if you don’t like her!”    

              Y/N scoffs, “I caught your eyes staring right beside my cubicle more than numerous times to put two and two together,” Y/N leans forward. She pins Yoongi with a stare, “Just admit you like her.”

              “I’m telling you I do not, okay?” Yoongi huffs, cheeks now growing pink under the lighting.

              “God, you obviously like her,” Y/N wheezes, “I finally confirmed something precious I can blackmail you with. Imagine everyone knowing ‘the great Min Yoongi’ is an immature prepubescent boy when it comes to girls he likes. Damn, do I have the fucking upper hand now, Min.”

              “You’ll only get to have that upper hand once you got your Valentine’s week canceled first,” Yoongi smirks, “Do I need to remind you I’m not yet fully in on your plan, sweetheart?”

              Y/N’s smile falls, “God, will you stop calling me that?”

              “No can do,” Yoongi patronizingly pouts at the syllable, “Not until you put down that douchey dictator-wannabe look on your face and just get down to the point before I could think of walking out right now.”

              “Okay, fine, Min,” Y/N sneers. She grabs her pen and writes on her notebook, this time, with much force that she’s sure Yoongi can hear from his place the squeaks of the ball-point pen on the paper, “SO AS I WAS SAYING, for your PRS to be changed to ‘in a relationship,’ DRM requires ten dates from their approved establishments. These establishments could be anything—a restaurant, an arcade, a cinema, a basketball game, a bar, an amusement park, etcetera. It’s indicated anyway in the establishment. You can see the pink and purple heart logo of the DRM in stickers on glass doors. Or in menus, like this,” Y/N pushes the café’s miniature menu-stand made of hardboard to Yoongi to show him the small print of the logo on its margin. “When a couple goes to that establishment for a date, they can ask for the shop to write them a document officializing their date. It’s called the date document. ‘This document confirms Park Junyoung and Lee Hwayoung have dated in our love-conducive establishment’ yaddah yaddah shit. Each approved establishment has a DRM seal. They press it on the document to validate their date. For example, look behind you.”

               Yoongi turns and looks at the young couple by the right end of the bar. The barista hands the two a pale pink envelope. The imprint of the heart-shaped logo of the DRM clearly engraved on the surface. The couple gives an appreciative smile to the barista before starting to head their way out.

               Yoongi turns back to Y/N, “So the envelopes must also be sealed?”

               “Yes, to ensure the couple won’t fake their dates.”

               “Then how do you know the first lines of these date documents?” Yoongi cocks a brow.

               “Because unlike you, I stay tuned to the local news and make sure I’m updated to law revisions. I can’t count on how many fingers the media has exposed DRM’s protocol-holes. Unlike someone out there who doesn’t know anything…,” Y/N looks at Yoongi. The man crosses his arms and gives her a bored look. Y/N looks back at her food and takes a bite from her platter, “Moving forward, aside from sealed 10 documents, a couple must also submit 10 printed accounts of the people around them that have witnessed their relationship. Unfortunately for us, we’re not self-employed. So we have to do the long way.”

              “Why? What’s the advantage of unemployed people?”

              “Self-employed people,” Y/N corrects. “They only need 10 accounts from any of their friends or family that have witnessed their relationship. Meanwhile, the DRM has overridden private company protocols and declared it is legally okay to date a co-worker. To ensure no one will abuse the benefits given by DRM to those in a relationship, private sectors agreed upon a standard for PRS-changes from single. Us employed are required to submit nine accounts from our co-workers, friends, or family, and one account from our supervisor, manager, or boss These accounts will be turned to the company’s HR Department to be analyzed. Then, they will be sealed in a magenta envelope with the DRM seal.” Y/N taps her pen on her notebook, “This special one account though depends on the company tradition. In Travel Loca, it is always Nancy who gets to write that one account. Even if Steven is the head of Creatives, or Mona is the supervisor of the marketing—it doesn’t matter. Nancy is the one who gets to write that account.”

              “But since Nancy is gone, that privilege is given to the next in the hierarchy—Ms. Teddy Park, the general supervisor,” Y/N looks at Yoongi, “This is where most of our fake dating comes into play.  Ms. Teddy is one hell of a hopeless romanticist.  Mina told me she has been continuously bugging Jisoo to sneak an HR confidential file and spill her some juicy office romance. And since it’s Valentines’, we’re gonna give Teddy what she wants.   Although it doesn’t take much to convince Teddy, we still can’t be too sure. Though I can bet most of our acting efforts will go for our co-workers. We only need eight more. I’ve already got Mina to cover one for us.”

              Yoongi hums and Y/N continues, “Lastly, after getting all of that, we go to the DRM for the final interview. They will ask us questions to counter-check the documents. We just need to act lovey-dovey and answer their questions as if we’ve known each other so, so well. When we pull it off, our PRSs are changed. Then, we can enjoy our work-free, full-paid Valentine’s week into the sunset.”

               Yoongi hums, “How are you so sure with this plan? How do you know we won’t mess up things? This is still a crime. We’re faking a fucking benefit.”

              “Oh, don’t be such a prude. Everyone does it.”

              “Are you sure ‘everyone’?”

              “Fine,” Y/N grits out, “everyone who is smart enough to study an easy-to-get benefit to know its loopholes.”

              “And you’re sure you know all the loopholes in this Heart Holiday program?”

              “Of course! Mina and I studied this for a whole year.” Y/N fixes her seat and clasps her hands together, “From the easiest places to get officialized dates to the last job’s boss rule on written accounts to the interrogation hacks at the DRM—we’ve got them all ironed out. Moreover, the DRM is lenient in approving PRS changes on the very last date of the February applications. We’re going to easily pass through! You don’t have to worry ‘bout getting caught! Look at us, Mina and I have been slipping by seamlessly for four years. Plus, we have Nancy off our backs this time so the accounts approval, the hardest of ‘em all, would be miraculously much easier to pull.”

              Yoongi nods. And then, silence ensues. Yoongi just blankly looks at Y/N. She purses her mouth and waits with bated breath. Hopefully, she did succeed convincing him to fully commit to her plan, right? He wouldn’t be in deep thought like this if he hasn’t taken into serious consideration the seamlessness of her plan, right? He’s just probably taking his time how to agree to her without sounding so appreciative of her because he’s Min Yoongi and Y/N knows he’d rather cut his arm than give her the credit she deserves—

              “So…you’ve been faking this benefit for four years?” Yoongi snickers, “My, I should have recorded this conversation. I just had a clear, clean-cut confession from a scammer.”

              “S-scam? Scammer?!” Y/N abruptly stands and Yoongi tries to pull her to sit back but Y/N only slaps his hand away, “You just fucking gone silent for a while to-to-to say that?! Are you an overgrown, ridiculous James Dean wanna-be rebel without a cause other than stupidity—who only picks on some words to make sense of everything?! You’re just like a boomer she-gossiper who only hears their friend’s child’s name and ‘engineer,’ in one sentence and she already expects that child to have a house and car when they’re only one year into the job while that hag’s been gossiping for over 36 years now and yet she still doesn’t have her own talk show!”

              Yoongi holds his hands up, “Whoa, whoa, whoa, chill, tiger. You don’t have to get so worked up—”

              “Who will not get worked up after getting accused of scamming?! When I didn’t even commit it! Yet!”

              “And right now you’re saying you’re willing to scam just to get that Valentine’s week off. How can I not accuse you when you just told me all that. In broad daylight. With many people passing by our table every second of the minute?”

              “I didn’t say I’m willing to scam,” Y/N says, irritably, “I’m just laying out the possibility that I might do it.”

              “Still doesn’t change the fact you’re a scammer.”

              “Yet,” Y/N corrects. “I can’t be someone I’ve never become yet.”

              “But you’re gonna go for it eventually, so you’re going to become a scammer, nonetheless,” Yoongi presses. “Why not grab the title already? It’ll cut you some slack from all the labeling-progress.”

              “You know what, you make so many hasty generalizations about everything as if you’ve got everything figured on your palm just by looking at something for one second,” Y/N says, narrowing her eyes at the man.

              “Just like you,” Yoongi tosses back, “You already generalized me as a coward man who can’t express himself like a prepubescent boy just because you saw me staring at something for like what, five minutes? You’re a real hypocrite, Y/N.”

              “I’m not a hypocrite because what I said is true! You like Seoyeon and you’re too much of a pussy to ask her out. If you’re not, then why are you here sitting down with me, of all people, to plan about faking having a significant other just in time for Valentine’s week?”

              Yoongi shuts his mouth and Y/N smiles, pleased with herself. Asking Mina for the Jeon Seoyeon card is definitely an ace move.

              “See? I’m right,” Y/N theatrically presses a hand on her temple, “Can we just cut to the bullshit and go on with the plan without having another unnecessary stupid argument breaking the flow? I can’t be always right all the time we argue or else my ego is gonna grow really big like that James Dean wanna-be manager of the Creatives Team.”

              Yoongi raises a middle finger. Y/N only laughs.

              “So, first things first,” Y/N flips her notebook onto the next page and writes on the paper, “So we can successfully fake our relationship, let’s get to know each other—”

              “But I already know you.”

              “No, you don’t,” Y/N snaps.

              “Yes, I do—wait,” Yoongi stops, “are you writing everything down on paper?”

              “Yes,” Y/N glares at him, “I’ve written ‘asshole,’ and ‘whiny prepubescent boy’ on your top descriptors.”

              “Then that confirms I do already know you.”

              “What do you mean?” Y/N asks, a mean scowl forming on her face.

              “It means that I know you,” Yoongi leans back on his seat and places his hands behind his neck. “You’re that kind of person who seriously writes every bit of her life as if not having something written down will cost her her life. Especially when it comes to plans. A plan is called a ‘plan’ for a reason, you know? Same as how humans can’t see their futures for a reason. But you still go and write every single thing you’re doing or about to do down to the littlest detail and when none of them works out in the sequence that you like, you start acting like it’s somebody else’s fault the world’s gonna end. See?” Yoongi suddenly leans forward and ghosts his hand over Y/N’s cheek. Y/N holds her breath, freezing up.

              Yoongi murmurs, “You’ve already got wrinkles on your face. And you’re just 25. I feel so sorry that your whole world revolves around being a P.A., that you start to P.A.-schedule your own life.”

              Y/N glowers and slaps Yoongi’s hand away. The man only laughs.

              “I write everything down because unlike you, I know how to commit to something and not fuck everything up—especially when it involves other’s lives. Of course, you wouldn’t understand this because you haven’t tried to actually put in the effort to make someone’s life easier—”

              “Hey, I’m putting in effort,” Yoongi interjects. “I’m committing to your plan right now.”

              “W-what?”

“I’m telling you, I’m fully in on your plan,” Yoongi closes his eyes and sighs, “Full blow. Beginning to end. Start to finish.”

              “You-you do? Are you really really sure—”

              “Look, if you’re suspicious, it’s fine. I could just totally leave now as I have more people to see this afternoon. It’s a weekend you know—”

              “Okay, fine! I’m happy you said that. Ecstatic. Peachy fucking keen. Totally. Thank you to the great, admirable Min Yoongi who just fucking saved the entire world,” Y/N rolls her eyes as she crosses her arm.

              “I like hearing that. Can you say that again?”

              “Only if you stop being a drama queen, cutting me off to say the most nonsensical stuff for one second and just listen to me so we can finally get the ball rolling.”

              “’Kay,” Yoongi makes an ‘okay’ sign with his hand and zips his lips. He grabs his iced Americano and takes a sip.

              Y/N internally releases a sigh of relief. She reaches for her notebook again. “As I was saying. We have to get to know each other so we know where to build on our fake relationship that would be believable to everyone. And the first way to get to know someone is through asking questions. So for my first question,” Y/N looks at Yoongi, “Other than your utter assholery to me, do you have a dark side?”

              “D-d-dark side?!” Yoongi sputters on his drink. Y/N distastefully eyes the trails of his drink that had made it down his chin but she makes no move to give him the stack of tissues that’s an inch from her elbow. Yoongi squints his eyes at her as he stands and grabs the tissues himself and places it on his side of the table. If he’s the slightest bit offended with Y/N wrinkling her nose at him, he makes it sure she knows it by rolling his eyes as he sits back down. Yoongi wipes the residues on his chin, “Out of all the questions to ask, why that?”

              “Because you get to know someone the best by knowing the versions of their selves that doesn’t make it out in the light of the day.”

              “That’s the reason why they’re called ‘dark sides’, you know. They’re not meant to be brought up in the public We’re in the public, Y/N—”

              “What’s your dark side, Min Yoongi?”

              “Fine,” Yoongi relents, “I have a dark humor. A humor so dark that whenever serious shits happen to me, I always laugh them off. So when I die right in the next second, say in a car accident, I got to laugh one last time right before my life ends. It’s my way saying ‘fuck you’ to life.”

              “Wow. I didn’t expect to hear something so dark like that,” Y/N mutters, “I was expecting you enjoying cracking everybody else’s mugs just like how you did to mine—Mina’s gift to me. In High School—last week.”

              “God, you do not really get over stuff do you?”

              “No, especially if it’s something so precious to me and someone just unceremoniously took it all away from me.”

              “Your mug’s still functional.”

              “It already has a crack on its lip!” Y/N shouts angrily. People turn to look at their table and their stinging stares wills Y/N to mumble “sorry.” She whips her head to Yoongi, “I’m still not over my mug, just so you know.”

              “I don’t know why it’s suddenly about your mug. You asked for my dark side. I gave you one.” Yoongi shrugs. He places down his drink and leans forward in his seat, “Now, Y/N, what’s your dark side?”

              “M-me?”

              “Yes, who else am I talking to?” Yoongi sarcastically snaps.

              “Well, I, uh...uh, dip my steak in mayo,” Y/N holds her chin up.

              “You dip your steak into what?” Yoongi chortles, “That’s your dark side?”

              “Yes, not everything has to do with morbid things and death, you know? Things don’t have to be dark to be deep,” Y/N informs.

              “Yeah, and unconventionally dipping your steak into mayo is deep.”

              “People find it abominable that I dip almost everything into any kind of mayo. That’s why it’s a dark side. And it makes me deep because dipping my food into mayo makes me happy and I’m not agoing to change that to fit into anyone’s expectations. All I’m saying is that I’m a happy person because I know what I want—”

              “Hi ma’am, sir,” a waiter hesitantly holds up a hand and gives a tight smile, as if to apologize for cutting in the conversation, “I see you’ve already cleared your plates. Would you want some dessert?”

              Y/N turns to her side and sees perspiration dotting the hairline of the waiter. He must have been standing way too long by their table that he had to cut the conversation so he can finally go back to the service crew area. Y/N gives an apologetic smile as she nods and helps the waiter clear their table.

              “Would you want some dessert, ma’am?” the waiter asks.

               “Yes! I would have some uh…” Y/N holds her chin as her eyes scan over to the miniature menu-stand. She remembers she’s craving something sweet today, probably to flush out all the bitterness on her tongue that Yoongi had easily unwelcomingly induced. However, she doesn’t know what it is. “Uhm, how about the peach mango parfait? No, that sounds too sweet. The choco chip oatmeal cookie, then? Sorry, not that, I just realized I don’t want to eat something too grainy today. The blueberry cheesecake? Wait, I changed my mind. It’s too expensive. I think I’ll have the apple pie instead—oh wait, no, I know—”

               “Can you just give us two slices of blueberry cheesecake? Thank you.” Yoongi hands a card toward the waiter. The waiter bows and goes to the counter. Within just a minute he returns and places two slices of blueberry cheesecake on their table. He hands back Yoongi’s card and leaves.

               Yoongi drives a fork down the soft pastry as he looks at Y/N, “Wow, you do know what you want.”

               Y/N scowls as she cuts her cake, “Today’s an outlier. I’m just pressured to suddenly make a decision, you know.”

               “Fine, fine, whatever you say,” Yoongi waves off.

               Y/N sets down her fork, “At least I’m a happy person. Unlike you.”

               “I’m a happy person, too,” Yoongi glares at her, “You, what, just generalized because I like dark humor and joking about death, I’m already an unhappy person? Who’s the one making hasty generalizations now?”

               “Who else but an unhappy person would want joke about death?”

               “Look, just because I talked about death doesn’t mean I’m a sad person.  I’m just saying, that in case life goes the wrong way, I’m going to at least enjoy it. Meanwhile, you’ll be left feeling unhappy because you’re too busy being,”  Yoongi quotes in the air, “‘happy’ with your plans to figure out the uncertainties of life.”

               “What’s with the quotation marks?” Y/N glowers, “You do not know me that much to know what I’m feeling. You don’t also get to say what I am feeling. Only I can do. And right now, I’m telling you  I am happy. You know what, maybe you should quit your job in the Creatives and transfer to a Judge’s office. You’ll know what it’s like to finally have a job that matches your expertise—judging people. It’s not like you’re even great in your current job.”

               “You say that with so much contempt. I thought you said you’re happy. From what I know, happy people don’t do that,” Yoongi smiles.

               Y/N glares at Yoongi. She closes her eyes and lets out a deep breath. “Can we move on to the next question?”

               “Okay, fine, my turn. What’s your take on enemies becoming lovers at the end of every rom-com film?”

               “W-what?” Y/N’s eyes shot up, “Are you for real now?”

               “What?”

               “How dare you hit on me?” Y/N scoffs, “You think this is a fucking rom-com film and we’re the enemies who’ll become lovers?! Great. Your head cannot even be much fucking bigger than it already is now.”

               “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Yoongi wheezes, “What the hell are you saying? I’m just asking you what’s your take on enemies becoming lovers because I heard you last time talking with Mina that you love romcoms. You-you just assumed that I am, what, hitting on you? Just because we hate each other and I brought up the enemies-to-lovers trope? Those two things are not even related! Goddamn, maybe it’s you who should check your ego.”

               Y/N grits out, “How can I not assume? You just suddenly brought up a fucking romantic topic and right now, we’re in a romantic context. We’re ‘dating.’ In this café. Or how it’s supposed to be like. How then can I not relate those two together? And to answer the question, I think that enemies to lovers trope is complete bull-crap.”

               “How did you say so?”

               “You can’t just suddenly grow romantic interest in someone who hates your guts! Sure people say ‘love’ has four letters but so do ‘hate,’ that’s why the popular crap tag ‘you tend to love the person you hate’ is born. But ‘L’ is not ‘H’ and ‘O’ is not ‘A’ and the same goes for ‘V’ and ‘T.’ They’re both words that stand at the opposite spectrum.”

               “But they both end in ‘E.’”

               “So?” Y/N tilts her head, “they still don’t mean the same. ‘Live’ and ‘die’ both end in ‘E’ but they mean the opposite of each other. Just like ‘love’ and ‘hate.’

               “I’m just saying that ‘love’ and ‘hate’ must have, at least, some form of connection through the letter ‘E.’ Not a connection based on their literal orthographic appearance. Just like ‘live’ and ‘die’ share some similarities. They both had to do with life and people experiencing taking a breath—their first one and their last one.”

               “So, what then is this connection ‘love’ and ‘hate’ have with each other?”

               “They both had something to do with a person constantly drawn to a characteristic of another person. I find it both endearing and aggravating.”

               “Are you hearing yourself right now?” Y/N snorts, “‘Drawn to a characteristic’? Constantly? How can you be constantly drawn to something that you hate? That doesn’t make sense. When you hate something, you want to cut off any association you have with that thing or else you’ll be upset 24/7. That’s what healthy people do.”

               “But the fact that you recognize that something you want to cut away means there is some unique element that sticks out enough—if not everyday—whenever you see it. It sticks out because what you usually hate reflects something you also hate in yourself. Let’s say you love the loyalty of your friends to you. You’re drawn to that loyalty because it reflects your own value for loyalty, which, then, makes you love these people. And to be clear, when I say ‘love’ it doesn’t only mean romantically. It can also be the one found in friendships and family or even in things you do.”

               “You don’t have to clarify what ‘love’ is to me. I know what it is,” Y/N spits. “What do you take me for? Someone who skipped the Personal Development class of 10th grade? I fucking aced that class. First off, how can you be drawn to a characteristic you hate when all you ever want is for it to disappear? You can’t be drawn to something you wish to be gone! And, hate cannot exist in any form of love. Sure, you can get upset, frustrated, or angry at your mother, friend, or significant other. But you can’t hate them if you really love them.  When you hate something, you stay away from it. You avoid it. You hurt it. You want to see it suffer. And you don’t do any of these things to something you love. ‘Love’ not ‘loved.’ Because if you’re already in the past tense of that L-verb, then you can hate them all you want.”

               “You’re not getting my point,” Yoongi groans, “I’m saying there’s a connection.”

               “Well, I don’t get it.” Y/N crosses her arms.

               “Fine, let me make you an example. What do you hate?”

               “You.”

               “Wow, what a great start we have,” Yoongi chuckles. “Okay, so you hate me. What’s my characteristic that you hate most?”

               “Your humongous ego you can’t even fit in your head. You thinking you can get away with anything. You simplifying everything as if they’re so easy when it’s not. You thinking you’re always right. You being so highly regarded in the office when clearly, you don’t deserve it because your climb in the hierarchy was just out of pure luck. In short, you’re overrated. You—”

               “Okay, we have enough material to work on, thank you very much. So, from what I could see, you hate me because I have a better life than you.”

               “What the—you really do have a big fucking ego! So big that it also blinds your eyes from seeing the reality. You’re delusional, Yoongi!”

               “Okay, that’s a fallacy. A two actually. Ad hominem and hasty generalizations. Which had me thinking you’ve always been pulling these two in every bit of your argument, whenever you can—”

               “Just like you!”

               “Well, I’m not like you! I’m not someone whose life revolves around her boss so much that I’d let her treat me like a dog and have me running from the world’s end to end just to satisfy her fucking brat of a daughter. And yet at the end of the day, that dog still can’t understand maybe it’s her master and her not standing up for herself that’s the fucking problem. She barks up on the wrong tree and blames everyone else for her misery instead of fucking working on herself!”

               “So, I’m supposed to be that dog?”

               “Yes!”

               “So, I’m a dog now. I’m a fucking dog. I’m that fucking dog you just—you know what, you’ve already ridiculed me and my work again and again in the office. You didn’t have to do it here, where every single stranger just heard what I apparently am in my work,” Y/N stands up and gathers her notebooks and sling bag. “If you’re just going to ridicule everything about me and what I say during the duration of these ‘dates,’ then I will just have to find someone else who’s going to take me seriously. Goodbye, Yoongi,” Y/N gives one last flippant look at the man and then she walks off.

DAY 2 – January 27; Monday

              Mina drops her hands to her side. For the first time, she cannot bring herself to stand up and switch on her metal portable radio. It’s break right now. Kim Seokjin’s voice should already be filling the room of the Accounting Department. But all Mina hears is a pin-drop of silence followed by a heavy sigh.

              That is until a loud scream breaks from her throat.

              “Yoongi called you a what?!”

              Y/N stands up and immediately presses a hand over her friend’s mouth, “Shh! You don’t have to be so loud. I don’t want everyone to hear us—”

              Mina slaps away her friend’s hand, “How can you tell me to be silent?! Right now, when Yoongi just called you a dog!”

              “Geez, you don’t have to repeat it—”

              “And the worst thing is, you just walked out on him!”

              “What?”

              Mina huffs, “Y/N, you cannot just let a man call you a dog and get away with it. You should have screamed back that he’s a shrew’s dick! Not only is he a literal dick, he also has the smallest dick!”

              “Wait, why is this now about Yoongi’s dick?”

              “Y/N,” Mina claps her hands on her friend’s shoulders, “this is about Yoongi’s dick. He thinks he’s so big but he’s just a pesky, miniature pest. His dick represents his ego. So if you said he has a dick of a shrew, you’re metaphorically blowing off his ego. And to the public, his dick.”

              Y/N wriggles herself from Mina’s hold and puffs, “Mina, will you stop going on and on about Yoongi’s dick? I don’t wanna hear about it and for God’s sake, you’ve already got Mark’s—”

              “How can I not?! He just called you a dog! Not even a bitch!” Y/N winces but Mina continues, “Like, okay, literally he’s pertaining to a bitch because you’re a girl and he called you a dog. And that would have been more okay because calling a girl a ‘bitch’ can be a petty insult everyone knows means about how annoying a girl can be. But, a dog?! Y/N, he’s reducing you to an animal! A dog, Y/N, a dog! An animal!”

              “Will you stop saying Y/N and dog in one sentence?!” Y/N snaps, “I’m the one who should be furious! I’m the one who got called a dog!”

              Mina shuts up. She immediately pulls her hands back to her sides, “Sorry. It’s hard not to violently react when my bestfriend is getting humiliated like that. Publicly even.”

              Y/N sighs, “Yeah, I know. It’s just…repeating it again and again makes me want to tear up.”

              Mina holds Y/N’s hand, “I’m sorry.”

              “I’m sorry, too,” Y/N says, “I didn’t mean to blow up. It’s just—Min Yoongi has insulted me in more ways than one but not like this. God, I’ve never been this humiliated before in my life.”

              Mina sighs and closes her eyes, “I knew this would happen. I told you to not push through with this plan but you didn’t listen. God, I wish I didn’t bring up that Yoongi is single. Of course, I should have known the moment I said that option, your mind wouldn’t stop mulling over it. If I hadn’t brought that up, then maybe you wouldn’t have even gone into that goddamn cafe.”

              “Hey, Mina,” Y/N tilts her friend’s chin to face her, “this is not your fault. This is Yoongi’s fault. And yeah, I should have listened to you. But we’re here now. We can’t undo what’s already happened. At least, this is a learning experience for me not to go with my gut when I already knew from the get-go it will turn out badly.”

              Mina nods, “You’re right...But what about the Heart Holiday? Who will you go with now?”

              Y/N releases a frustrated sigh, “I honestly don’t know. I’ll probably have to resort to desperate measures again. If things come to worst, I will stand in front of shops and hold out flyers just like the convenience sampling I did in college.  I’ll settle for the first decent person I can find. Just anyone at this point, I’m fine. As long as it’s not Min Yoongi.”

              “Yeah, as long as it’s not Min Yoongi.”

                Except that is easier said than done.

              “Uhh, what are you doing?”

               Y/N looks up from her crouched position under the table of her desk, frozen in surprise. Except for her index which manages to sneak three more swipe right’s.

               Yoongi stands on his tip-toes, peering over the cubicle to get a better glimpse of the crouched woman. When he sees a profile picture of a foreign man on the phone, his eyes shoot up and meet Y/N’s.

               “Is that Tinder?”

               After insulting and humiliating her publicly, this is the first thing Yoongi says? He doesn’t have the nerve to even apologize? Y/N rolls her eyes as she slowly crawls back onto her seat, “Well, thank you for confirming your eyes work, dumbass.”

               “Nevermind,” Yoongi waves off,  “Come into the Creatives’ Office. Right now,” He turns his back to her and heads the opposite hallway. He glances back at her one more time. “Right now,” he repeats with a glare, before disappearing through the glass door.

               Y/N grumbles, picking up her notebook and pen. She just had her beloved station all to herself for five minutes only and now she’s going back to her own circle of hell, her temporary cubicle in the Creatives’ office. Unlike her previous encounters with Yoongi, Y/N didn’t expect that a temporary cubicle will not spike up her blood pressure to skyscraper-heights. Instead, that cubicle roasts her ass slowly as if she’s some rotisserie chicken.

              Y/N’s cubicle is set against the periwinkle-painted wall, directly in front of Yoongi’s desk. All would be normal like it usually is if the Creatives’ cubicles are actually cubicles. Their cubicles have their front boards built so low that they could be mistaken for standard office tables. Mina said they were like that since the Creatives’ monitors are so large that they would be impractical for standard-sized cubicles. And a gossip among the Accounting three years ago said Nancy has to cut some funds for the Creatives’ interior designing since their high-quality model of computers and cutting-edge apps are enough to compensate for it. Still, it’s not enough for Y/N to forgive this horrible choice of furniture when she has to sit in it and endure every millisecond of her work time seeing Yoongi’s stupid face.

              Y/N feels a prick on her ass when she sees Yoongi’s half-lidded eyes as he clicks through his templates, looking like work never stresses him out. There’s gas-stove-like heat on her eyelids as she sees Yoongi teach his subordinates their drafted designs with a proud smirk on his face as if he’s the only one capable of coming up with those designs that are already magazine-standardized. Y/N feels her eyes have been doused with searing oil whenever Yoongi meets her eyes and gets the audacity to give her a challenging stare. And when Yoongi fucking decides to wink at her, Y/N could feel her eyes completely and so painfully burst on-fire. All these four occurrences happen on a day-to-day basis, especially on days when Y/N came from her station, frazzled and haggard because of Nancy’s orders. Because of this threat-posing danger to her sanity, Y/N’s only reprieve is her old station. But it’s still not enough. Not when she only gets five minutes to sit on it before she gets thrust back into her circle of hell. Like, right now.

              Yoongi is staring at her. His lips are tightly sealed, his hand firm as it cups his jaw. His brows are scrunched and Y/N could have mistaken he’s angry had she not known Yoongi long enough to know it’s just his face being a daily bitch like he is. Y/N tilts her head but she gets nothing. Yoongi’s eyes remain unmoving on her figure. She blows out a sigh. What is up with him now? Why can’t he wipe that stupid look on his face? Y/N sets her elbow on her desk and cups her jaw too, mirroring the man. She glares at him. Still nothing. She raises a middle finger. Yoongi breaks from his stance and chuckles, shaking his head.

              What the fuck—

              Yoongi stands up from his cubicle. “Myungsoo, Dana, Yoona, and” he looks straight at her, “Y/N. Come to the meeting room ASAP. I have something to discuss.”

              Y/N makes a face as she drags her limbs away from her desk.

              “So, I gathered everyone here because of a new concept Steven and I thought over,” Yoongi opens a red portfolio. He slides it to the center of the table for everyone to see.

              It was a set of templates, all in the scheme of reds and pinks. Just like how Nancy pointed out in the Creative’s To-do improvements in the meeting two weeks ago. There are two to three columns designed in one page. The indentions and the justified alignment follow the traditional layout. What steers away from the formula is the awkward staggering cuts on the ending sentences, seemingly like downward staircases facing opposite each other. It creates circular bubble-like spaces lying in between the columns. And in these spaces stand human icons, one person per bubble, busily typing on their laptops or looking at their cellphones.

              “Steven and I decided it will be a good time to use this layout since this month is the time for DRM’s star program, The Heart Holiday, which addresses the country’s concerns about the decreasing birth-rate. Looks like there are no more babies because people don’t want to get into relationships these days,” Yoongi says, pointing to the solo human icons on the template. Y/N glances to her right and sees Myungsoo and Dana stifling a chuckle. Yoongi’s joke is not even funny, why are they laughing?

              “Anyway, Steven and I guessed it’s only appropriate to use the concept: no one wants to be intimate anymore, so everyone distances themselves from each other.” Yoongi flips the next page of the portfolio.

              The next article layouts have only two columns. It still has the staggered-staircases-forming-bubbles in the format. However, the reduction of the columns has brought these bubbles nearer to each other. Unlike the one-person-per-bubble format, there are now two to three people in the bubbles interacting with each other.

              “But even if it seems no one wants to be with anyone anymore,” Yoongi continues, “There is still hope for people to connect with each other. That’s why Steven and I thought it will be a good opportunity to combine this message in our magazine with the Heart Holiday-inspired theme. The memes about DRM’s PRS are also trending right now in every social media so this could make our magazine more relatable for people. Ms. Nancy has sent us the approved feature articles for inspiration. We can tell this February issue is themed around having fun whether you’re going to DRM-approved date sites with your significant other, or you’re going solo around these sites, treating yourself and all that. Hence, we thought this kind of layout will be the best one to visually execute this message,” Yoongi finishes. He looks at the people in the meeting room, “What do you think?”

              Myungsoo nods, “Yeah, I think that’s a great concept. Very timely.”

              “And the design, too,” Yoona adds, “This may catch our readers’ attention from the get-go because these bubbles are not the usual stuff we see in issues—print or online.”

              “Thanks for your inputs—Y/N, are you writing this down?”

              Y/N could suddenly feel everyone’s eyes on her. Yoongi really does love putting her on unneeded spotlights, no? She raises her head from her notebook and grumbles, “Of course.”

              “Good, then,” Yoongi turns back to his staff, “We haven’t sent these templates to Ms. Nancy yet. I’m just informing you beforehand should you have better suggestions. You know how Ms. Nancy hates installment submissions of our designs. As of now, we only have conceptualized templates for the feature articles. We still need to cover the templates for the profiles and the top ten pages. And most importantly, the cover page. I want you three to do some research and provide me interesting concepts for our subject and shoots. We have to submit a cohesive collection before Ms. Nancy’s return. So, would it be okay for you if you can send it to me by the end of the week?”

              All three give Yoongi an affirmative nod.

              “Okay, then,” Yoongi leans in his seat, “I would like you to formally meet Ms. Y/N L/N.”

              “But we already got introduced to her. A week ago, in fact,” Myungsoo warily glances at his right. Y/N tries not to shrink from the intimidating gaze he’s giving her. Wasn’t Myungsoo just afraid of her five days ago?

              “Yeah, I know,” Yoongi says, “but I think everyone has not fully understood her purpose here as I still see anxiousness in everyone’s faces whenever she goes around the office. Steven did not do much of a good job explaining it either since he’s been busy with the skeletal framework of our designs. And now, Nancy had just recently busied him with the interface of our site.  That’s why I’m here as second in command.” Yoongi stands up and nears Y/N. Y/N attempts to step back, away from his approaching figure. Yoongi prevents her from doing so by encircling an arm around her and firmly pats a hand on her right shoulder.

              The three Creatives staff sport bunched up brows.

              Unheeding from the confusion on their faces, Yoongi says, “Ms. Y/N L/N here, is Ms. Nancy’s eyes in the Creatives. Since Ms. Nancy is overseas and our last report in our meeting was not satisfactory for her, she sent in her P.A. to check on our progress and directly report to her. To counter-check our own reports to her and whatnot. Y/N’s not here to rat out anyone who’s sneaking a break or two when it’s not even break time,” Dana stiffens at that. Yoongi chuckles, “Don’t worry Dana, everyone already knows and Y/N hasn’t written a thing about you, right Y/N?” He looks at the woman under his arm and smiles.

              Y/N’s got her forehead scrunched together but she nods nevertheless, “Y-yes, I don’t report stuff ‘bout like that. Just the progress and drafts for the templates and designs and o-other suggestions. Yeah.” She unconsciously releases a shaky breath as she glances up at Yoongi who’s still smiling weirdly at her. Why does she feel like she’s being held hostage by the insufferable man?

               “Right,” Yoongi says, looking back at the three. “So, I would really appreciate it if you guys could walk-through Ms. Y/N around your research and concept-making, especially about the matters that concern the cover page.” Myungsoo opens his mouth to retort but Yoongi beats him, “Uh-uh, no objections. This is an order from your superior. A superior who cares about you all to protect you from getting blasted off this company by our dear Ms. Nancy,” Yoongi smiles.

               This must have quelled the three’s resistance, seeing their downcast faces. Yoongi grins, “I’m glad to know that you all agree with me, then. As it also would have been weird if otherwise. Especially when our sweet, adorable, cute Y/Nie has come here to help us.” Yoongi cups Y/N’s face and smiles, “Right, Y/Nie?”

               The confusion is back on the staff’s faces. This time, tenfold.

               “O….kay, I think I already get the memo,” Dana reaches for the door handle.

               “Y-yeah, me too,” Myungsoo seconds.

               “Thank you for the…briefing, Mr. Min. Have a good day,” Yoona bids as she pulls open the door and leaves. Soon enough, it’s just Y/N and Yoongi left inside the Creatives’ meeting room.

               Y/N tears herself immediately from Yoongi’s hold. She looks at him, furious, “What the fuck was that, Min?!”

               Yoongi places his hands in his pockets, “Me pretending I’m interested in you. My share of the deal. You know? Your plan.”

               “You think the deal is still up?! It’s long broken after your shit in the café yesterday!”

               “I’m not the only one who’s at fault,” Yoongi counters, “You called me overrated and an egotistic bastard.”

               “Well, you called me a dog!” Y/N throws her hands in the air. “A dog, Yoongi, a dog! What’s more humiliating than that?!”

               “I admit that’s a wrong move on my part. It’s uncalled for and I’m sorry,” Yoongi sighs. Y/N immediately feels her limbs loosen up. Did…Did Min Yoongi just apologize to her? The prideful, uncaring, asshole Min Yoongi just said ‘sorry’?—

              “But that still doesn’t justify why you’re on Tinder earlier,” Yoongi crosses his arms, “You’re still in the office and break well past over. It’s not even night time!”

              “What the—Why, am I allowed to use Tinder only at night?” Y/N gives him an incredulous look.

               “That’s not what I meant,” Yoongi says dryly, “I’m talking about you having to go to Tinder, seducing a partner with your sexual fantasies and what-not. In case you’re too shallow to know, you usually do those kinds of things at night.”

              Y/N glares at him, “So, you’re saying I have to go to Tinder to unleash my inner hoe and seduce potential partners? And it must be at night? Excuse you Min, I am highly capable of seducing anyone even off-screen!”

               “Uhh, no?” Yoongi says, tilting his head.

               Y/N’s forehead furrows, “What do you mean ‘no’?”

               “No. As in it’s impossible for you to seduce anyone, Y/N.”

               Y/N sticks her nose up, “How did you say so?”

               “Because you’re a stuck-up girl with a stick in her ass,” Yoongi informs, “No one finds that sexy.”

               “And what do people find sexy?” Y/N scoffs, “Conceited, demeaning bastards like you?”

               Yoongi drags a hand over his face, “This is going nowhere again. I don’t have time for this.”

               “And whose fault is it?” Y/N points at him, “You. You started it!”

               “No, you did,” Yoongi pins her with a glare “Who the hell swipes right on every random stranger on Tinder without care?! Much more in a professional setting?”

               “From what I know, you didn’t care about any professionalism at work, Min,” Y/N spits, taking a step towards the man, “You slept during working hours, Yoongi. Don’t you forget how you served me cold to Nancy when you missed Rosa’s call about her son’s first son’s birthday party!” Y/N seethes, “And why do you even care about whoever I swipe on Tinder?! It’s none of your business!”

               “Of course it is my business! I’m the one who you’re supposed to be dating. Not some other Tinder dude!”

               Silence. Not one muscle moves. Not even a breath comes out from between their lips. The air in the room goes colder. There seem to be imaginary frozen needles that have surrounded Y/N’s body after Yoongi’s outburst as she could feel the frigid cold starting to nip on her neck. Yoongi doesn’t seem any better as he stands still in front of her, eyes wide, mouth agape after his outburst. The excruciating tension stretches on as another second passes in this pin-drop silence.

               “W-what?” Y/N chokes out, the sound scratching from her throat, “Y-you think you’re supposed to be dating me? After everything that happened in the cafe, you think my offer is still up? You think, what, after you just called me a dog, I’d let you back in on my plan? And have you benefit from it?” Y/N scoffs.

               “Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? I already apologized!”

               Y/N snorts, “You think it’s that easy to let go for you to demand forgiveness for what you did? I didn’t know you’re also that entitled, Min! And for the record, I don’t need to date you. I can easily find anyone to be my boyfriend for the Valentines!”

                “Then tell me why you’re still swiping right on Tinder until now,” Yoongi counters. “Didn’t you think I would catch you in the meeting still furiously swiping right behind your notebook?” Y/N’s jaw goes slack as she looks away from him. Yoongi smirks. “From all those accounts you swiped right, there probably would have been one that matched with you, right? If you can so ‘easily find anyone to be your boyfriend’?” He takes one step forward to the woman. Y/N gulps, taking one step backward. “Tell me there’s someone else other than me who’s willing to do all these acting shits just to get you that paid vacation leave,” Yoongi takes another step forward, cornering Y/N in the blinds-covered glass wall, “If you can name someone else, I’d gladly let you swipe everyone and anyone to your heart’s content.”

               “Fine,” Y/N admits, “No one has matched with me. Yet,” she adds, daggers in her eyes. She wouldn’t succumb to him just because he’s in a more domineering position than her, hovering above her. “Of course, you’re the only one who’s willing to act out this dating shit with me because you’re gonna benefit from it, too. You out of all people going to deny that one week of paid vacation leave? That would be a miracle.”

               ���Touche,” Yoongi chuckles.

               “That’s why, it’s also time for you to step back or else I’m filing a sexual harassment case against you.”

               “Okay, okay, geesh,” Yoongi holds up his hands as he backs away, chuckling. Y/N gives him an unamused look as she dusts off her blazer. God, how many days did the Creatives left their windows to gather dust? And Yoongi had to corner her there of all places—

               Y/N crosses her arms, eyes narrowed, “So, after all your…theatrics, what are you really implying, Min?”

               “I’m implying, let’s give it a go again,” Yoongi replies. Y/N cringes at him. Yoongi immediately defends himself, “Yeah, I know, it sounds like hell. You’re not the only one who’s going to suffer.”

              “As if. You suffering just like I do? I’m the one who’s gonna suffer more! Just by looking at you, I could feel my eyes burning as if I poured a gallon of muriatic acid on them.”

              Yoongi sighs, “I’m being serious here.”

              “So do I,” Y/N tilts her chin up.

              Yoongi gives her a stop-bullshitting-me look.

              Y/N sighs, “Fine, I will.”

              “So, as I was saying,” Yoongi continues, “Our act only has to go for two weeks. 13 days, exactly, since we’ve already wasted yesterday. All we have to do is compromise and not try to fray each other’s nerves too much. Just for two weeks. Then at least we can make this farce as less stressful as it can be for the sake of our mental health.”

               “Okay. How would we start then?”

               “Let’s go have a date later. After work.”

              “So this is your idea of a date?”

              “Stop complaining. I’m already the one paying.”

              Y/N grumbles an unintelligible disagreement over a stick-full of crispy fried chicken intestines. Yoongi glares at her as he takes another stick from the hot pot. He stuffs his cheek with more chicken intestines. He chomps on his food, obviously savoring the taste of the greasy street food. It would have been pleasing to the eyes if the sounds he is making are not akin to a horse wallowing chunks of grass.  It also doesn’t help that his sounds are only heightened by the loud, mindless chatter of passerby’s. Families arguing what food stall to go to next. Friends betting which game they can win. Children and babies crying for the jackpot humongous teddy bears of the obviously rigged stalls. And couples giving each other mushy looks while guzzling on street foods sold by stalls like the one they’re in. It’s a cacophony of all banal sounds from day-to-day life, amplified to the notch.

              Y/N glances up. The sky is dark but not much can be seen from the thick, dirty smog of the city. What only breaks the neverending stretch of pollution are the overhead lights. They are small oriental lamps tied up on wire cables, hanging across the streetlamp posts. Their pink, orange, and yellow hues substitute for the washed down constellations above the night sky. At least this is pretty.

              “Why? What’s your idea of a date?”

              Y/N snaps back to the man beside her. She’s brought back to the almost-deafening chitter-chatter background. “W-well, it’s definitely not like this!” She waves her stick around her, “It’s not this noisy, thi-this messy. We’re not even supposed to be eating this!”

              Yoongi raises a brow, “But it looks like you like eating chicken intestines. You had six sticks.”

              Y/N’s eyes widen. She buries her face in her scarf, “I have no choice. I’m hungry.”

              “Well, are you still hungry now?”

              “No,” Y/N munches on the last piece of her chicken intestines. She dunks the empty stick in her cup sitting on the bar of the stall.

              “That’s more than good then—Hey, are you done?” Yoongi turns to her. Y/N nods. She gives Yoongi some bills but he slaps her hand away and pays the stall vendor for their meals. “See? I fed you,” Yoongi snorts, “Why are you even complaining?”

              “A date is not just about feeding someone! O-or paying for someone before asking them if it’s okay to have their meals paid for them.”

              “But I told you I’m going to pay! You know, because of yesterday? Because apparently, my apology earlier is not enough for your demanding ass.”

              Y/N angrily stuffs her purse back into her satchel, “It’s still doesn’t justify why this ‘date’ is like this! This is not supposed to be this way!”

              “Aside from your elitist, romantic-sap delusions,” Yoongi looks at her, “what is a date supposed to be?”

              “I’m not an elitist or a romantic-sap!” Y/N exclaims, “And they’re not delusions! Anyone with at least one functioning brain cell could tell a date is supposed to have some ounce of privacy. Some inch of calm in the mood. At least through the music or the aesthetic of the place—not like a marketplace of a street event like this! And the food! They’re supposed to be at least served in plates! Did you not get an example when I asked you to meet me yesterday in a café?”

              “But the thing is, I’m not just anyone, sweetheart.”

              “Will you just stop—” Y/N falters when she feels a tug on her coat.

              “Hey, they have those fried flour-coated quail eggs! You want some?”

              Y/N doesn’t utter a word. Her perked eyes are enough for her to quickly follow the man to the brown food stall.

              Yoongi smirks, “What were you saying again? Did the eggs taste less delicious now they’re in cups?”

              Y/N dips one more egg in the sweet orange sauce before giving him a pointed look, “Shut up. This is an exception. I’m weak for this food since high school.”

              “Aren’t you weak for the intestines, too?” Yoongi snickers, “You ate eight sticks.”

               Y/N jabs at his side. Yoongi’s laugh breaks as he soothes over the spot. Y/N  triumphantly smiles, “I told you to shut up.”

               Yoongi frowns at her as he takes another egg from his cup.

               Y/N sighs as she places down her cup on the bar. She turns to Yoongi,               “Spill it.”

              “What?”

              “Why are you being so nice tonight? What are you plotting?”

               “This-This?” Yoongi sputters, “I am already being nice by being like this?”

               “Well, you’re the worst on a daily basis. Tonight, you’re ten percent less of worse.”

               Yoongi tilts his head, “How did you say so?”

               “Well,” Y/N shoves her hands in her pockets, “when I say some shit about you, you fight back. Like earlier. I blow up on you. You blow up on me. Now, you’re going for passive-aggressive. I can’t tell if you’re about to sneak up on me like the bitch you are or are you just weirdly sucking up to me.” Yoongi snorts. The sound makes Y/N’s ears heat up in a mix of embarrassment and irritation. “Why are you laughing, Min? It’s not a joke.”

               “It is a joke,” Yoongi breathes out in-between laughs, “You think I’m sucking up to you? Not in a million years, bitch! And what am I to sneak up on you for? As of now, you’re in the Creatives and I am somehow your superior. I don’t have to sneak up on you for anything.”

               Y/N huffs, “Then, what are you doing right now?”

               “It’s called compromise,” Yoongi informs, a proud smile growing on his face, “Human decency in another context. Didn’t you hear what I said earlier? If we can try, we can make this deal as less stressful as it can be.”

               “Yeah, I know,” Y/N deadpans.

               “And right now, this loud background is my insurance for tonight should we end up screaming at each other. No one is gonna hear everything and doubt us being a couple. So we can finally get that damned DRM date document.”

               “Why ‘finally’?” Y/N breaks from her reverie, brows raised in confusion, “Didn’t we have a date yesterday?”

               “Yeah we did have one,” Yoongi leans his elbow on the bar and turns to her, “But with you walking out and making such a grand exit, there’s no one in hell the manager is gonna hand me a document that’s supposed to verify two people had a great time in a date site.”

               Y/N hides her face beneath her scarf. She mumbles, “It shouldn’t have happened if you didn’t call me a dog.”

               “Yeah, I know,” Yoongi pops an egg into his mouth, finishing his cup, “but you called me names, too.” Y/N opens her mouth to retort but stops when Yoongi presses an index over her lips, “But they are just your go-to petty insults. And the end, calling you a dog is still an uncalled for low-blow. So now, I’m making us even by paying for your meals.”

               “Okay,” Y/N places her finished cup on the bar, “How would we get a document for today, then? Temporary stalls like this are not DRM-approved.”

               Yoongi smiles, “We just have to find some date-site-looking shop, then.”

               Y/N nods and she falls into silence next to Yoongi. Crowds continue to buzz past them, some people even bumping into their shoulders without an apology. And yet, not a word is still exchanged. The muted space between them is awkward and almost tensioned. From the back of her mind, Y/N could tell Yoongi wants to tell her something. His constant quick glances give him away. However, her expectations are always destroyed when he brings his eyes back on the street, staring straight ahead, away from hers. Y/N decides having an annoying chatterbox Yoongi is better than this silent Yoongi. This silent one seems like he’s secretly plotting her murder. Y/N shakes her head. Compromise, Y/N, compromise.

               “Hey, would you want to go in there?”

               Y/N whips her head, “W-what?”

               Yoongi points to his left, “Do you want to go to that shop? They’re selling some cute stuff.”

               Y/N follows Yoongi’s index. The shop standing on their left looks like Hello Kitty has puked all over it with pink sparkly unidentified stuff for years. Its name, “Adorable Paradise” is in glowing neon pink. It’s flashed by a huge LED  board fastened to the roof of the shop. The shop’s pink walls contrast the monotone grey and dirty white of the shops crammed beside it. Even from the outside, Y/N could already tell the majority, if not all, of their products are also barfed over by Hello Kitty. Pink teddy bears, pink phone cases, pink pillows, pink mini dresses—the list goes on. It’s a novelties store. But right now in Y/N’s eyes, it’s one big puddle of Hello Kitty’s barf. A paradise for all cheesy, cheap, cute finds that won’t even last long for a month.”

               “T-there?” Y/N turns to  Yoongi, a scoff forming on her lips. “You’re asking me if I want to go there? Well, I do not! I’m already 25, Yoongi. I’m no longer 15!”

               Yoongi gives her an incredulous look, “Why? Are fifteen-year-olds only allowed to that place?” He raises his hand and points to a couple going out of the shop, “See? Does that adult couple look like fifteen-year-olds to you?”

               “But, look at its name! ‘Adorable Paradise.’ Who the hell will not think this shop is for cringey teenagers?!”

               “Well, the DRM thinks not because it’s officially listed in one of their approved date sites.”

               Y/N’s eyes grow into large snow globes. She turns up her nose at him as she crosses her arms, “As if I could believe you. Just yesterday, you don’t know anything about DRM or the PRS.”

               “But now I know,” Yoongi argues, “I researched it.”

               “You? Research?” Y/N snorts, “That combination sounds awfully unbelievable.”

               “Hey, I do research,” Yoongi narrows his eyes at her, “I have to do it especially on things I know my sanity will be at stake. Like, right now,” Yoongi suddenly pulls Y/N’s wrist and runs toward the glass door of the shop, almost dragging Y/N’s body behind.

               “I.Told.You. Let. Go. Of. Me!” Y/N slaps Yoongi’s hand per syllable. Yoongi finally lets go when they enter the shop. Y/N caresses the non-existent marks on her wrist. She glowers at him, “You don’t have to drag me like that if you’re that dying to go in here, you know? You could have just told me you’re a hopeless romantic overgrown teenage boy.”

               Yoongi seems to have gone deaf over her words. He aimlessly wanders through the aisles of the shop, whistling a soft tune to himself. Y/N is ready to stomp her way all over to him and drag him out like how he did with her if Yoongi didn’t holler from the CD stand, “Hey! This song reminds me of you!”

               Y/N walks toward him. She peers at the CD case he’s holding. “UGLY – 2NE1.”

               Y/N glares at him. Yoongi laughs. She pushes him away as she goes to the other end of the stand, scanning through the CD cases. “Hah! This one’s for you!”

               Yoongi looks at the case, “Here’s a Quarter (Call Someone Who Cares) – Travis Tritt.” Yoongi smirks at her, “So, it’s gonna be like this, huh?” He rushes to the opposite end of the CD stand. “This one’s for you!” Yoongi flashes her the CD case, “I hate everything about you – Three Days Grace”

               Y/N angrily bites on her lip. She dives into her side of the stand, “Then you’re this—“Die in a Fire – The Living Tombstone”

               “You’re Pitiful – Weird Al”

               “Suck a Cheetah’s Dick – Wesley Willis”

               “You Need to Calm Down – Taylor Swift”

               “That’s What You Get – Paramore”

               “You’re not Old School. You’re Just Old – Swallowing Shit”

               “LOSER – Big Bang”

              “Grow Up – Paramore”

              “Fuck You – Lilly Allen”

              “F.U.R.B. (Fuck You Right Back) – Frankee”

               With no more songs to insult each other, Yoongi and Y/N continues on to the greeting cards.

               Yoongi turns to Y/N and points at his left, “You’re like this Mother’s day card. Its fake PNG background resonates you being such a scam.”

               Y/N points at her right, “Well, you’re like this Birthday card that somehow looks like a prayer card. You think so highly of yourself when you’re just some low-quality being.”

               “Hah!” Yoongi snorts, “Then you’re like this plain ass Thank You Card. Its abuse of Comic Sans is like your abuse of overused insults. Upgrade your insulting game, mate.”

               “Overused, huh? Then you’re this ‘Cousin, you deserve the best,’ card. Awfully useless to anyone.”

               “Hey! Cousins deserve a Hallmark card!”

               “Who the hell writes to their cousin?! It’s no longer the 1800’s!”

               “Well, obviously not you. You don’t have a heart to even appreciate your cousin.”

               “I do appreciate my cousin!” Y/N looks away, frowning, “But not through cards.”

               “Then how do you appreciate them?”

               “A birthday message on Facebook?”

               “That’s not enough! What, you just speak to them once a year?”

               “Yeah! Because not everyone has good relationship ties with their family, dumb-o.”

               Yoongi stops, “What? You’re not okay with your family?”

               “Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I said?” Y/N looks at him with a cold stare, “And why are you suddenly concerned?”

               “Well, it’s family? And families are supposed to be the people who should know you best, and thus understand you the best..?,” Yoongi finishes, eyes unsure. He looks like he’s trying to convince himself with his answer rather than Y/N.

               “Well, not my family,” Y/N turns away and heads for the other aisle, “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Next topic.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi nods, following behind.

               The Adorable Paradise is a self-contradiction. There is nothing heavenly in the shop but its all-shades-of-pink LSD-inducing color scheme. The shop is a hodgepodge of all things imaginable. One stand has CDs and records, from mainstream pop to underground heavy metal, un-arranged in the racks. The other stand has greeting cards for all sorts of events. It is Y/N’s first time to find a card congratulating a person for surviving a day without killing their boss. Shelves line up the spaces above the stands, housing indoor plants of different species and vinyl records from the 70s to contemporaries. The bookstands lined in the center of the shop contain items from school supplies to cosmetic products. Accessories from head to toe are displayed in mannequins placed in all of the corners of the shop. The only thing passable for “adorable” is the shop’s collection of plushies, all resembling none of well-known cartoons or franchises. Although calling it so would be a stretch because there are outlandish ones like the magenta sunflower with a pentagram on its disk florets Y/N saw in the leftmost shelf.  It was as if the shop owner didn’t know what business it wants to have so they just threw everything sellable they know inside. It is almost impossible to know how the shop managed to house all these various products in such a small space. Especially, when there are corners that have products like—

               “Yoongi, look, they have the leaf village’s forehead protector!”

               “The leaf village what?”

               Y/N turns around, tying the headband around her head, “The Naruto headband!”

               Yoongi shrugs.

               Y/N’s eyes blow wide, “What do you mean ‘so what’? This is Naruto.”

               “Well, I haven’t watched it, so I don’t know what to feel.”

               “You haven’t watched Naruto?!”

               “Too many episodes.”

               “This is Naruto!”

               “Yes! I know it’s Naruto!” Yoongi exasperates, “You don’t have to repeat it again!”

               “Fine,” Y/N crosses her arms. “Then what did you watch growing up?” Yoongi looks up, deep in thought. Y/N smirks, “If you have nothing, then I can really say you’re asshole-ry can now be explained by the fact that you apparently have no childhood.”

               “Hey! I had my childhood! I remember it now. It’s Slam Dunk!”

               “The basketball anime?”

               “Yep.”

               “Does it involve ten episodes worth of flashback before they finally make a move?”

               “No. That’s just the trend now after Kuroko no Basket.”

               “Wait,” Y/N points at him, “Do you watch every single sports anime?”

               “No…Just when it’s about basketball.”

               “Oh my god,” Y/N dramatically covers her mouth in faux shock, “you’re such a stereotypical representative of the male species.”

               Yoongi gives her a half-unamused, half-confused look, “What do you mean with that?”

               “Nothing. Just you guys typically liking basketball 24/7 and making life everything about it.”

               “I do not make life everything about basketball,” Yoongi deadpans, “Have you ever heard me do that?”

               “…No. Okay, sorry, I got sidetracked again because of my annoyance with you,” Y/N faces the bookstand where she got her headband, “Anyway, since you mentioned you like Slam Dunk, I may have seen a Shohoku 10 jersey here—”

               “OH MY GOD, WHERE???” Yoongi runs next to her.

               Y/N turns around, quirking her brows, “I thought you don’t make your life about basketball? Why are you reacting like that?”

               “Hey, if you watched Slam Dunk, you’d know,” Yoongi informs. He takes a conscious step back and awkwardly adjusts the folded cuffs of his navy button-down.

               “Well, I haven’t watched it, so I don’t know.”

               “You haven’t watched Slam Dunk? How do you even know about the Shohoku 10 jersey?!”

               “I know that 10 jersey is important because Mina’s boyfriend gushes about it, too,” Y/N bites her lip then admits, “And also because the one wearing the next number, 11, is a very attractive man.”

               “You mean Kaede Rukawa?” Yoongi blows a frustrated sigh, “Oh my god, you have an awful taste. That character’s annoying as fuck.”

               “Hey—”

               Yoongi holds up a finger, “You don’t get to justify yourself. You said you haven’t watched Slam Dunk. Which by the way, how did you even know Rukawa is good-looking?”

               Y/N slaps Yoongi’s hand away, “Hah! You admit he’s also good-looking!”

               Yoongi narrows his eyes at her, “That’s not the point. Answer the question.”

               “Fine. I saw a drawing of him in a product ad for a Shohoku jersey Mina has added to her cart.”

               Yoongi’s jaw drops, “Then, you just decided then and there you like him?”

               “I didn’t say I like him! I said he’s attractive!”

               “But he’s such a jerk to Sakuragi! How is that attractive?!”

               “You know, this is going nowhere again,” Y/N mutters and heads for the cashier.

               Yoongi follows close behind, “Just so you know, you’ll immediately get disillusioned when you watch the anime.”

               “If you’d succeed in convincing me to do so,” Y/N taunts.

               “I’ll watch Naruto in exchange,” Yoongi places the jersey on the counter, next to the Naruto headband.

               Y/N looks at him, brows shot up her forehead, “Are you sure? That’s like 500 plus episodes of investment.”

               Yoongi smirks, “I’m sure. Then in exchange, you have to watch Slam Dunk.” He places out his hand, “Deal?”

               Y/N goes silent. After another second of thought, she clasps her hand around Yoongi’s and shakes it, “Deal.”

               “That would be $50,” the cashier awkwardly smiles.

               Y/N quickly opens her wallet, fishing for some bills—

               “Thank you for giving the exact amount, sir.”

               Y/N looks at Yoongi, “You already paid? But I’ve got my forehead protector in it. I need to pay.”

               “I told you,” Yoongi smiles, “I’m paying for today.”

               Y/N goes silent. This smile on the man’s face is weird. It’s not the taunting one he flashes at her whenever she’s in meetings, as if to remind her he’s waiting for her next mistake. Nor is it the insulting tilt of his lips he sends her whenever he catches sight of her frazzled form by Nancy’s door after accomplishing all her boss’ pile of tasks. This smile has an oddly, unnervingly nonexistent subtext. It has none of his usual malice, nor his hint of capriciousness. Just a plain smile Yoongi most definitely never sends her way and—

               “You two are so sweet!”

               Y/N breaks from her trance and looks at the cashier, “W-what?”

               The cashier takes a step from her desk, self-conscious now of her abrupt statement. She looks like she’s just turned about nineteen. Probably her first job that’s why she’s a nervous wreck in front of a customer. “I-I said you two a-are so sweet,” she stutters, “I-I’ve never seen a couple before with such che-chemistry with each other.”

               What? Chemistry? Y/N scoffs. Her and Yoongi? It’s more likely disastrous energy.  “We-re not—”

               “Oh yeah, people usually comment that about us,” Yoongi pulls Y/N to his side, an arm looped around her frame. He sends her a sickening, too-cheesy lovey-dovey eyes, “Right, my cutie peachy pie, Y/N?”

               Y/N gives him an incredulous look. Yoongi doesn’t pay her mind. He turns back to the cashier, “We probably oozed too much of the honeymoon phase, no? My girlfriend and I just started dating, you see. So I guess, all the sweet stuff are natural to come at the start.”

               “I don’t think the sweetness will only come at the start for you two, sir,” the cashier grins, “For one, you two look like you’ve been with each other for so long.”

               “Yeah,” Yoongi answers, chuckling, “So long that the establishment of DRM has caught up with us and almost pushed us to be together.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops. Yoongi did not just say that—

               “That’s why, we’re still kinda unofficial now. We haven’t changed our PRSs yet.”

               “Oh,” the cashier nods slowly.

               “So,” Yoongi leans closer to the counter, “Would you help me and my cutie peachy pie be as official as we can be by writing us a date document to officialize our date?”

               “O-of course, sir! No problem!” The cashier beams, “May I get your names please?”

              “L/N Y/N and Min Yoongi.”

              “Okay, I’ll be back soon” the cashier bows before she disappears into their staff’s backroom.

               Y/N immediately pulls Yoongi’s cuff sleeve, pulling him to lean toward her, “What the fuck, Min? Cutie peachy pie?!”

               “What the fuck, to you, too, peachy pie,” Yoongi returns in harsh whispers, a frown marring his face, “What were you thinking denying to the cashier we’re not a couple? You almost gave us away!”

               “It’s you who almost gave us away! You outright hinted we’re doing all these stuff just to get the holiday benefit! Were you not listening to me yesterday? You don’t have to go through all drama theatrics just to get the date document! You can just ask for it plain and simple! They’ll automatically get it—”

               “Sorry, I took so long,” The cashier enters the counter. Y/N and Yoongi immediately let go of each other. The cashier smiles at the couple, “Here’s your date document, Mr. Min and Ms. L/N. I wish you two the best of luck!”

               “Y-yeah, thank you,” Y/N awkwardly smiles as she receives the sealed pale pink envelope.

               When they make it outside the shop, Y/N finally bursts. “What the hell did you just do in there?”

               “Uhh, pretending to be your lover? Like you should, too? Because you’re the one who offered me this deal to acquire the Heart Holiday paid week? I don’t know, you decide,” Yoongi gives her a once over.

               Y/N closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay, I’m sorry I almost put us up to fail by denying we’re a couple. But, you can’t blame me. I’m still adjusting to having you as my fake boyfriend when you’re my worst enemy for years. It’s an illogical upgrade and I still need time to prepare myself.”

               “Well, you shouldn’t have agreed to have our date today when you’re not yet done being such a difficult person,” Yoongi spits. Y/N’s almost taken aback by the complete 180 change from the smiling Yoongi who’s telling her he’s willing to suffer 500 plus episodes in exchange for her watching Slam Dunk for him. But then, that must have just been him acting like the professional scam that he is. Reality must sink in. Right in front of her is the true Min Yoongi. The insufferable man who doesn’t think twice about criticizing her, even in a large public place.

               Aggravation starts to light up in Y/N’s throat. She turns to Yoongi, voice dripping with venom and disdain, “Well, forgive me for not being able to stomach dating you. Especially someone like you who’s awfully disgusting as your choices of pet names.”

               Yoongi looks at her in silence. He looks down at the paper bags in his hands. He unceremoniously hands her the smaller one. “If you cannot stomach me dating you, you shouldn’t have asked for my help in the first place.” Yoongi gives her one last unreadable look. He shakes his head and walks away, disappearing into the moving crowd.

              Y/N looks away, feet stuck on the pavement. The awful taste of shame is blocking her esophagus.

 DAY 3 – January 28; Tuesday      

               Yoongi is avoiding her, Y/N’s sure of it. When she sat in her desk in the Creatives, the man didn’t let his eyes sweep over her. He didn’t even address her blatant staring just like he usually does. When Y/N makes her round in their office, Yoongi coincidentally decides it’s the right time to take a bathroom break, obviously avoiding having Y/N pass him by in his cubicle. This is weird. Yoongi is not one to avoid Y/N. It is Y/N who avoids him. Yoongi is the pesky, picky jerk of a fly who won’t stop bugging her. It’s not supposed to be her who’s standing awkwardly whenever he’s near, trying to get the man’s attention.

              The morning was stressfully spent with her trying to play cat and mouse with Yoongi. Fortunately for Y/N, no one in the Creatives has noticed this aberrant change in her attitude. She’s sure she’s gonna succumb to the depths of the earth from embarrassment. Y/N’s relieved everyone already knows she hates Yoongi and vice versa to even attempt to speak to her about it. That is until the clock hits eleven and a no-filter co-worker with the name of Dana Lee comes to her.

               “Hey, what’s up with you and Yoongi?”

               Y/N looks up from her desk. Dana is leaning above her, concern and curiosity etched into her face. From the little time Y/N has spent in the Creatives, it was easy to tell Dana is one of the most extroverted people she has ever met in her life. Unafraid to sound too prying or gossipy, Dana just speaks what’s on her mind. Be it about Myungsoo being too patronizing on her or Steven being so closed-off as a leader, Dana freely talks about anything. What’s only weird though is she also manages to not step on any line. This is something Y/N is simultaneously frustrated by and envious of. No one gets to say anything that they want and play so safe all at the same time. Though right now, Y/N is mulling over if she got Dana wrong as what she’s asking from her is a little bit too unnerving for someone she has never exchanged a word with before.

               “What?”

               The petite blonde woman comfortably plops onto a chair next to her desk. Y/N didn’t notice she even dragged a chair with her. Dana leans an elbow on her desk, “Just yesterday, he was awfully close to you. Now, it looks like he can’t even bear to look at you.”

               “What are you talking about?” Y/N awkwardly chuckles, “We’re not close. We both can’t bear to look at each other.”

               “Then what did happen yesterday?” Dana’s eyes were piercing right into hers.

              “Umm, maybe he’s got…a fever? Fever always does things to people, you know?” Y/N nervously chuckles

               Dana hums, leaning back on her chair, “I don’t think calling someone adorable and sweet has something to do with fever. ”

               “It’s Min Yoongi, Dana,” Y/N flips through the pages of her notebook, “If he doesn’t have a fever, then he’s just plain weird. He always says ridiculous things.”

               “Not always. I don’t even remember hearing him giving compliments ever since he got in here.”

               Y/N whips her head towards her.

               Dana chuckles, “You two do have something weird going on, huh?” Y/N opens her mouth to retort but Dana cuts her chance by handing her a long manila folder. “Anyway, I’m here to give you these. Here are the templates I’ve researched that could work for this month’s profile pages.”

               “Why…are you giving me these?”

               “I just want to,” Dana shrugs, “Since you ‘re part of the Creatives now, I figured why not let you help me pick out what templates to use as inspiration for our own magazine. Since you work closely with Nancy, you should probably know some things she wants to see in our issues.”

              “But—”

              “And inside it is also a mini-guide about the jargons we use to help you better understand Steven’s reports before you report them yourself to Nancy.”

              “You…you did this for me?”

              “Honestly? No. This folder is a peace offering to you so you won’t report me taking too many breaks to Nancy,” Dana informs, smiling. She picks up the booklet, “And this mini-guide? Yoongi made it. He asked me to give it to you yesterday but I forgot.”

              “Oh.”

              “Yeah, that’s why I find it weird he’s treating you like air now when yesterday he’s adamant about telling us to treat you with utmost respect as a co-worker.” Dana claps a hand over her mouth, “Oh my god, does it sound rude? I’m sorry, I kinda gave us away that we’re really wary of you. Okay, I really gave us a way no, but at least you know now…right?”

              “It’s okay, Dana,” Y/N smiles, waving a dismissive hand.

              “Are you really though?”

              “Yes, I’m okay,” Y/N smiles wider, “Thank you for the folder again.”

              “…Okies. See ya later.”

               “I am NOT okay.”

               Mina turns her swivel chair to face her bestfriend. The soft melodies of her radio fill the Accounting Department. Everyone else has left their seats for lunch. Mina sets her jaw on her palm, “Why, did Yoongi do something again? I already told you not to involve him anymore in your plan but you’re still stubborn. Don’t tell me I didn’t see you yesterday getting off work with him and you coming home late yesterday. I may have just set out a midnight snack for you and resigned early to bed, but I have eyes, Y/N. I just didn’t say anything yesterday because it’s late and it’s too early in the morning earlier to bring up, but I know.”

               Y/N pushes her fork around the leftovers of her packed lunch in her container, “Yoongi was really pushy yesterday about making it up to me about the dog-thing in the café so I had no choice. He even told me to quit this Tinder gaming because I’m gonna run out of time if I were to wait for someone else to act with me. And although he paid for everything even if I insisted to share the bill, Yoongi still had us eat street foods and enter some weird-ass ka-doodle shop. Who the hell takes someone into those things for a date?! And okay, he was a bit decent yesterday to not blow up things out of proportion just like he always does. But! He still sent me this cringe-worthy smile that I have to see as something positive because it doesn’t look like his ‘I-will-end-you’ smiles he usually flashes at me and this certainly bothers me. And now,” Y/N blows out an irritated sigh, “I found out he even made me this guide about the Creatives’ jargon and terminologies I’ve been desperate for a week.”

               “So, what really happened? You won’t be this conflicted if it’s just about a non-malicious smile and a guide.”

               “First and foremost, I am NOT conflicted,” Y/N puts down her fork, “In my defense, Yoongi’s still a dumb bitch because he almost uttered in front of the cashier that we are only going in their shop for the date document like ‘hello, this girl and I are just tryna fake it ‘til we make it the heart holiday benefit.’ He even shamelessly got the stroke of ego to even call me ‘cutie peachy pie’ in front of the cashier and I am so not having any of that—”

               “The point, Y/N?”

               “Fine,” Y/N slumps down in her chair, “The night ended with me telling Yoongi I can’t stomach dating him because he’s disgusting as his choice of pet names.”

               Mina winces, “Oof, that kinda hurts.”

               “How does it hurt?” Y/N throws up her hands, “Does he expect me to just accept the disgusting idea of me dating him when I’ve practically dreamt of strangling him in his sleep for so many nights? Not earlier that day he was just dissing me with song titles!”

               “Y/N,” Mina rubs her temples, “Even if he dissed you with those song titles, they are still shallow. But calling someone disgusting to date? That hurts bad. It’s bad as his dog-thing. It hurts to be seen as someone so disgusting to be treated as a romantic partner, even if it’s all for show, you know? It’s like telling a person no one would ever want to be with them.”

               Y/N looks away.

              Mina sighs, “How is he doing now?”

               “Well,” Y/N picks on the seams of her cardigan, “I don’t really know. All I know he’s not his usual self because he won’t look at me. Our desks literally face each other and it seems like letting  himself even accidentally glance to me will give him some sort of virus.”

               “Then you did hurt him.”

               “Minaaa,” Y/N whines.

              “As much as I despise him for what he’s done to you in the past, this time you’re in the wrong, Y/N, and I’m not gonna tolerate it. He tried to make it up with you.”

              “Mina, you’re supposed to take my side and make me feel better!”

              “Well, you won’t feel any better until you apologize. You’re feeling like this because your guilt is eating on your nerves. You’re not helping yourself if you’re just gonna deny everything, Y/N.”

              Y/N wishes she hasn’t talked this out with Mina. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be awkwardly lingering around the Creatives’ room, waiting for Yoongi to finish his briefing with their artists. It’s already seven in the evening. By this time, Y/N could be probably running a hot bath in her home while scrolling around her Facebook to nonchalantly react to her friend’s achievements. It’s always how her night goes. Not like this—creeping like a stalker again for a man she hates. The glass door busts open. Y/N scrambles for a corner to hide. But it’s too late.

              “Oh, Y/N, what are you still doing here?” some guy asks. Y/N thinks his name is Jeff. ‘Jeff’ pushes up the slipping portfolios back in his elbow.

              “I think she forgot something,” Yoona suggests.

              “Uhh, n-no—”

              “Who is she?” a nineteen-year-old-looking boy asks. His buttondown fits his narrow shoulders awkwardly. He’s probably a new hire.

              “She’s Y/N L/N, Seojoon. Nancy’s P.A.,” Seojoon’s eyes grow three times larger than their usual size. Yoona continues, “Would you mind going back to check if Ms. L/N left something in the meeting room? We were there yesterday.”

              “You don’t have to—”

              “Of course no, Ms. Park!” Seojoon bows, grinning at Y/N.

              Yoona clasps a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “You do not need to feel shy, Y/N. We are co-workers here.”

              “I am not—"

              “Ms. Park,” Seojoon hollers, “I don’t see anything here!”

              “Oh,” Yoona looks at Y/N, “then you’re probably waiting for Mr. Min.”

              “Mr. Min?” ‘Jeff’ sputters, almost letting go of his portfolios.

              “Yeah, Jeff, Mr. Min,” Yoona pats the man’s back, “Now go ahead and place the portfolios in my car. I’ll be the one to handle the box.”

              “N-no, Yoongi and I are not—”

              “Yes, Ms. Park.” Jeff bows. “Mr. Min..” He slowly nods at Y/N, “In the denial phase are we, huh?”

              Before Y/N could open her mouth and deny such repulsive remark, Yoona pops her head back into the office, “Seojoon! Come outside, Y/N didn’t leave anything.”

              Seojoon quickly steps out. Yoona gives Y/N a curt smile, “I don’t really fancy romantic relationships at work, but anyway, good luck with Mr. Min.”

              “We,” Y/N nervously chuckles, “We’re not—”

              “You don’t have to deny anymore Ms. L/N, we totally understand! I’m rooting for you and Mr. Min!” Seojoon grins. The two quickly leave and it’s just Y/N again in the quiet hallway.

              What just…happened? How do these people act like they long knew about her when she hasn’t even talked with them before?

              The door swings open again and Y/N jumps.

              “What are you doing here?”

              Y/N turns around. Yoongi is standing at the doorway, brows furrowed, hands on his black satchel. He looks like he doesn’t want to see her right now.

              Y/N’s eye twitches, “Obviously, I’m here to work. You know, past the eight to five work hours, to work on unfinished works I don’t really have.”

              Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Are you seriously being sarcastic right now?”

              “How could I not be when you’re acting like the biggest bitch alive?”

              Yoongi rubs a tired hand over his eyes, “Did you just wait here to start a fight? Because if you are, I’m already tired and I want to go home.” Yoongi steps aside and walks past her.

              What is wrong with him? Did he just walk out on her? When he’s the one who got all dramatic yesterday, acting like the victim when he also picked on her? Y/N holds up her chin. Fine, if he wants to act this way then so be it.

              But what about Nancy? The Heart Holliday?

              Y/N stops. She releases a long sigh. Why does she always end up fighting with him?

              Y/N runs out of the office, pushing the glass doors of Travel Loca wide open. At the end of the main hallway, she sees Yoongi entering the lift. Y/N leaves all thoughts and just sprints. She manages to stick a hand in the infinitesimal space before the metal doors completely close on her. The elevator dings and the doors start to open wide. Yoongi looks at her, eyes wide.

              “Look,” Y/N breathes out, entering the lift, “I know I’ve been an ass yesterday, but you can’t just pin everything on me like you always do. If you hadn’t dissed me with those CD titles, called me cutie peachy pie, and dumbly almost gave us out, I wouldn’t have—”

              “What are you really here for, Y/N?”

              The metal doors close again. Y/N closes her eyes, “Fuck, I’m sorry okay?! I didn’t mean to say those mean words to you. I was just frustrated and mad when you called me a difficult person and I guess I just blew up, okay?” Y/N looks at him, “I’m sorry.”

              “If you’re sorry, why are you still denying that we’re dating in front of my subordinates just now?”

              “You heard that?”

              “Of course,” Yoongi adjusts his bag on his shoulder, “Jeff has the loudest mouth in here and Seojoon is coming in close for that spot. It’s not hard for the two of them to announce what’s happening here to the next city.”

              Y/N self-consciously rubs her arm, “I’m not used to people crowding me like that and asking about that stuff, okay? I’m still adjusting to this…situation we have. I’m sorry, okay? I promise I won’t give us away again. I’m serious this time.”

              “Okay,” Yoongi quips.

              Y/N looks up at him, “Wait, you’re just going to let it go like that?”

              “Of course no,” Yoongi answers, smiling.

              The growing smile on Y/N’s face falls flat, “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

              “I want you to make it up to me.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops, “What?!”

               “When I did you wrong, I made it up to you. Now, it’s your turn,” Yoongi grins. Y/N crosses her arms. Yoongi’s smile grows, “Take it or I leave this deal.”

               Y/N bites her cheeks. She closes her eyes and sighs, “Fine.”

               “Good. Glad to know we’re on the same page,” Yoongi says, pressing the ‘P1’ button on the elevator just before the lift passes it.

               Y/N gawks at him, “When did you have a car?”

               “It’s not mine. Steven let me borrow his for today.” The doors open. Yoongi walks toward the gun-metal gray Ford on the far right and presses the remote open. He opens the driver’s side and looks at Y/N. “Why are you still standing there? Do you want me to open the door for you, sweetheart?”

               “Fuck you.”

               “I will open it if you want me to,” Yoongi chuckles, starting for the passenger side.

               “Shut up!” Y/N dashes to the passenger’s side, blocking Yoongi from pulling the door for her. Yoongi cackles.

               The ride was silent for a few minutes. Save for Yoongi who kept on bugging Y/N with the same question the moment they pulled out of Rockfort Building.

              “So,” Yoongi asks, “where are we really going?”

                Y/N has been muttering directions for a few minutes now, unrelenting to tell Yoongi the exact address. She figured to keep it a secret lest Yoongi make a scene once he knew where they’re going. But with Yoongi pestering her now like a five-year-old toddler, Y/N thinks she might have made the wrong decision. Y/N closes her eyes, “Shut up and just follow my directions.”

               “I won’t if you won’t tell me where you plan to take us. For all I know, you’ve contacted some hoodlums to ambush me in a dark alley.”

                Y/N turns to her side, letting her back face him.

                 Yoongi pokes her shoulder, “Y/NNNN—”     

               “Fine! Turn left at the 2nd stoplight and then a right at the 3rd stoplight. There’s a Burger King joint there. Satisfied?” Y/N glares at him.

               “You’re taking me to fast-food?” Yoongi dramatically places a hand over his chest, “I thought you said dates are supposed to be intimate and of high-quality.”

               “Well, when it comes to you, it’s a different case. Now, shut up.”

               The street was dark. Save for the brightly lit Burger King establishment. The white and yellow lighting inside the restaurant seems to bleed outside. They color the washed-out paint of the closed shops beside it. Some manage to spread onto the wet and cold pavement. The raven night sky further emphasizes the restaurant’s colors with no other lit building to compete with. There were street lamps, but their lights were not bright enough to register distinctly into one’s eyes. They all just looked like burnt-out stars.

               They seem to remind Y/N of the man next to her when they pulled up to the order reception area of the drive-thru.

               “Here’s your order, sir,” The crew staff hands Yoongi a huge paper bag, “Would you like to add anything more?”

               “Oh, yeah, um, do you have a document for like dates and—”

              “Oh no, don’t mind him,” Y/N clamps a hand over Yoongi’s mouth, “We don’t have anything else to add for now. But if we do, we’re gonna go inside to get them later. Thank you,” she smiles at the confused staff.

              When the windows roll up, Yoongi tears Y/N’s hand off his face. “What the fuck was that for?”

              Y/N scowls, “You’re being stupid for almost giving us away! Again!”

              “But I already followed what you said! You told me to just ask for the document plain and simple!”

              Y/N places a hand over her forehead, “That only works when you’ve already spent some time in a date-site enough to be considered as a date. How can Burger King know we’re having a date when we just pulled up and ordered at the drive-thru? If that is so, then they would have been distributing date documents so easily to every single car that passes by.”

              “How will we let them know, then?” Yoongi asks.

              “We park in their parking lot and stay there to eat. Where they can see us spending time with each other. Then we go inside and ask for the document.”

              “Then why did you even insist we go to a drive-thru if we’re gonna go out and enter the restaurant later anyway?” Yoongi throws up his hands, “We could have just dined-in and eat out like usual.”

              “Because I don’t want anyone to see us or else we’ll lose another opportunity to get a goddamn date document.”

              “How can you say we’ll lose another opportunity?”

              “Because I know we’re going to argue,” Y/N looks at Yoongi. His eyes are piercing hers and his brows are scrunched up. Y/N points at to him, “Look, your face is telling me you’re already about to start some shit up.” She reaches across the console and pokes his forehead with her index and middle finger to spread apart the man’s brows, “There, you look less like a dumb asshole now.”

              Yoongi slaps her hand away. Y/N snorts. Yoongi shoves the paper bag into her hand, “Just shut up and eat.”

              Ten minutes later and fingers coated with salt from the fries, Yoongi breaks the silence, “What were you looking at just before we got in the drive-thru? You seem very lost in it.”

              Y/N spares him a glance before going for another fry, “Obviously not you.”

              “I’m being serious.”

              “Okay, fine. The sky,” Y/N slumps deeper into her seat.

              “Wow,” Yoongi chuckles, “I never thought you were one of those aesthetic-obsessed girls of Pinterest.”

              “Where are you going with this? If you’re gonna insult me again, just so you know, I paid for tonight’s meal. Therefore, I’ve already made it up with you. And so, I am in no obligation to–”

              “I’m trying to initiate small talk,” Yoongi turns to her, smirking, “Now look who’s the one starting some shit up?”

              Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

              Yoongi snickers, “Can’t you just answer my question? I’m just trying to have a conversation without us screaming each other’s heads off. It’s getting pretty tiring.”

              Y/N looks down on the empty food wrapper on her lap. She closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay,  but don’t laugh at me. I’m really…into light set against skies. Street lamps, overhead lights in cables, lit up buildings—anything that is illuminated, as long as there are skies in the background. I like skies in general because looking at it feels like viewing a painting in a real classy museum for free. I like free stuff. But, I like skies more if the light that comes with it makes their whole picture entirely different from what it’s really supposed to be.”

              “Like what?”

              “Say for example,” Y/N leans nearer to Yoongi to point at the restaurant, “Burger King is the only brightly lit establishment here. And its bright use of primary colors on the building creates a greater contrast against the blackness of the sky. If you think about it more, Burger King kinda looks like an evil radioactive plant set in a post-apocalyptic world,” Y/N gives Yoongi a pointed look as she raises her hands, “Life’s been boring lately. I’m just trying to see things differently to entertain myself.”

              Yoongi looks at her, mouth agape.

              Y/N points at him, “I told you, don’t laugh. You asked for it. That’s my answer.”

              “I’m not trying to laugh,” Yoongi chuckles, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m into light fixtures.”

              “Light fixtures?”

              “Yeah.  Lamps, light bulbs, lighted chandeliers—anything that’s supposed to light up for interior designing. It’s not as special as your affinity for your light-in-the-skies. I just like light fixtures because, well, they’re pretty and practical. And I like interior designing. I could spend a lot of hours just walking around the home department in malls,” Yoongi turns toward her, “What else do you like?”

              Y/N’s eyes turn into slits, “Are we playing twenty questions right now?”

              “No. But if you want, we can.”

              “Fine. Okay…I like Naruto.”

              Yoongi gives Y/N a blank stare, “You already told me that yesterday.”

              “Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but I think you don’t get me yesterday. What I mean by ‘like’ is that I’m totally obsessed with that anime. And manga. All throughout elementary and high school, there’s not a day where I blabbered about Naruto. I can’t believe an anime can be so, so good. The plot is so well-done and the characters’ motivations and desires are fleshed out so good that they almost resemble real people. The story world is so concrete that I truly wished it existed so I can just go there whenever I want,” Y/N sighs, “Not to say Uchiha Sasuke is goddamn handsome.”

              “Now, I see.”

              “What?”

              Yoongi chortles, “You have a type.”

              Y/N frowns, “What do you mean with that?”

              Yoongi grins, “You like black-haired guys with poker faces and horrible personalities.”

              Y/N releases an offended scoff, “Ho-horrible? Sasuke is not horrible! He just had circumstances he cannot escape!”

              “Well, Kaede Rukawa is horrible.”

              “Are you seriously still fixated on my attraction to that guy?”

              “How can I not?” Yoongi exasperates, “He’s such a pretentious bitch to his teammates and he calls Sakuragi a ‘moron.’ Multiple times!”

              “Well, that’s the purpose of a character that acts antagonistically, you know?” Y/N informs, “They’re supposed to challenge the protagonist to further elevate conflict. And from what I know, he and Sakuragi eventually resorted to a friendly rivalry.”

              “Yeah, they did, but still, it doesn’t excuse his terrible attitude—Wait, how did you know about that? You said yesterday you’ve never watched Slam Dunk before.”

              Y/N flushes, “Well, I-I have hands, you know? And a brain. A little research about their high-five is not that much of a hassle.”

              “Wait, you researched that part with their high-five? Through what, fandom.com?” Y/N guiltily side-glances the side mirror. Yoongi tongues his cheek, “Wow. Just wow. Congratulations, you spoiled your own experience.”

              Y/N turns to him with a scowl on her face, “At least I tried to know a thing about Slam Dunk! What about you? Did you already start watching Naruto just like what you oh-so confidently declared yesterday?”

              Yoongi looks down, “…No.”

              “Hah!” Y/N points a finger at him, a triumphant smile on her face, “See? You’re just a big-talker Min Yoongi! You say a lot of shit but you can’t even do one of them!”

              “Hey! I said I will watch Naruto just yesterday! Did you expect me to start watching it as soon as possible? In case you don’t know, I’ve got lots of work to do thanks to Nancy. You talk as if you’re so great when you haven’t even watched Slam Dunk yourself!”

              “I’ll watch it, okay?! Happy, now?”

              “Very,” Yoongi gibes at her, “You better watch it because I’ve got to suffer through 500 plus episodes.”

              “Fine.”

              “Fine.”

              Silence settles over the car again. A minute or two passes with just the sound of food wrappers’ wrinkling and folding serving as the white noise along with the whir of the air con. Yoongi  leans forward and presses the on button of the car stereo. Post Malone and Swae Lee’s Sunflower fills the car.

               The song is in the second verse when Y/N decides to break the silence between them, “Do you…like this song?”

               “Yeah,” Yoongi smiles, “The heavy beats ironically compliment the soft melody so well. I find it…very unusual and oddly comforting.” Yoongi looks at her, “Do you, too?”

               “Yeah,” Y/N picks up the last fry in their paper container, “I’m not really into pop songs, especially popular ones. They tend to be all about shallow declarations of love or overused odes to sex and horniness because everyone knows sex sells. But this one is gonna be an exception. It just feels so…real.”

               “How so?”

               “Well, it’s all thanks to the sunflower metaphor. Sunflowers are very pretty and they last very long. But they’re also stressful to grow because they drain the other plants from receiving nutrients. That’s why they’re flowers that symbolize true love. The love that is sweet, but also draining. And the fact that you said the heavy beats compliment the soft melody is an audial language to further layer on the metaphor of the song.”

               Yoongi looks at her with a curious glint in his eyes, “How did you know these stuff?”

               “We-well, I learned some things about the flower language in a book about star-crossed soulmates I read a year ago. Do-don’t laugh. It’s a good book, okay.”

               “I’m not even laughing,” Yoongi chuckles.

               Y/N  gives him a pointed stare, “Well, you’re doing it now.”

               “Okay, okay,” Yoongi wheezes, “I’m not laughing.”

               “Sure.”

               “I’m serious,” Yoongi insists, now calm. “I just chuckled because I didn’t imagine you’re into that stuff.”

               “What stuff?”

               Yoongi smiles, “Cute stuff.”

               “Cu-cute?” Y/N gawks, “They’re not cute! That’s so downgrading—you know, just because this stuff talks about love, it doesn’t mean they value any less than other abstractions and values out there.”

               “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about it being adorable.”

               “Adorable?”

               “You,” Yoongi purses his lips, “It’s adorable that you actually like this stuff. Stuff far from what you do at work. I thought your head is just filled with unpublished stories and worship chants for Nancy.”

               Y/N narrows her eyes at him. Yoongi guffaws. Sunflower ends and some pop song which Y/N doesn’t know starts to play. Y/N crosses her arms, “Let’s do the 20 Questions instead. Having a serious conversation with you is draining.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi chuckles, “How will we do it then?”

              “10 questions each.  Answerable by ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or whatever,” Y/N turns to Yoongi, “I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”

               “Blue.”

               Y/N clicks her tongue, “Very typical.”

               “What about you?” Yoongi asks.

               “Yellow. What’s your favorite food?”

              “Lamb skewers. Especially the ones sold in the small diner near to my high school. What’s your favorite food?”

               Y/N whips her gaze away from him, “…Fried chicken intestines.”

               “Whoa,” Yoongi turns to her, eyes wide in amusement, “So I got you your favorite food right off the bat yesterday? I didn’t know it will be this easy. This is amazing.”

               Y/N pointedly looks at him, “Shut up. How many crushes did you ever have?”

               “W-what?”

               “Just answer it,” Y/N grits her teeth.

               “Fine,” Yoongi relents, “One.”

               “O-one?” Y/N sputters, “Oh my God. You’re a lovesick puppy.”

              Yoongi furrows his forehead, “What are you talking about?”

              Y/N covers her mouth in disbelief, “I can’t believe Jeon Seoyeon is your first crush at what age, 29? Oh my God, Yoongi.”

               “What?” Yoongi chokes out, “I-I’m not into her!”

               “Say that when you’re not blushing like hell then I’ll believe you,” Y/N smirks, “Next question.”

               “No, I do not have a crush on her!” Yoongi insists, “Where did you even get such ridiculous speculation?!”

               Y/N grins, “I’ll count that as a question. I got it from Mina”

               “What?!”

               “My turn to ask now, Min,” Y/N asserts, “What’s your first job?”

               “Video editor in an advertising firm. Small company,” Yoongi looks at her, “How many crushes did you have and what’s your first job?”

               “I’ll count that as two questions,” Y/N smiles. “Crushes? Three. One of them upgraded from that. First job? Well, I was a secretary in a news company. J&M.”

               “J&M?” Yoongi gapes, “That’s like, the top one news company in the country. I didn’t know you worked for them.”

              “Well, it’s horrible,” Y/N grimaces, “I hated every single minute I spent in there. Didn’t even know why I stayed there for two years. The days just,” Y/N sighs, waving a hand, “seems to pass like a blur.”

               “Two years? And the next two you spent in Travel Loca?” Yoongi hums, “What did you do when you were 21?”

               Y/N turns to him, fully facing him now, “I’m just going to tell you this for the sake of ending this ‘date’ as soon as possible. You don’t get to speak about this in the office, okay?.” Yoongi nods. Y/N closes her eyes, “Okay, I spent two years after graduation home studying and doing part-time. Even if I had Latin honors, the companies I wanted to apply in won’t accept me because apparently, I’m too young. I graduated from college when I was 19. Skipped two years in high school. My grades were enough to get me accelerated,” Y/N looks down at her hands, “It’s one of my achievements I’m really proud of. But…it ended up producing more cons than pros in the long run.”

               “Don’t say that,” Y/N looks up at Yoongi. Yoongi smiles, “That’s still an achievement worthy of being proud of, you know? Everyone wants to get out of high school as soon as they can. But not everyone gets to really do it.”

               Y/N gapes at him. Why is Min Yoongi suddenly giving her encouragement like this? Her, out of all people? From what she remembers, Yoongi is her biggest critic in the office. Whenever an opportunity opens for her making a mistake, Yoongi catches it and will definitely not pass up a chance to throw her criticisms or petty insults.  And now, he’s spouting comforting words?! Min Yoongi is anything but comforting!— Y/N looks away. It’s getting late. It’s just the long night taking a toll on them. She fixes their leftovers in their paper bag, “What are your most embarrassing moments? Do you have a pet? Favorite movie? Favorite song?”

               “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Yoongi holds a hand up, “Four questions in one go?”

               “Yes, four,” Y/N glances at him, then proceeds back to tidying up, “It’s getting late. We have to end the game soon.”

               “But you already know I have a pet, that’s cheating—”

               “It’s not cheating. We still get to ask 20 questions,” Y/N deadpans. “ You only have four questions left. I have two. Now, answer my questions, Min, because I want to go home.”

               Yoongi sighs, “Fine. I have a pet. A dog named Holly. Everyone knows—including you because there’s nothing else I post in my social media but him. Favorite movie is Minority Report. I like the twist in the end and it’s notion against predetermined futures even if the whole system in the story world is about determining crimes supposed to happen in the future. Favorite song has to be, uhh….anything made by Lorde. Love the calm in her rough and edged beats and the unadulterated honesty in her tracks. I have a lot of favorite songs but the first one that came to my mind when I want to play something again and again was her songs so that’s that. And, most embarrassing moment?” Yoongi eyes Y/N but she only continues to keep her gaze on her lap. He sighs, “Well, it has to be when I have to repeat years while studying. Two years in fact.”

              At this, Y/N glances at him. Yoongi pulls a straight smile, “I have to repeat one year in elementary because we moved houses in the middle of the school year because of a job offer. That’s alright though. Dad got a better job out of it and we lived more comfortably. But what hurt was when I have to repeat my fourth year. My thesis paper was okay. But…I flunked the defense big time. I can’t talk for shit back then. I mean, until now, I’m still having a hard time because I don’t really like hanging out with a lot of people. But past me was a real mess. Had a breakdown just right when it’s my turn with the panel. And you know how big of a deal thesis writing is to graduate Junior High. Because of that, my appeals were of course rejected by the board. So, I have to repeat that year again until I pass the thesis writing. It’s embarrassing that I get to see my batchmates graduate to senior high while I’m still stuck in junior high. In the very last year, of all years. It’s even more embarrassing to my family.”

               Y/N bites her lip. She leans nearer to Yoongi, “But, they still treated you..okay, right?”

               “I’ll count that as a question,” Yoongi sing-songs, winking at Y/N.

               Y/N frowns, “I’m being serious.”

               “Okay, okay,” Yoongi chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “But it still means you only got one question left.”

               “It’s okay. I wanted to end my turn as soon as possible. Answer my question, Yoongi.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi smiles, “Well, my parents never told it in my face, but I know they still see it as a disappointing waste of one year. It’s a different case with my relatives though but it doesn’t matter much. What only matters is my family. We’re fine now. My parents look like they don’t mind anymore of what happened during high school.”

               “That’s good then,” a small smile forms on Y/N’s face.

               “Yeah,” Yoongi says, smiling wider.

              The two fall into silence as the music in the car changes. Abba’s Take a Chance on Me starts to play. When it reaches the chorus, Yoongi decides to break the awkwardness that has suddenly settled in the air, “What’s your last question, Y/N?”

              “O-oh,” Y/N  fiddles with her cardigan, “uh, well…Oh! I already told you my definition of a date, but you never told me yours. How would you like a date to be?”

              “It’s a secret,” Yoongi grins.

              “What?!” Y/N exclaims, “A secret?! Why would that be a secret?! Do you know we’re supposed to have more dates to seal the holiday vacation for sure? It would help a lot if we know how we each want our dates to go so we can deal with each other a lot less stressful than it already is!”

              “My answer is still ‘secret,’” Yoongi smiles smugly, crossing his arms. “Also, you already spent all your questions. It’s my turn from now on.”

              “Fine,” Y/N bites back, frown deepening when she hears Yoongi chuckle.

              “How many times have you dyed your hair?”

              “One,” Y/N gives him a challenging stare.

              “How many times have you traveled locally?”

               “Three.”

               “What’s your lucky number?”

               “Fourteen.”

               “What’s your number?”

               “01048648564—wait, no!”

               “Okay, thank you!” Yoongi pulls up his phone.

               “Wait, Yoongi!” Y/N tries to snatch his phone from his grip. Yoongi turns away, successfully clicking ‘add contact’ with a wide grin on his face.

               Yoongi tucks the phone back into his pants’ pocket. He peers over the car’s dashboard and gasps dramatically, “Oh, well look at that, it’s already getting late. My, my, 10:32 P.M.” He looks at Y/N, grinning widely, “We better get the date document so we can get going now, huh?”

               Y/N scowls at him. Yoongi snickers as he gets out of the car. It only takes five minutes before he goes back onto the parking lot, waving a pale pink envelope in the air.

               Yoongi pulls away from the parking lot, “So shall I now drive you home?”

               Y/N frowns as she looks away from him, focusing on the dark streets outside.

               “What’s your address, hmm?” Yoongi prods, a beaming smile still on his face.

              A beat passes. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. “Drop me at the Village Estates. 27th Street, East Drive.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi chirps and keys in the address in the car’s navigator.

               The ride is silent with only the car music serving as the white noise. Y/N has lost track of the tracks that played in the speakers. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from the window for the entirety of the ride until Yoongi pulls in front of her apartment complex.

               “We’re here.”

               Y/N pushes the door open and wordlessly gets out of the car. She doesn’t wait on the pavement to see Yoongi off nor does she turns around to look at the man one last time. She just walks off. But before she gets inside the main entrance, she hears Yoongi holler behind her, “Tonight was fun, yeah, Y/N?”

               Y/N, still with her back turned to him, raises a hand to dismissively wave goodbye.

               “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” Yoongi laughs. Soon after, the street was silent again.

              Y/N arrives in a quiet flat. There are no re-runs of a show playing on the TV. There is also no clamor of the utensils in their kitchen. Only the light on their narrow entrance hall was left lit open. There’s also a bowl of porridge covered on the table. When Y/N rounds on Mina’s room, she finds her bestfriend peacefully snoring deep in her duvet. Y/N smiles. After cleaning up and running a quick bath, Y/N reaches an arm to turn off her bedside lamp only to realize this silence of the night is not for long. Because the moment Y/N lays her head on her pillow, her phone rings with a loud ‘ding!’

               Unknown Number: Just wanna let you know I got home safe. I had fun tonight. You’re already forgiven for yesterday, sweetheart 😉.

               Y/N groans and throws her phone onto the other side of the bed.

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Taglist | @fangirls94​ @ditttiii​ @chogiyeol-utopia​​

Disclaimer: The dark side banter in Day 1 was based on Rob Reiner’s (1989) When Harry Met Sally’s car scene! I just loved the characters’ chemistry so much! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners.  The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Sorry this chapter came a little later than my original schedule. A lot has changed in the plot points of THH while I was outlining it. Hence, the supposed two-shot is now a series with five chapters! I didn’t expect my first series will be like this. It’s totally unexpected from my initial plans! Anyway, the Act 2 is supposed to comprise the whole 2nd act of the story. But as I was writing it, I noticed I’m already bordering the 35k wordcount (and I’m not yet near the end of the 2nd act asdfghjkl). So I decided to cut it into 2 parts so I may not overwhelm you with a gigantic word-vomit of a text post. I guess the cut was also a good device because the 2nd part of Act 2 is on a different tone from the 1st part.  Thank you for reading this 24k monstrosity and feel free to say what you think about this chapter! If you want to get added in the taglist, just hit me up in the PMs or Asks! I’ll be waiting there ~( > v < )~

All Rights Reserved © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed.

[doc-pickles]

what are you doing new year’s eve?

So this final fic of 2020 is dedicated to @odd-birds-and-booksellers for multiple reasons. Firstly she’s been my first friend in the Jolex fandom and one of the reasons the group chat exists. Despite how much we make fun of each other she’s truly become one of my favorite people (she knew I was pregnant approximately 15 seconds after I peed on a stick and hours before anyone else) and I wouldn’t have stuck around here without her.

Secondly it’s dedicated to her because my final fic for the year is an ode to the reason I’m in this fandom in the first place and the series she keeps begging me to write for. That’s right y’all, I’m posting a piece for my “It’s Nothing Funny Just to Talk/Little Pieces of You” universe! (she thought I was gonna kill someone... hehehe)

I hope y’all enjoy this cute and fluffy one shot! Thank you all for reading, commenting, and encouraging me to write this year!

also one million anons asked me for a birth fic... well here it kinda is

xoxo Nina

Maybe it's much too early in the game

Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same

What are you doing New Year's, New Year's Eve?

Jo was fine, really she was. She blamed being two weeks from her due date for the state of discomfort she found herself in. She’d been experiencing Braxton Hicks for almost a month already (something Alex loved to point out that he could always see as it happened, much to Jo’s annoyance) so the tightening of her abdomen wasn’t a new feeling. What was new was the aching in her back and hips that had prompted her to take a long steamy shower in an attempt to ease a bit of the pain and discomfort she felt.

The water had helped a bit, but all Jo really wanted was for Alex to rub her back and hold her while she napped. He had asked before he left for work if she was alright, but Jo had assured him she was fine. New Year’s Eve was always a long night for him at work with an influx of teenagers hurt by firework accidents or drunken mishaps. She has reminded him that she wasn’t due for two weeks and she would make it through one night without him there. Now though, Jo was regretting her decision as she struggled to get comfortable on their couch, her back aching as she shifted back and forth. 

“Hoooooly shit,” Jo gripped the armrest of the couch tightly as she attempted to sit up, a roaring pain ripping through her stomach as she desperately tried to get air into her lungs. The feeling passed after a moment, letting her take a deep breath as she settled one hand onto her stomach. “I need you to calm down in there, please and thank you.” Her phone chose that moment to ding loudly, a text from Alex popping up as she reached for her phone.

Thursday 4:39 PM

How are my girls doing?

Thursday 4:41 PM

all good over here :)

Deciding not to mention her pain, Jo set her phone aside and went to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. Whenever her Braxton Hicks got bad Alex would always tell her it was because she was dehydrated. He was usually right, though she’d never admit it, but the water usually calmed down the sensations flowing through her body. 

Slowly making her way to the kitchen, Jo grabbed a glass and sipped on the water as she tried to even her breathing. Her mind was already racing, heart pounding as she tried to keep her composure. She’d only had one bad spout of pain, it could be a fluke or a pulled muscle for all she knew. 

The searing pain she’d felt only minutes before returned again, the glass in her hands slipping from her fingers as a pained groan left her. Watching the water and glass splatter across the counter top, Jo realized how serious her pain was. Her eyes flitted to the clock, noting it was just hitting 5 PM. Alex would be home at 11, she would hold out as long as she could until then. 

-

Thursday 6:32 PM

Want me to grab a late dinner for us? Figure you’ll still be up anyways. 

Alex stared down at the text he’d sent almost 20 minutes earlier as if his staring would prompt a response from his wife. Logically he knew she was probably sleeping, but he’d been worried about her all day. She’d barely slept the night before and her back had been hurting for almost two days now. He wasn’t stupid he’d done enough rounds on OB to know that Jo was probably getting close to going into labor, a thought that both excited and terrified him. Erring on the side of caution, he dialed Jo’s number and waited for her to answer. 

“Hi you’ve reached Josephine Karev! I’m probably teaching right now so leave a message after the beep!”

“Hey babe, call me back whenever you can. Love you.”

Hanging up the phone and grumbling to himself, Alex begrudgingly turned back to his patient files. He had a lot of work to do, but his mind was currently occupied worrying about his wife and their unborn daughter. 

-

“Oh shit… oh shit no no no,” Jo’s panicked cries echoed across the empty loft as another contraction made its way through her stomach, her body curling in on itself as she struggled to lean against the couch. A glance at the clock in the kitchen told her it was only 7:19 meaning Alex wouldn’t be home for a few more hours. 

She knew she couldn’t last that long, her contractions were steadily growing closer together and more painful. Reaching for her phone, Jo sent off a quick text before focusing her attention on breathing through the steady flow of contractions now racking her body. 

Thursday 7:21 PM

in labor, moving fast. need drugs and husband. 

-

It was nearing 8 PM and Alex still hadn’t heard from Jo for the last three hours. He’d called twice to no answer and his texts were sent but not read. He was ready to jump in the car and rush home to check on her when someone called out his name. 

“Alex!”

Jackson Avery was jogging towards him, dressed in a button up and slacks with a six month old Harriet on his hip. He’d been talking about his mom’s New Year’s Eve party all week, so Alex was shocked to see him there. 

“Hey man, you skipping out on the party,” Alex searched Jackson’s serious expression for a moment, reading his best friend's face easily and letting a sigh out. “Where is she?” 

“April took her up to L&D while I came to find you. She was screaming at me the whole drive here,” Jackson smirked at Alex as they walked down the halls. “I’m sure you’re in for a fun night.”

Thanking Jackson, Alex headed towards the maternity ward with a sense of urgency. He knew if Jo had been worried enough to call April that she was probably pretty far along in her labor. Spotting the red head down the hall, he picked up his pace and stopped in front of her. 

“They’re just checking her out now, her contractions have been coming every three and half minutes but I think they’re speeding up,” April gave Alex a small smile as she made to leave. “She’s been asking for you the whole time.”

“Thanks April.”

“It’s the least I could do. When I was in labor she sat with me while Jackson was in surgery despite the fact that she was throwing up every twenty minutes from her morning sickness,” April shrugged. “Besides if I didn’t go she probably would’ve given birth on your couch.”

Alex chuckled, his hand rubbing his neck nervously, “I’ll text you guys when she’s here, thanks again.”

April left then, Alex taking a breath before entering the room that April had just left. Jo was laid in bed, eyes closed and curled in on herself as she struggled through a contraction. Surging forward Alex placed one hand on Jo’s back as the other moved to run through her hair. She instantly relaxed at his touch, eyes popping open to meet his. 

“I was wondering why you weren’t answering my texts,” Alex leaned down to press a kiss against her forehead. “You need anything? Water, ice chips, hard drugs?” 

Jo shook her head, breathing through the end of her contraction before speaking again, “No they said I’m too far along for an epidural. I just have to suffer until she gets here. My water broke as soon as I walked into the hospital, I think she knew you were waiting.”

Eyeing the monitor tracking her contractions, Alex realized that she was nearing the end of her labor, “You should’ve called me, I could’ve come to get you.”

“Doesn’t matter, I’m here now,” Jo leaned against Alex’s hand as she struggled to pull a breath in. “Ow ow ow ow, holy shit mother-”

Jo’s next words were silenced as she pressed her face against Alex’s chest, fists clenched against the bed rail as her body tensed once more. Keeping his eyes on her monitor, Alex kept his fingers running through Jo’s hair in an attempt to comfort her, “Breathe baby, it’s okay just breathe.”

Once she finally took a deep breath Jo relaxed in Alex’s hold, her voice alarmingly calm as she spoke, “I really need to push. Like right now.”

“Let me get the doctor, just hold on a minute babe,” Alex couldn’t help the wide grin he sported as he left Jo’s side to call down the hallway for her doctor. In just a little while they were going to be parents… 

-

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1… Happy New Year!”

The TV played softly in the background as fireworks lit up the dim hospital room but Alex and Jo weren’t paying attention to the celebration of the new year. Both had their eyes firmly locked on the sleeping bundle in Jo’s arms, light curls peeking out of the pink hat on her head as her lips pursed in her sleep. 

“You do that when you’re sleeping,” Alex pointed out as he ran his finger down his daughter’s cheek. “You look like a fish, it’s kinda funny that she’s already doing it.” “She’s not even three hours old and you’re comparing her to a fish,” Jo chuckled as she looked from her daughter to her husband. “She needs a name still.”

“How about Goldie,” Alex’s suggestion earned him a slap on the arm from Jo, a laugh escaping him as she did so. “I was kidding! What about the one you really liked?” Eyeing her daughter as if testing out the name she’d brought up so many months ago, a grin settled on Jo’s face, “I like it. Annabeth Brooke Karev.”

“Glad we finally decided on that, I thought you were never going to choose,” Alex pressed a kiss to Jo’s lips, then another to the top of Annie’s head. “Happy New Year Annie.”

Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight

When it's exactly 12 o'clock, midnight

Welcoming in the New Year, New Year's Eve

[megalony]

Deadly obsession- Part 2

Here is the next part in my Ben Hardy series, thank you all for the lovely feedback so far. I hope you will all like this part.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogermeddow @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez @jonesyaddiction @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @peterquillzsblog @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh​

Series taglist: @benhardysbaby5 @onceuponadetectivedemigod​

Series masterlist

Summary: Ben and (Y/n) are in a great place in their marriage but (Y/n) starts to get worried when she has a stalker who starts to get very obsessive over her and who seems to know a lot about her.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you okay?" Those three little words whispered against the shell of her ear made shivers crawl up and down (Y/n)'s spine and caused her stomach to tingle with electrified nerves.

With a gentle smile and a hum, (Y/n) leaned her head back on Ben's arm that was resting behind her on the back of the leather booth they were sitting in. She knew he was asking because she had been spacing out for a few minutes now and seemed to be sitting in her own little world. It wasn't a bad thing but Ben wanted to make sure (Y/n) was drifting rather than overthinking or panicking about something. He would hate to sit and chat to their friends as if everything was fine if (Y/n) was worried about something.

For a few moments, (Y/n) looked around the booth they were sitting in which was in the corner of the cafe out the way of everyone else. It was just Ben, (Y/n), Rami and Lucy in the booth after they decided to meet up for breakfast since they all had the morning free. It was nice to catch up and get away from the stress of work and colleagues and just life in general but (Y/n) couldn't help how her mind liked to run away without her every so often.

Slouching down a little further on the leather seat, (Y/n) leaned her head a bit to the right until her forehead was pressing into Ben's shoulder and she could feel his hand moving from the back of the seat to rest on her shoulder. His fingers slowly feathered over her shoulder as she tried to work out what the topic of conversation had shifted to and see where she could chip in to show them she was still listening.

(Y/n)'s eyes shifted from looking across at Lucy to looking up at Ben when he suddenly moved around. He pushed his shoulders back into the seat and lifted his legs up from the seat so he could grab something from his back pocket.

"Babe your phone keeps going off in my pocket, it's like I'm sat on a vibrator."

(Y/n) quirked a brow at Ben's comment that he didn't even bother to say quietly causing Lucy to press her lips together to smother a smirk. And the way Ben looked neutral as he spoke made it seem like a normal thing to inject into the conversation.

Since (Y/n) didn't have any pockets or her bag with her Ben just shoved her phone into his back pocket like he normally did when they went out and he never minded anything in his pockets like that. (Y/n) knew a lot of the time he had their house keys in his back pocket and he could sit down and not be bothered by the jagged keys poking into his skin at all which was intriguing to (Y/n). But he didn't like how (Y/n)'s phone was going off every few minutes in his pocket and with it being on vibrate it wasn't the best feeling in the world.

"So, we were thinking about having the house-warming party on Thursday if you can both come?" Lucy swiftly changed the topic back to what it had been seconds previous and a broad smile pulled at her lips. The way she tangled her hands together showed (Y/n) just how excited she was to be moving into a new house- the first home she would be sharing with Rami.

"Yeah, we can make it." (Y/n) smiled at Lucy's eagerness, she knew how long her friend had been waiting to get this house and she was itching to renovate it and strip all the wallpaper in a few weeks.

(Y/n) remembered when she and Ben first moved in together, it had been into the house they had now and they were lucky enough to not have to redecorate the whole house. Only their bedroom and the living room had to be decorated, everything else was fine and up to date for their taste but it did feel good to hang pictures and ornaments up and make sure everything had a place that it suited around the house. Now (Y/n) was itching to buy a pregnancy test and see if one of the spare rooms could be redecorated anytime soon.

It was all planned out in her head, she would get a test- or maybe two, on Saturday when it was safe to say that she had missed two periods. And if they came back positive she wanted to tell Ben when they were home alone. (Y/n) didn't want to try and make him guess or figure it out or give him a baby onesie or baby shoes and surprise him, she just wanted to come out with it and tell him. No big gestures or questions or surprises.

When (Y/n) felt her phone buzz in her hand she felt her body tensing and it took all the effort she had to stop her smile from slipping off her lips.

It had been four days since she first got a text from a random person who somehow knew her name. The next day she didn't get a text message and she thought it was safe even though them knowing her name put her on edge. But the next two days since then (Y/n) had gotten two or three messages each day. She hadn't woken up to a message this morning so she hoped that maybe they had given up since she hadn't replied once.

But she didn't know who it was, they never put their name or said anything that indicated who it could be and this didn't seem like a prank someone was playing on her. None of (Y/n)'s friends would do this sort of prank, they would mess around and tease her or buy her stupid joking gifts but no one would go as far as to get a new number and start sending weird texts to scare her. But this person knew her name and that told (Y/n) that it had to be someone she knew. Why would a stranger be messaging her, how would a stranger even know her name anyway?

Glancing her eyes down to her phone, (Y/n) felt her hands beginning to tremble as she turned her phone on and swiped across to go to her messages. Part of her really didn't want to read these texts and see what had been sent to her. She didn't want to know what this stranger was saying because she was getting herself worried over relatively nothing.

Ben always told her that if there was something worrying or bothering her she should tell him and he would listen and try to help, but what could he do to help? This wasn't something (Y/n) wanted to tell him because it made her feel foolish. Someone was just messing around and sending her stupid texts, she didn't want to tell Ben because it wasn't anything bad. They weren't threatening her or saying they knew where she lived or what she was doing or trying to hurt her or get her to do anything. There was nothing to be done here because it was nothing serious so Ben didn't need to know and be worried or annoyed about it.

(Y/n) had gotten four texts in he last hour, all from the same number.

'Hey beautiful, what are you up to today?'

'(Y/n)  please I don't get why you're ignoring me.'

'It's because your husband's there, isn't it?'

'It's been five days now, why won't you just talk to me honey?'

A shudder ran down (Y/n)'s spine as she scanned the texts over and over again. This man was clingy and he was desperate but there was something else behind his words that made (Y/n) feel uneasy. It was as if he truly thought he was talking to his wife who was ignoring him and it was making him angry.

Maybe there was another (Y/n) out there with a similar phone number and who was also married and she was having an affair with this man. Maybe she had a long affair and didn't know how to cut it off and so she changed her number or was simply ignoring him and wishing he would go away like (Y/n) was. But it was a big coincidence that there was another woman out there with the same name, similar phone number and who was also married who this man was trying to talk to.

But if these messages were truly intended for (Y/n), who on Earth were they from?

(Y/n) hadn't given out her number to anyone in months, she had no new colleagues or friends who needed her number and she couldn't see how a stranger could get her number. Nor was she having some kind of affair like these messages were implying because the person was angry and kept mentioning a husband.

(Y/n) loved Ben with everything she had and they might be having a baby together, she hadn't and wouldn't cheat on him with anyone else so it was no one night stand or affair that was trying to get back in touch with her.

A wave of unease rattled through (Y/n) as she felt her heartbeat starting to pulse through every muscle in her body. She held her breath deep in her lungs as she clicked on the number information and scrolled down until her thumb was hovering over block caller.

She had to block him, she didn't know who he was or what he actually wanted other than her undivided attention that (Y/n) wasn't willing to give. She couldn't keep letting him message her five times a day demanding that she speak to him and getting angry when she doesn't. No response didn't seem to make him understand that (Y/n) didn't want to talk to him. She didn't know who he was but she didn't want to know either and she didn't want him to keep messaging her constantly like this.

Before (Y/n) registered what she was doing she blocked the number just as her phone vibrated from another message. She didn't get to see the message and something told her that was a good thing in case there was more aggression in the next message.

That was it, she had blocked the number and whoever it was would find out very soon that any future messages wouldn't be able to get through to her phone. The message was clear now that (Y/n) didn't want to interact with whoever it was who was persistent on her attention.

Moving her phone, (Y/n) placed it down on the seat next to her before she leaned her head back on Ben's shoulder.

"Okay?" Ben mumbled quietly as he kissed the top of (Y/n)'s head and rubbed his hand up and down her arm. He had wondered for a moment if something was wrong when (Y/n) seemed to space out when she looked at whatever messages she had gotten. But when she tilted her head up and smiled at him the new nerves in his stomach settled down and he smiled softly at her.

"Perfect."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You know we have to leave in five minutes, right?" (Y/n) bit down on the corner of her lip to try and stop her lips from curving up into a smirk. Her brows rose at Ben who was leaning over her, his hands were holding her hips that were pressing against his own and his lips were grazing over her neck.

She was sure that Ben had forgotten that they were supposed to be going to his parents house in half an hour and it took almost that time to get there from their house. They had to leave soon and the way Ben was going he seemed to really want to make them late.

"If I drive fast we can leave in ten."

Biting her lip harder, (Y/n) hooked her arms around Ben's neck and leaned into him a bit more which she knew took him by surprise because he was expecting her to push him back because they really didn't have the time. (Y/n) tucked her face into Ben's neck and pressed a butterfly kiss to the soft skin behind his ear causing him to shiver against her. But the moment (Y/n) kissed him, she unravelled her arms from his neck and pulled out of his arms.

"As much as I'd love to, I don't fancy a speeding ticket and your mum hates us being late so we need to go." (Y/n) knew Ben was a good driver but she didn't fancy getting stopped or getting a ticket because he tried to get to his parent's house on time.

Ben's mother had a thing for being prompt and on time or early and (Y/n) felt much the same. The last time they were late Ben wore a shit-eating grin through the whole dinner and that caused his mum to keep glancing over at (Y/n) and all she could do in response was turn beet red. (Y/n) wasn't sitting through another family dinner looking like a tomato.

"You're a tease, you know that?" Ben leaned closer so he could press his lips to her jaw before he turned on his heels with a smile and moved to grab a shirt. He didn't want to annoy or upset his mother by turning up late.

(Y/n) smiled to herself before she moved over to stand in front of the mirror and quickly put her hair up into a bobble to keep it from her eyes.

Tomorrow was Saturday and (Y/n) had it set in stone in her mind that she was going to take a pregnancy test and find out whether her and Ben's future was going to be changing anytime soon. She was almost certain that she was pregnant and she knew if she was then Ben was going to be ecstatic and his parents would be thrilled as well.

(Y/n) was going to find that new out tomorrow, they were going out for dinner with Ben's parents today, yesterday had been Lucy and Rami's housewarming which had been a great night. And to top everything off, (Y/n) had blocked her persistent pen-pal as she thought of him and since then no weird texts had been lighting up her phone. Everything was going great right now and (Y/n) didn't want anything to make this week go downhill.

Nodding to herself in the mirror, (Y/n) turned around and moved over to where Ben was just about to walk out the bedroom. He stopped where he was when he felt (Y/n)'s arms winding around his waist and her chin perching on his shoulder.

"What, you think we should be late after all?" Ben turned his head to look at (Y/n), quirking a brow as he moved his hands to hold her own.

"No, I'm just happy." (Y/n) kissed his cheek and tightened her arms around his waist. When Ben started walking again he kept hold of her hands so she walked with him still wrapped around him like a vine attached to his back.

When they got downstairs (Y/n) headed over into the kitchen to grab her phone and her bag before she made her way back to Ben.

"See, I got you here on time." Ben kissed (Y/n)'s cheek when they got out the car outside his parent's house. He checked his phone and nodded to himself when he noticed they were five minutes early and he didn't even try and speed to get here quicker.

(Y/n) linked her hand with Ben's as they headed inside and made a beeline for the kitchen where they both knew Ben's mother would be, she would already be making a start on dinner. It was a normality for them all to have dinner on a Friday night rather than a Sunday, it was their own tradition.

"There you two are, how are you?" Kate smiled as she leaned over and flicked the kettle on, knowing already that Ben would want a coffee.

"We're good mum, you okay?" Ben leaned over to kiss her cheek before (Y/n) moved over for a hug.

"Do you need help with anything?" (Y/n) moved over so Ben could make himself a drink but the knowing look (Y/n) got from Kate was more than enough to tell her that she didn't have to help. Kate liked everything a certain way and she liked doing the cooking herself, it wasn't that she didn't like or appreciate the help, she just wanted things doing her way so normally everyone let her do her thing and made sure to offer to tidy and clean up instead.

"No, but thank you."

(Y/n) leaned against the counter, smiling as Kate started up a new topic of conversation before her eyes suddenly looked down at her bag when she heard her phone go off. She put her bag on the counter behind her and took out her phone, the tone told (Y/n) it was her email but she didn't know if it was a work email or personal. If work rang or texted her then it was a sign someone wanted her to cover a shift and (Y/n) didn't like covering shifts at such short notice so at least if it was work it wasn't any shifts for her to take.

When she opened the email she realised it was her personal one which calmed down the way her heart jumped with a small bout of anxiety. But as (Y/n) read over the email she felt her blood running cold in her veins and her muscles tensed up like she was slowly turning to stone.

'Hey beautiful,

I realised you probably blocked my texts to stop that husband of yours reading them and if that's the reason then I do understand. But I'd really prefer if you didn't keep ignoring me, it's getting hard going this long without hearing from you or seeing your beautiful face. I know your with your husband now but can you respond to me soon please?

Love you (Y/n).'

How had he gotten her email? (Y/n) didn't usually talk to anyone via her email, it was mainly for when she bought stuff or got subscriptions or talked to long distance friends. Not even Ben or Sasha sent her emails and (Y/n) hadn't given out her email address to anyone in quite a while.

(Y/n) could feel her lungs tensing and closing off and her throat started to tighten like her muscles were expanding and trying to touch one another so she couldn't breathe at all. Tears formed in her eyes but it didn't stop her from being able to read the email over and over again until her body started to shake.

Who was he? Why was he doing this to her? (Y/n) was happily married, she didn't know this person and she didn't want to know him either. Blocking his number was a big sign that (Y/n) wanted nothing to do with him but he knew her number and email in the first place. He had to be someone who knew (Y/n) because he knew her details and he knew her name, why was he so fixated on trying to get her to talk to him? He sounded like he was in love with her and like they were in some kind of secret relationship but they weren't.

He wasn't leaving a name either so he either expected (Y/n) to know exactly who he was or he didn't want her to know this was him because they had to be friends or acquaintances.

"Babe... baby, what's the matter?" Ben put his drink down as his eyes narrowed and he felt his chest tightening when he looked across at (Y/n).

She was staring down at her phone like she had just been told the world was ending, there were tears welling up in her eyes and she was beginning to shake. The pieces clicked in Ben's mind that she was panicking over something but it scared him to think what she was worried about. He had seen her have panic attacks before and he knew how to calm her down and how to help but it never stopped him from panicking about what the problem was. She had been fine five minutes ago.

Ben moved until he was stood in front of (Y/n) and he gently took her phone from her hands, not bothering to see what was on the screen before he locked it and put it carelessly on the counter. He gently tangled his arms around (Y/n) and guided her through the kitchen and out into the back garden, he knew people seeing (Y/n) having a panic attack only made her feel worse and his mother had seen him have enough of them to know what was wrong with (Y/n).

"Okay baby, you need to try and breathe with me." Ben took (Y/n)'s hand and pressed it to his chest so she could see how he was trying to keep his own breaths calm.

He waited a few more seconds before he placed his hands either side of her face and pressed his forehead against her own and slowly started to swipe his thumbs under her eyes to brush away her tears. He felt (Y/n) brushing her fingers over his chest like she was stroking him or trying not to scratch him as she tried to copy his breathing.

When (Y/n) slowly started to breathe better and try to copy Ben's breathing, he pulled back a little until he could wrap his arms around her and hold her to his chest. He tangled his hand in her hair and gently kissed the top of her head a few times until he felt (Y/n) tightly wrapping her arms around his waist and burrowing herself into his chest as much as she could.

"Baby, can you tell me what upset you?" Ben tried to look down at (Y/n) but she burrowed into him tighter until he could feel her rapid, uneven breaths forcing into his chest like she was trying to give his lungs her oxygen. "Alright, alright you don't have to tell me. But please tell me it's nothing serious."

Ben slowly started to card his fingers through (Y/n)'s hair to keep her calm and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. He felt his heart calming down just a little when (Y/n) nodded against him to show that this was nothing serious and her arms wrapped tighter around him.

But she didn't know if this was serious or not.

[liamscxtt]

a day in the life ; self para

when: thursday, august 28th

where: literally everywhere

nb: just a brief (long) narrative of what the typical day looks like for liam.

trigger warnings: homelessness, death and drug mentions, drug abuse

5:00am

there’s a moment when you first wake up when everything is just a haze. a moment when you forget who you are, what day it is -- all of your problems just don’t exist, for that moment. the moment only lasted a few seconds before the blaring sound of the alarms coming from the phone bring you back to the brutal aspects of reality. and yet, those were the best five seconds for liam.

groaning, he turned over and tapped on his screen, desperately trying to shut the alarm off; the bright screen burning his already sleep deprived eyes. he probably only got about three hours of sleep, if that. he was used to it at this point, and then there were days like today. days where he wanted to wither into the depths of his own self-loathing. 

he looked out the window to see the sun beginning to rise. a sky painted with shades of blues, purples, and oranges, almost like a messy yet somewhat neatly put together painting made by a middle schooler. there was something beautiful about waking up with the sun, parts of it that brought him peace. his sister loved watching the sunrise - she always went on and on about how sunrises were the true underdog; how mother nature picked it’s most beautiful mixture of colors for the sunrises, all because it took a special person to appreciate the beauty that came from it. he never really understood what she meant, until he was forced to watch the sun rise every single morning. and as always, she was right. sunsets had nothing against sunrises. 

these quiet mornings were the best part of liam’s day. the hours where he felt most connected to his sister and to himself. the hours he felt truly at peace. it was crazy to think that liam’s favorite time of the day was between 5:00am and 6:30am. 

he turned on his car to play youtube on his aux before climbing out of his vehicle. the sweet melody’s of the soft pitched tunes filled his car and the immediate area surrounding it, and a smile creeped on his face as one of her favorite songs began playing in the background. he wasn’t religious, but there was a part of him that truly found strength in knowing that his sister wasn’t far away. 

he rolled up the worn down mattress topper, collected his pillow and blanket in one hand. he broke down his bed as he pushed the backseat of his 2006 ford escape upright and neatly tucked his belongings into his trunk. 

5:30am

he pulled into the vacant parking lot of the soulstice gym. the gym was set to open in a half hour; luckily for him, there weren’t many college students that would dare to wake up at the crack of dawn just to work out. he stuffed everything he needed to get ready for the day into a duffle bag; shower supplies, and a clean outfit. he desperately needed to do laundry, and he needed to get food...but pay day wasn’t until next week. he was gonna have to find cash, and find it quick - maybe he’ll just pick up another shift at the bar. he practically lived at that place now.

his footsteps echoed through as he walked through the empty fitness center; not even the cleaners had arrived for their early morning shift. he quickly hopped into the showers and get ready for the day. lord knows he needed to wash the dirt and sins that painted his skin from the previous nights festivities. he couldn’t even recall what exactly happened, and that was both a blessing and a curse. it was shortly after he turned on all the lights and greeted the early morning cleaners, jimmy and george. 

“good morning, son!” greeted george. 

“mornin’, will.” jimmy greeted shortly after. 

jimmy and george worked closely together, and were usually gone for the day 2pm; and yet, liam knew the guys quite well. 

jimmy is in his early-forties, married with two children. he worked two full time jobs to get his children through school. his son played division II baseball at a school somewhere in the midwest, and is majoring in sports education. he wants to be a gym teacher. his daughter is studying to be a nurse at monarch. she aspires to work in women’s health. jimmy always spoke so highly of them two. 

george is in his mid-sixties, but is still kicking it like he’s twenty. he’s also married with children and even grandchildren, but his story is more tragic. he’s a retired firefighter, who is still working a full time job because his pension wasn’t enough to make ends meet. can’t make ends meet. his only daughter passed away at a young age - drug overdose, he says. his only son is constantly in and out of jail for drug charges - leaving george and his wife to take care and raise their two grandchildren, layla and michael. layla is 14 and is getting ready to start high school. she loves to play volleyball, and apparently is a natural. michael is 9 and is getting ready to start fourth grade. he love cars, spider man, legos, sonic, and baseball cards. he wants to be a youtube gamer when he grows up. liam didn’t know the kid, but he thought he was fucking awesome. 

two completely different stories, and yet liam believed that those two men deserved the world and then some.

“what’s up, guys?” liam greeted with a smile as he filled up his metal water bottle at the nearest filling station. “when are the kids set to go back, george?”

“this coming monday. mikey’s already complaining how he doesn’t need school to be a youtuber. apparently he’s ‘done his research’.” the comment makes both liam and jimmy laugh. 

“tell the little man to put that energy into a sport, or a trade. i need a new mechanic.” jim jested, once again causing the other two to laugh. “what about you, will? getting ready to start the semester back up? gabby is already stressing because some of her professors already posted the syllabus.” 

“shit, i haven’t even gotten my textbooks yet. i might have to join mikey with this whole youtuber plan and hope for the best.” liam said with a nervous chuckle. he almost had completely forgotten about the upcoming semester approaching. 

to quickly divert the question away from him, he spoke once more. “say, george. i found a few baseball cards at the bar the other night. remind me to bring them in for you.” 

“you’ll make that boys entire week. maybe i’ll use that to bribe him to go to school.” 

jimmy just smiled. “you’re a good kid, scotty boy. never change.” 

2:30pm

it had only been a half hour since liam clocked out from his morning job, and he quickly made his way over to the library. the mention of school that morning brought liam into a panic. he grabbed a spot at one of desks in the computer station, powering on the device and pulling out his notebook. luckily enough, most of the textbooks he needed the library had available. leaving his stuff behind, he went to go fetched them. 

he already had mastered the technique of not having his own textbooks. every week, he would go and scan all of the chapters he needed for each and every class. luckily, monarch offered free scanning and printing. he made small talk with the librarian that sat at the desk nearby as he printed out at least three weeks worth of chapters for each of his classes. 

he sat down once more, and took the time to put the pile of papers neatly into his binder. it was time to start planning. 

6:30pm

now it was time to work his night time job, mars bar. he was working with adrian tonight, so he knew it wouldn’t be that bad.

his stomach had been grumbling half way through his shift. he hadn’t eaten anything all day. but he continued to push through. he had to, at least until pay day. he continued to chug water; if his stomach was full of water, his body didn’t have time to remind him that it needed some sort of nutrients. he was a master manipulator when it came to his own body now. 

1:00am

the rounded out the tips that he received from his customers. it was a good night, and luckily enough he would be able to do laundry the next day. his body was tired, though; aching from the lack of sleep and abuse his body endured from the festivities. he felt like he could sleep for an entire month, and then some. 

he drove around for a bit after his shift, a thing he did as he needed to both unwind and find a somewhat safe space to park his car. university police were patrolling the parking lots that night, which immediately told him not to park there. he couldn’t park in greek row - too many people he knew by this point. he was left to park in a nearby park, in a nearby neighborhood. he found himself saying a small prayer that nobody would mess with him that night. 

he lit up a joint once he found his place, feeling the smoke fill his lungs as he listened to the calming music that played on the radio. ed sheeran was playing, a song from his multiply album. it was one of his and his sister’s favorite albums. that’s the one thing they shared in common, their taste in music. but she was more pop in a sense, and he was more edgy. but still, the music brought him comfort.

he got his bed ready; a mattress topper, paired with a pillow and a blanket. he made himself comfortable and looked at his phone, just to see he missed a text from his mother at 10:45pm.

hi honey! spoke with your aunt today, and we’re making plans for christmas. did your father reach out to you? let me know what plans he has set. i’ll arrange my trip around your plans. 

i hope you had a great day! i love you! ❤️

her message was followed by a bitmoji image of her holding a huge heart. and he smiled. 

i haven’t spoken to him all week, but i’ll reach out tomorrow and let you know. i’ll call you tomorrow. love you ❤️

there was a huge part of him that wanted to call her now, that wanted to tell her he had been struggling both physically and mentally...but then he remembered the damage and the financial burden his injury left. it ruined his family. he ruined his family. and just as he was about to press call, he let out a frustrated sigh before locking his phone and tossing it not too far away from him, rolling over to attempt to get some sort of rest.

just to do the same thing. all. over. again.

[bexterbex]

A Soul to Mend His Own | Ch. 2

A Kylo Ren x Modern! Reader in a soulmate au with some canon divergence. —————————————SLOWBURN————————————–

He is already the Supreme leader, searching the universe to find you, his Empress. Your name on his wrist has been the only constant in his life, while you have doubts about his existence and his acceptance of you. He isn’t in the database and why did the name Kylo Ren cover Ben Solo?

Originally posted on my Ao3 Crystallclover. If you missed Chapter 1, Click Here

Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Chapter 2: An Arrival to be Remembered

UFO has been sited entering the Earth’s atmosphere

Unknown armed and masked being exit ship heading towards the White House, is the President in danger?

Aliens spotted in D.C.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm, and got out of bed. You have been in the habit lately to start your day without checking your phone first. Mostly to avoid early morning emails from your boss before you have even had coffee.

You head to the bathroom relieve yourself, wash your face, and brush your hair. Exiting the bathroom you head to the kitchen and make yourself some breakfast and coffee. You enjoy the sunrise through the large windows in your apartment. Finishing eating you immediately wash your few dishes and get ready for work. You pick out your work ‘uniform’ of a black blouse and black trousers. You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth, put on a little makeup and get changed.

Heading back to the kitchen you prepare a to-go cup of coffee and pull out your lunch for work. Finally, you check your phone.

First, you see an email from your boss reminding you for the 10th time about the morning meeting that you have every Thursday. It isn’t like you to forget something you do every single week for the past year. Never once have you been late, in fact, he was always the one to forget. You wonder if these emails were meant more for him and less for you. But he was always the micromanager.

Next, you check your texts. Your usual morning photo from one of your siblings about one of your nieces/nephews. Another one from Hayden asking if you were still on for tomorrow night’s weekly bar trip. You answered ‘Yes 😀 .’ Another from Carter asking what you think of the news headlines this morning. Odd, although this isn’t the first time you two had discussed something like this it was odd to receive a text like this from them first thing in the morning.

You open Twitter to see #alieninvasiondc trending. You scroll through the news tag. Every major news site around the world is talking about the shuttlecraft that landed on the White House lawn last night, and the armed and armored soldiers that departed from the craft. All of the soldiers wore white armor, except one in silver. There was one who was in all black and a red-haired human-looking man among the group. Not much is known other than they haven’t been seen leaving the White House.

You text Carter back ‘Just looked now, either this is a hoax or the world as we know it is coming to an end. I’ll see you at work.’

You packed your work bag, grabbed your car keys and set off to work. You park in the ramp attached to your building and walk to the elevator. You wave at the security attendant to the opposing skywalk like you do every morning. You arrive at your floor and buzz-in. You say hi to Nancy in reception and head to your desk.

Strangely all of the televisions in the office were muted and tuned into CBC News, normally the one in the break room and the ones in reception were on, the others only really got used during Hockey Games or events like the Olympics. Your boss was in the walkway with his attention turned to his phone.

You set down your things at your desk and boot up your work computer while setting up your laptop on its stand. You did your usual check through work emails until the 9:00 AM weekly meeting. Your boss hasn’t moved from his position in the walkway.

8:55 AM hits and you grab what you need and head to the conference room. The tv was on in here as well. The others in the Marketing department filled in after you. Your boss, Scott, had yet to move from his place in the walkway. 9:00 AM hits and you continue small talk with your co-workers, most of the conversation is directed at the events in D.C.

9:05 AM your co-worker Ally sends a Slack message to your boss. He looks up from his phone to the clock on the wall and runs into his office. After a few minutes, he rushes out and into the conference room.

“Sorry, I am late everyone the Wife is just paranoid over this Alien Invasion thing. I can’t get her to stop texting me,” he chuckles.

Ironically this isn’t the first time he has been ‘late’ to a meeting after being on the phone with his wife an hour after work already started.

Suddenly you all get an Emergency Alert System notification on all of your phones.

‘International Emergency: Please tune in to your local news broadcasting station to receive an Emergency Report.’

Scott asks, “where is the damn remote?”

Ally hands it to him, he unmutes the tv.

The headline reads: ‘President of the United States has an Important International Government Update’

Live from Washington D.C.

On the screen, it shows the President of the United States, with the silver soldier, one in all black and the red-haired man from the video of the invasion last night.

“I have an important announcement. Earth has been contacted by people from space who call themselves the First Order. The First Order has informed me that they would like to peacefully work with Earth. As long as we fully cooperate as an entire planet no harm will come to any of us. Currently, our galaxy is at war, and the First Order seeks our help, in return of offering Earth protection from a group of people called the New Republic.

They have explained to me and the U.N. as a whole that the New Republic is not to be trusted along with their mercenary army called the Resistance. It is through my decision and the decision of the U.N. that we will cooperate and join forces with the First Order to be under their protection.

All citizens of Earth in the next 7 days must register with the First Order. You will be given a citizen number, some citizens may be reassigned to work directly with the First Order. All military personal will be reassigned to be under the First Order. You should not worry as most citizens will be unaffected, life will go on as normal. As long as citizens follow these orders and any orders to come, we shall be safe,” said the President. The President moved out of the way for the man in all black and with a black mask to move to the podium.

“I am the Supreme Leader of the First Order. I promise no harm will come to those who cooperate with us. We seek to peacefully transition your planet, as you know it Earth, to a primary First Order Planet. We value honesty and loyalty, along with hard work. We strive to rebuild the Empire and to maintain order in the galaxy. That is all,” The man's voice was distorted through the mask he was wear, it sounded mechanical or digital but it had a deep sound.

The broadcast cut back to the news anchor. “Currently all citizens of earth are to report to their a local city government building or town hall within the next 7 days for First Order registration and possible reassignment. All citizens must remain calm and do as the government has directed. Any questions or concerns will be answered by local government officials and First Order personnel. All foreign citizens to Canada will follow the same protocol as citizens. All citizens are asked to bring various forms of identification, such as a Passport, driver's license, birth certificate, social insurance number card, any immunization forms, military I.D. and more. You can find a full list of required documents at the CBC website or at canada.ca. As a reminder, all citizens are urged to stay calm and to follow all orders regarding and following First Order registration. Citizens are also advised to stay tuned to local news sources for any updates.”

The conference room sat stunned at the announcement.

“Well were f*****,” said Scott. “We are all surely f*****. Who are these people to think they can just take over like that? Do they think we are just going to sit by and let them brainwash us? Let them take everything from us?”

“I don’t think we have a choice, you heard the U.S. President, the U.N. is in agreement. This is for our own safety. If you are going to go against them and get yourself killed keep us out of it,” said Daniel one of your marketing co-workers.

“I’ll talk to Henry, and see if we can all take the week off, who knows this may be the last time we even get to see our families,” and with that statement, Scott left the conference room.

You sat there not really moving, processing what you just witnessed on the tv and the confrontation between Scott and Daniel. So did the rest of your co-workers. You could tell they were all in shock, the world as you knew it was about to change, the future had shifted.

All of your phones went off again. This time it was an email from Jonathan the CEO.

‘All employees will take today, tomorrow and next week off, in order to give proper attention to the government mandate. Please be safe and I hope to see you all come -Henry G. Wells’

Everyone in the conference room got up and went to their desks. The office was silent, except for the sounds of items being put away and people gathering their things. You were almost done getting ready to go when Carter appeared next to you.

They didn’t speak, for fear of being the first one to break the ominous silence. Carter just looked at you expectantly. You finished packing up and walked with them out of the office. The elevator was packed but silent. Everyone got off and walked to their cars. Carter followed you to yours.

Keeping their voice down, almost to a whisper, they asked, “I know I texted you this morning about all this but what do you think now? Do you want to go back to your place or mine?”

You thought about it for a moment before responding, “let’s go back to mine. We can discuss it from there.”

Carter accepted your response and went to their car to leave. You followed suit. Today was not what you expected.

Tags: @sheadre 

[ladylunasolis]

Zutara Week 2020 - Day 2 “Counterpart”

Thought I would take this a different route (and barely made it to post before the day is over in my time! pls forgive any errors lol).  My first modern/college AU for Zutara.

You can also read this on AO3 :)

Rating: G

Zuko shifted his stool forward, and adjusted the easel his canvas was on.  Blank white stared back at him.  Today, they would be having new live models coming in to start their final project for the quarter - and the best ones would be displayed at the university student art show.  They were working on portraits, different styles of painting one, and would have to submit a piece in their own style.  Whatever Zuko lacked in expressing emotion verbally, he always did his best to show it in his art.

One of the things that did challenge him about portraits specifically was working with other people and being responsible to get their feeling across.  Not one to back down from a challenge, Zuko had definitely worked hard and took extra practice to get a bit more comfortable.

He was feeling pretty confident to start this painting.  And then the new models walked in.

One lanky young man with wild hair strolled languidly to the side of the classroom as the curious whispers of the class continued on.  Zuko noted his eyebrows were in a shape he had never seen before, and it would probably be interesting to get them just right.  Next, a girl with chin-length brown hair and a pretty smile walked in talking to the last model.

If that first girl was pretty to Zuko, this last girl was stunning.  She had beautiful chestnut hair in gentle waves, golden skin, and surprisingly blue eyes to die for.  Zuko cleared his throat and scooted again to hide his face, an unexpected shyness hitting him.

Katara noticed him with the cough and shuffle behind the canvas.  She caught a golden eye surrounded by light pink peering at her before ducking back to start prep on what materials to use.  Gold?  She had never seen such a hue before.  Curiosity flit through her mind as she slipped her bag off and prepped to sit for this session.

Suki had told her about a way to get some extra credit for their shared class, and she had sat for a few photographers in the past so she didn’t mind helping out.  She hardly knew the guy with them, Jet, but he was nice enough.  He was definitely a smooth talker and had tried to kiss her once when they went out with Suki and other mutual friends, but he was only a fun distraction.

Bad boys were definitely a type she’s had, but Katara couldn’t help but wonder about the shy guy shielding himself from her.

Some time had passed and the professor went up to Zuko, regarding his art with an amused expression Katara could see.  “Zuko, you realize there are three people modeling, correct?”

Zuko’s face heated up and he took a moment to still himself and make his voice as steady as possible.  “Yeah, I’m just starting off with her since she’s closest to me.”  Zuko wanted the ground to swallow him whole, as quickly and inconspicuously as possible.  He looked up to the models once more and found the blue-eyed girl watching him, a small smile on her lips.

Zuko.  Katara had never heard that name before and despite that, she thought it would feel nice on her tongue.  She felt a bit self-conscious for a moment after realizing he was focused on her, and so she straightened up and shifted her shawl down a touch to show a little more bare shoulder.  She was flattered at his attention and Katara had always been a kind person.  She figured she could do a small kindness to be an interesting model, and help Zuko get a good grade.  The skill was all up to him but in a way, she felt like his partner in this project.

The class was coming to and end and she replaced the tank top strap back where it should be, and skirt over the workout shorts she had on for the class.  Zuko was completely hidden while gathering his own things and Katara was going to say hi to him until Suki grabbed her by the elbow.

“Sokka, Aang, and Toph are at White Lotus for happy hour!  They have shots waiting for us.”

“I think I-.”

“Uh-uh, I don’t wanna hear it, Katara.  We deserve it!”  Suki shot her a toothy grin which Katara always had a hard time being stern with.  She shot one last glance at Zuko who had his back to them, before letting herself get dragged out with a laugh.

Behind her retreating form, Zuko was packing his things when he heard her name.  A secret smile formed on his lips and he chuckled.  “Katara, huh?”  Beautiful.

The project continued on, as each class was only an hour long.  Zuko wasn’t so taken aback anymore and was able to keep his wits about him each time he saw Katara.  She always sat closest to him and it got to the point where she would give a smile to greet him, and he would return a small nod in return.  Katara was appreciative of the fact Zuko finally let himself show his whole face from behind the canvas.  It would have been a shame if she never had a chance to really see it — a light pink scar running on one side of his face and despite that he was still one of the most beautiful men she had ever seen.

On this day Katara’s ears piqued as the professor neared Zuko’s form.  Zuko had taken to standing up, and was close to the canvas, brush moving slowly.  The professor hummed and Zuko only turned to acknowledge him for a moment.  “Zuko this piece…there’s more feeling behind it than I’ve seen so far this quarter.”

Blue met gold for a split second and Zuko straightened up.  “Well, I guess you could say I was inspired.”

Ever the curious girl, those words triggered an even bigger desire to see this Zuko’s work.  That’s it, I’m talking to him today.  No matter what Suki has planned!  

And so Katara didn’t even wait to be fully dressed in her street clothes before going up to Zuko, zipping up her light jacket.  He startled when she greeted him.  “Hey!  Uh, how’s it going?”

How’s it going?  Really, Katara?  You have more game than that.  She resisted the urge to roll her eyes.  But then again, I really don’t even know him as much as I know the back of his easel.

“Oh uh, hey,” Zuko scooted the easel to face the wall and neared her one a few short movements.  He shot her a lopsided smile.  Katara noted the brightness of his eyes.  “It’s going pretty good.  What about you?”  His movements didn’t go unnoticed and she aimed a pointed look at his easel before returning her eyes to him.

“Good,” she replied with a smile, tucking her hair behind her ears before offering her hand in a handshake.  “I’m Katara, the girl - or I guess - one of the girls you’ve been painting.”

Zuko took her hand and Katara noticed how warm his was.  It was also much more smooth than she thought it would be.  A little calloused and dry paint to the touch, but smooth.  “Hah yeah, nice to meet you.  I’m Zuko.”  He ran his other hand through his hair absentmindedly and got a spot of blue in his locks.  Katara giggled and pointed it out.

“You got a little…”  His eyes widened, then he looked down at his hand and rolled his eyes.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, grabbing a cloth to wipe himself, small blush on his face.  “You would think I would be used to it by now after painting for so long.”

“Well don’t worry, I think blue actually kinda suits you,” Katara quipped.  The ghost of another smile passed over his lips before she continued on.  “From what your professor said it sounds like your painting’s going well!  I’ve been so curious to see it…”

Katara took a step towards the easel, and Zuko stepped in front of her with his hands up, sheepish grin on his face.  “Sorry, it’s practically done but I kinda have this thing about my subjects seeing a work in progress…”

“Oh, like bad luck or something?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow and crossing her arms, smirking up at him.  Boy, he was definitely taller than her.  And she couldn’t place the scent, but he smelled good even with a paint apron on.  Zuko thought a moment and shook his head, deliberately picking each word to answer.

“I want to keep my subject’s emotions as genuine and authentic as possible.  I’m still learning all this too, but in the past when I’ve had to practice, sometimes a person starts to think they should sit a certain way or have their face be a certain way.  But the thing I’m really starting to like about portraits is capturing who they really are in those moments, the small moments they let their guard down and let me into their world.  It’s my job to interpret that onto canvas.”  Zuko paused as Katara remained silent and laughed.  “That’s the first time I’ve said that out loud before.  Seems a little more weird than it sounded it my head.”

Katara shook her head.  “No, I don’t think it’s weird at all.  When you put it like that, it does make sense.  Every artist has their way of doing things, right?  So this is your thing.  I can respect that.”  She gave him a smile, softer this time, before turning away.  “I guess I just wish I could see it somehow when it’s done.”

Zuko hesitated as she began to talk to Suki, who had been talking to his classmate Ty Lee.  He just finally spoken to Katara and is that how he was going to leave it?  She was almost out of the classroom when he called out to her.

“Katara!”

The sound of a new voice calling her name made her turn quicker, to see Zuko making his way over to her and Suki.  Her friend shot her a look and actually took the cue to give her a little bit of space — though still listening intently.

“Thursday is the last day we’ll be doing this project, and after that we’ll be submitting to a panel.  If my work does get picked, how about we go to the art show together so I can tell you all about it.”  Katara noted it was as if Zuko had decided on something in the few moments between their conversation and now.  Even the last words he said weren’t really a question, more so a request.  She felt a flutter in her chest as she nodded.

“Yeah, that sounds like a plan.”  And Zuko’s smile widened.

A little over a week later, she arrived at the show to meet Zuko, who had been there early to set up.  Suki had bombarded her with questions about that black haired hottie after she made sure they exchanged numbers.  During the last session, Katara did her best to keep in mind what Zuko had said.  She just let herself be and stopped worrying.  She even exchanged a few smiles with the boy behind the canvas, a few jokes after class.

Not long after she sent the “I’m here” text, she heard him call her name.  I could get really get used to that.  “Hey, I’m glad you made it!”

“Of course, I wasn’t going to miss this!”  She really meant it and he gave her a lopsided grin, guiding her along with a hand barely brushing her back.  “I’ve been way too curious.”

“I’m sure you have been,” he replied, nervous once more.  He had never revealed his art to someone like this before and he wasn’t sure how it was going to go.  He brought her to a wall set up with the light focusing on the singular canvas displayed in this section.  “Here it is.”

Katara’s lips parted as her mouth dropped.  Suki and Jet were painted on the right and left sides of the canvas, respectively, and there she was in the middle and larger than the other two.  They were all full body in the frame but her’s was definitely the center.  Brilliant blues of all different shades surrounded all of them and it was almost as if they were windswept, or perhaps underwater would be the best way to describe it with how her hair floated around her.  She looked ethereal, she was glowing, she was happy, she was…Katara didn’t even know she could look like this.

Zuko stood next to her, waiting with bated breath.  Katara looked up at him almost speechless.  “How did you…get all of that from me just sitting there?”

Zuko shrugged and looked up at his painting.  “I guess…that’s just how I saw you.  That’s how you looked in my eyes.”

“Zuko, it’s…it’s beautiful.  It’s really lovely, and I don’t know much about art but everyone is so well done,” she managed to get out, finally coming down from her surprise.  Zuko looked down at her at his side and smirked.

“I couldn’t have done it without you to inspire me.”  Katara and blushed and mumbled something of gratitude and Zuko couldn’t help but think about how adorable she looked.  “So, what questions do you have?”

Thank you for reading!

[marsmoonqueen]

A True Angel

Mob!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warning: Mentions of blood, wounds and crimes (?) If you find something, send me a message.

Prompt / Summary: Reader meets Mob!Bucky for the first time.

Note: Okay so, this is something I have been imagining for a very long time; I won’t make a second part of this, but I wanted it to be here. 

At 12.03 am I arrived home, and even though it was pretty late my best friend and roommate wasn't home yet.

I have noticed that she had been acting weirdly lately, but with my job at the hospital, my classes and my love for running, I had little time to investigate what was troubling her. I felt like I was being a terrible friend, but the times I did ask her she told me everything was fine; but I knew better, and  I noticed everything, from her late arrives at nights, to how sometimes she was extremely happy… or even extremely scared; I figured it something to do with a boy, but I only received a name and nothing more. Steve.

 Anyway, after arriving home from my 12-hour shift I checked my books for my classes next day, and got into my bed with my headphones on; Not even 2 hours later I was woken up by a violent jerk.

"What- what the hell?" I asked disoriented. It was until my sleepy brain registered Peggy's tears that I completely woke up. "Peggy, what is it? Are you okay? Did something hap- who the hell is he?" I interrupted myself when I saw a blond dude standing next to my door.

Before I could ask more questions, Peggy took my arm and violently took me out of my bed. "Pegg-"

"Please help him y/n" she begged me with the blond dude's eyes shining with tears. I looked at our sofa and I found another guy with blood all over his chest and his face beaten.

My medical instinct kicked in and I threw myself to my knees and began to examine him. "Peggy, you have to take him to the hospital. Are you insane? He could die!"

"No, no hospitals" my ‘patient’ whispered after coughing violently, while I pressed a bullet wound in his right arm with one of my blouses that was in a chair next to me.

"You are in no position to argue dude." I started to evaluate the situation, he had a bullet wound in his right arm and another four in his abdomen, his legs were fine, his face, neck and clavicle were fine, and his left arm was...

"You have to help him, you are a doctor, right? That's what you do!" The blond guy yelled at me.

"Agggh, fine. Peggy bring me my briefcase from my room!" I barked at her. She ran and not even a second later I had her next to me passing me my bag. "I hope you know that if he dies in here, we are going to jail" I told her opening it and getting gloves, alcohol and a suturing kit.

"He won't die!" the blondie yelled even louder at me. I supposed they were close.

"If your friend is right, and you are as good as she says, nothing bad will happen." The man said with difficulty, looking at me directly at my eyes; blue versus y/e/c. I couldn't tear my eyes away from him until he coughed... blood.

"Damn out you two, to your room now! This is going to hurt man."

  After an hour and a half of me cleaning and stitching, bandaging and attending his wounds I finished. But of course, I couldn't sleep, I had to make sure he survived the night.

So, I stayed awake watching him breathe, checking his pressure and heart rate. Overall he was a good patient, he fell asleep as soon as I finished, but in all the time I was attending him, he didn't make a sound, just some grunts and grows from pain, given the fact that I had no morphine to give him; all the time with his blue eyes watching me intensely, but without making a sound.

Even after I finished, I left him shirtless and without pants, just with a tin blanket so he wouldn't be cold, but I could check if he had a fever or something.

 At 6.53 a.m. blondie came out of Peggy's room and took my place next to the man without even talking to me. Given the fact that it was very late, I took my books, thermo and gym bag and walked out of my apartment as Peggy was walking out of her room.

After running and showering, I went to my usual classes; Throughout the day I ignored Peggy's calls and messages, and afraid of coming back home, I asked a friend of mine, Wanda, to let me stay at hers.

 Two weeks later everything was the same I avoided my home as if it was the plague, the hospital and school being very helpful with that.  The only bad thing being that, I had already slept in the houses of all my friends, and they were getting suspicious.

The thing is that, even though I hated keeping secrets, I couldn't tell them the truth: That I was afraid of going back home, because of what I had done. Because I had helped a major mob boss.

Yeah, the moment I laid my eyes in that left arm I realized I was helping Bucky Barnes, the most feared man in New York, and after some research I realize that "blondie" was Steve Rogers his best friend, and mob ally.

A debate took place every day inside my mind, what I did, help a criminal, was wrong. But I was a doctor, my duty was to help people, and criminal or not, he was a 'people'.

The worst thing was that I couldn't get him out of my head; constantly I found myself wondering if he was okay. At first, I thought it was a medical instinct to want to know how my patient was; but after some days I realized that it wasn't the case. And that scared me deeply.

  A rainy Thursday, I found myself looking for shelter at a small coffee shop, obviously still trying to avoid my home and my best friend; I took seat in an illuminated corner next to a window, ordered, and while I waited for my lemon pie and coffee, I laid my books and report all over the table. As I started reading and making essays, I put my headphones on and played the soundtrack of "The Phantom of the Opera".

Sooner than later I saw the girl who attended meet with my pie and coffee, I was about to turn and smile to her, but a man rudely pushed her, making her throw the pie in my clothes, and the coffee in her arms and hands. Also, with the impact, my phone went flying to the floor, disconnecting itself from my headphones, and filling the room with the song "Angel of Music", accompanying the girl's apologies and cries.

I took a breath and forced a smile, the girl's hands were burning, so I asked her to go and clean up, at first she refused, apologizing all over again; but then I told her that I wasn’t mad at her and that I was a doctor, and she could get a first degree burn if she didn't check her hands.

A co-worker of her help her up and guided her to their staff room while I tried to organize everything again. Luckily my books were intact.

As I tried to reach for my phone, a man's hand got it first and offered it to me. "Maybe not an angel of music, but a true angel you are." He said as I took it from his hand. I froze at the sound of his voice. In front of me Bucky Barnes was smiling.

[lifeinahole27]

CS ff: “I Come Close” (Part 3/3) (au)

Summary: They’re not really rivals, but not really friends. What they are, instead, is the best sex they’ve ever had. It’s easy and simple, even with the rules they have in place. So what happens when those rules start falling apart?

Rating: Explicit - This chapter contains dirty talk/phone sex

A/N: It took me until just now to discover I’d never added a summary to the last chapter. Y’all do know you can let me know when I fuck that shit up, yeah? Anyway, here’s part 2! Part 3 is finally finished and in edits so I figured I could get this whole thing posted before I go on vacation next week.

Part 1 | Part 2

Find it on Ao3!

-x-

Part 3

It’s not that Emma hates business trips. In fact, she actually quite likes them. She also perversely likes traveling, even though everyone else in the office complains and whines and drags their feet. Not Emma - she has her packing done three days before she has to leave.

The day before her flight, she double checks everything. Her business travel card is turned on with no balance due. Her carry-on bag is just waiting for the last few essentials which she’ll put in when she wakes up tomorrow. She takes a moment during her lunch break to check in to her flight and double check her seat. She scowls at the one beside her that’s still currently showing as unoccupied and closes out of the app, moving instead to the one that has her hotel reservation.

There’s only one thing that has not gone how she planned, and that’s the empty seat next to her. Not that she should care. She travels alone all the time. She’s more used to traveling alone than she is with others. So why does it piss her off so much that Killian won’t be sitting next to her when they take off tomorrow?

Their arrangement has been the best thing to happen to her in a long time. And that’s purely from a sexual standpoint. He walked in her office that day asking what he could do, and her brain screamed back “Do me!” so loud that she could only follow what her body wanted. 

She took him back to her place, wrung every drop of pleasure out of him that she could, and told him she’d see him in the office bright and early the next day. He’d smirked, cocking his head to one side and considering her for a moment before he walked out the door.

A week later, they did it again. No talk of work, no backstories, no kissing. He bent her over her kitchen table and fucked her so good she almost asked him to carry her to bed before he left. 

And so it began. It was a weekly thing. Once a week only. Always on a weeknight to avoid things like sleeping over and cuddling. 

One day when she got home from work, though, she couldn’t get him out of her head. She figured it was just a rougher than normal day and she just needed a quick fuck to get it out of her system. Instead of changing into something more comfortable or even just keeping her work clothes on, she hatched a better idea to immediately get him onto the same page as her. 

Off went all the other items she wore that day, keeping only her stockings and her shoes. Sliding on her coat again, she buttoned it all the way to her neck and tied it tight and hoped an Uber wouldn’t be too far away. 

It took a lot of careful maneuvering to make sure she didn’t flash the driver or the doormen at either of their residences, but there was a strong sense of accomplishment when she made it into the building without incident.

The look on Killian’s face when she dropped the coat to the floor was worth it. 

Even after they got done having sex, however, there was still a pit of something in Emma’s stomach. Something missing. And that’s when her dumbass brain decided that she should kiss him. 

The frequency that they’ve been seeing each other for the last month is quite possibly a problem. It’s every other day, now. Still no kissing. But he kind of, almost, just a little bit slept over the night she asked him to tie her up. 

Not that she fully blames him for that one. That was a marathon of a night, and by the time he came, he’d made sure she’d had six orgasms. Six. She’s never had a partner try harder for her pleasure than their own, and that’s including Ruby, who gives out orgasms like she’s handing out candy on Halloween. 

Emma knows she wasn’t sleeping long when she felt the shifting on the other side of the bed. Maybe he realized where he was and what was going on, so when the bed dipped, she expected it was him getting ready to take off. Instead, she felt his lips press against her forehead so sweetly, so tenderly, that she’s surprised she held it together until after he left.

Things went back to normal after that night. 

Sometimes they play with the restraints. Sometimes it’s something slow and sensual and just fucking incredible, but they still always part ways when they’re done. She’s been to his place a couple times now, too, and it feels a lot more like something than nothing.

Two nights ago, when she’d been getting ready to leave his place, he’d informed her his travel plans had changed and he wouldn’t be flying out until Monday morning. That left her on the Thursday night plane with no seatmate. She’ll still be with her team, but there was something intriguing about making this one “together” when they’ve always avoided each other on previous work trips. Plus, it’s four whole days she’ll have to go without seeing him, which just feels wrong at this point. 

With a heavy sigh, and knowing that all her travel accommodations are secured, Emma throws herself back into her work. 

When she shuts everything down for the night, she’s surprised to see Killian’s office still lit up across the way. She’s even more surprised to see him pacing and arguing with someone on the phone, his brows furrowed down. He’s usually so put-together at work: hair in place, suit pristine until the moment he leaves, shoes shined every single day.

Right now, his sleeves are rolled up, exposing the brace that holds his prosthetic. His hair is messed up, a product of the argument he still seems to be having. 

“Well call me back when you get it right,” he growls out, and Emma feels her knees go weak just a bit at the tone of his voice. Fuck, she finds him way too attractive. She would give almost anything to be spread across his ostentatious desk right about now. 

He turns as if hearing her thoughts from the doorway. 

“Swan? Anything I can help you with?”

She wanders into his office, her fingertips grazing the dark oak she was just picturing herself draped across. By looks alone, he’s had a shittier day than she could’ve imagined, and yet he’s still the one asking if he can do anything for her. 

“Uh, no. All good. Your place or mine?”

He checks his watch, another slew of curse words falling from his lips as he sees the time. “Bloody hell, I hadn’t even seen the time. Give me an hour and I’ll be at yours? I know you have an early flight so I’ll try to get there sooner if I can. I promise.”

“Take your time. I just plan on sleeping on the flight anyway,” she comments, coming close enough. Why is she so close to him? His tie is loosened and askew. Why is she reaching for it? 

Killian stops moving all together, instead focusing intensely on the way Emma is nimbly pulling the tail of the tie from the knot that looked better this morning. She works the knot out entirely, sliding it free from under his collar and staring carefully at the fabric between her fingers before looking up to meet his gaze. 

“Don’t work too hard,” she tells him, placing the tie on the corner of his desk. 

His hand grips her wrist loosely when she turns to retreat, and Emma does her best to stay steady. He’s looking at her with an unreadable expression, his eyes darting between hers as if he’s studying her files. He glances a few times at her lips and she wants him to kiss her. Wants it so bad that she almost goes for it again. But his phone is ringing and she can see the moment he waves a white flag. 

“One hour,” he tells her, letting his touch fall away from her wrist in order to answer his phone.

He’s there in forty-eight minutes, his mouth hungrily moving across her neck, biting at her earlobe as her hands make their way down to grab at his ass. 

All in all, worth the wait. Again, she almost kisses him, and somehow they both resist. 

But it’s still lonely boarding the plane by herself. It’s not until she’s in her hotel room later at night that the pit in her stomach opens - a chasm of unknown depths. The curtains are all wide open. She got an upgrade - corner room, river view, a little extra space with a couch… 

She turns on the TV for extra noise as she unpacks her suitcase, meticulously hanging her outfits for her meetings next week and the conference this weekend. She’s just finishing up when her dinner is delivered, and she forces herself to relax on the small couch while she eats, the TV long forgotten in favor of texting Killian pictures of the bridges visible. It’s certainly not the skyline she’s used to from their apartments, but from this far up, Pittsburgh doesn’t seem so bad. 

Her phone rings just after 8pm, and Killian’s voice greets her low and sultry. 

“It’s been a long day without you in this building,” he says plainly after she answers. “Your perfume wasn’t lingering around any corners today.”

“Why are you still at work?” she asks, more curious than anything else. 

“In my defense, I’m currently leaving the building.”

“You haven’t answered my question.”

“I was working on the Apollo account,” he says, and while she’s pretty sure that’s not a lie, it doesn’t sound like the full truth. “I’m hopping in a car. Do you want to stick with me or should I call you when I get home?”

She wants to tell him he doesn’t have an obligation to either option but she stops herself. She’s sitting by herself in her hotel room. The company would be nice. 

“I’ll stick with you,” she responds after a moment. 

“Excellent. So why aren’t you out with your team, who I know for a fact are downstairs in the hotel bar getting absolutely pissed on the company’s dime?”

“I got room service,” she says, as if that will cover the whole answer.

“A better choice, in my opinion,” he admits. “Is your room nice? Where are we staying again?”

“The Renaissance. They upgraded me to a corner room. I have this great view from up here.”

“As good as the view from my apartment?”

“It’s lacking something… extra.” 

“Darling, you tease.”

“I could do a lot more than tease, Killian.”

He’s silent for a moment, maybe weighing the pros and cons of having an erection in the backseat of an Uber. She can picture him cradling his phone in his lap, likely scrolling through work emails as they talk, his airpods snugly in his ears, judging how much the driver is even paying attention to him and his conversation.

“You could,” he says after a drawn out silence. “But will you?”

She chuckles, pushing aside the reports she was pretending to look over when he called in favor of sitting back. “I think I will,” she responds airily, taking a second of her own to decide how she wants to approach this. “The only thing missing in this room is you, preferably naked, stretched out on this king size bed.”

“Go on,” he requests, his words a little clipped.

“I packed before you told me you weren’t going to be here until Monday,” she tells him, stretching languidly as she stands from the couch. “Brought this cute new set of underwear. I think I might wear it tomorrow to the cocktail hour.”

“Or you could wait to wear it until Monday.”

“I could,” she sighs out. “But you know how much I love wearing new things as soon as I get them. They’re all black. Quarter cups. Lace.”

“Bloody hell, Swan. Hold that thought. Just -- hang on one moment.” She’s able to track his movements from the car to the entrance of his building.

“Tell Smee I said hello,” she says coyly, turning off the lamps until just the glow of the lights beyond her windows illuminates the room.

“Evening, Smee,” he says a moment later. 

“Are you in the elevator now?”

“I am,” he responds. “Thinking about how much more I’d enjoy this tent in my trousers if you were here with me.”

“Did you just have to walk past Smee with a noticeable hard-on?”

“Aye. And believe me, I’ll get you back for that.”

She hums, listening to the sound of the elevator dinging when it gets to his apartment. She tracks his movement, listening to him set down his computer and keys. Then hears him suck in a breath between his teeth as he obviously reaches for himself. 

“Feel better?” she asks, enjoying being able to do this to him so easily. 

“Tell me what you’re wearing right now,” he says. 

“I showered while waiting for my dinner, so I’m in nothing but a robe.”

He groans. “The things you do to me,” he utters, and the sound of his voice ignites the fire in her belly. 

“Yeah, I can think of several things I’d like to do to you right now.”

“Tell me,” he says, his voice wavering. “Imagine I’m there with you. What am I doing?”

“You’re getting undressed like you’re putting on a show, as you always do.” She closes her eyes to picture it: the way he slides off his tie, the way he slips open each button on his vest. “You’re taking off each layer like you’re exposing a gift to me. Until you’re down to just those gray slacks.”

“How do you know I’m wearing the gray ones?” he asks, his voice quiet and tinged with disbelief.

“You always wear them on Thursday,” she answers simply, missing the sound he makes as she barrels on with her imagination. “You leave those on while you move to the side of the bed, looking at me like you don’t know which part of me to taste first.”

“You know what part I want to taste first,” he says quickly.

“I do, but you always look like it’s some life-changing decision.”

“I’d argue that tasting you was a life-changing decision, love.” His voice when he says it is low and rumbly, pressed right against her ear, and she gasps.”What am I doing now?”

“You’re taking off those fucking pants,” she says, not even bothering to untie her robe but slipping her fingers between her legs. “And you’re climbing onto the bed with me.”

“Damn this case, I should be sinking into you right now,” he groans. 

“Yeah,” she says. “You should be.” 

Her fingers are still moving, dipping inside herself before coming out and swirling around her clit. It’s a pattern she knows for a fact that Killian makes with his tongue all the time, and maybe that’s what she can blame for the next words out of her mouth.

“I miss you,” she breathes out before she can stop herself. The moment she finishes speaking however, she realizes her mistake. 

“Swan?”

Struggling for a second, she has no idea what to say. Her fingers pause their actions as her eyes fly open and she works her jaw a few times but can’t come up with anything. 

“I gotta go. See you Monday,” she rushes out, ending the call. “You fucking idiot,” she says to herself, ignoring the phone as it buzzes in her hand. She lets the call go to voicemail. Next come the text messages, and in a fit of panic, Emma does the only thing she can think of. 

She turns off her phone.

In the morning, she forces herself to believe that it’s all going to be okay. She’ll just distance herself from Killian. She has a couple days before she has to see him and while she knows it’s going to suck - they really had a great thing going - she’ll get over it in time. 

Taking a deep breath, she goes through her morning routine, taking a moment before she starts to order breakfast. After that she focuses on getting ready, brushing her teeth and hair, applying moisturizer and a set of under-eye patches to try to fix the bags that formed from her fitful night of sleep. 

Moving to the closet, she finds her outfit for the first part of the day - some panel that she would rather sleep through if given the choice. She holds up the undergarments she told Killian about last night and sighs, pushing them to the back of the drawer and grabbing something more sensible. 

She’s only managed to slide on the underwear when there’s a knock on the door. That couldn’t possibly be breakfast, right? Last night, she accepted that she would be waiting for at least forty minutes before her food was delivered. She throws on her robe again, unlatching and swinging open the door without even bothering to check the peephole.

It’s not a room attendant with a tray waiting on the other side. 

“Killian,” she whispers, trying to wrap her mind around the fact that he’s here, standing at her door. “How did you…?”

“I may have bribed a member of your team to give me your room number,” he says. He’s forcing his voice to be casual but there’s a tension rolling off of him that she can tell he’s trying to hide. “May I come in?”

She almost declines, but instead she moves aside. As she carefully shuts the door again, he moves to stand behind her, waiting until she’s finished her task to turn her towards him and press her against the door. 

With delicate movements, he glides the patches from beneath her eyes, smiling softly as he does. Only after they’ve dropped to the floor does he brush his fingers across her cheek.

And then he’s kissing her. Not the quick press of lips that she gave that first time she showed up at his place. These are deep, open-mouthed kisses that she reciprocates immediately, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

“Did you mean it?” he asks before kissing her again. 

She could pretend to not know what he’s talking about, but her heart lurches. She can’t lie - not about this. 

“Yeah,” she replies, shuddering as his hand moves to the tie on her robe.

“Say it, Emma.”

Working up the nerve to say it in person is different than blurting it out on accident during phone sex, but as he pulls back far enough to wait, she realizes he’s not going to do anything else until she follows through. Opening her eyes is the first challenge, but he’s right there with her - his gaze patient as it meets hers. 

He leans forward, ready to kiss her again, but there’s a knock at the door again. He steps back, pressing his lips together as she pulls her robe closed.

“Breakfast,” she says, giving him time to move further away before she opens the door. 

He’s standing by the windows when she turns back to the room, directing the attendant to place the tray on the desk while she signs the receipt that she’s handed. When they’re alone again, he hesitates before he pivots to look at her. 

“Emma,” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“No, let me,” she says, moving slowly across the room to stand in front of him. “I missed you last night.” Her voice is quiet, and she swallows hard when she’s done speaking, trying to maintain eye contact and not fidget. 

He reaches out, grabbing her hand and urging her forward a few more steps so he can wrap his arms around her waist, his palm splayed across her back.

“I missed you, too. I was finishing the Apollo case so I could submit the proposal and fly out here early. That’s why I was at the office so late last night,” he tells her, and she can see why he kept that card close to his chest now. 

“To surprise me?”

“Aye, though originally it was just so I could fuck you against those windows, but now, I have the stones to tell you that I want something different. Emma, I want more.”

“We work together. Don’t you see how complicated this is?” she asks, pushing against his chest lightly so she can move away and pace around the room. He lets her go but waits until she makes another pass by him to hook his prosthetic around her wrist and guide her back. 

“I do. Believe me, I have thought of this so many times and so many ways, and every time I try to talk myself out of it, I just want it more. I have spent months just wanting to kiss you every time I see you. I’ve spent hours trying to figure out what I wanted out of this beyond a physical release, and I kept coming back to the same answer every time.”

“What was your answer?” She has a feeling she knows what he’s about to say but she wants to hear him say it.

“Don’t you know, Emma? It’s you.” His voice trembles just the tiniest bit as the words come out, and it surprises her when a tear rolls down her cheek. 

All this time, they’ve both been exercising the most restraint they could manage, and now it’s all out in the open. His hand trails up her arm, moving until he’s cupping her cheek and bending slightly to kiss her softly. 

She’s the one that shifts the tone this time, melding against him as one of her hands ends up in his hair and she’s lost to the way he tastes. Does he always taste this way in the morning? What is that hint she’s getting?

“You taste like tomato juice. Bloody Mary?”

“A spike of confidence. Light on the vodka. When does the revenue management panel begin?”

“Who cares? No one will miss us. Spend the day with me, instead?”

“As soon as I retrieve my luggage from the front desk, I’d be happy to.”

“That’s easy enough to take care of,” she responds, reaching for the phone beside her bed. After arranging to have his luggage delivered to her room, she has a thought. Covering the receiver of the phone, she turns to where Killian is helping himself to her coffee and flipping through the notes for the conference. “Hey, do you want to stay with me for the week?”

After a moment of shock, he wanders over, kissing her forehead quickly before taking the phone from her. “Yes, hello? This is Killian Jones. I had a reservation starting on Monday but I won’t be needing it any longer. Can you change the name on that to Will Scarlett? Yes. Thank you.”

At her questioning look, Killian shrugs. “He had to add on late and is stuck sharing a room with Victor. At least now he can move to his own room on Monday.”

“So gentlemanly of you.”

“I’m always a gentleman, Swan. Now, why don’t we split this breakfast and see what’s on Netflix, hmm?”

For the rest of the day, they lounge in the bed, dining on nothing but room service, and it’s not until well past lunch that Killian works apart the knot tying her robe, taking his time to savor every inch of skin he comes across. 

When Emma wakes up in the morning, Killian is still in the bed beside her, and there’s no movement from either of them to escape away. Instead, where they’d rolled apart during the night, she shifts across the distance and tucks herself into his side to snooze for just five more minutes. 

By the time they fly home on Thursday, they’ve set up a time for an actual date to take place during the weekend, and the rules they’d established before go right out the window. And during this flight, she doesn’t glare once at the seat next to her because it’s occupied by the right person this time.

[always-there]

About a new job

Nothing beats the feeling of rampant success like being a trainee in your 30s.

I remember watching Friends when I was a teen and thinking that even though Chandler's career change so late in life was brave, it was also deeply lame. I resented his poor life choices, I felt that in his place, if I reached that age and had built a successful career, whatever it was, I'd just stick to it and make the most of what I had.

Now that I'm a couple of years older than most of the Friends cast at the time... man. I feel ya, Mr. Bing.

I have a consistent tendency to become a workaholic in no time and overwork myself to exhaustion. And with overworking and exhausting come resentment and anger towards my employer. Instead of creating boundaries or trying to solve the issue with my company, I go on until my body and brain just can't keep up with it anymore and quit out of the blue. The company, who was happily milking me to their heart's content, freaks out. They counter-offer, schedule urgency meetings with HR to talk me out of it. Because even though I'm dead inside and constantly burnt, I'm good. I'm really good at what I do, and I'm also what I usually call a working beast. Not in a hyperbolic way, in the farm-bull-pulling-a-carriage-of-debris-across-an-uphill-field way. So I invariably end up leaving in bad terms from the company, spend a month or so trying to launch my freelance career, fail at it again because my obsessive anxiety won't let me live not knowing exactly what my detailed future is gonna be in the next month, and start again at yet another company.

And here I am now. It's 7 am. I have to wake up at 6 am in winter. This is my third day and I already want to call it quits. It's winter here, so when I opened my eyes it was so damn cold and dark. Like, pitch-black night. It's 7 am and I'm working with a desk lamp on, which gives the whole apartment a look and feel of being working overtime at the eerie hours of night that does not help my overall mood.

I know, I know. I should be thankful for the blessing of having a job in this uncertain time and age, when so many are struggling to make ends meet. I am thankful. But I am also tired and in a deep no-bullshit state of mind and soul that is not convenient to start working on a new place.

What's killing me is how disorganized they are. To begin with, I started on a Thursday. Nobody said a word to me. I'm working from home for the time being, so you can imagine the feeling of WTH when you're staring at Skype on your desk, waiting for someone to remember that they have to train you. I eventually gave up. I devoted myself to reading the endless HR messages and whatever employee manuals they sent my way and then I binged a couple of episodes of Cherry Magic! on Crunchyroll.

Then someone showed up. I suspect they are my immediate boss, but who knows. I don't even have a company organization chart. They asked me to complete about 50 e-learning tutorials for a determined software, take the tests that would trigger once I watched it all, and send them the certificates of completion as proof.

I told them that in my previous job, and the job before that one, and the one before the job before that one, I used to teach advanced courses on that software for professionals. Do you really want me to do this instead of, you know, learning something more specific to my position that would allow me to be useful to you sooner?

No, do the tutorials. It will be good to review the basics.

Fine. My fighting spirit is dead anyways. I choose my battles now. My boss (I guess they are) made clear they expected the e-learning to take my whole first day, and vanished into oblivion.

So, I didn't watch the videos. I accessed the tests through a different website that gave people the chance to take them without watching that fuckload of tutorials, completed them in 15 minutes, downloaded my perfect-score certificates and devoted the rest of my working day to inking my webcomic.

Day 2 was no better at first until at some point near my lunch hour the exhausted coworker for whose immediate benefit I was hired appeared and gave me a task to complete. I won't bore you with the details, but in short, they asked me to prepare a batch of files to be sent for revision before the final delivery to the client.

I was not taught how to do it. They sent me a link to download a previous delivery to use as a reference.

I managed to complete the task, of course I did. It's what I do best, I find my way on my own under pressure and against the clock. But I'm pissed. I'm pissed because this, you don't do *this*.

I'm fine with it because I am who I am, a 30 year old with no soul, no expectations, and a ton of experience dealing with this crap.

But what if I had been a proper newbie in the industry? A junior fresh outta college, a kid on their first or second job. Do you know what kind of stress this situation would put them under? How awful it is to be treated this way?

I was in charge of training new hires before, and I took pains to make them feel safe and welcome. I would spend fucking hours burning their brains on shared-screen calls on Skype, showing them every detail. I wrote whole ass step-by-step process manuals, so simple and detailed they were annoying, so that they would know what to do even if nobody had time for them.

This neglect of trainees pisses me off. It doesn't matter that I am able to complete the task at hand, that I am able to train myself. I shouldn't have. Nobody should.

I know I say I'm dead inside a lot, and a great deal of that is thanks to years of abusive workplaces. So even though I don't give a fuck about a ton of things, unfairness triggers me. I won't have it, I don't want anyone to suffer it.

So yeah. That.

Last Friday the only coworker that speaks to me (the others won't even say good morning back to you, there's a suspicious lack of will to live in this company) called me an hour before my shift was over and rushed me through a ton of complicated processes and technical instructions and deemed me ready to undertake the next huge project that client sent, from start to finish. They would train me sometime later, they said, and I left feeling uneasy once I had completed my first hour of overtime on my second day.

I shrugged.

This place looks as toxic as it could get, but the person I am today is overflowing with nuclear waste, so I think I'm prepared to neutralize their shit with a ton of counter-not-giving-a-shit in return.

We'll see how it goes. Unlike Chandler Bing, I have no hopes here, so I think I'm better prepared to thrive.

[danceing-spelled-wrong]

Amant retrouvé(My yandere game concept)

I have this idea for a yandere type game. I don’t wish for any drama it’s just an idea but I do hope to make it, by just trying out coding

Mostly everything said here might not be used if I make it. But you know

Amant retrouvé is about a girl named Felicity Menrow falling in love with a boy/girl and doing anything to be with them

(game in a nutshell. Full story concept and more below)

Story:

A sweet, outgoing girl by the name of Felicity Menrow starts her 11th year of school. She attends a private preparatory school in Lyon, France that her parents sent her from America to get a better education

Her childhood was pretty normal and she was raised to do the right thing

Week 1

She walks in the school and finds herself looking everywhere, she spaced out when a boy/girl by the name of Harvey/Harriett Uroso talks to her and Felicity falls in love with them, without hesitation, she starts talking to them and quickly befriends them

They introduces her to their friend group. In this friend group, there is two boys and two females. She learns that one of the guys by the name of Iven Davis has a crush on the leader(aka Harvey/Harriett)and plans to confess them on Thursday

Felicity goes to her complex apartment feeling a bit upset trying to think about anything, she gets stopped by a male(his name is Afflictus Tartal) who has a deal for her. If she's able to get him pictures of the inside of the school then he'll provide her things she needs, out of desperation, she agrees

When she finally gets to her complex, she meets a girl by the name of Suzanne Tartal and they start to chat. Felicity tells her about her situation and Suzanne suggest murder as a way, she shows Felicity the ins and outs of murder and how to get away with it

(Suzanne is a second source. She’ll replace Afflictus if you go killing)

Felicity goes to bed knowing what she needed to do the next day

Week 2

If she's able to get rid of him, then it will move to a 10th year student by the name of Louise Hill who meets Harvey/Harriett when they try to find their classroom. She falls in love and wants to confess, she meets Felicity and quickly wishes to become friends

Week 3

If she is eliminated then it will move to a girl by the name of Iva Woods. She meets Harvey/Harriett when she accidentally spilled her water on them, she falls in love and tries to repair their relationship, Harvey/Harriett invites them to hang in the group which gives her the chance of meeting people that their close to

Week 4

If she's eliminated then Felicity meets another student whose name is Vale Fisher who has grown a crush on her. She meets him on Sunday during the town's hearts festival when he brings her a box of chocolate, he says that he things she's cute and would like to hang with her

Week 5

After that, another guy(Fleecer Hicks) grows a crush on Harvey/Harriett and starts to hang around them protecting them from other students. Harvey/Harriett try to make him a better person by spending their time with him which in turn makes them fall in love. He hangs in a group that is only female and each one is like a bodyguard

Week 6

After that, a transfer student named Yvonne Keller meets Harvey/Harriett and gets annoyed at them for ruining their dance and wants to ruin their reputation as a revenge

Week 7

If he's taken care of. Felicity meets up with Afflictus to talk, she asks why he needs the photos of the school. He answered that his ex wife, Alison Bell, is the principal of the school and he used to work there and misses it. He asks if Felicity would try to get his wife to take him back

The next week, the principal will be around the halls watching the students. Felicity will be able to talk to her about certain topics before talking about her ex, she then will say that he cheated on him with the fired nurse

The students tells Afflictus about what Alison said, he'll go to the school and say that the nurse forced herself onto him

Alison won't believe it but either she'll allow him the job seeing him in the destruct state or kick him out depending if Felicity was able to convince her enough

After that moment, Afflictus will easily be at the school and be Felicity's new teacher

But if she's unsuccessful, then he'll still be use trough the alleyway of the school(aka his home)

But if you choose killing, then this week will be a regular week, a free week if you may, since Afflictus won’t talk to you knowing you’re a killer

Week 8

For the next week. Harvey/Harriet won't be attending the first 3 days because of personal problems but Felicity will be able to talk with them viva a phone mini game where you click a sentence to respond to them. This week is pretty easy to get through

Week 9

Once that week is over. Harvey/Harriet will meet a guy who starts to stalk them and plans to kidnap them, Felicity learns about this and has to get rid of them through police and record collecting

If she's able to get him arrested, then you pass the week. If not, you lose the game

Week 10

The final week takes place when the school is going to have their first dance. Felicity has until Thursday to ask Harvey/Harriet out to the dance, but if she's not able, she'll just get the friend ending

If she's able to ask them out, there are 6 possible endings you could get depending on how you eliminated your rivals and many other things

Elimination methods

Lethal methods:

Stabbing(knife, scissors, shears, saw, and spear)

Drowning via fountain or toilet

Choking via hands or rope(high strength, mini game comes in)

Decapitation via power saw or chainsaw(from Suzanne)

Going to the rival's home

Ruining the rival's life(example: making one of their family members lose their job)

Nonlethal methods:

Befriending(no betray)

Matchmaking(different story)

Rumors via online

Suicide in many different ways depending on the reason(jumping, hanging, cutting, pills, etc)

Making Harvey/Harriett hate them(different way, to make then REALLY hate them)

Let me go into detail for each rival:

Iven Davis:

Befriending: This elimination is pretty easy since you both are in the same friend group, you learn that his parents been going through a divorce and he wishes they would just get along

In response to this, you will set up a dinner date in town where the two adults meet and talk things over

Once you pass this, Iven will thank you and say he's willing to give up his confession for you as a thank you

Matchmaking: another guy(Duval Burns) happens to be in love with Iven and wants to confess to him. You can help them set up a date in town where they will talk, you will have to help Duval say things Iven will like and then order food that matches Iven's likes. Each day will have a different date. Some ideas I have are a movie theater, the park, a outlook, and a trip to the shops.

By Thursday. Iven will either confess to Harvey/Harriet or Duval, after he confess, Duval will accept and after that week they will be a couple

Rumors: Felicity is too nice to ever spread rumors in real life but is also desperate to keep her crush single, so she'll go anonymous and spread some unsavory rumors about Iven. You'll stalk Iven and watch his every move, taking photos of things out of context(Ex: him talking to an older man/woman, looking at a sex shop, walking past a crying child) After that, you'll be able to write a fake statement. There will be a meter to let you know if it's believable, if it isn't then you'll most likely fail.

After that, Iven will have to move to another school due to the harassment

Suicide: Easy enough to explain. Just shift the bully's attention towards Iven by making him accidentally go towards them, the bullying will escalate to physically hurting him which may very(Ex: Fleecer may cut holes in Ivan's gym clothes during P.E, he might push Ivan down the stairs, he might get his gang to write things on his desk, he might poke him with scissors, and he might beat him up after school hours that you might be able to see this on the way home where the girls block half of it saying things like

"Move along, unless you want to be next."

"Keep it moving."

"If you tell anyone, you'll be just like him."

"Came to see a show? Sorry to disappoint, but Fleecer doesn't like an audience."

"Fleecer is so cool, I wish I was like him."

By the end of the week, Iven will kill himself depending on how far the bullying has gone. The worse being cutting.

Making Harvey/Harriet hate them: Simple. Just make Iven look like a complete jerk. Some examples being: making Iven trip Harvey/Harriet, making him spill their drink on them, hacking into Iven's account and sending death treats to Harvey/Harriet, Iven making promises and not keeping them, and etc. By the time they confess, Harvey/Harriet will deny their feelings and leave

Suicide and rumors are the same and will apply to every rival the same

Louise Hill:

Befriending: Louise will ask Felicity to bring her some study notes that have the correct answers so she can study them, once she brings them to her house. Louise will then tell her that she's a little tight on money but needs a tutor to help her pass, so you can either get money from jobs(will go on later) or get Afflictus to study with Louise

After you do that, Louise will thank you and say she'll let you keep Harvey/Harriet

Matchmaking: A girl(Bridgette Fox) has developed feelings for Louise and wants to ask her out, you'll have to give her a gift and then wait til the end of the day where then, she'll confess her feelings to Louise. But then get's turned down because Louise is straight, Bridgette runs away crying which makes Louise feel bad stopping her from confessing her own feelings

Iva Woods:

Befriending: Felicity will have to catch Iva in town since she's always busy during school, she can be found in the library. She'll say she doesn't need anything and nothing is wrong with her. But if you stalk her, you'll noticed that she's being followed by an unknown figure. There are two outcomes, you let Iva get kidnapped and then sold for money or you attack the kidnapper before they striked

Once you save her, she will be in your debt and promises not to do anything against you as long as you protect her

After that moment, you must walk Iva to her manor everyday until the last week

Matchmaking: A boy(Oliver Berry) falls in love with her for her money and looks but Iva knows he's only attracted to those things so she refuses to even date him. But you can make him act differently and not making it known that he only wants those things

You can make him act smarter, compliment her personality and not even mention her riches. By the end of the week, Iva will have fallen in love and date him

Vale Fisher:

Befriending: This is the only time you can betray. He's already in love, so all you have to do is ask him to meet you somewhere. You get two options, either the waterfall or your complex

If it's the waterfall, you push him killing him on impact. If it's your complex, then you drug him and kill him there. But with both locations, you can talk to him to get him off your back. At first he'll refuse, but then agree saying his feelings won't go away but he'll let you go be happy

Matchmaking: There is nobody in school or outside school that wants him. But you could try to get him with someone online, you can send him a list of ladies from across the country and see if he finds them attractive

Fleecer Hicks:

Befriending: This is the hardest one to do. You have to get an illegal substance from Afflictus to gain Fleecer's respect. He will tell you that his grandmother died recently and his deadbeat of a father took a very important item that she gave him and would like it back

A mini game will begin where you sneak into the small apartment and find the item that's a heart shape ring. If the father notice you stealing it he will attack you causing a button pressing mini game that is hard

If you beat it. You'll return the ring where Fleecer thanks you and says you can keep Harvey/Harriett but says if anyone finds out about this, then he'll break your skull

Matchmaking: A female from his group(Doreen Fields) falls in love with him and wants him to herself. You'll help her gain confidence to ask him out, of course, he ends up denying her feelings telling her that she's just a bodyguard. Doreen takes this personal and attacks him, she accidentally kills him causing her to panic and run away

Suicide: This feature will be done different. You'll have to make Fleecer's gang go against him by making him sound like he hates them, this is done by recording conversations he has with a friend outside the school where he speaks ill of every member. There are 3 members so the conversations will happen over 3 days and then you'll have to edit them all together and show the girls on Friday

They'll confront him and say they don't want anything to do with him, Fleecer will have a break down and run away from the school to his house

On Saturday, he would kill himself via hanging

Yvonne Keller:

Befriending: You will have to gain major popularity online to be able to talk to Yvonne, this is simple as helping out a student at your school. When she notices you, she will ask to do a duet with you

You two will meet after school on Wednesday by the Bellecour, she will set things up and then you two will start dancing. But a teen with swoop in and steal her phone, you will have to give chase and snatch it back

She will thank you and say she'll be your best friend. But she takes it back when you ask her to stop bothering Harvey/Harriett, she says fine but also says that you were a bit too lame for her taste

Matchmaking: Nobody in school is interested in her, but outside of school, a guy(Bennett Hail) likes her but she never looks in her direction. You help him make him stand out from the crowd so she would notice him. Yvonne walks up to him on Thursday and asks him to do a duet with her, he agrees and they walk away to do a dance together taking her mind away from ruining anyone's reputation

Afflictus system

You can accuses him before school, before class, after school, and during the weekend. Depending on if you get his job back on week 7, you can find him either in the classroom or if you don't pass, in the school alleyway

He's able to get you weapons, lethal drugs, hitmen, outside sources, and new abilities(strength, reading, organizing, cooking, and endurance)

To buy all these things, you must take photos of inside the school mainly ones of your classroom which is class 2-7

But he can’t be used if you’re going genocide, he’ll ignore you and call you a murderer

Suzanne system

If you go genocide, you can call on Suzanne via phone or go to her home and she'll give things that isn't accessible. Weapons, new move sets, keys to a warehouse, popularity boost, hints, and a replay of the tutorial. To get all these things, you'll have to take photos of a student being bullied, a dead body, dead animals and pictures of the graveyard

Complex

Everyday after school hours, Felicity will return to her apartment. There she can study, practice the abilities she purchased from Afflictus, use her laptop to spread rumors or buy things online, play video games that can be bought and can grant certain abilities, go into town to stalk her rival or work or buy things, go to Harvey's/Harriett's house to watch the sleep(this will trigger mid game credits while music plays until you leave), or sleep to pass time

Town system

Their is a full town that is able to be used, there are 9 shops that can grant the player multiple things. Weapons, video games, music, money, decorations, different aesthetics, etc. If their not interested in shopping, then they can stalk their peers or rivals and hear about their lives. Their are also some other characters outside the school, adults will occasionally talk outside stores about things(some will speak in french but have English subtitles)you can also find Afflictus between the school and cafe

You walk to school this way and also walk home this way so you have the chance to get things you may need before the day starts

Job system

In the town, you have 3 job options and each has a different way to pay. The chef job gives you 100€. The librarian job gives you 90€. The assistant office manger gives you 400€. But the jobs require certain skills, which depends on the abilities you get

Game mechanics

Controls

Computer: Q(confirm) N(deny) F(attack) Shift(run) Space(phone) Enter(quick menu) A,W,S,D(move) Mouse(move camera) 1(pick item up) 2(drop item) 3(open inventory) T(talk)

Controller: Left stick(move) Bottom right stick(move camera) Directional pad left(pick up item) DP right(drop item) Left shoulder(run) Start button(quick menu) Back button(phone) A(confirm) B(deny) Y(talk)

Talking system

To talk with a student. Just walk up to them and press T(on computer) and Y(on controller)

When you start to talk, you have options. Compliment, give item, request favor, and leave. You don't have a time limit when talking and you can talk to your crush

Giving items to a peer will boost your reputation and will make you popular around school

Phone option

The phone has 8 apps to use. Camera where you can take photos with the C button or left trigger, the school yearbook(if a student has died then their faces will be blackened out), main menu, photo album, save/load, social media, mobile games(a flappy bird or crossing road type mini game), and settings

Student behavior

Each student has a personality that clashes with each other. Certain students are in a relationship, have enemies, friends and some are related.

There are 40 students in the game not including the rivals, H/H, and Felicity. If two students are in a relationship, during lunch they will eat together and after talk and then kiss

If students are in a friend group like Felicity, they will eat together then talk. But if two students are enemies, they will push each other when they get the chance

Based on personality types, students will do different things. Athletic students will go for jogs around the track before classes, artistic students will go somewhere quiet to sketch what they see, introverted students will sit alone to constipate, extroverted students will go to large groups to join in the conversations and so on

During class time, certain types of students will be seen doing something that matches their personality. Lazy students will take a nap, joke students will cause a disruption, and smart students will pay more attention then other students

After school, certain students won't be in town such being the introverted, loners, shy, and smart students. Other students will be. Iven is a shy student so he won't be in town

Class system

Each day has 3 classes. One at the start, one after lunch, and one optional one if you need a stat to go up. Each class has subject that you'll have a paper to, in which you will have to answer correctly(Ex: Simplify 7(x+5)(x-5)) if it's too hard, you can turn down the difficulty and still receive the credit

Teacher behavior

Each teacher behaves like a teacher would, they break up disputes between students, gives emotional support to those who need it, and after school helps students who need it

If a teacher sees blood then they will just assume someone had a nose bleed and clean it up, but if a body is found then they will call the police

They won't apprehend you, instead they'll pull out a teaser and taze you(gotta one up)

Sanity system

I wish to make something separate from what we're used to. Felicity isn't a psychopath or a killer by blood, she had a great childhood and her parents love her very much. She's just pushed to do these things which takes a toll on her mind, of course the sanity will decrease but she won't giggle instead cry because guilt is over coming her

She isn't emotionless. Everyday she'll go home contemplate what she done, if she murder someone she'll stay silent. But if she sabotaged an interaction with the rival, she'll blame herself but then think about her crush and she'll forgive herself afterward

Final note

So. Whadda think? Too ambitious?

Well I think it might be cool..if possible I would, but still won't cause of clear issues

But it would be cool if I did, oh well, guess this idea was never meant to be