#THE tablet IS REAL you cannOT TELL ME OTHERWISE

[yuriyuruandyuraart]

alright okay i'm adopting him, your art AND you at this point i'm sorry but WHAT. HOW???? WHERE DID YOU FIND SUCH TALENT???? you CAN'T tell me this is natural you WITCH!!!!! omg??? omg. <3333333

Hi guys I’m here with a drawing finally, and It is of gradient struggling with art because same

Character belongs to askcomboclub/roseworks

[felixstudios]

Random Corporate Clash Headcanons, Playing Subnautica Edition

Ft. my art as a bonus

It's as dark as a movie... YOU CAN'T SEE IT!!!!! :D

WARNING: THIS POST CONTAINS SUBNAUTICA SPOILERS!!!

Duck Shuffler

🎰Causes chaos

🎰Dies often and literally doesn't care

🎰This man does not know fear. He will approach a reaper armed with only a scanner and a repair tool, get bitten for 80 damage, and say, "Wow! Thith game ith tho cool!"

Prethinker

🧠Plans EVERYTHING

🧠"I'm going into the Lost River, which means I'll want to fill at least 2 lockers with titanium in my Cyclops to build a base by the Cove Tree. I'll bring the materials for a Moonpool and a Thermal Plant as well as all the interior modules. I'll stop at Lifepod 2 to grab the Cyclops Depth Module MK1 and also explore some wrecks in the Grand Reef and Underwater Islands for PRAWN Suit drill and grappling arm fragments. Once I get to the Lost River I'm going to..."

🧠"...and this Stasis Rifle will work to keep Warpers away for only a few seconds, but it will be enough time to..."

🧠"...perform this glitch speedrunners use to get access to this Purple Tablet hidden out of bounds, which will save me an ion cube as well as a trip to..."

Derrick Man

🛢️Does everything in the most practical, efficient way possible

🛢️Not afraid to hunt down a few Leviathans if they get in the way

🛢️Likes the PRAWN Suit quite a bit

Deep Diver

🫧Refuses to use the wildlife for food and water

🫧"This creature was probably inspired from [sea creature] in the real world."

🫧Will build a base with a LOT of glass and windows. She wants to watch all the wildlife swim around

🫧I feel like if you asked him his favorite creature or biome, he'd say all of them

Rainmaker

⛈️Scared of everything. Even screamed when she saw her first stalker

⛈️Refuses to explore at night because it scares her

⛈️When she saw a Reaper while trying to explore the Aurora, she had to pause her game and cry a bit internally

⛈️Really loves the creatures though and will make a massive aquarium in her base

Land Acquisition Architect

🚦LOVES base building. A little too much maybe?

🚦He especially likes doing it on creative mode where he's not restrained by power or hull integrity

🚦Still is the guy who builds a massive base in survival mode and like CONSTANTLY expands it even though it's already like a quarter the size of the biome

🚦Completely disorganized storage rooms

Gatekeeper

⚔️Has already killed every Leviathan in the game armed with a Seamoth and a Thermoblade

⚔️Builds a base in the most dangerous places JUST out of spite

⚔️Beats the game really fast, even for her first playthrough. Like... less than 10 hours fast

Witch Hunter

🔱He doesn't play it

Public Relations Representative

🧱Basically Buck except he gets scared of the Leviathans

🧱His base, is, erm... it sure is a base of all time {it's a complete architectural nightmare}

🧱Crashes the Cyclops into walls constantly

🧱Has an irrational fear of Mesmers. No, I cannot explain this oddly specific headcanon

Bellringer

🔔"Affectionately" insults the creatures and tells them to shut up

🔔Hurts his Seamoth so he can hurt aggressive fauna while he's driving

🔔Otherwise he's a pretty chill and normal player

Multislacker

🥪Has a little drive for exploration, but not really

🥪Mostly just clears the game and doesn't care enough to find out more about it

🥪"Oh... I'm supposed to cure a disease. That's a... lot of effort. Could you, like, just beat the game for me and I'll watch?"

Mouthpiece

☎️Thinks it's fascinating technology has come far enough for a game like this to exist, though she doesn't actually care much for Subnautica itself since it's just not her style

☎️She did find making small bases and exploring pretty fun, though

☎️Struggles a lot to control the game since gaming doesn't come naturally to her

☎️Likes to keep small aquariums

Major Player

🎹LOVES the audio and the ambience of the game, it's super immersive for him

🎹Not necessarily scared of Leviathans, but he's had some jumpscare moments with them

🎹He's the kind of guy to set his Cyclops on fire just to listen to Abandon Ship

🎹Loves exploring and just wandering around since the game is SO immersive for him

Firestarter

🔥"I, uh... I'm sorry, Peeper... I have to eat..."

🔥"Where am I?"

🔥The ceiling above him might get a little singed if he gets jumpscared

🔥"...Graham? Do you know where I am?"

🔥"What's the Ecological Dead Zone...?"

Plutocrat

🌑Doesn't really know how to play games, so he gets frustrated pretty quickly because he can't figure out how to do what he wants to do

🌑Starts thinking about a realistic survival scenario and often tries to solve problems that aren't even in the game {such at the bends, keeping skin dry, ETC}

🌑Doesn't care much for the story until he does after it FINALLY catches his interest like halfway through

Treekiller

🪵Finds very interesting solutions to his problems...

🪵Violence. He chooses violence.

🪵Sometimes purposefully kills innocent fish with his vehicles for laughs

🪵Genuinely thinks if he had Kharaa that he'd essentially be able to just walk it off

Chainsaw Consultant

🪚Who let this man play a horror game?

🪚Well, he's gonna be plenty traumatized by it

🪚He likes the peace and quiet of the safer biomes and will probably just sit with an observatory and vibe, but the sounds of aggressive fauna scares him a lot

Featherbedder

💤Falls asleep at the keyboard a lot

💤Even if it's high intensity like a Reaper chase, they will just. Suddenly fall asleep

💤The Cove Tree makes her especially sleepy though

💤Not really scared of anything and finds the story very interesting, just finds it difficult to sit through a gaming session without falling asleep

Pacesetter

👟Tries to beat the game as quickly as possible

👟"I'm not scared of Reapers!" 10 seconds later... "AHHH!!! FLINT THERE'S A REAPER CHASING ME!!!"

👟VERY dramatic about EVERY encounter. Example: "And then the Bonesharks started swarming and chasing me and biting my Seamoth! I was able to scan the Cyclops Engine Fragments and get away by just barely!" and all that happened was a single Boneshark bit his Seamoth and then swam away.

👟Example B: He'll see a Reaper in the corner of the screen swimwing away, he leaves, and then will try to describe it like this:

{WARNING: LOUD NOISES AND JUMPSCARE}

[loserchildhotpants]

“you’re not sorry.” for destiel 😐👍

here's some end!verse angst and hurt/comfort for u <3

When Dean finds Castiel again, he's sat in the tall grass at the back of his cabin, a tablet of something melting under his tongue, and a journal open on his right thigh where he writes in foreign languages he still retains.

There's no proof that Castiel uses ancient Sumerian for the purpose of coding his personal journals, to make them near impossible to decipher their meaning, but Dean has a feeling that's exactly what he's doing.

It's fine that Dean can't read it. He doesn't want to. He's petrified of what he might find out.

"You don't need to hover like a ghost, Dean. Just announce yourself or leave."

"Says the worst silent-starer of history," Dean combats, hackles raising.

Seeing Cas turn to face him with that black eye and split lip nearly drives Dean to physical illness.

His heart sinks low in his gut, and he cringes, looking away.

"That's actually fair," Castiel allows, "carry on, then."

Rolling his eyes at the darkening sky, Dean counts to ten, then takes another step toward Cas.

The black eye is very distracting.

"You should put ice on that."

"I don't like feeling cold."

"Well, tough," Dean grumbles, scowling at the offending shade, physically restraining himself from going to fetch an icepack for him.

With just a tired sigh, Cas turns back to his writing, seeming to dismiss Dean until Dean is more willing to state his purpose. And that sucks for multiple reasons, chief among them being that Dean has no idea what he's doing there at all.

"Is there nothing you'd like to say?"

"What? You expect me to apologize?"

Glancing over his shoulder again, Castiel evaluates him, then decides, "no. You're not sorry. Why would you be?"

Scoffing, Dean throws his arms out and accuses, "you had it coming!"

"You punched me in the face."

"You tried to kiss me!"

"There's an operative word in there," Castiel replies, turning back to his writing, "if all you came here to do is tell me I deserve my suffering, I assure you, I don't require assistance."

For a few beats, Dean just stands there, useless, furling and unfurling his fists at his hips, floundering.

"I'm not good at this, Cas. I dunno what the fuck to do here."

"Okay."

"Don't give me that 'okay,' shit - you can be a real passive aggressive bitch sometimes, you know that?"

"Dean, I'm not interested in making you do anything," Castiel says to his scribblings, "I don't know why you're here, I am getting the distinct impression that you don't know why you're here either, and there's nothing I can do about that. You say you don't know what to do here, and I don't know what you're trying to do here, so I cannot help. I tell you it's okay because there is a throbbing on the side of my face reminding me that you don't have the emotional bandwidth available for things between us to be anything other than okay, and it's something I can afford you."

"The world is falling apart around you, you're tired, I'm tired too, and I can't do what I once..."

He trails off, lets his pen go loose in his hold, sighs again, hangs his head and mutters, "I'm not what I once was. You don't know how devastating that is for me. For you, it's an inconvenience. For me, it's... loss as I've never known. But I can't ask you to carry any part of that, as a friend or otherwise, and one thing I can do for you is turn the other cheek."

He half-looks over his shoulder, not really peeking over, but giving the impression of looking; it's very defeated.

"This is me turning the other cheek. I wanted to kiss you, you punched me, I've gone to lick my wounds in privacy which you've broken unannounced, and you want me to know you're not sorry, and that I deserve this. I hear you. I understand. It's okay, because that's all I have left to give you."

Dean feels ill again.

"Stop giving me shit - stop giving me passes, Cas. I fuckin' hit you."

"You did," Cas admits, shrugging, fully facing away from Dean, "That cannot be changed."

"Yeah, and you want me to be sorry."

"Do I wish you felt regret for causing me bodily harm? Obviously, Dean."

"Yeah, well, I don't!" Dean shouts too loud, his hands shake at his sides, his eyes feel hot, "and I'm not gonna - I'm not changing, okay? I'm not - I wasn't - I've never - and I won't. Okay? I won't."

"Okay, Dean."

"No, fuck you!" Dean argues, stomping closer to Cas' hunched form, "Don't do that!"

"What do you want me to do?"

"Get up, and tell me to go fuck myself!" Dean shouts, gesticulating wildly, "have a fuckin' spine! Face me, and tell me to wise up, or -"

"Or, what, Dean?" Castiel asks, standing and turning in an uncurling, graceful motion he's had the others learning in yoga, "you expect I'll leave you?"

Jaw locking up, Dean scowls dangerously at Cas, and growls out, "it's what I'd do."

"I won't leave you," Castiel vows, not for the first time; his eyes scan Dean's face, memories in his eyes, "I do not stay with you because I expect you to change, Dean. I stay with you because of precisely who you are - not for what you might be. I'm sorry if that unsettles you."

Pushing his chest, Dean shoves him and follows after, putting them much too close.

"Tell me to go fuck myself! I hurt you, Cas! I hurt you, and that's - it's fucked up! It's fucked up that I did that!"

"I agree," Castiel tells him, serene as anything, "I forgive you."

"I'm not -"

A broad, calloused hand wraps around Dean's wrist; he glances down at where Cas' thumb pushes at the smooth skin of his forearm, then glares into Cas' eyes.

Cas' other hand reaches up, nicotine-stained fingertips coming to brush delicately at Dean's face; he swats at the hand, postures like he's going to strike again, but Cas doesn't flinch.

After a brief struggle, Cas just takes that hand in his too.

"Stop it," Dean commands, a quiver in his voice as Cas steps closer.

He gets up so close, their noses nearly touch, and Dean flinches in Cas' hold, but Cas still has that preternatural strength of something not-quite-all-human, and has Dean well in hand.

"Is it so terrible? To be loved so tirelessly?"

Heart skipping a beat, Dean's eyes flash across Cas', flickering back and forth; his auditory processing isn't always great, it sometimes lags, and he thinks that if he gives them a few moments of silence, his brain will catch up to what was just said in a way that makes more sense, but then that doesn't happen.

"Don't say that."

"So many rules," Cas observes, like he's pondering again why humans prefer personal space.

"Let me go," he says, and doesn't resist.

"Is it so bad?" Castiel asks again, gaze soft and sorry, "I wouldn't know."

That takes the fight out of Dean; 'I wouldn't know what it is to be loved, can you describe it?' - it's a roundhouse kick that lands directly in Dean's solar plexus and promises to bruise for months.

"No," Dean mutters, eyes hot and vision cloudy, "don't - fuck, Cas - don't say that."

"What am I allowed to say?"

When Dean weakly tries to pull away again, Cas' hold gets tighter, he tilts his head, breathes in Dean's breath out, and asks, "what are you so frightened of?"

"Fuck you."

Squinting his eyes, Castiel looks at him, looks through him the way he always has, and Dean's praying to a God he doesn't believe in that Cas can't do that psychic shit anymore now that he's lost his wings - he has to believe he's got some privacy left at the end of the world.

It doesn't matter, though.

Cas knows him, has known him since the start, and just like they're standing back in time, back in the dark of that old barn, Castiel cocks his head and says carefully, "loss. You fear that voicing desire means marking someone for death. That if you allow yourself to feel loved, and to want, that inevitably, this too will be taken from you."

"It's easier not to hope, after a time, isn't it?" Castiel asks him, like he's not just flayed him, "you are a strong man, powerful, and fearsome, but not a harbinger of destruction, Dean. In fact, I think you're a brilliant engineer, better than my Father, even."

Dean's eyes round out, and Cas watches that happen with fascination.

He mutters, as though it's inconsequential, "you build invisible things. Homes, families, love. You don't destroy. You only create in the wake of destruction. Sometimes... I sometimes wonder if I was real at all before I met you."

That snaps the last hold in Dean, and he rips his hands away, grabs at Cas' shoulders, walks him hurriedly backwards, and throws him down into the grass.

Cas blinks up at him, wondering, and then Dean is on his knees, straddling Cas, cupping his face and kissing him like it's an insult, like he hopes there's venom in it that will kill his best friend.

Rough hands pet his flanks, his chest, his neck, and he's groaning or crying - he's one long, exposed nerve, and Cas kisses him like he's got all the time in the world.

"Stop it," Dean huffs out, biting at Cas' bottom lip, "I'm not any'uh that, Cas, I'm not - I hurt you. That's what I do. That's who I am."

"You're wrong, my friend," Castiel assures him, leaning up to kiss him better, to lick into his mouth and moan against him.

"I'm sorry," Dean manages tearfully, hands trembling around Cas' bruised and cut face, "I'm sorry, I -"

"Dean, I forgive you," Castiel answers, kissing him again and again, "I forgive you."

[flock-of-cassowaries]

Fun fact, cats can be prescribed low-dose spironolactone for gender dysphoria restrictive cardiomyopathy.

Spironolactone - or, at least, the specific generic preparation of spiro my local human pharmacy carried - tastes like mint.

And I know this, because when I split the 50mg tablets into quarters for my 7 kg ball of furry genetic failure, the smell was strong. And delicious. To me.

My cat cat felt otherwise. We persevered, because he was an absolute sweetheart who accepted me sticking pills down his throat twice a day for years, but you could tell he did not enjoy the mint.

[ Potentially very helpful info for guardians of chronically-ill pets below the cut. ]

Many veterinary drugs are human drugs, and, it’s a lot cheaper - in Canada, at least - to pay out of pocket for them at your local human pharmacy than to purchase them from your vet. Like, orders of magnitude cheaper. Like, iirc, $15 vs. $175 -type cheaper.

And, in Canada at least, your loca human pharmacy will fill these prescriptions; like, this isn’t some sketchy online thing - a real pharmacist at Shopper’s Drug Mart / Rexall / Jean Coutu / Walmart will literally fill a prescription for a cat. Like, nbd, you just give it to them, say “Yeah, it’s for a cat,” and they’re like “Cool, that’ll be 30 minutes.”

And then you get a pill bottle with, like, Nacho Cheese Johnson printed on the label, which is hilarious. (This is a time when you really want to have given your cat an extremely silly name; like, if you’ve named your cat “Dave”, that’s cool, love the Kids In The Hall reference; but you have missed an opportunity here.)

The main issue is that human formulation tend to be much stronger than cat formulations - because humans are enormous - and some drugs come in formats - i.e. caplets - that cannot be safely divided.

Hence, I could get both insulin and spiro from the human pharmacy and divide it to an appropriate dosage for a 7kg cat, but not gabapentin (a caplet, whose minimum human dosage proved to be enough to cause even my objectively-very large cat to fall asleep in his food bowl).

My vet was awesome, and suggested this. The local Walmart pharmacy where I got my own antidepressants happily filled the prescriptions my vet wrote for my sick cat, and this made it financially possible for me to give him the medical care he needed to live with decent quality of life for four more years after his heart condition / diabetes / inflammatory bowel disease was diagnosed (all at once, when he got super-acutely ill; fun summer that was), rather than the six months the emergency vet predicted at the time.

There are some drugs that never get approved for human use, but are available for veterinary use; you will have to get those from your vet.

For example, my cat was on another heart medication - in addition to the spiro - that was not ever marketed for humans in Canada (but, curiously, was marketed for human use in Japan 🤷🏻‍♀️), so I had to get that one as the cat-preparation from the vet, and it was fucking pricey, unfortunately.

But still - it was super-helpful to be able to get the other drugs from a people pharmacy.

Also, for anyone in the Ottawa area with a sick cat / dog / etc. - free to DM for the name of my vet. He was great.

[solunstell]

I'm sol, I do art I guess. They/them. Reblogs help much more than likes do!! If you're stopping by for whatever reason, check out my art tag, "sol art," which is also in this post's tags!!! I don't have a lot of time or motivation to do art rn cuz college, but I'll post every now and then!

Will probably block if you don't have a pfp, description, banner, posts, likes or whatever cuz you look like a bot.

I most often spam reblog and art Bungou Stray Dogs, Spy x Family, MCYT, Mob Psycho 100, and Chainsaw Man. I don't reblog donation posts. I sometimes also do speedpaints. I use Krita for my art and use an xp pen tablet. Currently super into Bungou Stray Dogs, Chainsaw Man, and MCYT, but have in the past focused on Danganronpa, Kagerou Project, and Kemono Jihen.

Feel free to send dms. I don't do requests, but I do take suggestions if I like them. I reblog a lot and have no queue so I WILL clog dashboards if you follow me. I don't always trigger tag my rbs, but you can ask me to tag my art with something in the ask box if I forgot something. My personal posts (tagged sol text usually) are always okay to reblog unless stated otherwise in the tags.

I am not a minor, but I would rather not disclose my personal information here past that and my pronouns. I do, however, have an anxiety disorder and autism, so I may phrase things weirdly and over clarify things or seem distant cuz as much as I enjoy talking, it does give me anxiety at first (don't let that stop you from reaching out tho! I like talking!)

If we're mutuals, feel free to talk to me or chit-chat! Asks, tags, dms, i don't care I just like to meet people lol.

I block liberally and I have a DNI: transphobes, homophobes, aphobes, racists, pro-lifers, h*rry p*tter fans [a,a], c*ll me c*rson fans [a,a], death threat senders (no matter to context), anyone that ships (including x readers of) real people (in the case of mcyt, including their smp rp characters) that are uncomfortable with it, irl yandere, and anyone that's ships minor x adult (outside of normal stuff like 17x18 or 16x18 etc) or incest. If you block for proship/anti, I do not identify with either term because definitions vary. I don't harass and am glad someone finds fun in their ships, even if I find them gross, and I, as stated, block for ships I find gross. I don't believe that adults cannot ship pedo/incest ships healthily, but I do not want to see it. I also don't believe children should be shipping these ships or be in spaces that do because they cannot tell fiction from reality as well and may not have developed the behaviors needed to interact with dark fiction (blocking, exiting the page, not reading something they know will upset them, recognizing how a piece of fiction affects them). At the end of the day, it's fiction, and fiction can be dark sometimes for any number of reasons (coping, fun, fetish/kink, exercise). That's my stance, and if any clarifications are needed, just send an ask. Keep in mind that some things on that list are not an indication of how I view them morally, but they are things I'd rather not interact with or view. There's more niche things on the list, but those I just block if I see it. Send me an ask if I break your dni (either off anon or with username included) and I'll unfollow, unreblog, or unlike whatever I did to break it and then block you so I don't accidentally do it again! I usually check for a dni when I follow or reblog, but sometimes I mess up!

I have reddit (deleted posts cuz of ai training), Instagram (deleted account cuz of ai training), bluesky, Cara, YouTube, and Ao3 all under the username solunstell. I also have (a) personal account(s) but those are not art oriented (anymore) and are for personal/professional use, so I will not link or name them.

All my tags are below.

Note: I now use cw instead of tw. I won't be going back and changing the tags, so if necessary, block both versions. Also, I use plural nouns in content warning tags, eg #cw guns. I try to be thorough, but I am open to dms asking for additional tags. Some things I don't usually tag, like bandages or eye contact, and some things I tag if they're prominent parts of the piece, eg tongues or eyes. I don't cw tag fandoms or characters cuz that's stupid if it's already regularly tagged as the fandom and character.

I don't provide image id's for my art but in the future I'd like to start using them. All of my art is, however, labeled with characters pictured, what they're from, and the date of the art's completion.

I think that's it.

[ouyangzizhensdad]

what’s ur opinion on the whole ancestral hall thing because I’ve seen many takes on how wangxian were in the wrong and how jc was right to be mad but I always thought that his anger during that situation stemmed from a place different to that of what everyone seems to think 😶

Hi anon,

I do not hold all the cultural knowledge to be able to be a definite resource wrt how wangxian’s behaviour would have been perceived “in-universe”. So take my thoughts on the topic with a grain of salt, and please do not mind that I will focus more on what can be found explicitly in the text itself. 

My understanding from what others have explained is that bringing to the ancestral hall someone who’s not from the “family”, in this case LWJ, is generally disrespectful. Considering WWX’s inner thoughts, where he’s literally asking JFM and Yu-furen to witness their bows, I think that perhaps WWX was so caught up in the fantasy/idea of LWJ as his future spouse that he might not have registered as much how, in the current situation, LWJ was not family. 

It does however make me pause a little that, until JC’s appearance, the narrative does not seem to present the situation in such a manner that we might think that it was extremely presumptuous of LWJ to kneel alongside WWX, and accompany him in burning incense. Considering that LWJ is known to be someone who is very proper, and that WWX is not unaware of the rules of propriety (even if he does not always follow them), I do find it interesting that there is no hesitation from either of them. 

To make up for his thoughtless words, he lit up three more sticks of incense. Just as he raised them above his head, still apologizing in his mind, it suddenly got darker beside him. He turned to find that Lan Wangji had also kneeled down beside him.

Now that they were in the ancestral hall, for the sake of courtesy, of course he had to show his respect as well. Lan Wangji also took three sticks of incense and, sweeping his sleeve to the side, and ignited them using one of the red candles. His movements were proper, and his expression was grave. Wei Wuxian tilted his head to look at him, his lips curving upward almost uncontrollably. Lan Wangji glanced at him and reminded, “The ashes.”

The three sticks of incense that Wei Wuxian held had been burning for quite a while. A bit of ashes had already accumulated at the top, close to falling off. However, he still refused to insert them into the tripod, instead saying, “Let’s do it together.”

Lan Wangji didn’t object. And so, each with three sticks of incense, the two of them kneeled among rows of tablets and bowed down to Jiang Fengmian and Yu ZiYuan’s names together.

Once. Twice. The movements were exactly the same. Wei Wuxian, “That’s it.” He finally placed the incense into the tripod.

In the end. Wei Wuxian glanced at Lan Wangji, who’s kneeling as properly as ever beside him. He put his hands together and uttered in his heart, ‘Jiang-shushu, Yu-furen, it’s me again. I’m here to disturb you two again. But I really did want to bring him here and show him to you. Let the two prostrates we just did count as prostrating* to the Heavens and the Earth, and to the Father and the Mother. Please help me reserve the person beside me for now. I’ll owe you the last prostrate for now, and find some chance to make up for it in the future…’

I am not certain as well how WWX having left the Jiang sect affects his “right”  to be there. JC does seem to suggest that, as an “outsider” who was, still according to JC, “kicked out of the sect,” WWX doesn’t a have right to be there. I cannot tell whether that is an entirely fair assessment due to my lack of cultural knowledge, since JC demonstrates that he is not above bending the truth to fit his own narrative (ie when he says that WWX was kicked out of the sect when we already know at this point in the narrative that this is not what transpired). 

However, it is also important to keep in mind that a character’s anger, just like real people’s, is not always motivated by rational concerns or that these rational concerns might become entangled with other grievances, some of which might not be as motivated. JC’s initial reproaches directly indicate that he considers it a faux-pas at best and an insult at worst that WWX decided to come and take LWJ with him.

“Wei Wuxian, you really don’t take yourself as an outsider, do you? You come and leave whenever you want. You take with you whomever you want. Do you perhaps still remember whose sect this is? Who’s the owner?”

This is reinstated a little bit later:

Wei Wuxian threw him a sideways glance, speaking in a calm voice, “I’m only here to burn some incense. That’s enough, isn’t it?”

Jiang Cheng, “Burn some incense? Wei Wuxian, are you really that dense? It’s been so long since you were kicked out of our sect, and here you are taking unwelcomed people with you to burn incense for my parents?”

That being said, it is interesting to note that WWX calls these remarks “vulgar“ and “obliviously malicious”. Now, the question is, is it because he’s fiercely protective of LWJ that he takes these words so badly or because in this case it is transparent that JC is intentionally overly spiteful? 

Oher reproaches levelled against WWX, or the two of them, also have nothing to do with them burning incense in the ancestral hall. Indeed, JC brings up grievances he still hold against them, some of which we know are not exactly fair. As well, his own insecurities and issues fuel his anger, something directly acknowledged in the text.

Jiang Cheng mocked, “Look how forgetful you are. What does unwelcome people mean? Then let me remind you. It was because you played the hero and saved Lan-er-gongzi, who’s standing beside you right now, that the entire Lotus Pier and my parents went down with you. And that wasn’t enough. With the first time, soon comes the second. You even had to save Wen-gaos and drag my sister down with you. What a person you are! What’s more, you’re even so generous as to take the two to Lotus Pier. The Wen-gao’s strolling in front of my sect’s gates; Lan-er-gongzi came here to burn incense. You’re here on purpose to remind me, to remind them.” He continued, “Wei Wuxian, who do you think you are? Who gave you the face to take whomever you want into our sect’s ancestral hall?”

Wei Wuxian knew that Jiang Cheng had to settle this with him no matter what.

For Lotus Pier’s destruction, Jiang Cheng thought not only that Wei Wuxian responsible, but also that Wen Ning and Lan Wangji were responsible too. He wouldn’t give a friendly look to either of the three, let alone when they were walking right in front of his face at the same time inside Lotus Pier. He was probably infuriated.

[...]

“Jiang Cheng, just listen to yourself. What are you saying? Is it appropriate? Don’t forget who you are. After all, you’re a sect leader. Insulting a renowned cultivator in front of Jiang-shushu and Yu-furen’s spirits—where is your discipline?”  

 His original intention was to remind Jiang Cheng to at least hold some respect for Lan Wangji. However, Jiang Cheng was the most sensitive. From those words, he managed to make out the notion that he was not fit to be a sect leader.

Of import to the context of the scene, JC suggests also that WWX insulted the memory of his parents by “fooling around” with LWJ in Lotus Pier, suggesting that their hug (and romantic feelings) “dirtied their eyes and contaminated their peace”. He spells it out once more, a little bit later. 

Jiang Cheng pointed outside, “Mess around outside however you want, whether under a tree or on a boat, hugging or otherwise! Get out of my sect, get out of anywhere my eyes can see!”

Especially so because we get the contextualisation from the narration (one of the few times we are told things that WWX cannot be privy to) that JC had been following them for a while, stewing, until he exploded.

At once, he was almost certain that the two really were in that kind of relationship. He could not turn around and leave, yet he did not want to say a single word to the two, so he continued to hide himself as he followed them. Every single look and movement that passed between them seemed different in his eyes. For a while, the shock, absurdity, and slight disgust that he felt combined to overpower his hatred. It was only after Wei Wuxian brought Lan Wangji into the ancestral hall that the long-suppressed hatred was awakened again, devouring his courtesy and rationality.

I’m too tired to go check the original chinese to see whether the translation conveys well the connotations of the text, but like... “absurdity”, “disgust”, “hatred”, “devouring his courtesy and rationality”: as a writer, if I wanted to show that a character was engaging in a bout of rightful anger, that’s certainly not how I would present their emotional and mental state before they lashed out. 

Now, WWX is not blameless for the situation, as he is quick to react both because of his over-protectiveness of LWJ and his own insecurities regarding his feelings toward him, which make him loose his cool and start the escalation that JC is too happy to continue 

Wei Wuxian raged, “Hanguang-Jun is only my friend—what do you think we are?! I warn you. Apologize right now—don’t make me beat you up!”

Hearing this, Lan Wangji’s expression froze for an instant. Jiang Cheng laughed, “Well, then I’ve never seen ‘friends’ like that before? You warn me? Warn me against what? If you two had the slightest trace of integrity left, you shouldn’t have come here and…”

Seeing the change in Lan Wangji’s expression, Wei Wuxian thought he felt insulted by Jiang Cheng’s words. He was so angry that his entire body was shaking. He did not dare think about what Lan Wangji would think after being shamed like this. The rage from his heart rushed to his head as he threw out a talisman, “Have you had enough yet?”

The talisman was both fast and powerful. It exploded at Jiang Cheng’s right shoulder, causing him to stagger. Jiang Cheng didn’t expect Wei Wuxian to attack so suddenly. His spiritual powers hadn’t recovered completely yet, either, and so the talisman hit its target. Blood seeped from his shoulder as disbelief flashed across his face. Zidian immediately unravelled from his fingers, lashing out with sizzling light. Lan Wangji unsheathed Bichen to block the attack. The three began to fight inside the ancestral hall.

To me the text seems to suggest, as you did, that JC’s anger and lashing out is not actually about the incense burning in the ancestral hall in itself--that he let his hatred overpower any sense of courtesy and rationality, as the narration suggests. It is easy to ponder whether JC would have been that upset if, when he had gone to look for WWX, he had not found him being happy in LP with an ‘outsider’ like LWJ, but on top of it all, acting like he is in love with a man. Would his reaction have been the same if he had just happened upon them kneeling in the ancestral hall? Would his reaction have been the same if he still did not blame WWX, and so many others, for all the misfortunes that ever befell him and his family? As well, one could also easily wonder how in a similar situation a character who is not as prone to anger and flying off the handle like JC would have reacted to the same actions.

TLDR: I do not have the have the cultural knowledge to tell how much “in the wrong” the characters were, however I think it would be disingenuous to suggest based on what we are presented with in the text that JC’s reaction was 100% motivated and rational, particularly since the text literally includes the line “the long-suppressed hatred was awakened again, devouring his courtesy and rationality.”

[octania]

Obi Akitaru x Reader (NSFW,18+)

This is a commission I did for the sweet @super-spooder​. I appreciate her support in this way greatly and I was so happy that she liked it and she gave me her permission to redo the fic in a “Reader” version. I hope you enjoy it. :)

Word count: 6.7k

Warnings: coworkers falling in love,public sex, dirty talk, creampie,

Short description: You are company’s 8 doctor, and you set your eyes for your captain. You tried to run from your feelings but did not know that the same problem is shattering Captain’s Akitaru heart, who will not stop until he has you in his arms.

__________________________________________________________

The light shone softly along her irises. I had never seen them up close like this before, because if I had, I wouldn't have stepped away. Nothing divided us anymore, there was nothing between us, not even the air, because I could no longer restrain myself. I will take the opportunity to the end, because maybe I will never get a chance like this again. She spoke once more, I would swear I heard the same thing the first time, but it seemed so unreal, I had to hear it once more. 

“I don’t care about nothing but you. I will risk everything, I am sure of it, just to be with you. ”- the words came from (Y/N) soft lips, that seemed sweet like honey. Now I will finally be able to taste them, she gave me her permission, my feelings did not travel down a one-way road after all.

Obi gasped closer to her lovely face, his hands desperately grabbing at her waist as lungs grabbed the air. At last the facade of false denial cracked and he could set free what he had tried in vain to bury within himself. But the image of (Y/N)’s angelic face began to crack, blurring like turbulent water, letting an unpleasant light cover his vision.

He blinked. Once, twice, absorbing the feeling of rough sheets beneath his half-naked body. The faded wall once again replaced the reflection of his deepest desires, he once more became a slave to his dreams and awoke in the shackles of reality. His jaw clenched, he pulled the covers timidly, turning angrily on his stomach. His eyes were accustomed to the dark and awkward picture of reality, but his heart raced at the thought of returning to a world without her. That is, even worse, the world with her close but  he cannot reach for her, he must not…

His fingers ached from the convulsive grip with which he held the sheets. He reached for her, little by little, ignoring the obstacles that clearly stood there, but something was shutting  him down. She? He could have sworn the blush on her face streaked across her cheeks every time he gave her a restrained lovely word or praise, but why then run away from him after every time she gave him a smile? Why does her voice crack or stutter every time he is close to her or talks to her a little longer? If the truth is so fatal and she does not see him as he sees her?

 In the night when she gets lonely, I wonder does she ever think about me?

The need to be her consolation, her support and the only body touching hers rose in his chest like a powerful storm. Anger and need, longing and pain mingled. It was his weakness from the moment she walked through the door of Company 8. If he had known how much his heart would be devoured by the cold teeth of loneliness, he would have forwarded her employment papers to Company 1. Maybe then he could finally approach her at the level of a human being and not a superior, he would not be burdened by a business relationship, and he would not have to choose what is appropriate and what is not.

 Like it matters?

 As if that would stop him if he only knew she shared his longing.It didn't stop him now, because he had been trying for months. It started innocent at first, from the first day he saw her through the window, approaching their company. How the wind played with the strands of her  hair, how the light shines on the color of her eyes, how she holds herself proudly but still with two feet on the ground. He remembers staring longingly at the young woman. Surprise and adrenaline rushed through his veins as she turned off the street toward the main gate of their building. Just a few seconds later, a couple of light bangs echoed through the hallway as she knocked. He couldn't move, he was mesmerized and confused. He couldn't even get himself to stand when she appeared before his eyes again. Maki cheerfully escorted her to his office.“Here she is! Captain Akitaru, this is our new doctor! ” - she said excitedly, smiling in a welcoming manner to the young woman who had arrived.Her steps were graceful. A dark gray tunic fell over her hips, while her long legs barely gave Obi the opportunity to unglue his eyes from them. She held out her small hand, speaking in a voice that dwells in his most intimate dreams to this day . "My name is (Y/N), it is a pleasure to meet you captain Akitaru." No, he was wrong. He knew from the first moment how much her presence would cost him, but he would not trade his suffering for anything, he would never send her away.     

                       *                       *                         * 

"I will not tell you again lieutenant Hinawa, your eating habits have to change." – (Y/N) anxiously measured lieutenant’s pressure, while at the same time her eyes shifted along the result papers she had just received.

“The food you are consuming has a low fiber and vitamin value, and you push your body to the extreme limits on the missions and working overtime as well. It affects your health, and from your blood results I can clearly see you lack magnesium which explains your migraines, thiamine which is to blame for your sore muscles, and biotin which raises your cholesterol!”-  her voice rose for a few octaves as she read the blood results.

She dropped the pressure gauge on the table unsatisfactorily, forcing Lieutenant Hinawa, who is otherwise known for his icy gaze and stony expression, to be ashamed of his actions. She took a deep breath, her voice now sounding more worried like mother's.

 "I know you work a lot, but you have to take care of yourself. I will prescribe you a couple of vitamins in tablets to improve your state a bit, but you must urgently include the list of foods that I will compile for you in your diet. I don't want your condition to get worse. ”- the devotion she felt for the members of the company could be compared to the mother's instinct when defending her young. She took their health not only seriously, not only as an obligation, but as her purpose, and she only attributed every omission to herself as a mistake. Hinawa lowered his head and squeezed his knees with his hands, making a slight bow as a sign of respect and agreement.

 “Yes doctor (Y/N). I apologize.” - He said humbly like a scolded child. "Hay, you don't have to apologize to me, I just want you to take care of yourself… because if you don't, I will have you force fed carrots and apples, washing it down with orange juice." - she giggled, handing him the prescription. A restrained smile of gratitude appeared on the lieutenant's face as he picked up the prescription, rising from his chair, bowing once more deeply before heading for the door. In the solitude of her office, (Y/N) arched her back against the plastic chair and tilted her head back, closing her eyes. She massaged her tired eyelids with her fingers, thinking how hypocritical it is to scold others about caring for their own health when she is much worse than them. This was her third night that she barely slept, because she was overworking herself.

For breakfast, she had two large cups of coffee with a ton of sugar and a couple of dry crackers, which really wouldn’t even have been a part of her meal if her stomach hadn’t rustled sadly and betrayed her condition.

“So, how is our lieutenant doing? I saw his list of recommended fruits and vegetables, and it really goes forever. ”- a deep male voice made (Y/N) jump out of her chair, almost having a heart attack. She opened her eyes in wonder as she scanned the room for the source of the voice, squeezing her T-shirt on her chest from shock. Her already jumpy heart from the surprise, only pounded even harder against her rib cage when she saw two delicate irises, colored like the whiskey through which the sunlight is shining.

 “Captain Akitaru! I didn’t hear you coming in. ” - she leaned on her legs, nervously fixing the white lab coat on her hips. He shrugged his broad shoulders as he watched her with a calm expression on his face, a gentle smile flickering on his lips. She could feel her cheeks begin to fire up, the air escaping from her lungs and making her breathe faster. She wrapped one arm around her waist, repeating endlessly in her head to calm down. This was happening more and more often.

Her anxiety would come to the surface every time Obi was next to her. Previously, she had managed to cover the corners of her lips, which without her permission automatically curled into a shy smile every time he looked at her. She would bite her lip, clear her throat, and look away. But now, a fleeting smile was the least of the problems. The treacherous red colors constantly painted her face, her pulse exceeded the limits of normal, her tongue twisted and she stammered if she had to talk to him for too long. Shame flooded the inside of her chest as the thought she so desperately wanted to bury pierced the surface, like a flower in growth and spread its petals of truth.

She liked him. She liked him more then she could ever admit or allow to herself.

When she first felt that her devotion and sympathy for the captain transcended the boundaries of respect and turned into something more intimate and personal, for the first time she took a day off. She felt guilty, caged inside something where there was no real way out to freedom, she could only hide along with her secret. All day she pondered the events that had brought her to the brink and pushed her into the abyss of these hidden feelings. She was convinced that the captain's affection for everyone was the same, and when he brought her coffee, asked her about her day, was always there to help her, it was the same thing he would do for anyone else in their company circle, and then she allowed herself to distort his intentions and began to view him as something more than a superior. Like a man. A handsome man with a heart of gold, a look that made her knees shake, shoulders as wide as if he carried the whole weight of the world on them, and a courage that could only be seen in sci-fi superhero movies. From that point on, she began to avoid him, as smoothly and painlessly as she could. She couldn't look him in the eye, she couldn't allow herself to see his gestures as anything more than mere decency.

How blind she really was.

She came to work earlier than anyone, just to keep the hallways empty so she could sneak like a ghost to her office. She went home last, doing the impossible jobs that made her sleepy head fall to the table and force her to sleep for an hour from exhaustion. But somehow that didn't work either. She began to see him in the craziest hours of the morning, while dawn was barely breaking through the dark clouds, sitting in his office from which the door was always open, a gesture showing that anyone could always come in for help or advice, greeting her warmly, beginning even an innocent conversation with her, but she would hastily answer a few words and disappear down the hall. As she went home at a time when the big yellow moon was already standing proudly in the starry sky, she could see his tired face under the lamp of a desk scanning papers or worse, hear the pounding of iron bars coming from their private gym that was literally placed in front of her office. She had to go that way, she had to, there was no other way out. At least she thought so until she tried to sneak out of her office on tiptoe, tapping her black shoes as softly as she could, praying to Sol that her dark clothes would blend in with the shadows in the hallway. But she was wrong.

 Obi’s eyes were like hawks, patiently waiting for the prey to make a move. He had been working out tirelessly for two hours, staying after everyone but her. He knew she would come out last, and that would give him a chance to catch her alone. Maybe that changes something. Maybe if they are alone, something will be different after all.

“(Y/N) I thought you left. ”- an innocent lie. His strong arms lowering the weights next to the bench. Drops of sweat ran down his broad neck over his back. His undershirt clung to his pronounced muscles as if he had just come out of the water. Abs like carved from the stone, moving in waves as he caught his breath.

“C-captain Ak-guitar, I-I..I was just leaving. I am sorry if I disturbed you. ” - as if hypnotized, she followed his wide torso as he approached. His gasps intoxicated her innocent ears, reminding her of the way men breathe when they fuc…..

She couldn't even finish the thought, her lips trembled, there was a hurricane in her head, when her legs rushed down the hall. She could hear his voice echoing down the walls of the hallway, calling to her and asking if everything was okay, but she couldn't stop, she couldn't look at him. Her eyes filled with tears at her weakness. It was the last day she thought the only way out through the door was possible.

 She wanted to make her escape possible at all costs, so the idea of ​​going out or coming in through the window no longer seemed insane at all. She was sneaking behind the building in the early morning, coming to her office window on the ground floor, which she had left open last night, when she ran home through it in the same way as a thief would in the late hours of the night. But even that solution didn't last long, when she made a mistake and didn't look at which cars were packed in the driveway of Company 8. Truth be told, she didn't even blame herself, fatigue squeezed her like a parasite, and her concentration in the morning was zero. She was already halfway up the window, barely dragging her gear with one hand behind her, when she heard a familiar voice.

“Doctor? What in the Sol’s name are you doing? ” - Vulcan watched with his emerald eyes in amazement as (Y/N) barely held on to the window frame, almost falling down on her head when Vulcan called to her.

“Vulcan! Oh I..I .. ”- she turned her head in panic, her cheeks red as a ripe apple.

“I forgot my keys! Yes. I forgot my keys and I didn’t know that there was someone here. ” - she awkwardly shifted inside the building, accidentally dropping equipment that fell under the window.

"Oh. Well you should have knocked, Captain Obi was already in, he could have let you in.”- said Vulcan collecting (Y/N)’s things and slowly adding them to her. 

Of course he is there… ..that is why I am here, making a fool out of myself…

 "Silly me, I guess I need some rest after all." - she scratched the back of her head nervously, bowing to the young man out of gratitude, trying to close the window as soon as possible.

“But..how come the window is open? Is it broken? ” -Vulcan said before (Y/N) closed the window.

 “No! Um..I guess I forgot the close it the night before. ”- she delved deeper into her excuses, realizing more and more how big a problem she is struggling with.

"Don't worry, I'll tell Shinra and Arthur to check every window from now on to make sure they're closed when we leave." - he said with a hearty smile, turning and waving goodbye. She followed him with her eyes for a bit with a sad look of defeat. This was her last idea of ​​how to sneak in and out of the building, and it is now a thing of the past. She would have to face the captain again. A crystal tear danced in the corner of her eye as a rush of emotion passed through her being. She felt cornered, and the only thought that just crossed her mind didn't help. Her heart craved solace, and her brain created the only scenario that could provide it, and that was Obi’s long arms wrapped around her fragile shoulders, hugging her and whispering in her ear that everything was fine and that he was there now. She shook her head as if trying to push that scene as far as she could, opening her eyes. 

No… no… this is not right..I can’t… 

After that day, she decided to deal with her problem head on. Well, at least in some way. She sucked in the raging waves of her desire and tried to keep the encounters with Obi brief, more professional than usual, and above all, public. Always to be around people. She even started to leave her door wide open when there was no patient in, so if she sees him, someone would always pass in the hallways shortly after, and she would give her best to indulge in a conversation with that person, making them to join the two of them. But now, Obi was in her office alone, and he closed the door behind him.

 He did not say anything, he just kept walking in her direction slowly, his eyes the color of dark honey staring in hers, making her take a few steps back when she bumped in the table behind her.

 "H-hinawa will be ok if he follows the list I made him." - she answered nervously, trying not to stutter, exhaling gratefully when Obi stopped a meter away from her.

“I agree, good nutrition is very important. I would like to hear you professional opinion and advice on it. Maybe..you could show me how to properly eat over a dinner. ” - his voice exuded self-confidence, but he could hear the buzzing in his ears from the pressure as blood flowed rapidly through his body as his heart quickly pumped it.

 She can’t misinterpret this.

He thought as he clenched his fists impatiently inside the pockets of his orange fire pants. But he was wrong. She didn’t have to misinterpreted it, she only has to go back to her endless denial and dodge the bullet.

 Dinner… ..? Did he say… .d..dinner?

She could barely stand on her feet when she realized what he had asked her. She lowered her gaze, her hair covered her face as her teeth sank into her bottom lip. 

Is it possible he wants the same thing as I do? Not! Impossible! Even if he wants to, we can't,… we can't… He is my captain, and I am the doctor of this company.

Her heart was now skipping a beat as the panic attack clawed its way up to her very core. She knew if she looked him in the eyes and tried to speak, her voice would break and her tears would fall. She had to run. She had to get out of here. Without even looking up, she slipped between the chair and the table, dodging Obi in a full circle, not turning back, wanting to reach the door quickly. When she grabbed the doorknob, she could feel a glimmer of relief as she deftly directed an answer to Obi, who stood quietly behind her.

“Of course! That is a great idea! I can show everyone tonight at the party we are having! ”- how she managed to forget about it, about one golden ticket that was now in her hands, party where all the members of Company 8 will be, and they will have dinner together. She didn't let him answer, but flew out of the room as if the devils were chasing her. And she was haunted, the darkest demons of her forbidden desires who were now fed with his inappropriate question.

                                     *                     *                    * 

This warm summer night in the company garden was different than usual. It was decorated with shiny little lights in various colors, hanging from the high tree branches, balloons being glued to the doors and some of them lying on the floor on top of the glittery confetti. They dragged two wide tables from the conference room, filling them with paper glasses, hard plastic dishware, various appetizers they ordered from the catering a few blocks away, a cake server sinking into an untouched cake, a big bowl of punch, a few beers, sodas, and a box filled with ice mixed with energy drinks.

From all this choices, (Y/N)’s hand instantly reached for the cooled can of energy drink. She snapped the metal opener, bringing the bubbly liquid to her glossy lips. She hummed when she tasted the beverage, enjoying the waking up sensation it brought to her senses. She turned, viewing all of the company members enjoying their time together. This was her first time celebrating the company’s anniversary with them, and she loved it already.

Arthur and Shinra playing like two little kids, throwing balloons at each other screaming in playful rage, Hinawa picking the vegetables from the metal plates filled with food, honoring his word to the doctor, the girls giggling and commenting how Vulcan is trying his best to tie his tie but keeps falling, blushing and turning so they can’t see, but they just keep fallowing the poor guy around and innocently teasing him. Only one person was missing. She felt a cold sting of panic traveling along her spine. Pushing down the unpleasant feeling, she closed her eyes and counted to ten, trying to convince herself that everything will be just fine. She practiced this at home, for the love of Sol, for hours. After this morning and her talk with Obi, she made her best move in denial yet. Deciding that over thinking it as always will only bring more harm, so she decided to brush it off as a misunderstanding. He must have thought the same thing, the dinner party tonight. That was all she allowed herself to conclude, exhaling slowly and feeling the relaxation take over. But then she opened her eyes, and her heart started racing once more.

 Wearing his official captain’s uniform which consisted of a blue jacket with his medals, a white shirt and a dark blue tie underneath the jacket, and neatly ironed pants with a matching color. His broad shoulders looked even bigger under this fancy clothing, his biceps that did not appreciate being covered stretching the materiel to its limits, and his muscular chest standing even more out under that white shirt.

(Y/N) knew her cheeks were rosy already, as she swallowed the saliva that accumulated in her mouth, trying to calm her hands from shaking and greet the captain properly. She tried to bow, but a warm feeling on her shoulder that was exposed because of her strapless cocktail dress and a firm but gentile pressure made her stand back up straight. Obi’s palm was now resting on her delicate skin, not moving it even after he made his point about No need to bow thing.

 “(Y/N)..you look..lovely.”- he said every word slowly, carefully, like he himself is trying to get accustomed to them. He wanted to say so much more, but even with his new born bravery and dedication of accepting how he feels about her, he knew they were not alone and from what he gathered, (Y/N) only got more agitated when he tried to approach her in front other members. When they are alone, she runs, but when others are around, she is clearly upset. He pulled his hand back, hating the feeling of removing his skin from hers.

“Thank you Captain.”- she said restrainedly, again lowering her gaze, searching for the coverage of her hair falling over her face. She was trying to think of a way to end this conversation fast, excuse herself and go away to find safety by talking to someone else, but before she could muster any good ideas, Obi’s body got closer, almost towering over her. She rose her eyes quickly, widening them in shock as her eyes were locked on his, his face now inches away. Everything happened almost in slow motion, in her head this lasted for hours, when it was only for a brief moment, when he leaned, brushing his chest on her arm, reaching for a cup of punch on the table behind her. She did not even notice what he was actually doing, the closeness was too much for her. Her anxiety was through the roof, her breath shallow, and her mind blank when his enchanting perfume intoxicated her senses. All alarms in her head started screaming and echoing in her head, her feet shivering as she choked on her own whines. How weak he made her, how insanely fragile to his presence. She could not bear it, this fight in a ring can only be won by one and it is always him. She needed to escape once again, as her eyes filled with tears.

“Excuse me.”- a muffled sound escaped her lips as she rushed past him, dodging the gaze of everyone in the garden and walking as fast as she could to the bathroom. 

 She splashed cold water on her flustered face. The pea-sized drops rushed down her cheek to her neck, as (Y/N) shivered under the icy feeling.  Her hands gripped the edge of the sink, as the salty tears now combined with water on her skin, mildly covering her real state. This got out of hand, she knew it from the moment she started to giggle and feel butterflies in her stomach every time he spoke to her. She should have dealt with it right then and there, not let it go so far that she can’t stand being around him no more. Nothing stings harder than forbidden love, and at least now she can admit it to herself, speak plainly in her own mind. She will have to quit, leave this place and these people she already considered family behind just to spare them of her unprofessional behavior and her betrayal, falling for a man that is her commander.   

This is how it is meant to be…there is nothing I can do about it no more…it is written in the stars..

She could swear in that moment her heart broke in half. She could feel the meat of the muscle that gives you life slowly splitting in the middle. 

“Why do you always run away?”- a deep whisper echoed the on the bathroom tiles.  In that voice pain was hearable, deepness of the emotion that was buried somewhere for too long. (Y/N) turned just to face him once again, but this time she had no strength for pretending, she just turned her head to hide her tears and said in a whiny voice:

“Please Captain, I want to be alone.”- seeing her like this made Obi almost lose the ground under his feet. His protective instinct made him rush to her, but just before his reaching hand touched her, he stopped, realizing that his sudden movements made this to happen. He tried but never actually said it out load, to be clear. He took a deep breath, fighting the need to wrap his hands around her fragile body and hold her tight until the first morning light comes, shows her how he wants to be the one who protect her from harm, not the one causing it. 

“The truth is, I am not feeling well lately..so I need your help.” – hearing this words from him made something in (Y/N) to snap.  Her doctor side drilled its way up to the surface and concern for his well being took the lead. She turned, facing him with her cheeks painted with dark stains of her mascara.

“What happened? Are you in pain? When did it start?”- she started to check him with her eyes, looking for some kind of a injury, but there was nothing.

“You can’t see it from outside..It started 10 months ago, one morning, and I’ve been worse ever since. I’ve been distracted, and I can’t do it no more.”- he said clenching his fists. Her vision got blurry from the tears still being in there, but they did not fall. She listened, squeezing her lips in a straight line. 

“I am in love with you, (Y/N). From the moment you took a turn on the street and walked in our company.” – his tensed muscles suddenly relaxed, like a huge weight have been lifted of his shoulders.

 “I need to know do you feel the same, because I can’t stand to see you dodging me with any chance you got. Don’t think I did not notice. If you don’t want me, I will sto…”

“It is not that I don’t want it! I just..We..we can’t..”- her voice shattering like glass, barely managing to finish her sentences.

 “Why?! Why do you think we can’t?”- Obi tried to stay calm, but being unable to hold her close, and hearing that she feels the same way but is denying it , got him close to the edge.

 “Because you are my captain, and I am your subordinate! It is unethical! No one would understand!”- she screamed, unleashing the suffering she held inside, the opinion that tortured her, the fear of the judgment from others.

 “So?! That are only useless titles! Worthless positions!”- he took one step closer unnoticed, slowly  narrowing the space between them.

 “No one would approve…I am not the one for you.”- she sniffled, trying to wipe away the rolling tears with a shaking hand, again crumbling under the feeling of a breaking heart.

“Because you are the one for me, I am willing to risk everything else. I don’t care if I have to resign, I don’t care what people would say…only thing I do care about it you.”- this time he knew it was not a dream, and there is nothing that could hold him back now. His hands landed on her thin waist, pulling her on him. She gasped as she crashed on his chest, feeling so small and fragile under him. 

“Capt..”- her words have been shushed when his lips crashed on hers. The hungry mouth kissed her like she was his food and water and he was walking starved in the desert for decades. (Y/N) had her eyes half opened, looking how angelic face holds the expression of relief and happiness, the feelings that now consumed him when he finally tasted his forbidden fruit. His soft lips shifted on hers, opening them slowly as his tongue started to explore her mouth, finding hers and traveling along its surface, starting an erotic dance between their mouths. She let herself go, feeling how her feet became numb, her body screaming for him and wants to pull his huge one closer like a magnet. His wide palms shifted along her waist, squeezing it, exploring her shape along her back and down to her hips, sinking his fingers in the tender flesh.

“O-obi.”- she moaned between kisses, sinking her nails in his chest, feeling how adrenaline flows through her, giving herself to him to the fullest. His hands sifted a bit more, cupping her ass and lifting her up on the sink, opening her legs with his knee and shattering the space between them once more and he pushed himself on her.

“I want you (Y/N). I need you.” – he whispered, kissing her jaw, licking his way down to her collarbone. She moaned his name wrapping her thighs around him. His fingers found their way to the zipper of her dress along her ribs, pushing it down slowly. But before he lowered it, he tilted his head up, gazing at her, looking for permission. She blinked with her dark lashes, as she nodded , biting her lip. He gripped her with more force, barely controlling his wild desire. He bit the materiel of her cocktail dress, pulling it down from her bust. A dark lace bra without stripes held her tits with little force, making them almost fall out without him even touching them, but he did not plan to wait for that to happen. He unbuckled the buckle in the middle, releasing her breasts.

 Seeing her big soft flesh bare in front of him made his hardened member swell a bit more. He placed her delicate nipple between his teeth ,pulling slowly then mending it with his kiss and tongue, while the other breast was squeezed with his hand. He played with the doughy flesh, making his fingers skin deep in and his grip got harder, placing the nipple between his fingers and pinching it, making (Y/N) to cry out his name while he was working both of her nipples with his talent.

She tasted good as she smelled. The minty scent  filled his nostrils, making him inhale more deeply to catch every bit of it. The sensitive nipples were somehow sweet, brushing against the smooth surface of his tongue. He sucked harder, lifting the other one he had in his hand and pulling the delicate spot in the same time as he bit the other nipple. (Y/N) felt her juices soaking her black thong, how her fingers intertwined with his dark brown hair , pulling him closer, wanting him to devour her more. But he was hungry for something else. Still massaging her breast, he lowered his head down, kissing along her belly while pulling her dress down off her with his free hand. The lower he got, the wider did (Y/N) spread her legs.

Her sexual instinct made her open up for him like a flower bud, giving him access to her most intimate parts. He waste no time, removing the panties to the side, letting the heat of her soaked hole hit his face. He licked his lips on the sight ahead, slowly gathering the icing from her folds with the tip of his tongue. When she felt his tender muscles playing around her pussy, she cried out louder, giving her best to stay at least a bit quiet, but he did not make that job easy. He stuck his tongue deeper between her folds, licking her slit up and down, growling quietly from the satisfaction.

 “You are delicious…much better than how I dreamed you would be..”- he murmured before shoving his tongue inside her, pumping it in as deep as he could reach, while teasing her clit with his index finger, pushing the nerve button tenderly as he fucked her with his tongue, while the juices smeared around his lips.

“D-Don’t say such things…”- she said biting on her knuckles, trying to suppress the lewd sounds coming from her mouth.

 “But you are (Y/N). Your little pussy taste so good. I want to eat it whole.”- he whispered, as his voice sent vibrations along her delicate flesh, making her legs shiver. She could feel the tension building in her stomach, the feeling of sweet release coming closer. He sucked in her pussy lips along with her clit before shoving his tongue back between her velvety walls, returning both of his hand to her tits, pinching her nipples and pulling them hard. Her climax kicked in and she covered her mouth to hide the whiny sound of her orgasm, but Obi was quicker, grabbing her wrists and pulling them off her mouth.

“No. I want to hear you cum (Y/N).”-he twisted her nipple lightly, grabbing the whole breast with it and massaging it in fast motions while he licked her clit, making the electric feeling take over her body as she came and screamed his name as loud as she could. Her head started falling down, but Obi was ready to catch her, picking her up once more and carrying her to the wall. He pinned her bare back on the cold tiles, as the icy feeling against her skin get her a bit more concentrated after that wild orgasm.

 “I will fuck you now baby.”- he pressed his lips on her, as she heard a sound of him unzipping his pants. She did  not even have the chance to see what was coming, when she felt a light sting between her legs. She tried to relax her muscles to make the huge thing come in smoothly, but even that and her juices did not help. Obi’s rock hard length stretched her like nothing before, barely managing to fit in. She buried her head in his muscular shoulder as he continued to slowly push it.

“You are so tight baby..Fuck..”- he forced his way in, enjoying the clenching of her inner walls around his throbbing cock.

 “O-obi …it is too big.”-she gasped for air, feeling overly opened.

  “You are doing great baby..”- he whispered before jerking his hips upward, filling her to the end with his dick. His base hit her folds, as he stand still for a moment to let her get used to his size, then he started moving. Rocking his hips back and forth, harder, making (Y/N) to scratch his back under his shit while she moaned uncontrolably. 

“Damn…you are perfect…you have no idea how many times I imagined this..how long  I waited..”- he gasped his words, hitting hard between her shaky legs, as her lower back slammed on the tiles. He grabbed her ass cheeks and slammed her on his dick while he still drilled his way in, in the same time, lowering his head and starting sucking on her tits, leaving reddish marks all over her bust, sucking the flesh with passion, making his way down to her nipple, just to suck on it as he did on  now swollen places before. 

His thrust became shallow, faster, as he chased his orgasm. His fast hits just made her already overly stimulated clit to send more electric waves along her spine, filling her with another adrenaline rush, going back down to her lower parts and she felt she will cum one more time. The tone of her voice became higher, as she pulled him closer with her thighs. His stone hard biceps tensing as he murmured her name in her ear.

“Fuck..I will..I will cum (Y/N).”- he murmured around her nipple as he slammed wildly in her cunt, making the last hit harder than any before, nailing her to the wall as he filled her with his cum. She felt the warm feeling in the lower part of her belly, knowing how he is pumping her womb with his sperm. He pulled out gently, still holding her on the wall. His seductive smile and gentile eyes now focused on her, brushing his nose on hers.

“Please, never run away from me again. “- he asked, voice filled with emotions.

 “I won’t.”- she said with teary eyes. His soft lips once again found hers, locking this promise and rewriting the faith written in the stars. 

[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.

[onisionisacanceronthisearth]

Why we care about Onision and Coolguykai’s kids (Masterlist)

There’s a lot of information floating around about the kids but I don’t know if anyone has made a post compiling it all together so I figured I would do so. Also because an “argument” used again the anti-o community is that “we’re creepy for even thinking about kids” so I figured I’d show that we’re not just thinking about them for no real reason. For some slight background information, they have an older son around age 7 and a younger daughter around age 4. This is written in bullet form under the cut with bold sections for easier/quicker reading for those who would prefer that. Feel free to add more if you know anything and I’ll keep updating this post. Eli=Kai

Update: The girl fell 12 feat out the second story window to the ground giving her a depressed skull fracture. This was because Kai was cooking and left the child alone in a room with the tv and a caprisun while they were cooking and James was in the garage. The right side of her head was caved in and requires constant monitoring. The girl was known to climb the furniture and also known for standing at windows by the couple which is why the windows are supposedly kept locked to protect her. Even then, she was left totally without supervision and fell as far as she did right onto the driveway. She may have serious brain damage. James filmed her body while Kai comforted her because he was paranoid it would be seen as his fault (the video wouldn’t absolve him of anything, he’s just an low IQ dumbass). James also made a lot of awful sexually themed tweets while he was in the hospital with his potentially dying daughter. Here and here are links to the full police report, the daughter’s name was redacted due to her age

Greg refuses to talk with children who cannot speak properly yet. Besides the obvious stupidity behind this (children learn to talk from being spoken to), giving a child the impression that they are only recognized for what they can do for their parents is an emotionally damaging thing to do. It’s also damaging to show emotional neglect which Greg is doing by not caring for his children beyond the uses he has for them

Greg and Eli will have sex in front of their kids and while sharing a bed with them. Early exposure to sex is harmful for kids and despite the obvious fact that Greg isn’t a dom, he still does have rough and harmful sex with Eli and the other girls they bring in for threesomes. We have seen the marks on Eli’s neck, we now know those kids likely have seen Greg give them to him. There was an incident where the boy was in the room on a tablet while his parents were going at it right in front of him as well as the now infamous story that the first time Sarah had a threesome with the couple (Greg and Eli suddenly started having sex without Sarah’s knowledge or consent then she joined after), the daughter was in the bed with them too. They would start and stop sex as the girl kept waking up because they were right beside her on the same bed

During a blackout once, Eli decided to vlog about it. In the video you can see one of the children under the table with a tablet shining in their eyes. Instead of comforting the kids they were told to hide under the table with a tablet while their parents vlogged about it. The parents then promptly went out to eat. It’s unsure if the kids went with them (we didn’t see them in the vlog) so either the kids were out with them while their parents spoke quite vulgar in the car, or the “loving” parents left their two very young children alone at home during a blackout with nothing but some tablets to keep them happy

Overall it does seem like the parents think that tablets are an adequate babysitter for toddlers. Even if that toddler isn’t in the same room as them. That is very obviously not safe nor a good substitute for caring for a child. Given the accident the girl had, it’s clear they think that if they leave an active toddler in a closed room, totally out of sight, with a tv that that’s safe

They chose to parent their children using the “gentle” and “attachment” parenting techniques. They do not implement these styles properly however on top of the possible negative effects of these parenting techniques. This has resulted in:

Not ending breastfeeding at an appropriate time or with the proper care required for prolonged feeding

Breastfeeding at night without brushing teeth afterwards resulting in the boy losing his teeth at age 2

The boy not being told to not be physically violent with his sister or dealing with the child’s violence but instead instructing him to punch Greg instead (the boy will push his sister off the couch for example).

Sleeping with the children despite the couple clearly wanting sex constantly as mentioned above

And all the other complications of never telling your child no, never introducing new things to them or imposing rules or restrictions, having one parent refuse to give you boundaries while another that doesn’t even care to talk to you half the time, etc. The parenting style is meant to be gentle, but this results in, as stated above, not telling the children not to hurt people either

The children supposedly only had one friend (or at least the boy did) which was Maddie’s daughter. Greg and Eli spontaneously decided to end their relationship with Maddie resulting in their son losing his only friend and playmate. Given the nature of the split from Maddie, it’s clear their son was not a factor in the decision at all (not saying you have to remain friends with someone for the sake of your kids but the decision to drop Maddie was bullshit and clearly selfish)

While baby sitting his and Maddie’s kids, Greg refused to change Maddie’s daughter’s diaper and didn’t even bother telling Maddie about the diaper being full. This resulted in Maddie coming back to find her daughter covered in feces and it had been on her daughter long enough that the resulting rash caused her daughter to bleed. Greg clearly doesn’t give a shit about babies (no pun intended) and makes me wonder how often his children’s diapers were messy and he did nothing about it

The Jackson house is FILTHY and not suitable for children. Just recently I posted one of Eli’s videos and it contained a part where Eli saw the dog walking around with food in its mouth that Eli didn’t even know where it came from and not even phased by it. Food being left out is a mold and bacterial hazard on its own, very harmful for children. But it’s also teaching kids bad habits and also if the dog could find it, kids could too and toddlers love putting things in their mouths

Greg used to have a large sex doll that had no business being in a small house with children running around with no supervision

Greg’s initial wetland work created a direct line to the lake they live on, that’s a serious drowning hazard, especially for someone who didn’t think he could watch to make sure his kids wouldn’t walk to a tree that could hurt them. He has also now planted (or at least bought) poisonous bright red berries among a bunch of edible ones. So much for worrying about the kids...

The diet of the Jackson family is atrocious. It’s already showing negative effects on the parents but that is much less dangerous than having malnutritioned children. The children are growing and developing and they require proper nutrition for this, not doing so can result in many dangerous complications on top of both mental and physical stunting of growth.

Update: Greg’s daughter has been seen recently in a video and yes, she is crazy small for her age

Greg has been reported as yelling at his child and blaming said child for “causing them to lose” a game. This was reported by Maya while the three of them were playing a video game and were teamed up together. Greg literally yelled at his toddler for not being perfect at a fucking video game not only turning the game into being about winning, but putting expectations on a child that just should not be the case. As a parent, and even as a younger sibling it can even be beneficial to let them win because otherwise it would be unfair to play any games with them, especially those requiring larger amounts of skill. You wouldn’t expect David Beckham to play soccer with his kids with the same vigor he’d play professionally would you? And if you’re playing a game as a team with your kid and you want to win, it’s up to you to play better to make up for the obvious difference in skill when a toddler is playing

Speaking of Maya, when yelling at her for refusing his advances he spontaneously laid on her without her consent and with no real warning (it was intended for her to be another one of Eli’s girlfriends and she was brought over, as far as she knew, to meet with Eli to see if they were compatible in person), Greg was actually holding his child and running in and out of the room screaming at her. The subject matter alone was inappropriate for a child to hear (Greg asking why she was not sexually attracted to him because “everyone was” for example), let alone being carried by a screaming man running around the house. It almost seemed as if Greg decided to use his child as a human shield because there was no other reason for him to pick up a child to bring to a room where he was going to scream at a young woman. The child couldn’t even leave if he wanted to because he was being held

There was audio in the background of one of Eli’s videos where you can hear Greg scream to “take some fucking responsibility for once”. This was either directed at one of his very young children, or yelled at someone else in the house or on the phone loud enough for the children to hear. Again, not a good environment for these children to grow up in

During a livestream the boy once entered the room to tell Greg that he loved him, Greg didn’t respond back in kind. I get that Greg likely wanted to get the kid out of the livestream for his so-called privacy, but that doesn’t stop him from from quickly responding to the kid while doing so. Especially in a private livestream with people who know of your kids and are waiting in line to enter into the household as a third

The children get to watch Eli flinch and otherwise act scared of Greg, they may not understand it, but their brains will remember this. It is also encouraging them to be more scared of their father than they already likely are

James gets mad if Kai turns on the heat even in January. Toddlers and children can be quite sensitive to the cold and it doesn’t matter how he feels, what matters is his children (which clearly isn’t how he feels)

Update: A recent video of the girl has shown that her hair is a sad mess. At that age the girl’s hair should be bright, shiney, and healthy looking. Unfortunately it is unkempt and dull. It would look like her hair is washed too often with bad products and not brushed as it should be on top of visual signs of deficiencies leading to unhealthy hair. I’d take a potshot and assume this child were deficient in amino acids and other healthy fats if she were brought to me (disclaimer: I cannot officially diagnose anyone over the internet). It may also be due to her horrific accident

[lizacstuff]

SCK/EDSER asks

My inbox was full again, so questions under the cut. Some of these are from today and some are from earlier. 

(asks under the read more)

Anonymous said: Random things that amuse me: 1. When they met, Serkan didn’t seem all that mad that Eda keyed his car but was way more angered by her disdain for him. 2. I always forget about Eda’s ex because I think Eda forgot about him too. Cenk cheated on her and brought his new gf to break up with her, and Eda was more peeved that he implied Serkan was out of her league. (1/2)

The only time he’s brought up again is when Eda pretends to be texting him instead of Serkan (because Ayfer would be madder at her talking to Serkan lol). 3. Whenever Melo is supposed to be mad at Serkan in solidarity with Eda, she just cannot bring herself to dislike him. (2/2)

I LOVE THIS ASK! 

1. I have always wondered about that. Even current, softer Serkan would get PISSED at someone keying his car. He keeps all of his things pristine. You know under normal circumstances he would be infuriated by that and not let it go. The car would have had to go to the body shop and everything.  I think the fact that he didn’t seem all that bothered, other than threatening to call the police of course, is that he was just so gobsmacked by this insanely beautiful, but also beautifully insane, lady yelling at him and handcuffing him that he couldn’t think straight. The fact that she had seriously vandalized his car became inconsequential. 

Additionally, I think when he found out ArtLife had cancelled her scholarship, he became embarrassed and didn’t want to make any more of an issue about it. 

2. I forget about him too. What a tool he was. It also seems a bit out of character for Eda now.  All of her friends and her aunt knew that he was ghosting her, and they made it clear they thought it by their reactions, but Eda didn’t get it? Eda was ready to marry a dude she hadn’t seen for a year? That does not sound like the Eda we know. Independent, fiery Eda? It’s true that she’s grown a lot, but that much? It seems like they designed that relationship to put Eda in the right frame of mind to kiss Serkan on the podium and then, thankfully, forgot about it. 

3. Yes, Melo is all of us. In the early episodes especially, Serkan could be a real jerk, but I know I never held it against him for long, just like Melo.  None of us can resist him, I’m sure we were all cheering her on when she was the one to give up Eda’s Saturday morning location.  And I love it when she calls him enişte. It’s also sweet that he’s fond of her as well. 

Anonymous said: What are your thoughts about Engin and Piril? Sometimes I think they are cute and sometime I just don't think they are meant for each other. I hope Piril's father brings a new story and dynamic that will help us see whether they work as a couple or not.

My thoughts are pretty much the same as yours. In the beginning I really thought they were pretty flat and wasn’t really rooting for them.  Partly because I loved Engin’s character and I was pretty “eh” on Piril. She was so laser focused on work that I didn’t like when she would try and guilt Serkan because he was spending time with Eda. I found that annoying and I thought Engin could have a more interesting relationship (like Melo!).

Alas, that wasn’t to be, however I surprised myself by actually cheering when he proposed, and I really liked their heart to heart talk in the NY episode. On the other hand I wasn’t really charmed by their disconnect when it came to entertaining people. They were SO FAR apart.  Piril was so uptight and Engin so lacksodasical, I think they’ll end up driving each other bonkers and it’s hard to see how that will work, and I’m not sure it’s something I want to watch all that much of. 

Same as you, I’m hope that Piril’s father turns out to be interesting. What’s going on there? Will we find out this episode?

Also, honestly, I’m still pressed they didn’t call Serkan to come to the wedding. (But I assume that had more to do with how quickly they shoot and needing to have scenes without Hande and Kerem in them. H/K were in tons of scenes that episode so it was probably tight with scheduling and they were doing A and B units etc.) 

Anonymous said:  Hi Liza, I hope you are well and you and your loved ones are staying safe. SCK really helped make 2020 better and I'm glad we have the show in 2021 too! Sometimes the letter count in these asks really get to me because I feel like I have so much more to say and ask but oh well. In this ask i just want to say I hope Seyfi and Melo both get their very own happily ever afters. They're my favs and totally deserve it. Leyla too! That actress is so pretty, I wish we got to see her dress up more!

Hello! I’m well, thank you for asking.  I’m not even joking when I saw that SCK was a highlight of 2020 for me. I’m so appreciative for the happy and joyous distraction it’s been over the last few months. 

I LOVE MELO AND SEYFI.  They are two of my favorite supporting characters, and two of the only ones that have stayed at the top since the beginning. Now Aydan is up there with them, but she wasn’t in the beginning, lol! 

Those two deserve all good things. Leyla is also a great character and I wonder what her feelings are towards Erdem. Does she really like him?  

Anyway, I’m not sure what they might be planning for any of them, but I can tell you I’m more interested in how they might end up, than I am with Ceren, Ferit, Fifi, or Piril.  

Anonymous said: This ask may not be worth answering but I've always wondered about Eda's family on her mom's side. I don't think they've ever mentioned it on the show and if they have I may have missed it but it's interesting. It's most likely that her grandparents died and her mom didn't have any siblings but it would be really cool if she did have a family member who understood her and supported her and Serkan unlike Ayfer.

It would be interesting to know, you’d think she would have some relatives on her mom’s side.  We’ll have to see if the show ever mentions it.

Anonymous said: Ok it may be the overthinker in me but unlike everyone else I'm actually worried seeing Serkan wear his engagement ring. If he and Eda reconciled and he knows the truth about her grandma threatening her, wouldn't their game plan be keeping their relationship a secret and not flaunting his ring. But then that's what the fans want, and maybe the writers have a different idea. I'm freaking out with worry that maybe Serkan and Bulca got engaged! But then it looks like his original ring! let's see!

Anonymous said: I'm the one who feared the engagement ring in a previous ask. Well today's pics/videos that show Serkan, Aydan and Seyfi at Eda's home with flowers seem like they are asking for her hand in marriage. It's an assumption but I feel much better. Lol!

See, this is why I always say not to borrow trouble by worrying about the disaster scenario.  Why would he ask Balca to marry him the day after he sexed up Eda? Even if they were hiding it and using Balca for subterfuge, why would they need to go all the way to engaged to do that? 

I’m glad you’re feeling better. I agree that the video posted today with them all at Eda’s house with the flower and the chocolate looks very much like they’re doing the traditional asking for her hand for serious this time! 

WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!

Can’t wait to see them with their rings back on, we’ve been waiting so long. 

Also, I have no idea why they are able to get away with this... maybe Eda found something while investigating that neutralized Babaanne?  At least for the moment? 

Anonymous said: Sometimes I hate being the audience, we know things that the characters don't and I want to yell at my tablet screen. I don't though because I don't want to confirm my parents thoughts that I am crazy, lol! Anyway I wanted to say that I appreciate you and the SCK community because none of my friends watch the show and I'm glad I have people to discuss this with, otherwise I'd actually go crazy. Edser & Hanker & the cast and crew make me happy! They're just amazing and I'm thankful for them!

Me too!  I appreciate the cast and crew AND I appreciate the fandom. There are some very lovely people here, and I’m thrilled that I have you all to discuss the show and ship with because none of my friends or family in real life watch either.  I’ve told many people about it, and sometimes I will drop words or phrases in Turkish that I’ve picked up watching and all they do is roll their eyes at me.  (I enjoy that) 

Also... talk back to that screen, I do. It’s fun. LOL. 

Anonymous said: Thoughts on the fan theory that Eda & Serkan are actually already working together to bring her grandma down? Not sure that I really saw any clues throughout the episode that a scene of the two of them talking together was cut out but guess we could always get flashbacks to show it. I think for me that might make a little sense because how does Serkan not suspect that Grandma flat out made Eda breakup with him? He knows she wants them kept apart, he got arrested and then magically released which coincided with Eda staying away from him, entry of a prince interested in Eda and Eda being chummy with her Grandma 🧐. Or maybe he does suspect all of that but finally understands the risk that she poses to all of them so he agreed to end things? Very interested to see how the show gets us from that heartbreaking breakup to Serkan & Eda being jealous at the restaurant.

My apologies, I know this ask was sent before some of the recent spoilers including the second promo with the... uh... explosion. (sex) So at this point I do not think they are working together, the break up appears to be real. So it will be interesting how the first 2 hours of this episode plays out. I assume the sex will be in the last 15 minutes. 

It looks like Serkan’s tact is to pretend he’s over her and moving on and let that drive her crazy. So I’d say that in order to do that, he has a pretty good idea why Eda broke up with him and knows it’s because of Babaanne and threats against him.

Anonymous said: Can I just say - I really dislike Ayfer. And I just realized that she has had like no growth at all in these 25 episodes. I guess she has an instagram business now? There is such a huge contrast between how they've developed her and Aydan, not only in how they view EdSer's relationship but on their own as well. Aydan is a new woman while Ayfer is still just a hater and a negative nancy about everything. You'd think they'd give her a better storyline with her mother in town but I don't see it

Since you sent this I’ve answered another ask about Ayfer here.  I very much agree with you.  She reacts negatively to everything, I’m not sure why the girls like to hang out with her so much, they have to hide everything and she is like a damp rag covering any bit of excitement. 

On rewatching some of the early episodes, I have noticed that she was negative  from the beginning.  She was even annoying in her first second on screen, when she was waking Eda up to go help with the soil delivery. I hate that shrill voice she uses to say Günaydın over and over again. 

You’re so right that she hasn’t had much if any growth.  Neither she nor Aydan were excited by the Eda/Serkan pairing from the beginning. Aydan was more vocal, but Ayfer was just as disapproving.  And frankly, even though between the two of them, Aydan might have seemed like the more formidable foe to the relationship, Ayfer actually always had more power.  Just because Serkan Bolat is going to do whatever he wants to do and he’s not going to be swayed by his mother’s disapproval, but as we’ve seen in episode 21 Eda is more susceptible to her aunt’s guilt and disapproval. Remember when she asked Eda if she could trust Serkan’s positive assessment of her work because he might lie if he has feelings for her!?! GRRRRRRRRR. 

The other big difference is that once Aydan saw how absolutely heartbroken Serkan was, she completely changed her tune and became supportive of the relationship. Her son’s happiness mattered to her. While Ayfer sat there last week and watched her heartbroken niece and reacted with glee.  Eda’s happiness is apparently not important to Ayfer.  

If indeed the Bolat’s have come to woo Eda, it will be interesting to see how Ayfer reacts.  Will she come around on her own or will Eda have to give her an ultimatum. I wouldn’t mind that, actually.  Give Ayfer a reality check on the way she’s been behaving, just as controlling as her mother. 

Anonymous said:bHey Liza! Thanks for your thoughts on ep25, was looking forward to them today cause you're always rational and I pretty much agree with all you've said lol. The number of ppl mad at Eda/saying her character is ruined is wild, did they watch the same episode?? Eda HAD to end things because of the shit her grandma was pulling, like it wasn't small things she has serious connections, obviously Eda isn't gonna endanger serkan!! I really hope the people being irrational read your answers lol. The only thing that's bothering me about the episodes is that this is supposed to be a romantic comedy and I'm missing that (gotta be honest I fast forwarded thru the Alex ayfer aydan stuff lol) but hoping for some funny Edser stuff at least lol. Also THE PRINCE REALLY DO BE CRAZY lmao

This was also sent before some of the recent schedules. It looks to me like we’re are in for a bit of romance the next few episodes. 

I’M SO EXCITED!!

Anonymous said: the prince is very specifically credited as a guest actor, so i think that maybe he'll only be here for 1 or 2 more episodes max. which makes me think that this arc at least with him directly involved won't last very long. i'm excited about the bombshell to be dropped though because as of right now neither eda or serkan know exactly what babaanne's plan for him is in regards to eda.. and not to mention his other creepy motives that have to do with his dead wife.

I haven’t seen him mentioned in any BTS stuff for 27... maybe he makes his exit is 26? We shall see. 

Anonymous said:  while i understand where serkan was coming from in his decision to not tell eda the truth, it was coming from a purely selfish reason (even he says that) eda's decision is bc of a very real 3rd party threat that would have consequences for serkan's family, business, and his wellbeing. and eda has no time to prepare a plan or anything of the sort; she's basically backed into a corner. i really wonder why serkan is granted so much more understanding in the fandom than eda's character..

I don’t agree that Serkan was coming from a “purely selfish place.”  I don’t remember Serkan saying that and if he did, I’m sure it’s because he’s attributing all his motives to the one he’s most ashamed of feeling.  Because while there was something selfish in not wanting her to know the truth and not wanting her to think of her dead parents when she looked at him, I think it’s clear he was also trying to protect her from those thoughts. He was trying to protect her from the heartbreak of dredging up their deaths, protecting her from having to make the decision to leave him. It was a lot more complicated then just him being “purely selfish.” Remember he inflicted the greatest heartbreak on himself, you don’t do that for purely selfish reasons. 

It would be nice if anytime something went wrong, there wasn’t a knee-jerk reaction to vilify one or the other characters. 

[fandomrewrites]

Season 2; Episode 7: Restraint

Hello all! As you can see in the pairings, this is the first episode where (Y/N) is going to have some romance after Nate. I want to keep it a secret until you read the chapter which is why I don’t include the name in the pairings. Also I’ll probably never write hardcore smut just because I don’t think I’ll be good at it, but please give me any tips you may have about writing smut/mild smut. I’m not really sure if I did a good job or not so any feedback will be extremely helpful! As always constructive criticism is appreciated! I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. 

Season 2; Episode 7: Restraint

Pairings: Scott McCall x Twin Sister, Lydia Martin x Best Friend, ?? x Reader

Warnings: very mild smut (more like making out)

Word Count: 2,041

Season 2 Masterlist

Lydia brought me home after she finished translating the Kanima pages for us. The minute I was in the house I texted Allison to see if she talked to the boys yet. She hadn’t. Instead she was waiting for me so we could call them together.

I couldn’t stay at her house because Lydia would have gotten suspicious and I don’t need Lydia to think I’m choosing someone else over her. Allison called me and then I called Stiles, making a three way call.

“If Jackson doesn’t know what he’s doing then he probably doesn’t know someone’s controlling him.” Allison says.

“Or doesn’t remember.” Scott adds. 

“What if it’s the same kind of thing that happened to Lydia when she took off from the hospital?” Stiles asks.

“A fugue state.” I say.

“He’d have to forget everything. The murder, coming home...” Scott trails off in thought.

There is a brief moment of silence, then Allison continues, “Getting rid of the blood.”

“But he had help with one thing. The video. Someone else helped him forget that.” Stiles pipes in.

“Probably whoever’s controlling him. I whisper, biting my lip in thought.

“Are you sure Jackson has no clue about any of this?” Allison questions.

“He thinks he’s still becoming a werewolf and that being with Lydia somehow delayed the whole thing.” Stiles states.

“So we try to convince him he’s not?” 

“If it helps us figure out who’s controlling him, then yeah.” Scott says.

“You think he’ll talk to us after what we did?” Allison asks.

I scoff as Stiles answers, “Yeah. Totally. Right?”

“Don’t get your hopes up, it’s Jackson we’re talking about after all.” I say before hanging up.

*_*_*_*_*_*

Before first period Allison, Scott, Stiles and I go to the library. The two boys and I make sure we arrive before Allison and meet in a secluded section, where the security cameras cannot see us.

Allison and I stand in one aisle while Scott and Stiles stand in the one beside us. Allison opens her bag and pulls out a tablet, placing it on the shelf between us.

“It’s everything Lydia could translate. And trust us, she was very confused.” Allison says as I nod in agreement.

“What did you tell her?” Scott asks.

“That we’re part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.”

“I am part of an online gaming community that battles mythical creatures.” Stiles says.

I immediately cover my mouth with my hand to hide the smile threatening to appear.

“Does it say how to find out who’s controlling him?” Scott asks.

“Not really. But Stiles was right about murderers. It calls the Kanima a weapon of vengeance. There’s a story in there about a South American priest who used the Kanima to execute murderers in the village-” I don’t get the chance to finish my sentence.

“So maybe it’s not all bad.” Stiles cuts me off.

Allison and I share a look before I continue, “Until the bond grew strong enough that it killed whoever he wanted it to.”

“All bad. All very bad.”

“Here’s the thing, though. The Kanima’s actually supposed to be a werewolf. But it can’t be until...” Allison pauses as a teacher passes by us.

Scott starts reading from the tablet, “Until it resolves that in its past which manifested it.”

“If it means Jackson could use a few thousand hours of therapy, I could’ve told you that myself.” Stiles says.

“What if it has to do with his parents? His real parents.” Allison asks.

“Does anybody actually know what happened to them? (Y/N)?” 

I shake my head, “I’m pretty sure they died when he was still a baby, but I honestly don’t know. Jackson isn’t really someone who openly has heart-to-hearts with his friends. Lydia may know, though.”

“What if she doesn’t know anything?”

“Well,” Allison sighs, “He didn’t get a restraining order against me. So I’ll try talking to him myself.”

“What do I do?” Scott questions.

“You’ve got a make-up exam, remember? For a few hours you need to concentrate on not failing out of high school. Otherwise, you’re not going to be helping anyone.”

Scott looks at Stiles and I. We both nod backing Allison up. “Promise me.” She speaks once more.

Allison reaches a hand between the books, taking his. “Okay. But if Jackson does anything, you run the other way.”

“I can take care of myself.”

“If you get hurt while I’m busy with a stupid test, someone’s going to need to take care of me. If he does anything...” Scott trails off.

“LIke?” Allison prompts.

“Anything weird, bizarre, anything.”

Stiles then pops his head through the shelf, “Anything evil.”

Allison nods then pushes his face back as I shake my head and mumble, “Dork.”

*_*_*_*_*_*

I run a hand through my hair as I lean against the wall to take off my heels for a minute. I sigh and walk down the empty hall. Just as I turn the corner I nearly crash into someone. “You scared the hell out of me.” The person exclaims.

I let out a breath as I looked up at Matt, “I could say the same to you.”

“Nice heels.”

I look down at the black heels in my hand, “Oh. They’re new and bothering my feet.”

I bend back down to pull my heels on once more, “Same reason I never wear mine.” Matt jokes.

I lightly chuckle, “Funny.”

He opens his mouth to say something then pauses. I raise an eyebrow, “Yes?”

He takes a breath, like he’s trying to get the nerves to talk to me, “Did you hear about the underground show? I guess they’ve got some big name spinning.”

“You mean like a rave?”

“Is it still a rave if you don’t roll? I just call it a concert. I’ve got a hook-up for tickets if you’re down. Should I grab you one?”

“Uh... Like a date?”

“I mean, only if you want it to be one.”

I awkwardly smile, “I’m not really sure if I’m ready to start dating again.”

“That’s fine. It can be two friends hanging out then.”

I bite my lip, “Yeah. Sure.” I agree hesitantly.

“All right, cool. It’s Friday.”

“Looking forward to it.” I watch as he walks off down the hall.

*_*_*_*_*_*

At the end of the school day I find Stiles, “I can’t bring you home unless you want to wait for detention to get out.”

I gape at him, “What did you do now?”

“Why do you think I did something?” I raise an eyebrow, “It was Scott and Jackson who got into a fight. Harris just threw everyone that was around them in detention too.”

“Who else?”

“Erica, Allison, and Matt.”

I scrunch up my face, “Have fun in detention. I’ll figure out another way to get home.”

***

After getting a ride home from Lydia, who still hasn’t told me about what she wanted to talk to Allison and I about, I sit on my bed doing some homework and contemplating who could be controlling the Kanima. So far I have nobody on the mental list. So clearly I’m doing great.

My ears strain as I hear a noise downstairs. I slowly slide my notebook off my lap, placing it on my nightstand. I then quickly grab the metal baseball bat from underneath my bed. I grip it tightly in my hands as I move quietly down the stairs, my eyes rapidly moving to take in every inch of the room in front of me.

I hear a sound from my left and swing with all my strength.

“God, (Y/N). You have a damn powerful swing for someone so tiny.” The person says.

“What the hell are you doing in my house?” I look on in shock as Isaac grips the bat, stopping it just inches from his face.

“Maybe I was hoping to catch you in the shower.” He smirks.

I scoff, “You’re disgusting. Seriously what are you doing here?” I gently place the metal bat at our feet.

“I was going to talk to you at school but you were too busy getting asked on a date.”

I roll my eyes, “It’s not a date. I don’t like Matt like that.”

“Does he know that?”

“I told him I wasn’t ready to start dating again.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t like him. And trust me, he likes you a lot.”

“Why does this concern you? Oh wait, it doesn’t.” I respond.

“Maybe it concerns me because I like you?” He says it as more of a question.

I narrow my eyes at him, “Are you asking or telling me?”

He smirks but stays quiet. I suddenly realize just how close the two of us are. His smirk widens, probably because he can hear just how fast my heart is beating at the revelation. “I really want to kiss you right now.” He mumbles.

Before I can stop myself I whisper, “Then what’s stopping you?” In an instant his lips cover mine, one of his hands are on my waist while the other is tangled in my hair. Both of my hands are tightly gripping onto his shirt trying to bring our bodies closer together.

I release the death grip I have on his shirt to instead lightly pull on his curly hair. He brings both of his hands to my butt muttering a ‘jump’ through the kiss. I do as he says then quickly pull away for breath. “My room,” I gasp out. He nods then starts to climb the steps as I lightly suck and nibble on his neck.

Isaac kicks my door shut as he lets out a low growl. He gently lays me on my bed and rips his shirt off, climbing on top of me. Our lips attach once more, his hands roughly grabbing at my hips, pushing my shirt up. We quickly break apart only to pull my shirt off then reattach our lips for a third time.

I break the kiss again so I can catch my breath, Isaac uses this moment to stat kissing my chest. Instinctively I push my chest closer to him as I moan out his name, “Isaac.” My hands grip his shoulders and legs wrap around his waist.

He places sloppy kisses on my chest and neck as my hands start to wander down to his jeans. I start to unbutton his pants but he stops me, pulling away. “What’s wro-” I cut myself off as his breathing becomes heavier and his claws start to grow from his fingertips. He quickly backs away from me and closes his hand into a tight fist.

“Isaac...” I tentatively whisper, slightly nervous that he won’t be able to regain control.

I sit up as he answers, “I’m alright.” He turns back around and opens his hands. His claws are now replaced by fingernails. “Maybe we shouldn’t try that again until I have control.”

I nod in agreement. Then quirk an eyebrow, “So you think we’re going to try that again?”

All he does is reaches down and tosses me my shirt with a small smile on his face. “Thanks,” I mumble as we fix ourselves. “I’m guessing that wasn’t the original reason why you came here?”

He looks at me and hesitates to answer, “No. Derek thinks you know who the Kanima is.”

“Derek’s a smart guy. I’m sure he can put it together.” I stand up and cross my arms as I answer.

“That’s all I’m going to get?” Isaac raises an eyebrow.

I nod, “And you won’t be telling anyone what happened between us if you want it to happen again. I don’t need my brother freaking out about me sleeping with a werewolf.”

Isaac smirks, “Are you sure you’re not concerned about what your date might think? Also, you think we’re going to try that again?”

I roll my eyes and flip him off but can’t stop the smile that falls onto my lips, “I already told you, it’s not a date. And about this,” I gesture between us, “You’re hot. So I personally don’t mind doing this again. Now get out of my house.”

[enkisstories]

“So now we socialize...” Daniel murmurs, after Soren has left. Then the realisation hits him that he has never before done that. There had been shopping trips for him, holidays with his owners’ relatives, casual interactions with party guests and shooting at cops, but every time Daniel had interacted with humans in a role, never as himself. His only somewhat normal exchanges had been with the other android prisoners, after getting removed from the evidence archive. There isn’t a single human in his Recent Conversations folder.

“Uh... how do we socialize again?” the android asks.

“Prison-style!” Gavin replys. “You guys gets shipped with holes other than your mouths?”

“What’s that to mean? Do you think I’m too chatty?”

Gavin grins, but before he can say anything Hank interrupts the man:

“Oh, come, leave it alone... him, I mean! Leave HIM alone! - Daniel, Gavin was just pulling your legs. Why don’t you tell us whey you’re here? Were you with Jericho?"

It would be so typical, Hank thinks. The government cannot keep the deviant androids hushed up anymore, and Warren’s plan to eradicate them all at once has backfired into her having to actually grant them human rights. So the last resort would be chucking all the pesky deviants into prison for minor offenses. Out of sight, out of mind.

“I do not know that company. I was privately owned,” Daniel explains, oblivious to what “Jericho” refers to. “And I was arrested because I canceled an order my owner put with CyberLife.”

“What? That’s all?” Gavin wonders. “You guys go to prison for that? I didn’t know android law was that strict.”

“No no no, Gavin!” Hank waves his hands about, a gesture that suggests two things: That apparently Gavin tends to jump to conclusions and that this isn’t the first time these two are having this argument. Along with the cat hair/booze smell comment from earlier Daniel concludes that the men have known each other for far longer than their incarceration.

“Tell us HOW you canceled that order, Daniel”, Hank asks the android.

“Well, I took John’s tablet...”

“While he was still holding it?”

“In fact, yes!”

“And...?”

“And then I hit John with the tablet! Well, and the touchscreen must have connected with that oaf’s forehead exactly on the “cancel” button. And then Caroline called the police!”

“Oh, come, that cannot have been everything. What were you doing while she was on the phone?”

“Weeeell, since John had stepped on my foot, I hit him again. We fought over the tablet and I think I broke his arm... wrist... in any case he was yelling at me. I told him to shut the fuck up and then our daughter peeked out of her room. By now the cops were knocking at our door, so I grabbed Emma with one hand and the tablet with the other...”

“Ah, that’s more like I imagine it would have gone. Did it occur to you for just one minute that you may have been... overreacting? Daniel?”

“Nope. The sucker wanted to replace me with an AP700. Just like that... like last season’s dress! After everything I’d done for them... I would have killed for my family, you know? But they just go... and... replace me... The moment I realized that little Emma would grow up in their image, I swear I thought it would be better for her to not grow up at all.”

And so Daniel had taken the girl hostage, not caring whether she’d buy him his getaway car or end up tossed down the 70th floor balcony. Better to remember the child the way she’d been, his only real friend, than to see her turn into a John or Caroline. Daniel shudders. His voice trails off. John’s fault, he thinks. His own darkest moment - ultimately John Phillips is to blame for it! That idea the android must cling to, because otherwise... otherwise...

“What have I become...?!” Daniel whispers.

The android remembers the burglars he has stopped over time. Often enough threatening to toss them down all seventy floors had been part of the show, but it had been just that: a performative act. If any of the gangsters had called Daniel’s bluff, he wouldn’t have went through with it. Or would he...? “I wasn’t always like this!” the android gasps and prays fervently that it is the truth. “But then John... he... he discarded me. Damn you, John Phillips!!!”

“Yeah, just my luck”, Gavin snorts. “The fancy PL600 isn’t good enough anymore for the rich suckers, drops in price and finally gets affordable, I promise my parents one for christmas and what do you know? Next thing the fucking things walk down the mainstreet and now it’s considered slavery...”

“Sorry, Gavin, I’m fresh out of tablets, will get back to you about this later” Daniel snaps. Androids normally do not display body language, not even the most advanced and humanlike ones. But deviants do, and Daniel’s right now tells Gavin that he better keeps his distance, because in a pinch a plastic fist can substitute for a tablet.

“So why are you here, Hank?” Daniel hurrys to change the subject.

“Technically because I beat up a fed. That’s what my upcoming trial is about, anyway. As for why I am here...”

[be-ready-when-i-say-go]

A Family of Five- Part 6: Ready

Calum and Harlowe’s marriage hasn’t always been easy, but it has always been filled with love. This is a collaborative experience with In Sorrow and In Joy. Dad!Calum. Black OC.

CW: Over the course of this series, there are mentions of pregnancy, therapy, and postpartum depression. There is also 18+ Content (Smut)

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No one has my permission to repost my work of fiction. This includes translations as well. 

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Luke finishes the last of the dishes. Noor’s at the bar, reading over her lines before the bus. Zahara dangles the keys to her car on her finger, waiting for Zeek to grab the charger for his tablet from his room. The house is quiet. He finds himself wondering how long that it will last. The question is answered a minute later when a shout rings out, “Babe!”

“There goes the silence,” he chuckles, wiping hands on the dish rag. “Yeah?” he calls out, taking the stairs two at a time to the bedroom. 

You turn around, dressed in black jeans and your pajama shirt. “Where’s that heart button up shirt?”

“That’s actually Calum’s shirt,” he grins leaning up against the frame of the door. 

A groan falls over your lips. Out of habit, you reach up and fix the bun of your curly hair and mutter to yourself. Of course, your favorite shirt to steal wasn’t actually Luke’s. He probably took it from Calum’s case on their last tour, last year, and only just recently realized that it didn’t belong in your closet. You could go without the shirt. But it annoys the crap out of you, that you couldn’t finish the outfit that you had been planning for days now for the first day back to school. 

“Now that I think about it. That’s definitely his t-shirt too. Forgot to give it back,” Luke states. 

You look down at the gray t-shirt covering your body. “So, you’re telling me, Harlowe’s gonna call asking for this shirt eventually.”

He shrugs. “Only if she knows the shirt is gone.”

You roll your eyes, peeling off the shirt and stealing inside the blue button up of Luke’s. “Honesty, one of these days y’all need to go through your closets and figure this shit out.” You’ll call Harlowe. She’ll know where that heart button up is. And more importantly, she’ll be willing to trade. 

“You and Harlowe end up stealing stuff from us!” he laughs. “It’s not all our fault.”

“Shush, I said that you two need to figure out what belongs to who and then she and I can figure out what’s up for trading and what has to stay. You didn’t let me finish.” Tossing the shirt at Luke, you laugh a little at his flail, startled by the action. “Start a load of laundry please. Use the kid’s detergent. Harlowe’s skin is sensitive.”

“For one shirt?” he jokes, his high pitched shout cracking a little on the the word ‘one’. “I’ll at least wash some of the kids stuff too.”

“That’s the idea!” you shout to his retreating figure. With the last of the shirt buttoned, you pick up your phone. As you open to your recent messages, Harlowe’s name is right at the top. 

The phone rings twice before you can hear her shouting in the background. “Esha, it doesn’t even take me this long to put a face on in the morning, c’mon. You’re beautiful and I will fight anyone that says otherwise.”

Calum’s laughter filters in from the background before his voice fills the line. “You’ve reached Harlowe’s phone. She’s currently helping Esha figure out mascara. Can I take a message?”

“She’s really letting Esha wear makeup to school, huh?” you ask. The debate on whether Esha could wear makeup to school was definitely a long one. You remembered just a couple months ago when it first started, during the summer. Harlowe and Calum feared she’d go off the deep in, but didn’t want her to feel like she couldn’t explore in the world of make up or self expression. You just had no idea that they had agreed on anything yet. Granted, you all kept up well, some things inevitably would fall through the cracks. Between getting syllabi together and raising kids, some news unfortunately fell to the waste side. 

“It was a long battle. We agreed to mascara and lipstick. Nude lipstick though. Specifically a nude lipstick.”

You nod. “Sounds like a smart choice.” 

More laughter floats in from the background. “Keep looking up, you’re not going to poke yourself I promise,” Harlowe chuckles.

“But I could!” Esha retorts. “This is scary.”

“So,” Calum says, “I know you called for a reason.”

“I was trying to see if a certain item of clothing could be up for trades. It appears that I, really Luke, but by extension me as well, have a certain t-shirt that belongs to you. And a certain heart button up shirt was not Luke’s, which is disheartening.”

“The gray one with Conway studios on it?”

“That’s the one.”

“She was looking for that last night. Hold on second.” There’s muffled talking in the background. “So, while Harlowe’s sad about losing the heart button up, she’s willing to trade.”

“It’s your shirt, technically.”

Calum laughs. “She has taken my closet. Nothing is mine anymore except my shoes. If she could wear those, she’d probably take them too. Like right now, she’s in my green plaid pants. It’s a great outfit, but I was the one that pulled the pants down this morning.”

“You’re going to the studio! You know you would’ve opted for jeans anyway,” Harlowe bellows.

“I would’ve at least like the option, baby. At least give me the option.” There’s a shuffling sound and Harlowe finally speaks.

“Ignore him, girl. He’s just pissy this morning.”

“So tonight we’ll trade shirts. I had this whole first day look planned, but of course, the shirt I wanted, wasn’t Luke’s shirt.

“Okay, normal table. I’ll see you then.”

__

Even before opening the door, you know what the place smells like, sounds like. You and Harlowe have been coming here every Wednesday before the twins were born. It’s ritual to walk in, hearing the clack of pool balls on the smooth red velvet and a white buzz of voices. It’s ritual to smell beer, but also the famous cheese fries cooking in the back. The place is old, but it somehow feels right. No, this wasn’t always your cup of tea. But Harlowe fell in love with the place, her second collection of poetry was birthed here. So on Wednesdays, this is where you two sat, chatting about the week previous, the week ahead. Talking about husbands, and kids. Talking about students and universities. You two worked at different schools. You do this for cheese fries, the laughs, the gossip. But more importantly, you do this for her, because she needed something to look forward to after the post partum depression from Esha. 

Inside, you spot her afro at the bar, “the normal table.” “If that’s a virgin rum and ginger ale, today was fine. But it’s a virgin Caribbean Rum Punch, someone’s trying to fuck themselves up,” you laugh, sliding into the bar stool next to Harlowe. 

She laughs, slinging an arm across your shoulders, resting her head for a moment onto your shoulder. “Yo got me. Just ginger ale. How were your classes?” She straightens, pulling her arm away. 

“There’s a freshman in my 300 level class. The fear was real in there eyes, looking at the syllabus.”

“How did they get into that class?”

You shrug. “No one asked for an override into class. My assumption is that they thought they were hot shit and signed up.”

“Didn’t even check RateMyProfessor, I bet,” Harlowe grins, flagging down a bartender.

The man walks over with an easy grin, closing his eyes and taking a deep breathe. “Let me guess.You’re going to order a plate of cheese fries. Ranch dipping on the side.”

“It’s like we’re regulars or something,” Harlow laughs. 

“Or something,” he chuckles, then turns to put the order in. 

“Well not all of us teach poetry and fiction. Some of us have to have reading lists a mile long,” you counter. 

Her laugh fills the room practically. “You make the syllabus. It does not have to be a mile long. You clearly just like suffering and taking your students down with you.”

Feigning shock, you gasps, turning around. “I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.”

She chuckles, watching you. “Go ahead then. Run from the truth. But who’s the one that complains everything you have to reread those sections--you.”

“I cannot believe you’d read me like that in this here fine establishment.” This causes both of you to laugh, Harlowe falling into you a little, her laughter bouncing around in your eardrum. “How were your classes?”

With a smile resting on her face, she leans onto her elbows, toying at the glass. “Good. One girl came up to me after class and said she had signed up specifically for my section of poetry workshop because I was the only Black professor. Like I know this isn’t Kansas, to use a really dated expression, anymore. Like I know this isn’t the States, but it still means a lot be there for someone that needs it.”

“When’s your Fiction workshop?”

“Tomorrow. I’m teaching that in the morning and then the second section of intro to creative writing in the afternoon.”

“Must be nice,” you tease. 

Harlowe barks a laugh. “I’m not the one that spent years getting their Ph.D. in History, only to bitch about being the exact thing they wanted to be. So yeah, it is nice to enjoy my job.” Both woman laugh and the steaming bucket of fries is placed between them. Two glasses of water also thuds against the worn wooden counter. 

“How are my babies though?” There’s something in the way she asks that. You watch her face as she rummages into the depths of her bag. You catch nothing on her face. She pulls out the black button up and hands it over to you. You wipe your hands on a napkin and find the soft gray cotton in your backpack. You guys trade shirts.

“My babies are good.”

Harlowe huffs, biting hard into the fried potato. “Oh hush, I’m their aunt. They are effectively my children too.”

“What do you know that I don’t know?”

Harlowe shakes her head, reaching for her drink. “If I tell you, I break code.”

“It’s irksome that you know things before me,” you sigh. But you respect it. Your kids and Harlowe have a code. Though you desperately wish you weren’t always the last one to know about things, you understood. Sometimes the kids wanted to handle stuff by themselves, they didn’t want to always come to you or Luke. They maybe felt embarrassed having to go to their parents about everything. 

“They know they can talk to you, girl. They know.”

“I’m just the last to know. I feel so left out.”

“If you think Te Koha, Esha or even Nikau even tell me everything, you’re wrong.” Harlowe downs the her glass. “Children will not tell parents everything. Did you tell your mom everything?”

“Hell no.”

“Exactly my point.”

The first plate of fries is just about empty. Harlowe’s ordered a second drink when a presence slides up to the left of you. The cologne is familiar. As you giggle at Harlowe’s story about the disaster at the printer today before her class, you feel Luke’s hand resting gently on your lower back. You wondered when they would come up. When you walked in, you made a beeline for Harlow at the bar. Luke went to the table Calum had on the floor somewhere. You guys always do this. Split up, just for a little bit to have a little time away from each other. To talk all the junk you couldn’t do when your spouse was right there. It was always nice to have these moments away, to yourself, to be quiet and listen to Harlowe dramatically retell her adventures of the day or week. 

Her story finishes, an exasperated sigh falling over her lips before he speaks. “Can I get a pretty girl like you a drink?”

With an eye roll, you gently press into his chest for a quick hug. “Buy us another round of fries, and then we’ll talk.”

He laughs, palm brushing up and down your satin covered back. “Sounds reasonable.” 

“Ranch on the side for my friend here,” you add on, gently tapping his chest. 

“Please,” Harlowe adds, batting her eyelashes. 

“I’m right here,” Calum laughs, settling down next to her. 

“Are you buying me french fries?” she shoots back, resting her head into his chest. 

His arm wraps around her, almost protectively. “I’m the one you go home with.”

She reaches up, tapping the end of his nose with her finger. They’ve always been way more affectionate. You pretend to gag, before burying your face into your glass of water. She just buries herself deeper into him before raising her middle finger to you. “That’s rude!” Luke interjects, voice turning up into a laugh. 

As the second and third, due to Calum’s ordering, basket of fries comes out. It feels like old times, like being twenty three again during the summer before your second year for your Master’s program. When you forced Harlowe to get up on that dinky stage and read her poems. When Calum and Luke approached the two of you at the end of the night. It feels like you’ve got nothing but time, nothing by belly laughs and Harlowe and Calum’s antic, the lovingly nagging, the teases, you and Luke’s quiet moments, whispers. It’s nothing but being twenty three again. 

Until a phone chimes. The time of youth is over. You finish off the last few fries, cleaning off your fingers. Luke’s hand slides into yours. It’s Harlowe’s phone and she sighs. “Gotta get back to relieve Te Koha of babysitting duties,” she mutters. 

Calum leans in close to her, “Can I come home with you?” He’s only a few beers in this evening. Nowhere near as far as he can go.

“Hmm,” Harlowe chuckles, nails dragging under his chin, “Depends on how well you handle three kid.”

“Some might say I’m an expert,” he laughs. 

“An expert in making them,” Luke jokes, with a whistle. 

“That’s all you,” Calum teases. “Some of us made the choice a lot time ago to shoot blanks.”

“We are not having this discussion right here,” you interject. 

Harlowe pushes on Calum’s shoulder, to get him walking towards the door. She digs into his jacket pocket, retrieving the kids. “I’ll talk to you probably in an hour,” she laughs. “Good luck, getting your drunk giant home.”

“Do not remind me,” you call before adding, “Love you.”

She shouts over her shoulder. “Love you too. I covered half the bill.”

“I covered half,” Calum corrects loudly. 

“Will you be quiet and walk you drunk piece of man. Let’s go. Kids. Kids. We gotta get to our kids.”

You drive the two of you back. Luke hums quietly along to the radio for a while. His leg bounce. You watch him at a red light. “What’s up?” you ask, pressing your palm into his denim-cladded thigh. 

“Do you know what’s up with Ra?”

You had noticed she was way more quiet than usual. This is whatever Harlowe knew but you did. Luke continues, his voice panicked. “I tried asking her what was up, but she wouldn’t budge. I’m not sure if you know.”

“I don’t know either.”

His sigh is heavy. You can imagine his fingers carding through his hair as the stress settles onto his forehead. “Is it college stress? Boy trouble? If it’s boy trouble, I’m kicking someone’s ass,” he murmurs. 

“Call Harlowe too.”

Luke chuckles, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “Yeah, I can’t forget her. What do you think it is?”

You don’t even want to try and think about that, what darkness is potentially overcoming your baby girl. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. You’d go through hell and back for your kids. Sure you weren’t always the most affectionate person, but you’d be damned if your kids were going through some shit and didn’t at least know you were in their corner for them. The rest of the drive you and Luke try not to envision all the terrible scenarios. Had someone hurt her? Touched her the wrong way? Was she failing a class? Did something happen to a friend? Did she think that you and Luke weren’t there for her anymore?

With the car parked in the driveway, you two climb out of the car and share a concerned glance before walking inside. Ra’s chilling on the couch, Noor passed out in her lap, the TV’s on. It’s not barely nine. “You’re free of being pretend mom,” Luke says softly. 

Ra looks up with a small smile. “How were drinks?”

“Good. Anything happen here?” you asks.

“If it had, trust I would’ve called. After you guys left after dinner, we all finished up some homework. Or rather they finished up, and then Zeek showered and start drawing. Noor and I watched some TV. She had those physical fitness test today, so she’s pretty exhausted I guess.”

Luke nod, kissing both their foreheads. “We’ve got her. Finish up that work, yeah?”

Ra nods. “How many pints, Dad?” she laughs. 

He shakes his head. “Hush. Only a few more months and then I’ll take you out.”

“Oh, God, please spare me that embarrassment.”

“Okay, so Auntie Harlowe can take you out on my dime, how about that?”

She grins. “Now you’re talking.”

Luke pulls her in for one last hug, kissing her hair. “Go finish your work, missy.”

As Ra ascends the stairs, you wait until she reaches the first landing before stopping her, a gentle hand on her back. “Hey,” you start, looking into her eyes. The twinkle is gone. She looks tired. “You know I’m here right, for you. Both your dad and I are. You can tell us anything.”

She nods, lips pursing close. “I know. Thanks, Mum. Got a paper to finish though.” She lifts her thumb over her shoulder to the stairs, to her room, to her escape. You nod. She turns and takes them two at a time. She’s not ready. You can’t force her. 

It’s another two weeks. Zahra walks in through the door behind Noor and Zeek, closing the door behind her. “Hey guys,” you call out, tending over the pot of pasta. 

Zeek kisses your cheek and Noor buries herself in a giant hug. Ra doesn’t round the corner. You peek around and see her leaning against the glass, hands covering her face. Her shoulders shake once, twice. She’s crying. Before you can set yourself in motion towards her, she throws herself into you, tears staining her cheek, streaking her make-up. “Fuck,” she whimpers, shaking against you. 

Your heart thunders in your chest. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay.” Part of you is frozen. What the hell is happening? But the other part is ready to fix whatever it is. Whatever is heavy in her soul. “Talk--talk to me, baby. I’m right here,” you attempt to soothe. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know,” she hiccups. “I know emotions are totally not our thing. But god, I’m so tired of holding this in anymore.”

The two of you stand there, you rubbing at her back and she sobs into your skin, her tears feeling like fire. What else could you have done to get her to open up sooner? What else could you have said? “You’re ready now,” you whisper. “It’s okay.”

It takes a few minutes for Zahra to collect herself. Her cheeks are streak a little. But she takes a deep breathe. “Did my mascara run?”

You shake your head, a smile cracking through the fear. “No. Told you that shit would hold.”

She laughs. The two of you head into the kitchen, you hand her some tissues. She’s much taller than you, taking her height from Luke. You have to look up at her a little. Rubbing her arms, you find yourself at lost for words. Wait until she’s ready, you think to yourself. Wait until she’s ready. Zeek hands her a glass of water. “Your face didn’t melt too bad.”

“Thanks,” Ra mutters, taking a sip. “And you’re still a pain in my butt.”

“I’m the best pain,” he smiles, hugging her. 

“Can I talk to you and Dad, when he gets here?” Ra says quietly behind her glass. 

You nod. “Of course.”

Luke arrives home about an hour later. Just as dinner is finished. He immediately notes the pink to Zahra’s face and flashes you a look. You respond with a gesture of your hand, telling him to wait, to not jump the gun. But Zahra knows when her hug is a few seconds longer than usual. Dinner goes by nicely, though Zeek does make one comment, “So we’re not going to discuss the emotional breakdown or?”

“Shove your mouth with pasta or there’s gonna be another breakdown and not from me,” Ra smiles. 

Zeek huffs, “No need to take my head off, okay?”

Noor reaches over, holding Ra’s hand, while shoveling more food onto her fork. “Some of us know our manners,” she quips. 

Luke and you try to swallow the snickers. Your children did learn from the best. Zeek and Noor get excused from the table. You know the kitchen’s a mess but that can wait. Zahra looks up from her empty plate. “So, like, what if I said I wasn’t sure I was straight?” she asks all in one breathe. 

You blink for a second, all the air rushing out of your lungs, before you smile. “I would say I’m very happy you told me.”

She looks to Luke. He takes her hand between his palms. “I would say that I love you no matter what. Straight or not, you’re still my daughter and I love you dearly. And it’s mighty brave of you to admit that.”

Zahra blinks rapidly, eyes welling up again. “It’s--” her voice is thick, she takes a moment. “It’s strange. To always have known something was different with me. Not just skin color or religion. But like something different. I don’t have a label for it. And I tried to push it down, ya know? Not think about it amongst all the college application deadlines, and dances, and school work mixed in with my job. I just….it’s been too long for me not to say something.”

You hand her a napkin. She dabs under her eyes. “You don’t need a label, sweetie. You don’t have to be afraid of us. We will always love you.”

“Always?” she questions. 

“Of course,” you and Luke chorus. 

“So, on top of that, I also don’t think artsy is my thing, Dad. I like the idea of Med school.”

Luke grins, placing one hand over his heart, faking a groan of pain. “I still got two more shoots at one of my kids turning to the arts.”

Zahra laughs looking over to you. “Every Brown parent’s dream, isn’t it?”

You nod, laughter bursting out of you. “Maybe just a little bit. I don’t care what you do, just as long as you love it, sweetheart.”

“That’s really a one two punch,” Luke jokes, later as the three of you clean the kitchen. “Really breaking your old man’s heart.”

You slap his bicep. “Now’s not the time.”

Zahra hugs him though from behind, cheek squished by his back. “I figured if you guys could handle me being a giant question mark in the sexuality department then maybe changing from arts to sciences would be easier to swallow.”

Luke turns in her embrace, wrapping her up tightly. “Yeah, a good way to deliver the news.” You let your cheeks lift, watching Zahra happily rests in her father’s arms for a beat or two longer before going back to putting the dishes up. It’s no longer heaviness in her shoulders, she no longer drags. That makes you happy.

Not even two hours later though, there’s a knock at the door. Luke answers it, his laughter erupting from him. You watch as Harlowe comes barreling down the entryway, a rainbow flag in her hands. She wraps Ra up in as she hugs her, rocking them both side to side. “Welcome to the club!” Harlowe laughs. 

Calum, Te Koha, Esha and Nikau follow in slowly behind her. If you had to equate the two of you to weather, Harlowe is a hurricane and your just the run of the mill thunderstorms. But you wouldn’t have her any other way. Esha walks over, prying her mother away from her life long friend. “So, we’re going to pride together or what?” Esha jokes, giving Zahra a hug. Esha has been out as pan for a year now. Calum and Harlowe took her to a few pride events since then. 

Ra laughs, “Yeah, yeah I guess we can.”

Te Koha steps dish out a hug too. “That’s very brave and you. I’m proud,” he says quietly. Zahra and him are in the same boat, not straight, not gay, just questions, just queer. Te Koha has not said anything. She hopes this pushes him. You watch their silent conversation before Nikau hugs her too and it ends. 

“Momma brought you cake,” Nik informs to Ra. 

She laughs. “Of course, you did Auntie Harlowe. Only you.”

“I’ve been quiet for weeks! Weeks, I told you i would not say anything until you came out. But I hope you’re ready because now, I’m not holding back!” Harlowe laughs, walking into the kitchen. That’s when it comes evident that her rainbow clips are holding back her two-strand twists from her face. You laugh at the detail, but happily take the slice of cake she hands you. 

“Thank you,” you say to Harlowe as the kids chat in the background. Ra’s still wearing the flag. “Thank you for being there for her.”

“It’s what I’m here for. I do not take the title aunt loosely.”

“Clearly,” you mutter, motion to the cake and the flag. “You make that abundantly clear.”

[5amfries]

It’s so busy today! There’s only three people here with a cafe full of steadily frustrated people and you have to double as a barista and cashier.

You wonder how your going to through the rest of your shift as you complete the transaction for the woman in front of you and usher in the next customer.

When you look up to greet them, your smile falters momentarily, your eyes coming into contact with a broad chest, way wider than anything you’ve ever seen on another human.

You follow that strong line between this man’s pecs, very pronounced beneath his seemingly too tight, black turtleneck, up to his face. It felt like an eternity to get there, tilting your neck back farther back than expected, but when you do, you’re met with the scariest face imaginable.

Anger and impatience oozes from this man, sticks to the surface of your counter and leaks out of him like an overfilled bathtub. It almost appears as though the atmosphere around him is darkened in color.

Not only is his size encompassing, but his attitude as well.

He wears a deep set frown, lips twitching to hold back a snarl. Beneath his hat, he glares poison into you with his, otherwise very beautiful, aqua colored eyes. They promise nothing but violence.

The man is extremely frightening and yet you can’t look away. He has you trapped in place, until his lips parted to release a deep rumble of a voice.

“Excuse me.”

His thunder shakes you from your trance. It makes you jump a little. You blink and refocus, remembering that you have a job to do. You smile and hold your hand up to your register, ready to take the man’s order.

“Hi! Welcome to-” You begin, but are swiftly interrupted by another thunder strike.

“What’s taking so long?” The man asks, eyebrows furrowing even deeper.

“I’ve been waiting in line for ten minutes and there’s only been four other people in line.”

He pauses and takes a look around the cafe, before gesturing towards the crowd of people who fill it.

“And how long have these people been here? It’s absolutely ridiculous that I have to wait this long to get my order taken, then have to wait an hour on coffee.”

You’re taken aback by this man’s force, but quick to bounce back. This isn’t the first time you’ve dealt with a pissed off customer and it surely won’t be the last.

“Hey! Are you listening to me? Good grief…” The man commands once more. You try to shake the chill that runs down your spine as the man scoffs and rolls his eyes.

“Stupid bitch…” He mutters under your breath, but you catch it.

It’s a shot through the heart, brings a sting to your eyes. You didn’t deserve this grilling. This isn’t your fault and you and your coworkers are trying your collective best.

“… S-Sir, I’m sorry, but-” You start, but the man stops you again.

“No you’re not.” He snarls. “If you were, I wouldn’t be standing here wasting my life waiting to pay for overpriced coffee.”

Your fear and sadness flips at his words. Now, you are angry. The man’s bad mood has now taken you over, creeping up your arms and seeping through your skin.

You grind your teeth, clench your jaw and switch your weight to your left side.

It takes a great deal of power, but you return the man’s glare with a steady gaze of your own. You still had to keep a level of professionalism, even for the worst of assholes.

“I’m sorry that you had to wait for so long.” You reply, voice calm and neutral, but you can’t help the underlying annoyance that runs through it. You hope he doesn’t notice.

“As you can see, we are very backed up at the moment, and we’re trying our hardest to serve everyone properly.”

His scowl darkens more, if possible. “That’s not an excuse.”

You continue. “But it is the truth. We can only work so fast, our machines can work only so fast. If you still decide to stay with us, I cannot give you a definite time limit on when it will be done, but I can promise that it will be a high quality product.”

The man becomes silent, but doesn’t let up his glare. This time you challenge him and do the same. If this jerk had a problem, he could ask for your manager or leave. You prefer the latter.

The quicker he was out of not only your store, but your life, the happier you’d be. You never understood why people would take the time to complain and put workers down instead of simply leaving. You weren’t keeping him here.

After a long pause, the man pushes back his long, white coat and reaches into his pants pocket, roughly pulling out his black leather wallet. He takes six dollars out and slams it on the counter.

“Large vanilla latte. Extra shot. Make sure it’s soy. ’M lactose intolerant.”

The tension that had stiffened your body over the past few minutes resides slightly. You type in his order, then ask for his name.

“Jotaro.” He answers, turning away from you to head toward the lobby.

“Okay, your change-?”

“Don’t want it.”

With that, he leaves and sits in the far corner of the cafe, away from the swarming crowd.

Luckily, that man, Mr. Jotaro, was your last customer at the register, now it was time to return to the bar. You smirk as you pull a ticket. After this drink would be that man’s and you’d make sure that you made his drink and make it special.

♡

It’s been about an hour since the man ordered his latte.

He seemed to have been pacified well enough, having had no complaints the entire time he sat. Just sipping on his coffee as he flipped through whatever was on his tablet.

From time to time, you look up and check on him. You had mixed whole milk with the soy and added whipped cream and let it melt into it so he couldn’t tell. For someone so concerned about their intolerance, he didn’t seem to be too affected.

You sigh. It’s a solemn victory, but at least he’s quiet and you’ve survived the rush and that’s all that really matters.

♡

Jotaro’s sweating. It’s a mix of nerves, rage and his body counting down to it’s explosion.

His stomach’s been contracting and writhing beneath his skin. The combination of agonizing cramps and squirming worm-like acid that fills him has him throwing an internal fit.

Everything hurts! And the sickly belches he keeps rumbling in his throat bring nothing but a disgusting, burning aftertaste.

At this point, he’s desperate to touch. His abdomen is in dire need of a rub and a heating pad. He knows the real relief he’s searching for is in releasing the gas that’s been gradually building in him for the past hour.

He should have left the second he got his coffee. He looks over to the counter where he finds the barista he had chewed out earlier. Their eyes catch each other and the barista is quick to look back at whatever they’re doing.

He then looks back at his empty cup, stares at it with sudden interest. Did they… do something to his coffee. This wouldn’t be the first time he’s pissed someone off and they’ve retaliated.

Jotaro’s heart drops at the realization. He might have been a little too harsh. Maybe he deserved a spiked coffee.

A sudden dip in his stomach has him lurching forward. His jaw clenches, trying to hold back the pain from showing. There’s a loud ringing groan that follows the cramp.

It’s noticeable over the light music that twinkles throughout the building. The crowd that once filled the cafe has dispersed and now only he and two other customers reside there.

He’s lucky that they have earphones in to not hear. Discreetly, he brings his hand to his lap and rubs at his bloating belly.

It turns into a mistake as he pushes a pocket of air that rushes to his bowels and out of him in a airy fart. It ends on a bubbly note and it rolls off the wooden chair he sits in. The volume of it has him blushing.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. And yet, another escapes him immediately after, but louder this time. Jotaro stiffens, eyes wide as he takes another look around. The customers are still in their own world. The baristas are busy at work, their machines overpowering his noise level.

Okay, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. If he could just wait for a calm period and not shit himself when he stands, he’s home free.

His stomach roars and stabs him. He huffs a grunt and forces out another short but noisy burst.

And then another.

Jotaro frowns and looks down at his stomach, inwardly commanding it to stop. As if in defiance, it grumbles fiercely and brings up a belch that resembles a dragon. It rumbles on for way too long and is loud enough that the barista who put him in the situation looks up.

Their cheeks flush and they return to work in faux ignorance.

Jotaro sighs, leans into himself a little from subconscious embarrassment. If he could just-

A large bubble inside fills him and slips downwards. His hand flies to the bottom of his stomach. The pain’s intense to where he wants nothing but to get it out, society be damned.

He leans in farther, pressing and massaging his middle to coax out the monster inside. It doesn’t disappoint when it is released. Deep and wet sounding, it stretches on and on and actually burns him coming out.

Jotaro doesn’t need to smell it to know that this one’s going to be the one to alert the cafe of his dilemma, with the way it had decided to stew within him.

To add insult to injury, he burps, three times in succession, an alarm to those in his toxic zone. These bring attention from all of the baristas. They stop momentarily to look over at him, while the smell of his last blast has the customers around him looking up from their computers.

They have the familiar expression of disgust and confusion as they search for the cause.

It doesn’t take them long when Jotaro releases another rippling, sick sounding fart, that’s quickly followed by a neverending string of short blowouts.

“Sir, are you okay?” One of the baristas calls out, her face of concern and repulsion.

“Holy shit!” The youngest customer exclaims, his hands clasping over his face at record speed.

Jotaro rolls his eyes, holding back an annoyed huff. It was over now, no use in trying to hide. He sits back in his chair, his coat falling to his sides over his extended belly.

He claps a hand over its peak and lets a belch rattle inside his closed mouth.

His eyes cross over to the barista who served him. They still stare in shock. He can see the regret in their eyes. It almost makes him laugh.

“I’m fine.” He answers, blowing out another burp after.

His stomach rolls, bubbles fill him at a alarming rate. Yeah, he’s not going to make it.

Jotaro takes out his wallet and drops a hundred on the table, before picking up his things and putting it in his bag. He hopes the barista who did this knows it’s for them.

He stands, a continuous, bubbly moist expulsion leaving his backside.

“Your bathroom won’t be though.” He mutters as he storms towards the restroom, leaving the lobby with one last voluminous belch.

[gryffindorcls]

Alone

Hello, lovely readers!

This is the missing scene from Feast where Adrien has his Miraculous taken by Wayzz.

You can thank @flashflashitsash​ for giving me this idea.

Enjoy!

---

Adrien’s heart seized when Nathalie dropped the tablet on the museum floor.  It was an all too familiar sight that stirred unpleasant memories in the back of his mind.  When his father told him that she would be fine, a burning ache settled in the pit of his stomach.  By the time he entered his room and closed the door behind him, the numbness had returned.

He slumped on his piano bench and lazily dragged his hand across the keys.  Soon, the melody that emerged was one that contained every tear he was too tired to cry.  Disappointment had hardened him, but the song helped him feel again.

Adrien sighed as his eyes landed on a framed picture of his mother.

“Hey, why the long face?” a tiny, grating voice said, breaking him out of his reverie.

Adrien frowned.  “My mom used to have dizzy spells...just like Nathalie.  Father said those weren’t serious either.”

Plagg zipped in front of him and landed on the keys.  “How about a duet?”

“You play the piano?”

“My talents go way beyond sniffing out cheese, young man.”

Adrien’s eyes widened in amazement as his Kwami danced across the keys.  Within an instant, joy broke through the void in his mind, and he felt his fingers move to the tune.  Laughter filled his soul, and it was as if the sun itself had made a home in his heart.  Things didn’t feel quite so grim and empty anymore.  It almost felt like hope.  

It’d been a long time since he’d dared to let himself fully give into hopeful whims.  The last time he did, his heart had been broken.  Sure, his friends were amazing, and his lady was incredible...but an emptiness still remained.  No matter how many people he had in his life, at the end of the day, he was alone.  However, his Kwami was working hard to make him smile, and the warmth of companionship flooded his body.  Maybe he wasn’t so alone after all.

Adrien beamed.  “Mom’s the only one who could make me laugh like that!  Thank you, Plagg!”

Even though the rest of the evening was filled with routines and mundane tasks, Adrien’s world felt a little brighter.  Plagg had been with him for months, and he was finally starting to see how much they’d bonded in such a short amount of time.  The tiny black being was not just his friend...no.  Plagg was his family.  He was an unwavering source of love and support.  (Even though he got on Adrien’s nerves sometimes, Plagg had proven to be faithful and loyal...which was more than he could say about most people in his life.)

“Goodnight, Plagg,” Adrien whispered sleepily as his Kwami settled himself on the pillow next to him, “Thank you for always being there for me.”

Plagg yawned noisily.  “Anytime, kid.”

Within minutes, Adrien drifted off into a peaceful sleep.  It was one of those rare moments where the chaos of the world faded away, and he entered his own contented bubble.  His house may be cold and lonely, but being next to Plagg made him feel safe and warm.

It wasn’t often that he was graced with happy dreams, but tonight he dreamt of his mother meeting Plagg.  He laughed as the three of them talked and made jokes.  It was a simple dream, but Adrien longed for the normalcy of having his mother again.  In his mind, he could almost see the loving glimmer in Emilie’s eyes as she looked at him.  He could almost feel the warmth of her skin as she pulled him in for a hug.  He could almost hear the melodic tone of her voice when she spoke.

Even though the Emilie in his dreams felt like the whisper of memory when he interacted with her, Plagg’s presence was clear and strong.  It was as if Adrien was talking to him in real life.  The Kwami’s voice reverberated across his mind and filled him with a peace that usually did not come when he had dreams about his mother.

Suddenly, a soft fluttering and the sensation of something brushing against his hand caused his eyes to flick open.  A piece of discarded camembert took Plagg’s place on the adjacent pillow.  As Adrien reached for the paper, something felt off.  His hand was too light...too empty.

Upon noticing that his ring was missing, everything inside of Adrien stopped.  His mind went blank, and all the air left his lungs.  He felt as if he’d been hit by a sixteen wheeler.

Hastily, he grabbed the paper and began to read.

“Dear Adrien,

You’re a most incredible Chat Noir, but I cannot let you and Ladybug risk your lives to fix the mistake I made.  I hope you can forgive…”

Adrien crumpled the letter in a clenched fist.  He didn’t want to read anymore.  He knew what it meant...Plagg was gone.  

The hope he’d fallen asleep with turned to ice in his veins.  His breath came back to him in short bursts, and he dropped the paper on his bed.  He grabbed a pillow and hugged it close to his chest.  Tears brimmed in his eyes as he tried to face his new reality.

“I’m alone again.  He’s gone.  No more Chat Noir.  No more Ladybug.  No more Plagg.  Just me...just me...just me...”

As he watched the paper disappear in a flash of green light, a cry escaped his throat.  Tears ran down his cheeks and stained the pillow in his arms.  Adrien’s sobbing quickly became uncontrollable.  He couldn’t breathe.  He couldn’t live like this.  He couldn’t go back to the way things used to be.  He had to do something.

He attempted to calm himself down by taking several deep breaths, but every gasp felt like fire in his lungs.  His chest felt tight and the room started to spin.  He was beginning to fall apart, but he knew he needed to clear his mind...otherwise, he’d be stuck without his Miraculous forever.

If this was happening to him, he assumed that it must be happening to Ladybug, as well.  She probably had a plan.  His lady was good with plans.

“I just need to find her,” he thought.

The thought of Ladybug springing into action without her Miraculous began to flush the coldness away from his core.  A small glimmer of hope began to resurface, and the sobs that racked his body began to subside.  He could once again feel the coolness of the night air fill his lungs.  Slowly, his thoughts begin to settle.  Tears still flowed freely down his face, but he was now able to stand on his feet.

“With or without the Miraculous, I’m still Chat Noir, and Ladybug is still my lady.  I have to help her fix this.”

Now that the panicked haze had lifted from his mind, he remembered the piles of safety gear he had buried in his closet.  The pads and helmets were meant to be used with his zipline, climbing wall, and ramp.  Much to Nathalie’s chagrin, he never used the gear, but tonight seemed like the perfect opportunity to start.

Adrien stumbled over to his closet and pulled on a helmet and knee pads.  He looked in the mirror and realized that his identity was fully exposed.  As much as he would love to tell Ladybug who he was, he knew that now was not the appropriate time.

He dug further into his closet until he spotted a mass of bright yellow.  A mischievous grin spread across his tear-stained face as he held up the banana suit.

“Perfect,” he mumbled out loud.

He quickly put on the costume and checked himself again in the mirror.  Adrien nodded at his reflection, ran to the window, and scaled the mansion wall.

After climbing over the wall that surrounded his home, he landed on the sidewalk and quickly scanned his surroundings.  He spotted a man riding down the street with a scooter.

“Excuse me, sir!” he yelled in an attempt to get the man’s attention.

The man gave him a confused look.  “Uh, yes?”

“I know you may not believe me, but this is an emergency.  I’m Chat Noir, and something bad has happened.  I think Paris may be in danger, and I need to get to Ladybug quickly.  May I borrow your scooter?”

“Ummm...okay.  Is this one of those prank shows?”

“No, sir.  It is not.  I promise to return it as soon as I can.”

The man reluctantly handed over his scooter, and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief.

“Thank you, sir.” Adrien reached out and took the scooter from the man’s hands.

Before the man was able to answer, Adrien hopped onto the scooter and rode off into the night.  He weaved expertly through traffic and soon came upon a large, blue monster chasing Master Fu.  He pushed his foot harder against the pavement with each movement.  He had to get to his Kwami, but he knew he was going to need help.

A girl in a skintight suit and a helmet whizzed around the corner on a bike.  She was hunched over in determination, and she looked like she was on a mission.  Adrien knew this was his partner.  He prided himself on being able to spot her even without their Miraculouses.  He now knew that if anything happened like this in the future, he would always have his lady by his side.

More hope began to crack through the barrier in his mind.  “Maybe this means that one day I will be able to find her without the helmet on, as well...NO.  Stop, Adrien.  You’re here to get back Plagg.  There will be plenty of time for that kind of stuff later!”

In an attempt to cover up the tears and panic from only moments before, he spoke using his most cheerful voice.  “Hi there, Bugaboo!”

“Cat Noir?  Is that you?” she asked with surprise lacing her tone.  

“Of course, it is.  Who else would you expect by your side?”

“Isn’t that costume of yours a little unsafe?”

“That’s definitely my lady,” he thought to himself.

“Only on the outside,” he quipped, “I have a helmet and pads on under my banana peel.”

She scoffed.  “If you call me “Bugaboo” one more time, I’m going to start calling you BanaNoir.”

“As you wish, Bugaboo.”

As the pair began to move even faster towards their target, the world began to brighten once again.  Adrien began to see that there was more than just one source of hope in his life.  He never had to be alone again.  His Miraculous didn’t set him free...he set himself free.  All he had to do was keep hoping for a better tomorrow.

It was at this moment that Adrien made the decision to see beyond the confines of his civilian life.  He didn’t just have to be Chat Noir when he was transformed.  He could be an everyday hero outside the mask, as well.  He’d seen his friends stand up for others countless times.  He didn’t need magic to make himself strong...he just needed to be himself.  If people like Marinette could be and “everyday Ladybug”, then he could be an “everyday Chat Noir”.  Because he actually was the holder of the Black Cat Miraculous, he should be able to achieve that more easily than others.

A wave of confidence consumed him...it was the kind of confidence he typically felt exclusively when he was transformed.  Civilian-Adrien wasn’t weak.  If he was, then he would never have been chosen to be Chat Noir.

He looked at Ladybug peddling next to him and felt a rush of joy.  She was able to identify him the moment he spoke.  He knew that they would always be partners...with or without the masks.  While she didn’t reciprocate his romantic feelings (for now), Ladybug still cared about him.  He was safe.  He was loved.  He wasn’t alone.

Now all he needed to do was get back his Kwami and help save the day.

He grinned and focused his mind on the mission at hand.  “I’m coming, Plagg.”

AO3

FanFiction

---

Thank you for reading!

[aelaer]

300

Tumblr’s algorithm picked up my last whumptober post and that unexpectedly rocketed me up to over 300 followers (welcome new folks, I haven’t had a chance to even look at y’all yet). But really it’s quite flattering. (I think at least 10% of them are pornbots, but beggars can’t be choosers.)

So I guess in uh, celebration/woohoo, I’m just gonna post snippets from my WIPs (outside of the whumptober ones as those are coming out in the next couple days) which… well, it’s something. :3 Yes it all has to do with Stephen, I’m going one-trick-pony mode right now and it’s a friggin blast.

This is long and has WIPs of art too, so cut cut cut bellllooww.

The farking Doctor Strange/Sherlock crossover that’s been at 80% complete since July and still has no title

However, before Sherlock got caught up into the cloak once again, he forced his eyes to the man’s hands. A lot could be discovered by someone’s hands.

And what hands they were. His eyes involuntarily widened at the sight of the ragged, and in some places hypertrophic scars on the back side of each finger. He quickly looked to the other hand; they were there, too. Clearly they were crushed in some sort of accident, but an accident that left him upright and without any hint of a limp. It was possible that they were caught in some sort of machinery, but both at the same time? Statistically speaking, a car accident was more likely. A car accident that damaged the bonnet of the car and crushed his fingers between the steering wheel and the dashboard, more than likely leaving permanent nerve damage. Unfortunate.

The age of the scars showed that they were healed over, but their nature made it difficult to determine how long ago they were received. With the overall lack of fading, however, it was likely that the damage occurred within the last few years. He could not see his palms and determine anything from there, but the callus upon his right middle finger determined which hand he wrote with. Or once wrote with, at any rate. His hands could certainly be worthy of further study, if only to attempt to determine their surgical history.

Upon his left wrist was, of all things, a wristwatch. He narrowed his eyes. It was a Jaeger-LeCoultre and it was not a counterfeit by any means, but it was not a model he recognized. It looked very similar to the Master Ultra Thin Moon only just released; was this an early prototype for a new model? Even as the question fluttered through his mind, he immediately chastised himself for his stupidity. There was clear wear on the band that spoke of it being worn for years, never mind the cracked face. 

Custom-made, he eventually concluded, though even that answer did not quite sit right with him. Regardless, it spoke of a man who had wealth— or used to, in any case. The wear and damage on the watch told a new picture now, but he seemed to still be connected to some form of influence. His clothing was of a very rich quality, and that was not including the unique cloak. Perhaps he was now connected with someone in the Greater Tibetan area, or someone of wealth in the Indian subcontinent. Or from there, at any rate. 

He let his eyes go up the length of the man’s sleeves. Cloth bands decorated the forearms of his otherwise seemingly-plain shirt, likely made of wool and hemp. He indulged himself and studied the embroidery on the edge of the cloak again. He received no further information concerning its origin and make beyond what he had already determined, but there was something about it that was absolutely enchanting.

But enough lingering; he finally turned his body to lay on his side and brought his eyes up to meet the bearer of this very odd ensemble of attire.

And he saw himself.

Within the Shadows (villain!AU) sequel that finalllyyy has a title, Inhibited Lodgings (I think this one is about at 85%! So soooonnnn)

When one of the nurses came in with dinner, Stephen hardly acknowledged him. The nurse set the tray on the overbed table and, after a quick, “Eat while it’s hot!” left the room.

Stephen ignored it. He continued his obsessive perusal of the tablet, shaky fingers managing to steady enough to click link after link after link.

Stark came in an hour later and the tray was still untouched. He quirked his brows up. “Y'know Doc, if you don’t eat, Doctor Cho is going to be very stern with you and you’ll feel terrible after that.”

He raised his head from the tablet at the sound of Stark’s voice, blinking. “What?” He then looked at the tray of food. “Oh… right. I forgot that was brought in.” He looked at the now stone-cold chicken and broccoli with a small grimace.

“I’ll have them make you another plate. Send that info up, FRI.” Stark sunk into one of the chairs beside the bed. “What has you so distracted, anyway?”

Stephen turned the tablet around to show him his screen, which had a list of all the Billboard Hot 100 and Billboard 200 for all genres in 2011. “I only considered yesterday that there might be differences in music between my reality and this one. A check to see if my favorite artists existed here turned into something of a full day project.”

Stark was clearly interested. “No kidding. Did you find any differences?”

“Dozens. In some ways it’s amazing that it’s only that many across hundreds of artists and songs, but I cannot imagine not having Rocky’s training montage paired with ‘Eye of the Tiger.’ ”

“I know I’ve seen a couple of those films, but I couldn’t tell you the name of any training song off the top of my head,” he said. “But I’d probably remember a song with that name.”

He nodded. “Exactly! I can live without the 'Macarena’ and 'Kung Fu Fighting’, but that song made that sequence legendary.”

Stark’s lips twitched in amusement. “I’ll take your word for it. Anything particularly good from your reality that you found missing?”

“I’m still debating if losing all of Journey’s discography is worth never having to hear 'Don’t Stop Believing’ again.”

Time Travel Pseudo!villain Stephen aka Freakin Carmen Sandiego (yes, this is gonna happen. But it’s not happening until those two above are completed, and it’ll be written concurrently with the rest of the villain!Stephen series, as I suspect it will be on the longer side. The outline’s 4 pages long…)

He walked over and crossed his arms as Bruce replayed the video; it was definitely a better quality than the pixelated mess of everything else he’d seen so far. Even with the high-definition, though, the man’s fully-black outfit made him difficult to see against the night sky, and his face was completely covered by what looked like both a mask and hood. He’d be all-but-invisible without the glowing lights all around him. A gasp suddenly ran through the crowd, and the camera swiveled to look at the Palace of Westminster, now bereft of the tower. A few shouts then broke through, and the camera footage swung back to the night sky, but the man was gone.

“Where’d he go?” Tony asked as he leaned over Bruce and pressed both the replay and mute button.

“Uh, according to witnesses, after Elizabeth Tower vanished, he darted under the bridge— probably at the end with the screaming there— and disappeared.”

“I thought that was Big Ben,” he muttered, pressing replay again.

Bruce shook his head. “No, Big Ben’s the bell in Elizabeth Tower. I knew someone in college— British— who got rather annoyed over that misnomer. Really annoyed, actually.” He made a face to himself.

Tony, however, was busy squinting at a bit of the footage he had paused. “Does it look like he has a sort of— something— on his chest?”

The physicist leaned in and squinted alongside him. “Yeah. I’d say it almost looks like one of your arc reactors, but I don’t think your arc reactors do this.”

“But it could still be a power source,” Tony answered. 

“Definitely,” Bruce answered. “It looks almost like he’s pulling from it.”

“That makes no sense, but a lot of this alien tech is nothing like anything that exists on Earth right now. I’d be interested in figuring out how it works.”

Bruce continued to peer at it. “So would I,” he said. “If you can keep it from S.H.I.E.L.D long enough to do so.”

Tony makes a face. “They have the scepter to play with. They can have it when I’m done.”

“You’re going to have to catch him first,” he pointed out.

“Pshh, after Loki, this’ll be easy-peasy. We’ll have him caught within two days.”

ARTS (just the two Stephens for now)

I didn’t have time last weekend to work on digital Stephen, but he’s still a lot farther ahead than when I last posted here sooooooo. (I won’t have time this weekend either, so… he’ll come sooner or later).

Annddd I figured out what my ugly yellow corner square is gonna be. I’m doing fan art for a fan fic like a real nerd. Bringing out the prismacolors again. Right now I’m still in the ‘messing around with line art’ phase. I plan to do this while I’m at tabletop gaming on Sundays.

And that’s that for WIPs. Now I need to go work on ficlets.