#and she talks to herself a lot…. just a side effect from a century living in isolation. and again if someone asks her wtf she’s doing

[swordmaid]

shri’iia not being used to the vastness of the sky always looking up and glaring at it from time to time, starts wondering what it would be like if the sky collapses or she gets sucked into it somehow, immediately spooks herself, runs off to a shade while muttering to herself in drowic.

[galedekarios]

Idk if you’ve been asked before but what are your thoughts on EARLY early access Gale? The Gale that has bandages on his arm in some early promotional art? There’s an old Auntie Ethel vicious mockery line for him: “I can smell what’s under those bandages wizard! You’re all rot and ruin.” I always wondered if the orb was originally going to have nastier side effects. Like it was making Gale fall apart slowly OR maybe Gale was trying to become a Lich to better handle the orb before being abducted by the mind flayers so he’s in this half alive and undead state when Tav meets him. I feel like that last one would explain the necrotic damage he emits when he dies better. Anyways those are just two tiny details that I roll around in my mind from time to time. I might be thinking too deeply about it. Maybe the writers just wanted to figure out a way to show how much the orb was hurting Gale and the bandages were a start but for some reason they decided against it.

i loved early access gale. there were a lot of uncharitable reads / bad faith takes about him back then, ranging from him being the secret bbeg, the ultimate and guaranteed betrayer, the absolute, to being myrkul because he had a triangles on the robe he was wearing (no, i'm not joking), etc etc etc.

personally, i always loved his character, though, and found him the most interesting and intriguing out of the companions.

overall, i think that he's not that much changed - however, as with all companions and a lot of the npcs, some things have been whittled down or away entirely by larian due things like fandom feedback, but that's a discussion for another time.

i don't subscribe to the lich idea myself, because i think that's not something that gale would want for himself for a multitude of reasons. having said that, however, i always enjoyed this theory:

so, early access gale had this key art, which is still one of my favourites:

left hand wrapped in bandages, the almost stone-like texture of what little you can see of his skin.

adding to that, as you also mentioned, ethel had these vicious mockery lines for gale:

Auntie Ethel: I can smell what's under those bandages, wizard. You're all rot and ruin.

and

Auntie Ethel: Come to greet death early? You'll be a lovely spectacle.

to add to this, this was the way gale talked about the orb and what he thought it was, as well as karsus:

Player: I was wondering about that “mighty lord” you told me about in your story. Gale: Ah, yes. Karsus Karsus was perhaps the most powerful wizard that ever lived. The child-who-would-be-a-god, the elves called him. And he tried. With a spell of his own devising he endeavoured to usurp in one fell swoop the power of the goddess of magic.  Mystryl, she was called then. Imagine what it must have felt like. To be a god. To know yourself to be untouchable. To be mistaken. As Karsus aimed his spell at her she began to unravel, and with her, the entire Weave. Too late did he realize what he had unleashed. It would have been the end of everything had not Mystryl sacrificed herself.  Gale: The goddess of magic is all magic. By dying, the entire weave was lost, and the spell that challenged a god failed. It was the end of Mystryl, the end of Karsus, and the end of an entire civilization. As the child-who-would-be-a-god was turned to stone, his empire came crashing down around him. The floating cities of Netheril were no more. An event that came to be known as Karsus' folly. Player: So at that moment in time, all magic was gone?  Gale: For a spell. Mystyl was reborn as Mystra. Upon her return, the Weave returned with her.  Gale: Now, so many centuries later, I tried to follow in the footsteps of Karsus, not to destroy Mystra, but to prove my love for her. I tried to control only a fraction of the magic that was unleashed that fateful day. I merely sought to return one tiny diamond to an imperfect crown. Gale's Folly one might call it. History. Repetition. It's the way things go.

some of this is still in the game.

more lore about karsus's folly:

Unfortunately, his choice was a terrible mistake, for one of the responsibilities of the deity of magic was to regulate the flow of magic to and from all beings, spells, and magic items in the world. Lacking the ability to do so properly, magic surged and fluctuated. With her last remaining bit of power, Mystryl sacrificed herself to block Karsus's access to the Weave, causing all magic to fail. The flying cities of Netheril plummeted to the earth. The severing of the link also killed Karsus and transformed him into stone, and the last thing he saw was his entire civilization being destroyed because of his actions. This was to be known as Karsus's Folly. The stone form of Karsus eventually landed in a part of the High Forest, now called the Dire Wood.[8] The city of Karse was built around its base. Karsus was never accepted as a petitioner by any god, nor did he go to the Fugue Plane when he died. Instead, his soul was bound to the Material Plane. Those with experience in pact magic could call up his vestige, where he appeared as a giant blood-red boulder,[5] like the one found in the High Forest where his petrified form landed.[8] Blood burbles up from the top of the stone, trickling down the side facing the summoner, pooling at the base. [x]

there are also lines of gale referring to this corruption he carries within as a "taint" and a "shadow", corrupting him "within", affecting his blood as well (another thing that carried over to release).

i think what might have been originally planned (and again, some of this did carry over) is that the orb not only affected gale's magic, but also his body even more severely (it still does to an extent in the release version even though this part is very, very sadly almost entirely glossed over).

putting all of this together, i think that by absorbing a part of that magic unleashed on the day of karsus's folly - the failed magic, the severing of it, karsus turning into stone, petrifying him - might have affected gale in a similar, albeit weaker fashion.

"history. repetition. it's the way things go."

karsus's folly.

gale's folly.

perhaps as the game continued this petrification might have spread, from his hand, up his arm, to his shoulder, and on, either by leaning onto the darker aspects, or by the treatment failing (the consumption of powerful pieces of weave).

maybe that concept was then turned from petrification, to a sort of corruption/rotting that ethel referred to in her lines.

either way, it would have been interesting to see, for sure.

[vikkirosko]

Some time ago, I found a comic in which Charlie sang a song about setting fire to a studio using just one hand, and I wanted to write something inspired by this comic. That's how this oneshot appeared.The format is also a bit unusual for me and differs from how I usually write oneshots, so this can be considered, in a sense, an experiment

🕷 Angel Dust x male!Reader Oneshot I'm sorry, I burned down the studio 💖

Over the centuries, you've watched the Pride Ring change. Sinners were replaced, and the city itself was replaced, becoming more and more a city saturated with vice. Perhaps you would have stopped visiting this place long ago, but for the sake of your precious friend, you were ready to stay there.

You and Charlie have known each other, perhaps, since you were born. Your families were friends and thanks to this, you two were able to become friends. Your parents were only happy about this, seeing how the princess has a beneficial effect on your short-tempered character, and she herself became bolder next to you. So you have remained loyal allies of each other for many years. And it was to you that she turned when the idea of creating a hotel in which sinners could atone for their sins appeared in her head.

Did you believe in her idea? Not very much. But you would never have told her that. You knew perfectly well how much she was worried that sinners died in Hell every year at the hands of angels, and since she decided to create a hotel, then you were ready to help her no matter how. You and Vaggie were by her side and supported her, so you were able to get along, but most of all you seemed to be interested in the first guest of the hotel, Angel Dust.

You didn't care who he worked for. You've lived in Hell too long to worry about such little things, but the more you talked, the more you realized that he was an interesting conversationalist, he had his own special sense of humor, which you liked and his courage seemed charming to you. Charlie was the first one who decided to ask you if you were in love, and it was her words that helped you realize exactly what you felt for a sinner. You really fell in love without expecting this from yourself, but you didn't want to lose this feeling. It was too warm and pleasant for you to try to get rid of it.

You knew perfectly well that Angel had problems that he didn't tell anyone about, and your assumption was only confirmed when your best friend returned from the studio in tears. You were too busy trying to calm her down that time, and she wouldn't let you leave, knowing that you could get angry. Even when you and Angel talked about it later, he didn't tell you what really happened, just saying that he didn't want you to get into trouble because of him. But he didn't even realize that his words were an additional incentive for you to find out about everything that really happened. That's why you followed him to the studio the next time he went there, after receiving another message from Valentino.

No one dared to stop you when you went to the set. You perfectly saw the fear in the eyes of the sinner who was telling you exactly where to go. In another situation, it would have amused you, but right now you were too busy with your little mission to pay attention to it.

You opened the door with a bang, not even intending to hide your presence, and immediately felt a lot of eyes fixed on you. The shocked stares of the employees, the frightened look that belonged to Angel, and the Valentino's angry look. You obviously prevented the start of filming, which was just to your advantage. The last thing you wanted to do was get there in the middle of the action.

"What the fuck?! Who let this bastard in here?!"

You saw perfectly well how angry overlord was, but you didn't care about it. Something else caught your attention. A bruise on Angel's face. You walked up to him, ignoring the others, and spoke with concern on your face.

"Did he do this?"

"You need to leave... Please..."

You gently stroked his cheek and smiled affectionately.

"Don't worry about me, I'm a big boy and I can stand up for myself, you better answer my question."

Instead of words, he just nodded, after which you straightened up and turned to Valentino. Overlord has been watching you, shocked by your audacity. No one dared to treat him so disdainfully, but you acted like you didn't even know who he was. You were either very brave or very stupid.

He wanted to pull out a gun and shoot you, but before he could even reach for the weapon, he collided with your gaze. You were smiling like something very good had happened. The next moment, fire broke out in different parts of the room, engulfing the equipment and part of the scenery.

Angel looked at your back in shock. He remembered how the princess once said that you were a demon, you were born in Hell and had, as she put it, a short temper, but he could not have imagined that she was talking about it so literally. He saw sparks flying from your fingers and the fire only flared up more, while there was no fire around the bed on which he was sitting.

Attempts to put out the fire did nothing, but you felt more and more the evil fun that had not been in your life for a long time. Charlie didn't like it when you hurt someone and for a long time your fire couldn't be released, but now you had a completely objective reason why you stopped holding back. You were angry and you weren't going to put up with it.

Valentino understood that you were the cause of the fire, so he rushed towards you, intending to hit you, but you grabbed his arm. A second later, Val let out a cry of pain, pulling his hand away. There was a severe burn on his skin, and there was a wide, joyful smile on your face.

"Don't you know that you shouldn't touch fire with your hands?"

You laughed like you'd said the funniest joke in history, and Valentino was furious. He retreated only because of another flash of fire, which was your fault. The fire was only getting stronger and he needed to focus on preventing the spread of the fire. Everyone was running around trying to do something, and you kept smiling, starting to hum some melody that turned into a little song that only angered Valentino more.

"I'm so sorry~

So sorry~

That I burned down your damn studio, bitch!"

You laughed again, turning easily to Angel. You took off your coat, threw it over his shoulders, then picked him up in your arms and walked away.

"It's time to go home, your work is obviously canceled for today."

The fire parted in front of you like the Red Sea in front of Moses, and finally you took a look at Valentino, who was furious at how helpless he felt at that moment.

"I'll be back, I hope I don't have to burn you alive to get the Angel's contract."

You left without regretting anything you did. You knew that as soon as you got in the car, Angel would scream, because what you did was reckless, you knew that when you returned to the hotel you would have a very long conversation with Charlie and Vaggie, but you were ready to burn out both Hell and Heaven if it was necessary to protect those who is dear to you. And Angel, although he didn't know about your feelings for him yet, he was already one of the most dear people to you.

[bonkleton]

Punk Phlex by AtomicBundle

The Malleable Munitions Merchant, Phoebe "Phlex" Lexton and her bullet-drum banjo! In the ruins of the Great Classwar, among the rough-living folk living in the wastes between the Habitat Pods used by the Elites, if you need a gun, bullets, bombs, or other implements of mayhem, there's one lady east of the Hudson Seaway you need to talk to - Phlex! She also goes by Phoebe, Lexton, "Lex," or even just "Stretch" but in a world where the majority of survivors are Bendies, that last one doesn't mean a lot. She's one of the oldest of those outside the Pods, apparently a hero from the Propaganda War days a couple centuries back, and she's got the stories to prove it. Get her talking and give her time to get her banjo, which she made herself out of parts from an old minigun, and she can certainly spin a tale! She's not much of a fighter herself these days, since she's one of the softer type of Bendies, and she says thanks to the radiation of the nukes used in the Classwar, she's not as tough as she used to be. But her fighting spirit lives on in her work as an armorer! One might say that she fights with other people's fists, protecting and providing for the on-Elites just trying to make a living in this harsh world. The four-armed Robbin, Nadia, also calls her "auntie" but most aren't sure why. Phoebe says she once had sisters, but she's never talked about Nadia's mother, so the relationship between them is unclear. Her stretchable suit seems to be a leftover from the pre-Classwar days, and from the rips and oil-stains, it's clearly been well-used! Phoebe has leaned into the aesthetic, however, to great effect, her contemporaries agree! I commissioned AtomicBundle to make a full-body version of the previous Punk Phlex design from a couple years ago, and he really knocked it out of the park! The colors are super good, the line work is clean as can be, and while Phoebe is a bit on the cute side here style-wise, it still captures her essence well. :) Hope you enjoy! ~ Bonkie

Posted using PostyBirb

[blam-marie]

SwordBright - 3

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Katarina entered her bedroom and gently closed the door behind her, still somewhat bewildered. SwordBright was acting oddly, she thought, which in all honesty might have been the understatement of the century.

They’d never showed up to her apartment before, for one. In the year or so they’d known each other, as superhero and super villain, they’d never even had what you could call a pleasant chat. Oh, they’d bantered a lot, and trash talked each other with the affection and respect that came with knowing that this other person was going to become your great Nemesis. But it had always been work-related. They’d never interacted witch each other in their civilian clothes before, and Karry hadn’t expected the hero to even so much as recognize her without the makeup and the fangs. No one ever had.

Granted, she would recognize SwordBright anywhere, but that came with the territory, being what she was. Karry was a vampire in the same way as hot fudge was a gravy; only in a very technical sense, and the comparison was mildly upsetting. But she did have an excellent sense of smell, and SwordBright smelled like no one else that she had ever encountered.

They smelled good, that bastard.

And now they were puttering in her apartment, no doubt spreading their smell all around, touching all of her magical items without even being affected by them, and Karry snarled at the thought. She wrenched open her closet and quickly grabbed the darkest, most intimidating dress that she could find. She slithered into it, then grabbed a blood red chocker off her desk and tied it around her throat. She considered taking a minute to put on some makeup, perhaps some crimson lipstick or light foundation to conceal her deathly pallor, then changed her mind. She didn’t want to look like she was putting in effort to appear presentable, not when it was them who was trespassing on her territory.

Although she did admit their very presence here made her curious. The very fact that they not only knew where she lived but had also known how to get the elevator to take them there lent credence to their unlikely time travel story.

She’d been so stunned when she’d opened the door, truth be told, that she’d completely forgotten to just kill them on the spot, which should have been her first reaction. By the time she’d gathered herself, curiosity had also reared its ugly head, and now she was somewhat invested in this strange tale they were bringing to her.

She was having the weirdest day, to be quite honest. She’d been snapped awake less than an hour earlier by a strong wave of magic invading her body, leaving her tingling and breathless. She hadn’t felt magic like that in centuries, and had revelled in it. It had drowned her in waves of bliss and contentment, and she had luxuriated in it without question, too overwhelmed to care as to its source.

By the time she’d managed to catch her breath, there SwordBright was, knocking at her door as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Her toes were still curling a little on the cold floor, the after-effect of the magic not quite done dissipating, but she didn’t have the time to deal with it. She swooped down the corridor and stormed into her living room, where the hero quickly snatched their hand away from a priceless (and very cursed) vase on a side table.

Karry glared at them and crossed her arms. It was midly off-putting to see her Nemesis without their helmet, looking so young and fresh without the bravado that having their sword in hand seemed to inspire in them. Out of their leather jacket, in nothing but a soft red t-shirt, they looked more like some confused teenager had wandered off the street. They were wearing combat boots, their hands were heavily covered with rings, and their soft brown hair was curling over their ears. They looked like some baby punk that should be at home, listening to that godawful korean pop music that was so popular right now and saving for a tattoo, not out in the street saving the world. Or worse, standing in the middle of a vampire’s apartment without even having the decency to look ashamed about it.

“Out with it, then.”

SwordBright looked at her, hesitated, then bit their lips. “I don’t know where to begin,” they finally admitted softly.

She rolled her eyes. “You had a lot to say in the corridor. How about you start at the beginning? Why are you here?”

They shifted a bit on their feet, and then seemed to take a decision, and sank down into her leather couch, arms and legs akimbo like a doll whose strings had been cut. They rubbed both hands down their face, and then let out a strangled, slightly hysterical laugh.

“It’s a long story,” they said. “But basically a Tyrant is going to rise to power and then end the world and I need your help to stop him.”

She blinked. “I’m going to need more than that. Help you how? And why me?”

They removed their hands from their face, and stared at her for what seemed like several long minutes. Their expression was… odd. Karry didn’t know how to read it, and she shifted uneasily on her feet. Even their aura was opaque in a way that she had seldom seen an human be able to achieve. Finally, SwordBright looked away.

“Do you have any coffee? Or something stronger?” they mumbled.

She might have felt offended at being ordered around her own house, but the mood here had taken such a sudden drop toward something heavy and uncomfortable that she crossed through the room without a word.

She busied herself in the kitchen, starting her fancy coffee machine and looking for mugs.

“You’re the most powerful person I know,” came the hero’s voice from the living room, quiet as if they hadn’t really meant for her to hear it. “Too powerful.”

She put both mugs on the counter, then reached for the small metal tin that was hiding at the very back of the cupboard. Gingerly, Karry added some cyanide powder to SwordBright’s mug then swirled the liquid with a disposable straw that she then tossed into the trash. They’d be immune to it, probably, as they were to everything else, but it was the principle of the thing. You just didn’t have coffee with your Nemesis without at least paying lip service to the idea of trying to kill them. It was in the Super Villain’s handbook or something.

She brought the coffee back to the living room, and SwordBright took their cup gratefully. Their hands did not brush, and yet Katarina felt a shiver go through her anyway at the small smile they gave her. She sat on the furthest chair away from them.

“So, a Tyrant,” she said, trying to regain control of the situation. She felt like everything was slipping out of her fingers. This should not happen. She was the Vampire Queen. She should have killed them already. “And how does that concern me?”

They shifted on the couch, blowing on their coffee but not yet taking a sip. “He’ll end the world. I mean, maybe not. But he’ll be responsible for the death of pretty much everyone in North America. I don’t know about the rest of the world, but. I know you don’t want that. I mean, you need people to worship you, don’t you? That can’t happen if everyone’s dead.”

Karry froze in the act of taking a sip, then forced herself to continue the movement lest the hero notice something amiss. Need people to worship her, they’d said, not want. That was a distinction that most people didn’t bother to make when trying to assert her motivation. That was too close to the truth of her for comfort. And yet, she could see in their eyes that they knew perfectly well what they’d just said. Worse, that there was more they weren’t saying.

“What’s your plan, then?” she asked, watching them carefully over the rim of her cup. “You want to stop the Tyrant how?”

They licked their lips, then took a sip of their coffee. Their eyes lit up, and they looked down a it in surprise.

“Oh, that’s good! Did you add anything to this? A flavoured syrup?”

She frowned. “I asked you a question.”

“Speaking of questions, and coffee, you wouldn’t happen to know if I’m working at Timmies right now, would you? Only, I don’t remember very well, this was thirty years ago but I still don’t want to be fired…”

“Stop changing the subject, SwordBright.”

“Oh,” they said, with a fake laugh and a wave, “you can call me Oasis, you know…”

“Oasis. Stop stalling.”

Their grin froze, and then they deflated, sinking down into the couch cushions. They put their coffee mug on the table, and then rubbed a hand down their face. When they looked at her again, they looked weary. Something in their eyes was old and tired, and it was a look that did not sit well on their young face.

“The Tyrant would be about eleven years old now,” they said, inflecting theirs words as if it was the beginning of a sentence, but then not adding anything to it.

“… and?”

Their eyes flickered, as if they wanted to look away but then forced themselves to hold her gaze. They set their jaw.

“And I always felt that if you have the chance to kill baby Hitler, then you should take it. Morals be damned.”

She blinked and reared back. They weren’t joking. She took a peek at their aura, just to make sure, and it was blacker than she’d ever seen from them. She almost fell off of her chair. They weren’t supposed to be dark, and in pain. They were SwordBright.

 They’d said they were from the future, a dark and terrible one, but this was the first time in this conversation that she truly believed it.

“That’s not something I thought I’d ever hear you say,” she remarked flippantly, trying to regain control of the conversation. “New policy?”

“No,” they said, and then apparently ran out of whatever determination they had had to hold her gaze. Their eyes slid away and landed on their abandoned coffee cup. “I always felt like that. Like sometimes violence is required to save the world. It’s just that… When the time came to act, I used to always chicken out. I was…”

They trailed off, and rubbed a hand on their face again. “I was so young. The ‘me’ you know now was a coward. When there was the need for it, I couldn’t start a riot, I couldn’t punch a cop in the face, I couldn’t bring myself to deviate from the expected ‘good superhero’ behaviour. But then the world got really bad, and there was basically a war in the streets. I had to step up. Eventually peaceful solutions just stop working, you know? But even then, I failed.”

There was a short pause. Oasis reached out and touched their mug, running their hand over the rim like the gesture comforted them somewhat. They still looked like they had more to say, like they were considering their words with the utmost seriousness, and Karry resolved to wait them out.

“And even now I’m not sure I can kill baby Hitler, even though the Tyrant will destroy millions of lives,” they continued after a while. “But the world’s running out of time. There’s something that’s going to happen this year. I don’t know what, or when, but in every interview he always said that what set him on his path happened when he was eleven. The media used to think that he meant his interest in politics, but I think he meant his will to take over the world. Whatever it is that will make him the Tyrant, it’s going to happen soon. I have to stop him before that happens. I don’t know yet what form it’ll take, if I’ll have to… I don’t know. But I’ll do whatever it takes.”

They cradled their hands to their chest and slid down the couch with a world-weary sigh, like the will to sit up straight had deserted them. “I still kinda don’t want to murder him, though. I just. I don’t want to do it. Some hero I am.”

Karry set down her own empty cup, starting to get a better grasp on the situation. “And so you came to me. You want me to kill this child?”

She’d be offended, but then again, it was perfectly logical. If you needed a murder to be done, then you hired a murderer. She’d thought this entire affair had been one of friendship, of standing together against the end of the world, but she’d been wrong. This was business. She pulled her dress down her knees briskly, wondering if perhaps she shouldn’t have worn something that showed a tad bit less leg.

Oasis let out a long, bone shuddering sigh. “No. No, I’ve taken this upon myself, it’s my responsibility and I’ll see it through. I came to you because he’ll use your necklace.”

She froze.

Quite without conscious input, her claws unsheathed, and she straightened up in her chair, ready to fight. She fixed her gaze on the hero, aware that her pupils were dilating, and of the roaring of stolen blood in her ears.

No one was supposed to know about her necklace. No one knew about it, actually. She was certain; she’d spent centuries looking for it.

When she’d been shoved into this mortal body, all of her dark essence entrapped and bound by magic, a necklace had been made. A singular, blood-red stone in a bed of silver runes, meant to control her. And it had, for several decades; but one day she’d returned from war to find her captors dead, decimated by nameless enemies. And her necklace nowhere to be found. She’d waited, and fretted, expecting it to be used any minute to bring her under new, even more cruel control. But it had never happened, and she’d been forced to admit that it had perhaps only been taken as a spoil of war, its new owners none the wiser as to what it truly was. What she truly was, and the power she could bring them should they call upon her.

She’d looked for it for centuries now, eventually ending up in Toronto, where the trail had gone cold.

“My necklace?” she asked, layers upon layers of cold threat in her voice.

But Oasis wasn’t looking at her, wasn’t even paying attention. They were still staring at their cup of coffee, now doubtlessly gone cold, and nodded miserably.

“I didn’t understand,” they said, “Not at first. When you stole it from that museum and started wearing it all the time, I thought you were taunting me for not having been able to stop your robbery.”

Museum. The word echoed in her ears, pounded in time with her human blood.

“What museum?”

“But then the Tyrant took it from you, and he started using it, and…” They looked up at her, anguish in their gaze strong enough to rival her own. “and it controls you, doesn’t it? Whatever you are.”

“What museum”, she repeated, slowly. Dangerously. Pulling all of her thrall up like a veil around her even though it would slide off SwordBright like water and ducks. “Tell me.”

They held her gaze, something of their dread seeming to evaporate, replaced by determination. “The Royal Ontario Museum. It’s a new exhibit, and it’ll open next week.”

Something pounded in her chest. Her heart? She wasn’t aware that it even still worked. She felt light-headed all of a sudden, and sank back in her seat, fingers tightening over the chair’s arms and claws ripping through the expensive red leather. Next week. Her necklace.

She’d looked for it for over three hundreds years in screaming, agonizing solitude and there they were, that bright idiot, just giving her the answer as if they didn’t know what it was worth to her. What’s she’d have done to retrieve it. How she’d have tortured the answer out of them if that’s what it would have taken.

On the other side of her glass table, in her stupidly posh living room, Oasis leaned forward, steel eyed and serious, as if they were about to share a secret.

“I thought we could steal it first, and then deal with the Tyrant. What do you say?”

[eyeballjazz]

gosh I LOVE whenever you talk about the crews (midnight or problem sleuth) because your ideas are always so unique and detailed but in a realistic way? like they're all very specific but also mundane so it all feels so natural and REAL, it's always so fun! Plus your writing is very pleasant so seeing that "read more" under your replies always makes me go FUCK YES

You said you had fun with the last ask so here's me asking you to share more headcanons you have! Could be domestic, silly, sad, whatever, I'm just giving you an excuse to talk about them whever you feel like it!

#1 and first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH! I’ve delayed replying to this not only because I wanted to cook up a good answer but because your words are so sweet and I wanted to spend longer just reading and rereading them. Thank you thank you thank you!

I got a few little ones and then some big ones for ya:

Problem Sleuth and Hysterical Dame both are from Brooklyn and have harsh Brooklyn accents, though Dame’s is much more pronounced. She sounds like a slightly less congested Fran Drescher. Sleuth, additionally, loves the Beastie Boys and thinks he could’ve been one if he’d had half a chance at it.

Droog loves Sting. That’s it, that’s the headcanon.

Droog is native Italian, from part of Tuscany that is just 1 kilometer from the official bounds for the Chianti region. The fact that he’s not actually, truly, from Chianti haunts him and makes me laugh a great deal.

Now for a big one:

What war did they all serve in?

This one I’ve gone back and forth on. While I love studying war I’m not any kind of expert nor do I have any relation to military culture. But, because I write Intermission stuff as period pieces (the adults all live in a pseudo 40s and 70s mash up, all the kids live in the early oughts and that’s why none of the StabDads knows how to work a computer despite all their kids being online constantly) the setting of mid-20th century America requires there to be some war that people are living during/living through the aftermath of. I have a whole thing about the 20th century being one long war but anyway.

There was a large scale global conflict that Team Sleuth and the Crew all experienced. The Crew saw more intense, violent conflict while much of Team Sleuth saw less direct action and often sunnier outcomes.

Hearts, Slick and Droog were all infantry men whose issues with authority prevented any of them from moving up the ranks. Clubs was a technician and occasional mechanic, he learned everything he knows about bombs between his years as a soldier and a few jobs working in plastic factories back home.

Hearts was a cook as well as a renowned fighter in his unit. Slick came in and went out buck private despite some award winning violence in the field. Droog was considered for a promotion to officer because of his neat habits and efficient performance but later denied when his more anti-social and unstable qualities showed through.

For both Slick and Droog The War is much more like WW1. They met and became friends/fell in love in the trenches and saw the intensity of suffering and combat on an almost daily basis. For Hearts and Clubs The War is a little more like Korean, they were stationed far from home and were effectively playing cat and mouse with the enemy. Clubs experienced and learned from chemical warfare, while Hearts saw much more guerrilla warfare.

On the Sleuth side, Ace Dick is the only person to have served in as intense a fashion as the Crew. He enlisted young and made the rank of sergeant before retiring to become a detective. Of all of them his time was the most like WW2, in the European theater. Though he maintains his rank in retirement, Ace has relaxed out of the rigidness that made him a good officer. His hard disposition however has not degraded even one iota.

Problem Sleuth had a gay li’l stint in the Navy where he mostly ferried trade vessels along the coast. The action he did see was at the distance of sea battles, so while it was intense it was not as close and personal as the Crew or Ace.

Hysterical Dame did not serve but instead worked as a riveter and community organizer back home to get more women into the workforce as well as to provide for the families of soldiers who had been lost. That picture of Rosy the Riveter eating a sandwich with her piston driver in her lap? That was Dame, just with much more buoyant and gorgeous hair.

Nervous Broad was a nurse and was stationed abroad for most of The War. She saw a lot of very bad and only very occasionally some good. While she was in the medical corps she met Pickle Inspector, who was a contentious objector and refused to serve when drafted. Because of this, he was dumped into the medical corps at the front lines and like Broad saw some very awful things. They both don’t like to talk about what they saw more intensely than the others.

Post war they all assume the roles we’re already familiar with, most of them using the combat training they already received to do their work as detectives and/or mobsters. Broad, Dame and Pickle Inspector all learned to handle firearms (and in a Pickle Inspector’s case a whole sniper rifle) post-war. As a treat.

And, while I really don’t come to fandom spaces for sad things (the world itself is hexing enough) I do have a sad headcanon for Hearts:

His parents had an awful marriage and his father was often abusive to both him and his mother. She, in turn, eventually did away with him but not before long years of hard times for herself and her son. Once Hearts was big enough to help with the manual labor of running their small farm she took his father out during a particularly bad fight. It was a brutal night that would have seen one or the other of his parents gone from the world, but his mother won out in the end and she and Hearts lived better and better once his father was out of the picture. Hearts, to this day, sends money to his mother and believes she is the strongest woman on the face of the Earth. And he’s probably right. She still lives up in the hills of Georgia with her gun.

Momma Boxcars loves Tavros and insists that he and the other kids come spend part of their summer with her out on the farm.

Like Hearts’s mom, Droog’s parents also love their grandbabies. They immigrated to America after Droog put together enough money to bring them over from Italy and keep them living in style in the city. They were not good parents to him, in fact they have a very fraught and often vicious relationship, but they are wonderful to their grandkids and often tell Droog how much more they love Karkat and Arabia than they ever loved him. Again, I find Droog’s pain and inconvenience hilarious, and he’s fine despite all this. He actually thinks of them as ideal parents, being as he is an ideal sort of person by his own metrics.

Again, thank you for your lovely words and for the excuse to gab away about all these clowns, this was so fun!!!

[yourmcu]

Bloodlust

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x vampire!reader

Summary:

There’s a vampire in the city. Natasha (and Steve) went to investigate the aftermath of your killing spree.

Word count: 2,402

A/n: disclaimer! all info about vampires, description of vamps are based on tvd

Warnings: blood, violence, swearing, angst but fluff at the end? kinda confusing if I’m being honest but that’s ok! lmao

gif not mine! credits to the owner^^

Natasha found herself walking around the woods again. Not because she wanted to - well, half of her did, but she needed to find and talk to you for more important reasons.

The day (or night) before yesterday, she crossed paths with you. She went out with Steve in the woods to investigate more than a dozen deaths that occurred in less than two weeks, it was nothing compared to Loki’s attack in New York but they were... gruesome.

Steve pressed a button on the remote, showing three different pictures of the victims as holograms. They weren’t normal - murder - pictures, no bullet wounds or knife slices/stabs. One had bite marks all over their body, one’s head was entirely snapped off. But they had one thing in common: they looked drained, and thin. “There are fifteen more like that. Each gory than the other.”

They all let out noises of disgust.

“Definitely a psychopath,” Tony muttered.

“A deranged serial killer?” Bruce suggested.

“There’s bite marks. It’s probably an animal.” Sam emphasized on ‘bite marks’.

As she continued to walk, Natasha’s fingers brushed on the mark on her neck. For something that was two days old it still stung really bad sometimes. She’s not proud of it. You made her feel incredibly vulnerable that night, weak.

It all started when you jumped from a tree and landed on your feet just behind the redhead-

Natasha had her gun pointed at you in an instant. She was trained and could identify a murderer when she sees one but surprisingly, you looked... normal. Her eyes lowered, checking you out if you had something sketchy on you, but you just looked like a civilian in their mid-twenties or thirties.

You put your hands behind your back, smirking. You licked your lips and mimicked the way she looked at you up and down, not showing any signs that you were threatened by her lethal weapon. “Hey there.”

She was beautiful. Red hair with blonde tips, green eyes, plump lips, she gave off a fierce aura. She looked tough. You liked it.

Natasha kept her usual cold expression and her tone wasn’t any different. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you...” you reached out to rest your palm on the barrel of her gun and-

Bang!

She let out a shaky breath when you barely flinched as she shot a bullet through your hand, eyes widening. It was a metal bullet, it had little to no effect on you. You made an amused noise before ripping the weapon out of her grip and used all your strength to pin the fighting ex-assassin against a tree.

Her speed and strength surprised you. She kicked you hard in the abdomen before her back hit trunk and punched you across the face several times. For you they only stung for a moment; she had no match against you. She had no idea what she was dealing with.

Natasha looked up when she doesn’t hear pained grunts or signs of weakness from you. You smiled, gripping both of her wrists again. “I’ll have a go now, yeah?” She was grunting, struggling, trying to push you away. “You’re stronger than I thought you’d be.”

You forced her to look straight into your eyes. The only light source was coming from the moon but you could still see her green eyes perfectly. So beautiful.

“Think you can relax for me, hun?”

Natasha stared up at you curiously, breathing steadily. To her you looked so irresistible all of a sudden that she had no choice to listen. Her hands that gripped tightly on your arms relaxed, she was now the one holding on to you.

You moved a side of her hair back to get a clear view of her neck, smiling, “good girl.” Your fangs protrude and poked the sides of your lips, the whites of your eyes turned crimson red as black veins popped out just outside both of them. The smell of her blood filled your senses more intensely-

Well you all know what happened next.

Steve decided to show up while you were feeding on Natasha, successfully saving her from you, much to your dismay. They evacuated right away so you wouldn’t do more harm to the pair. They’d be fighting for a long time against you if they stayed, now knowing what you were capable of.

Natasha hated that she felt intrigued and curious by you, or eager if that’s one word to describe it, she doesn’t know exactly what she was eager for but, she can’t help but think about you.

A small cottage came into view, finally, and Natasha stopped walking. Under different circumstance she’d say it looked pretty cozy. She went on to knock on the door, not sure if you were the one occupying it, but she was right.

You answered the door, raising an eyebrow when you saw who it was.

She doesn’t say anything but her heartbeat quickens. You wordlessly stepped aside to let her in.

“Miss Romanoff,” you said softly, not wanting the air to be filled with awkward silence. Your eyes trailed her as she looked around your - the supposedly abandoned cottage that you may or may not have forcefully stole from a now deceased man. “After what I did to you I was sure the last thing you wanted was to see me again.”

She opened her mouth to speak but was astonished by how fast you’ve gotten in front of her to look at her neck. The bite mark you caused was still there and still looked bad. She tried to read your expression but couldn’t, and was taken by surprise when you bit your thumb without hesitation, a generous amount of blood oozing out.

“I... I don’t-”

“It’ll help but, suit yourself,” you shrugged, wiping away the blood and the wound immediately healed right after. You disappeared for a moment in the kitchen. “I apologize, I’m not used to having visitors. Are you here to kill me, Miss Romanoff, or did you want something else?”

Your stare lingered on her when you came back with a bottle of wine. You did a lot of digging on this woman ever since your encounter and if it wasn’t for your sudden attraction to her you would’ve finished her off already. You thought she was merely a sidekick to Captain America but as you dug further, she might as well be as dangerous as you.

But she was quiet, soft and maybe nervous around you, giving you the feeling that she felt the same way. Your little crush grew more at the thought. As a vampire, everything about you was magnified. Your senses, strength, and if you ever felt it for a certain person, feelings.

“I’m here on behalf of the Avengers,” Natasha spoke, slowly as if she’s choosing the right words to say. “Look, we mean no harm to you, or your kind. We just want to know your intentions...”

“It’s Y/N,” you said absentmindedly, and added, “you’ll never convince me, unfortunately. I won’t come with you.

“I’ve been around for, what, two centuries now and... that sort of play’s getting old. I lost friends the last time I heard that same line.”

You rubbed your temple while taking a swig of the red wine straight out of the bottle. 

“I’m sorry to here that.” Natasha shifted from where she was standing, still not budging whenever you urged her to take seat. 

She didn’t know where to go from here if she was being honest. The plan - well, the original plan, was to kill you. Stake to the heart. Just like that. But after hearing that little story, Natasha’s regrets about suggesting an interrogation on you faded. It’s not like you wanted to be a bloodsucking, immortal monster in the first place, right? You were human once. And it didn’t seem like you dedicated yourself to be completely against humans, because if you did, Natasha would be dead right now without a doubt.

She may or may not have suggested that because you also did leave quite the impression on her.

“Is that genuine, or is this all part of your plan to kill me?” You said coolly, getting up once more to put away the bottle. “Because you’re doing great - oh I forgot, you’re a spy, after all-”

In a swift movement you found yourself on the floor, bottle shattering, drilling pain on your shoulder and Natasha above you, pulling out a pistol. You winced as you struggled to pull out the thick wooden stake buried in your shoulder. You definitely did not expect that.

Natasha gave you an almost apologetic look, but it returned to its usual stoicism. “I’m giving you a chance to do this the easy way,” she breathed out. The sudden attack made you turn to your original form, she looked at the way your eyes faded from red to white again, black veins still pulsing around them.

With your incredible speed and strength you applied pressure to her stomach with your knee and pinned her against the wall again. “What the hell do you want from me, Romanoff?”

What was she waiting for? She could’ve stabbed me already and her job’s done. She’s easily done this before, why was she hesitating now?

Your foreheads were touching and both of your breaths were ragged. Her eyes were so beautiful up close. “You never wanted to be like this,” her voice was barely a whisper. “It’s never too late to change.”

You weren’t all that bad, Natasha was right. You still had a bit of goodness left in you. The vampire that turned you so many years ago didn’t give you a choice, everything just sort of happened. You had no choice but to live like this.

“Is that what this is about?” You mumbled back, loosening your hold on her.

Both of your guards were completely down now.

“I’m a monster,” you said bitterly. “I’ve done horrible things. I’ve killed so many innocent people.”

Natasha gave you a sad smile. She almost had the same background as you. Being an ex-assassin, yet now she was saving lives almost every day.

“You know,” she said, feeling a tingle when your lips brushed against hers. “I don’t judge people on their worst mistakes.”

You gulped, suddenly struggling with your words. But you didn’t have to say anything anymore since her lips connected with yours. Natasha ran her hands on the back of your head while you cupped her face. 

The warm sensation didn’t last for long. You heard something whiz by, and the next thing you knew you had a burning sensation all over, it made you weak. You pushed Natasha off you to look for the source but you were too weak-

The last thing you heard was the door opening and Natasha saying “Clint!”.

-----

Your cell reminded Natasha of the one on S.H.I.E.L.D’s helicarrier, specifically the one they used on Loki. But yours was more small and instead of it being inside an aircraft it was inside the compound.

It’s been a few hours since you went unconscious. Clint used four vervain shots just to knock you out.  Natasha had to remind Steve endlessly that you were not to be killed unless things don’t go well.

“Are you sure this one’s a vampire? ‘Cause it looks like you just closed your eyes and picked a random person outside.” Tony leaned over the glass to get a good look at you.

But once you gained consciousness you lost it. You sped up to the glass, slamming your whole body against it which startled Tony. Not to mention you were in your vampire form.

Some of them cursed when you managed to get a crack on the glass on your third pound. “I don’t want to be here.” Your fists visibly shook as you spat at Natasha. “How do you expect me to change when you trick me, Romanoff?”

“Stark, do something about that glass.” Steve ordered as he pulled Natasha away from your cell.

“Right. You better have those shots at the ready too, Robin Hood.”

“Steve, I’m going in there,” Natasha removed his hand from her arm. She already knew what the look he was giving her meant. “I’ll be fine. Even I didn’t expect Clint to engage last night.”

So she made her way inside, the steel door shut behind her. You were silently pacing back and forth, still shaking. You had given up on the glass when it was replaced by a more durable one.

“Y/N...”

“Get the fuck away from me.”

“I’m sorry.”

You scoffed, glaring at her and glaring at Steve outside the cell who was watching you intently. “Just get your pals in here and finish the job.”

“I really do believe you can change-” she insisted.

When she went to touch your shoulder you immediately grabbed her wrist. Natasha was speechless when she saw your twisted face, eyes scarlet and unrecognizable, your fangs just waiting to sink into flesh.

“I can’t change.” you whispered. “I was meant to be like this.”

-----

Ending 1: Natasha fights and convinces you that you still have a bit of humanity, despite being what you are. You end up having to fight Steve and the others too but they manage to knock you out a second time. When you wake up, Natasha’s the only one in the room with you. That’s when you both get to talk properly, and then you get to be one of the Avengers. It’s unusual, but it works, using your powers and abilities for good, not having to kill people but you feed on blood bags instead (occasionally). And maybe you even end up dating Natasha.

Ending 2: You completely snap at Natasha in the cell. Steve and Clint burst in to help her. This causes you to get even more aggressive. The fighting took a while, Tony and Rhodey even got into their suits to fight you, but you threatened them with the lives of their friends so they couldn’t do much. You knocked out Steve, Natasha and Clint, so it was now Bruce’s turn. They were a bit conflicted of letting Hulk out since they were sure he’ll destroy the whole building. But Wanda came out, using her witch powers to weaken you, it finally ended with a stake to your chest.

[rawliverandcigarettes]

Hi ! How do you envision Aria in Halfway Home ? I do believe you have mentioned she would be involved.

Hello, and thank you for the kind ask, it is absolutely helpful ;_;

So Aria. Aria's a complicated beast. I have a lot of thoughts about her. I kind of always enjoyed her potential more than her execution, as I've been known to have a soft spot for, what I call, Girlbosses Fucking Up. As in: women driven by scary, unhinged ambition that ends up destroying everything including themselves, and Aria could have fitted that description pretty well, or at least its first part (if there had been a proper attempt at character examination and development past her getting suddenly horny for Shepard and fawning over how much cooler and Dangerous than her they actually are or something idk).

So first, about my thoughts on Aria T'loak in canon:

I think Aria embodies a lot of Mass Effect's guilty-pleasure relationship to edge, and I completely believe she's been written first and foremost to be 1) cool, and 2) a sexual fantasy. The problem with that posture is that... basically any serious attempt at unpacking her politics risk ruining her pseudo-dominatrix vibes. So as a result, we get the most unquestioned, unashamed libertarian figure of the games, blaring that she's justified in her power position because she's the strongest, that because she's the strongest she's justified in commiting any kind of violence to hoard what she considers to be hers, and the fact she's basically an absolute despot is seen as something to be admired and even envied (no red tapes, no Council, nobody to answer to but herself and her whims).

To be noted: she's criticized in the vaguest way possible in the Omega DLC, but it has way more to do with the interpersonal, Nyreen and then a dominance struggle with Shepard, than with any of her concrete politics (and the dominance struggle is very... it's very much about "conquering" her and shoving yet another power fantasy down Shepard's throat --either by taming her fire or sharing it, and being called The Most Special Of All And I Never Met Anyone Like You Wooow You're Making Me So Hot And Bothered, and I'd argue it's still more about stroking the player's, hm, ego than about Aria herself). The "nooo don't kill civilians because surely there are any trace of civilians that aren't slavers, gang members or mercenaries left after like, two coups and a half" has nothing to say about the value of the life of said "civilians" despite their darkness, nothing to say about Aria's right to wage life and death over them. Even Nyreen's criticisms of Aria are... very un-Omegan. They still wager on Omega civilians being poor, unprepared babies, and to me it just doesn't ring true or meaningful in the slightest. But I made no effort ever hiding how much I don't vibe with this DLC, and its refusal to engage with Omega's themes to preserve Aria's sex appeal is one of the biggest culprits to me.

I also whinge about Aria in my critic of Mass Effect: Retribution, where I discover that she is actually quite dumb, and solves her problems with temper tantrums and half-assed decisions the narrative desesperatly tries to justify instead of being the savvy figure Mass Effect 2 tries to sell us (also her daughter is treated like a sexpot who immediately dies an awful, voyeuristic death and I doooon't love that choice, even if it's, once again, very telling on the kind of character Aria's supposed to be).

So now, I will stop whingeing about canon and talk about how I tried to reinterpret Aria T'loak in Halfway Home.

So Aria in HH is... kind of an awful, complicated person. I completely leaned in that Girlboss Fucking Up direction because nobody can stop me to explore some of the absurd tragedy behind her struggle for power. She is libertarian to a fault, at once believing in the importance of daring to bite what you can off a seemingly unchangeable and incredibly cruel social system, while failing to acknowledge that she's a central actor of said system, maintaining its alchemy with an iron fist with little concern for those who have to pay the price. While not nearly as conservative as them (socially, economically she's almost worse), I took inspiration from figures like Ayn Rand and Margaret Thatcher to flesh her out, especially in the way she turns against her own kind to keep her head out of the water (I mean at once asaris and sex workers, as I kept her backstory infiltrating Omega's ecosystem as an Afterlife dancer first). But by having this background, to garner respect, she has to be ruthless and consistently brilliant so she doesn't slip, because if she does... Well the fall will be rather brutal. She's acutely aware of the necessity of maintaining her prestige and her innaccessibility, while keeping herself desirable (as a potential ally and as an asari), because everyone wants to either kill her, be her or have her, and this is at once the basis of her power and an incredibly lonely and vulnerable position to have to voluntarily maintain yourself in.

Aria in Halfway Home does fucked up shit, or willingly allows or facilitates fucked up shit to maintain herself afloat (especially in her power plays with the Council, batarians and Cerberus). But she's been doing this dangerous dance for centuries, and she's starting to feel alienated from herself, from anticipating and catering to all sides at once. She also tends to keep opportunities open and let people live if they can be useful (à la Patriarch) rather than kill them, even if she cultivates her vicious reputation to prevent coups against her --basically keeping escape routes open as much as she can. As far as attitude goes, she follows more of her sarcastic/jaded side that is sometimes apparent in canon, and it's becoming clear how tired she is, how every single one of her desires have melted into what she needs to do to stay in power. She's the Pirate Queen, and in more ways than one the world is at her feet, yet everything she does is calculated to keep herself alive, at all time. And she can't stop now, because she's addicted to Omega and what it did to her, and if she stops she will be torn apart by everyone pretending to be on her side. In a way she's a prisonner of her own power, while also maintaining everyone else in the cell with her by force and pretending that... there is no alternative, if you can forgive my wording.

So yeah. Sarcastic, tired, brilliant, cynical. That's my Aria. She's the absolute worst, and yet she's a little tragic too. But by the end of the story, Shlee doesn't care about that part at all and will not shut the fuck up about how she should be deposed and is, in fact, the absolute worst, which, yeah, great thing to scream around Shlee, very smart.

[animeyanderelover]

Is it alright if I request prompt 47 again, since I've already requested it once?! This time with Grell?

That’s fine with me dear.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, clinginess, violence, blood

Prompt 47: “Telling me I’m crazy sounds wrong. Let’s...just say I’m madly in love with you.”

“Grell! What the heck?! Stop beating this guy up! You know exactly that you’ll get in troubles again with William!”, you yelled at her whilst trying to pull her from the man covered in black. He looked shitty and you dearly hoped he was still alive. “No! Let me go! He flirted with you today and I’ll kill him for this! I clearly heard how he called you disrespectful names! Just wait until I’m finished with this piece of trash!”, Grell protested loudly whilst struggling to free herself out of your grip. She was a grim reaper and was so much stronger than you. She could have ripped you off of her with ease, but she held back because she didn’t want to hurt you. You knew that you should probably be scared of seeing her beating someone up all bloody with the intention to kill him, but as sad as it may sounded, you were so used to it by now. Your main priority now was to save this man from dying a brutal death, you could later on feel scared. You tried with all of your strength to pull her back, but she just dragged you forwards like you were nothing at all.

“Grell! Try to think rationally! If William finds out what you’ve been doing this past few weeks he’ll take your death scythe from you and you’ll have to work overtime! That would mean you’ll have less time to spend with me!” When she suddenly stopped struggling you knew that you had gotten to her with these words. You knew exactly that Grell would do almost anything to spend time with you and you dearly hoped it would be enough to save this man. “You do have a point.”, she mumbled and you let a quiet sigh of relief out. It seemed like it would work. She slowly turned around to you. “However...” Oh no! “That doesn’t change the fact that he has seen me right now. And it is forbidden that humans know of our existence. And this guy here has a big mouth so I doubt he would keep it shut.” That was true though, but still. “We have nearly the twentieth century! No one would believe him!”, you tried to reason with her. “Can you guarantee that?”, she asked you. You wanted to answer, but couldn’t. You couldn’t because you couldn’t guarantee it. That he would keep his mouth shut was just wishful thinking from your side. Your silence confirmed her thoughts. She sighed. “I know that you don’t like me killing people. But first of all, it’s my job to kill people and second of all, I did tell you at the beginning of our relationship what would happen to anyone who dares to touch you.”

Relationship?! Which relationship?! This whole thing had been literally forced from the very beginning! Kidnapping you, dragging you to the cottage in the forest and locking you up in there didn’t count as a relationship! But you were wise enough to not tell her this. She pulled her death scythe out and started it. “If you don’t want to see this I would advice you to go away.” She slowly stepped towards the man who had slowly sat up and stared with terrified eyes at the grinning grim reaper. “No! Show mercy! I won’t tell anyone! I promise!” He looked desperately in your way. “You! Help me!” You watched his facial expression twisting into an ugly mask made out of fear. Pure fear. You had seen that face so often that it didn’t have much of an effect on you. You slumped your shoulders and turned around, leaving the both of them alone. You glanced one last time back and mouthed silently to the man:”I’m sorry.” Then you just walked away from the scene, ignoring the scared cries and pleads of the man and not once turning back. You walked behind the corner of the alley and leaned against it. You still Heard- the screams of the man echoing through the walls. Grell should just kill him. Why torturing the poor man so much? But then again, she liked to take her time with people who did you wrong. You felt a bit bad for him. No! Stop that! Stop feeling guilty! You took a deep breath to calm down. Feeling guilty wouldn’t do you anything good. It would just make you suffer more.

And just like that it suddenly became quiet. The screaming of the man had stopped. So she was done. You heard footsteps approaching you fastly before she stood right next to you, blood all splashed over her. You knew what she wanted to do and before she could do it you lifted your hand in a stopping manner. “Don’t hug me. You’re covered in blood and I’m not in the mood to get dirtied. It’s also so hard to wash blood out of clothes. Take a bath and then we can talk about cuddling. Grell gave you a confused look before she started pouting. You gave her a suspicious look before slowly turning around and walking towards the forest. “Let’s just go home and hope that William won’t find out about this or else you won’t be able to use that Death Scythe of yours again.” It wasn’t like she didn’t have other weapons. Truth to be told in your house she had a whole room filled with weapons, weapons and more weapons. It was hidden in the basement. And Grell had created this room for the simple reason so she would still have weapons if William should ever take her Death Scythe away. You guessed you should be glad that William didn’t decide to get rid of you after he found out about you, but Grell could be really annoying if she wanted too and had convinced William more or less to let her keep you. You could sympathize with William since the both of you seemed to suffer from a similar fate. Both of you were forced to spend a lot of time with the red clothed grim reaper. William when he was working with her and you when Grell was at home. You suspected that this was the reason why he had decided to let you live. Because you both were victims of Grell.

Suddenly you felt a force hitting you from behind. You needed a moment until you realized what this force was. Two strong arms squeezing nearly all the air out of you. “...Grell!!”, you yelled angrily and started thrashing around you. Damn it! You could feel how she smeared all the blood from her clothes and body on yours. “You idiot! Didn’t I tell you to wait until you’ve cleaned yourself up?!” You broke free from her grip and looked pissed off down you. As you had feared. You had blood on your whole body and it smelled terribly! “Just look what you’ve done! I’m completely dirty! And now I have to scrub my ass off to get rid of the blood from my clothes! Thank you very much Grell!” You panted heavily after your short outburst and glared angrily at her. She on the other hand had an adoring look on her face. “Uhh! I love it when you show your fire! But try to look at it from the positive side! Now we can take a bath to clean ourselves up!” Was that supposed to be a good thing?! You didn’t think so! “What the hell?! Do you think that’s a good thing?! For me it’s not! Are you crazy or something like this?!” Grell didn’t seem offended in the least bit. Instead her smile widened upon hearing your angry yelling voice. “Telling me I’m crazy sounds wrong. Let’s...just say I’m madly in love with you.”

You stopped glaring at her. What was the use in wasting all of your energy? You didn’t even know what kind of reaction you had hoped to get from her with your yelling. Did you want her to feel angry? Did you want her to feel remorse? You didn’t know, but you knew that whatever reaction you had hoped to get from her, it would be useless. You looked down on your filthy clothes. “You clean that up. You were the one who ruined them.”, you told her more calmer. “If that’s what you want!”, she answered thrilled and grabbed your hand in hers, dragging you fastly back to the forest, back to the house so the both of you could take a bath together.

[frizz22]

Book Review pt 2

Prompt from @somethingwicked19: Book review ch. 91 part two where the sisters talk and reconcile. Read on ao3 here

Wow, sorry for the complete lack of anything written for ages. I hope some of you who sent me prompts a while ago are still round to enjoy them when I get to them. Enjoy!

Hilda watched Zelda flee, not that her sister would ever call it such, and guilt roiled through her.

She didn’t handle that properly.

Well, to be honest, she shouldn’t have written the book this way in the first place. It was one thing to pull inspiration from real life, it was quite another to cruelly denigrate her sister in the process.

Especially... especially when Zelda was right. Her sister had encouraged her relationship with Cee, dried her tears over a misunderstood rejection, and helped with the Damascus steel.

It’d just been so easy, though. Hilda could hardly write ill of the dead, and it wasn’t as though Edward would disapprove in any case, not with his enthrallment with mortals. And then there was Zelda’s reaction to Diana.

Write what she knew.

That was the advice Cee gave when she expressed an interest in writing a book. And, well, Hilda knew all too well how her sister acted in the past to relationships with mortals; making her the villain fit with the story line and, really, once her characters came clean about their respective abilities—demon and witch—another obstacle needed to be thrown at them or the book would’ve been woefully short.

Still, insisting the villain be a ‘loveless, spinster hag’, especially when Hilda certainly didn’t see Zelda that way, was a misstep to say the least. Then sharing it with the students when the other comparisons were obvious was another.... Hilda had just been so excited about it and wanted to share her accomplishment with everyone that she hadn’t stopped to think.

Perhaps she should have shared it with Zelda first... but Hilda now knew why she hadn’t done that, because on some unconscious level, she knew she was in the wrong.

Collecting herself, Hilda quickly checked on the students once more before going to find her sister and apologize; the bare minimum she could do. Thankfully, Zelda only went as far as her office; they were still in the midst of a crisis, after all and her sister was never one to shirk her duties.

Tentatively knocking on the door, Hilda stepped inside. “Zelds?”

“Not now, Hilda, this ‘hag’ has work to do.” Zelda snapped, not looking up from the documents in front of her.

Heart clenching at how Zelda immediately shrouded herself in the insult, wearing it like a badge so it couldn’t be used against her, Hilda shut the door behind her. “And this awful sister needs to apologize.” She murmured, tugging at the ends of her sleeves.

Jaw jutting to the side, Zelda scoffed. “Perhaps, but it’s for your benefit, not mine. You only feel guilty now that I’ve confronted you. If you truly felt bad about the contents of that book, you’d never have published it. Let alone spread it like poison through the entire coven.”

Hilda grimaced and moved closer. “I lacked a lot of foresight regarding the book, and you’re right, I never should have shared it with the coven. I let my excitement over actually publishing something blind me to the consequences. I’m sorry, I know it changes nothing, but I am sorry. You did support me and Cee, it was wrong to suggest otherwise, even if it was in fiction.” She admitted, still trying to catch her sister’s eye and failing. “But I think my bigger blunder was never realizing what pain you went through during and after the Caligari spell.”

That caught Zelda’s attention, she stiffened and then swallowed hard. “Nonsense.”

Undeterred, Hilda pressed on. “Zelds, you used the word torturous—"

Her sister’s hands slammed onto the desk suddenly, startling Hilda. “Torturous because of boredom.” Zelda retorted harshly, though her eyes shone brightly with unshed tears as she continued to focus on the papers in front of her. “I was trapped inside my head and forced to listen to Faustus blather on and on, Hell knew how I longed to roll my eyes and slap him quiet. You misunderstood me.”

Tears welling, Hilda edged a bit closer. “I don’t think I did.” She whispered.

Muscles in her cheek twitching, Zelda shook her head. “You did. You misunderstood. That spell, it was just mind numbing, literally. Nothing—" her voice cracked, “nothing else happened. Besides, Faustus and I never loved one another, I said as much when he proposed, and he proved as much with the Caligari.” Struggling to contain herself, Zelda added. “So, your description might be more on point than I originally thought. Loveless...” she scoffed a little wetly, “how apt. Now leave, I’ve work to do.” She waved a hand to dismiss Hilda further.

“No.” Hilda stated firmly, arms crossing. “I was cruel. I made our petty fights public, at least the times you were cruel you kept it at home, so no one bore witness to it. I—"

Her sister finally looked at her, face hard. “I couldn’t care less about this trash you’ve written.” She snarled, eyes flashing. But Hilda could see straight through the lie, straight through the mask and see the pain lurking in Zelda’s eyes.

She sighed, knowing when to pick her battles after centuries of fights, perhaps they’d revisit this book topic when Zelda wasn’t quite so raw. “Then we’ll forget about the book, I just wanted to make sure I apologized for it.” She paused, giving Zelda one last chance to contradict her, to carry on so they could fully clear the air, but her sister merely cocked an unimpressed brow. Exhaling softly, Hilda pressed in. “I won’t let the effects of the Caligari spell go, though.” On that, Hilda was adamant. She should have realized, shouldn’t have let Zelda go back once free. This, this was a battle she’d chose until the end of time. Hilda couldn’t, and wouldn’t, let her sister continue to suffer in silence.

A mocking laugh emanated from Zelda. “You won’t let it go?” She scoffed and wiped her eyes in what she likely thought a discreet manner. “Hilda, this matter doesn’t concern you. It clearly didn’t concern you while it was ongoing, seeing as I remained under the spell for a good time after I returned home. It clearly didn’t concern you once it was lifted and I went back under its pretense. So, the aftereffects certainly don’t concern you either.” Eyes blazing, Zelda was breathing heavily by the end of her speech.

Wounded by the not entirely unwarranted diatribe, Hilda pressed her lips together to keep her chin from trembling, because despite herself, Zelda just admitted to there being aftereffects. And this slip told Hilda more than anything else, because if her normally tight lipped and controlled sister was letting things slip, it was far worse than Hilda imagined. Composing herself with a little difficulty, Hilda swallowed. “Zelds, please, you’re right. Of course you are, but please, help me understand. I want to help, however you’ll let me.”

“And if I won’t let you?” Zelda scoffed, and Hilda could practically see her sister’s walls climbing even higher.

She closed the remaining distance between them and reached to touch Zelda’s hand where it lay clenched on the desk. “Then I’ll be here until you do.” Hilda murmured softly, forcing herself not to cry when Zelda jerked her hand away.

Huffing, Zelda ran her tongue over her teeth. “I suppose I’ve no say in the matter? That you’ll make yourself a nuisance until I allow you to help?” And though her tone was laced with derision, the way Zelda looked at her told Hilda that her persistence was what her sister needed.

That after everything—after Blackwood’s abuse, the coven labeling her a bitch, Sabrina loosing Lucifer, Hilda betraying her trust—what her sister needed most was a demonstration that someone truly did care and would stand by her side.

Not that Zelda would ever admit to as much.

But Hilda knew her sister. Could read between the lines and behind the stoic masks, and she refused to be pushed away by venomous words or actions when she knew this was an unhealthy coping mechanism she triggered with her book.

Persistence.

It was something Hilda would only be too happy to provide if it meant repairing what she broke with the book, and perhaps the same persistence would help Hilda patch up some other pieces of Zelda that she refused to acknowledge were hurting.

Squaring her shoulders, Hilda nodded curtly. “Correct, you’ve no say in the matter. I’m here for you, Zelds, always, whether you like it or not.”

Lips twisting for a moment in unveiled emotion, Zelda quickly regained herself and rolled her eyes. “Fine. It seems you’re adamant and arguing with you is a waste of time. I’ve much to do, Hilda, if you insist on helping me, I suggest you go back to the infirmary and check on the students.”

Another clear dismissal, though this time Hilda took her leave, but not before quickly catching Zelda’s hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze. When her sister didn’t flinch, pull away, or hurl some insult at her, Hilda smiled softly and hurried back to the infirmary.

Everything wasn’t fixed, far from it, their relationship too complex for easy solutions… but Hilda knew they’d taken a step in the right direction. Knew she loved her sister and that Zelda loved her just as fiercely back, and if on occasion it seemed otherwise, well, thank goodness witches lived so long, so that they might show those they loved how much they truly meant and deserved.

[backtothestart02]

Fallen Star - 14/? | westallen fanfiction

A/N: Not really that proud of this chap, but I hope you guys will still enjoy it!

Tagging the lovely @itzvickilou b/c I know she’s been waiting centuries for this. ;)

And also @westallen94 b/c I technically wrote it for her for an ep she didn’t spoil me on ages ago. Thank you, love.

...

Chapter 14 - 

Iris froze.

Slowly, she turned around, though she knew exactly who that voice belonged to. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. His voice was breaking too, which should’ve made her feel bad for him but only pissed her off. Not at him, but at herself. She should’ve known he’d come running if alarms went off. He was faster than the police. Not that the police would care about a break-in for a practically abandoned building.

Practically.

It was supposed to have been abandoned.

“Hi, Barry,” she made herself say.

He scoffed and walked towards her.

“Hi, Barry? That’s all you have to say?”

She held her ground and pursed her lips.

“What would you like me to say?”

“An explanation would be nice. Why are you…” He gestured to the building behind her. “Breaking into buildings? Don’t tell me this is for a story.”

He said it with such disgust that she couldn’t help but bristle at him and refocus her anger on the subject before her. She folded her arms.

“Oh, and what if it is?”

He scoffed. “I thought you were done with this.”

“Ha! You wish I was. Just because I haven’t been out since our break-up doesn’t mean I wasn’t planning to eventually. I was just waiting until-”

“I was okay with it?”

“Please. You’re never going to be okay with it.”

Tension simmered between them.

“Are you?” she spat.

“No,” he ground out.

She nodded knowingly.

“That’s what I thought.”

“I really thought you were past this, Iris.”

He latched his hand around her arm before she could retort. She struggled to get free, but his grip was like a vice around her.

“What- What are you doing?”

“I’m taking you in for breaking and entering.”

Her jaw dropped.

“You can’t be serious. I could do jail time for that.”

“I’m sure your dad will bail you out.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Doesn’t matter. I got what I needed.”

“Photographic evidence,” he guessed.

She smiled serenely.

“Nothing the police won’t confiscate once they have you in a cell.”

She shook her head at him, sadness overtaking the fury building inside of her.

“I can’t believe you would do that to me. After everything we’ve been through.”

“I can’t believe you would put me in a position where I have to choose.”

“Between what? Me and the law?”

His grip tightened.

“Between what you think you want and your life.”

“What good is my life if I’m not using it to make a difference? This story could-”

“Save lives, yeah, I know.” He rolled his eyes, bringing her to tears he didn’t see. “Come on, let’s go.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

She pulled back, yanking something out from inside her jacket.

“What are y-”

But he was too late reacting to her taser until he released her and fell on the ground, seizing.

“Sorry, Barry. It looks like we’re not on the same side anymore.”

“Barry? Barry?” Caitlin and Cisco’s voices could be heard emanating from the com. They got no response.

Iris didn’t wait around for Barry to trap her again. She took off running till she got to her car. She glanced in her rearview mirror before taking off, making sure he was still on the ground. The taser still affected him, but it wouldn’t last as long since he was a meta. She had to get out of there before he came to.

Turning the key, she gunned the gas pedal and took off like a bat out of hell, away from the scene of the crime with her heart screaming and tears running down her cheeks.

…

Back at STAR Labs, Cisco and Caitlin had come to the conclusion that Barry was unconscious and it would do no good to keep calling out for him.

“He’s not responding,” Caitlin said worriedly.

“What do we do?” Cisco asked.

“Well, we have to go get him obviously! Come on, I’ll drive.”

“What-” He watched as she gathered her purse and headed for the hall. “Caitlin, wait for me!”

He hurried after her.

“Why do you get to drive?” he asked, frowning.

“Because I’m taller,” she said, easily, stepping into the elevator just after the doors opened.

“Only because you’re wearing heels!”

But he followed her anyway, and at no point insisted on taking the keys from her grasp.

…

They found Barry still in his Flash suit on the ground unconscious about twenty minutes later.

“Oh, my God, Barry!”

They both ran to him.

“Drive the van over, so we don’t have to carry him as far,” Cisco suggested.

“Good idea.”

“Barry, Barry, can you hear me?”

Barry moaned. “Iriss…” he slurred, but his eyes never opened. He was still out of it.

A couple minutes later, Caitlin pulled the van up and they managed to lift Barry off the ground and put him in the back.

“What do you think she did to him?” Caitlin asked, worriedly.

“A taser if I had to guess.”

They both got back into the front seat.

“He just needs some rest. When he wakes up, he’ll be fine.”

Caitlin turned the key in the ignition and drove out of the dusty parking lot.

“I sure hope you’re right.”

…

The effects of the taser didn’t fully wear off for much longer than the team had expected, but Cisco and Caitlin were right there by his bedside in the Med Bay when Barry woke up. He groaned and looked around.

“Where-”

“You’re in STAR Labs, buddy.” Cisco squeezed his shoulder.

“You gave us quite a scare,” Caitlin said, smiling gently.

“Iris, she…”

“She tased you, man,” Cisco said. “Can’t say she didn’t come prepared, I guess.”

Barry groaned again and rolled over to the side so he could get up.

“Careful,” Caitlin warned.

“I’m a speedster, Cait. I’ll be fine.”

She relented.

He turned around, piecing the event back together.

“I have to find Iris.”

“How do you know she’s not going to try to tase you again?”

He sighed and quickly sped into normal clothes.

“I don’t.”

Cisco and Caitlin exchanged a look.

“Barry,” Caitlin tried. “I know…technically Iris broke the law, but…are you sure this isn’t about the fact that she bailed on you this morning?”

“She put herself in danger, Caitlin!” His eyes went wide as his voice rose. “Again. While I was weak, thinking that maybe she might…” He shook his head and laughed. “Well, joke’s on me. Let’s see how much her boss likes to have an employee that’s been arrested and thrown into a cell.”

Caitlin’s eyes widened.

“You’re gonna try to get her fired? Barry, that’s-”

“One way to slow her down? My thinking exactly.”

“That’s not what I-”

“I’ll see you two later. Thanks for bringing me back.”

Her mouth hanging open, she turned to look at Cisco.

“Cisco, this is not-”

“Good, yeah, I know.”

They both stared after Barry, wondering how they could get his head screwed on straight when the only person who could knock sense into him was the person whose career he was trying to destroy.

“Maybe we should call Joe. Tell him what’s up before Barry does. Barry might exaggerate things.”

“Exaggerate breaking and entering?” Caitlin raised an eyebrow.

Cisco didn’t respond to that. Instead he reached for his phone and scrolled through the contacts until he found Joe’s name.

“This would be so much less complicated if they hadn’t broken up…”

…

A knock came on Iris’ office door after lunch. She was still shaking from her experience with the Flash at the warehouse and almost didn’t hear it. It wasn’t until her best friend’s voice accompanied it that she looked up.

“Hey, Iris, I didn’t see you come i…” Her brows furrowed. “Are you okay?”

Iris didn’t move, then subtly she shook her head.

Linda walked through the door, closed and locked it behind her. Hurriedly, she walked over to her friend’s side and got down on her knees, taking Iris’ hands in her own.

“What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Iris licked her lips.

“I think…Barry’s going to arrest me.”

Linda’s eyes widened in horror.

“What?! Why would he do that? Don’t tell me he- you…”

Iris sighed.

“There were cameras, Lin. And an alarm system. The Flash came to check it out and found me there.”

“Oh no.”

“We got into an argument, he tried to take me in on the account of breaking and entering…”

Linda scoffed in disgust.

“And I tased him.”

Linda’s eyes went wide again.

“You what?” But she couldn’t help smiling. She was proud of her girl.

“It was the only way I could get away!”

“Hey, hey, I don’t blame you.” She rubbed her hand over the top of Iris’ to calm her.

“Yeah, well, if he follows through…or tells my dad-”

“Hey, Joe would never let his baby girl sit in a jail cell. You don’t have to worry about that. If Barry hasn’t come already – as the Flash or as himself – he’s not going to.”

“Scott will not take kindly to one of his reporters being arrested, Lin!” She shot to her feet and wiped the sweat from her forehead. She started to pace, then stopped suddenly. “And even if my dad does intervene, he’s going to give me a serious talking to. The only one that put a stop to those annoying lectures was Barry, and now they’re on the same side. Except Barry’s worse. He tried to arrest me, Lin. Me! The supposed love of his life.”

She scoffed and sat back down.

“What a joke.” She shook her head. “There’s no getting through to him now.”

Linda nibbled on her bottom lip.

“What if I talked to him?”

Iris’ eyes flashed to hers.

“Why would that make a difference?”

“Well…I could take responsibility for the story…and you bailing on him this morning.”

Her lips parted.

“It would redirect his anger.”

“At you? No.”

“He doesn’t care if I risk my life.”

“Lin.”

“Not like he cares about you, and you know it.”

She leaned forward and captured her hands and her gaze.

“I won’t let you take on that kind of wrath. I can’t.”

“I can handle Barry Allen, trust me.” She patted her hand. Iris looked at a loss. “Let me do this for you. If it doesn’t work, it doesn’t, but at least I tried.”

Iris hesitated. “Okay.”

“Good.”

“But don’t push him, okay? I don’t want you losing your job. I need you here with me.”

Linda stood up and straightened out her skirt.

“Me? Girl, please. I’m untouchable.”

She winked and headed out of Iris’ office. When she was gone, Iris leaned back in her seat staring at the closed door where her best friend had gone through.

“I wish I was.”

[bigmeatymudcrabchitins]

A not-so-brief overview of my Skyrim Dova OCs bc i need to scream to the digital void about my ideas

Freyora Lind, more commonly known by her strange alias “Bjorne Icepick”

A Nord-eventually-turned-werewolf who orphaned during the Great War and taken in by a Dunmeri mercenary whose residence was in Windhelm’s Gray Quarter. Grew up in a cramped boarding house setting among desperate mercenaries of varying backgrounds. Many of them would all come and go, but there was always some sort of a familial bond between them all.

From a young age she got in a lot of fights against people who insulted her for living in the Gray Quarter among the dark elves. Eventually she took a fight too far and was jailed for murder around 14, but was broken out shortly after by a band of masked vampires. Turns out some of her mercenary comrades unwittingly caught vampirism during a contract to clear out a vampire den and had to skip town, but not before ensuring one of their own wasn’t left to rot.

Lived in Cyrodil for about 15 years, but returned to Skyrim pursuing rumors surrounding a cure to vampirism, as her adoptive father would be nearing the end of his elven lifespan and had wished to die a normal death.

Seeing as she was literally a fugitive, and her long-belated parents were somewhat renowned for their battlefield prowess, she took on a false identity. AND an act to match it.

She’ll eat raw meat, chase prey with swords instead of using a bow like a normal person, harp about irrational conspiracy theories, and more. Everyone’s foul reactions to her outlandish act are plainly hilarious to her and only encourage her to act even stranger.

The alias “Bjorne Icepick” was simply the most ridiculous name she could think of.

Not the most morally outstanding. Besides drunken brawling, she’ll steal from anyone who angers her, even if it’s things she literally won’t ever need such as all the goblets in a household. It’s the pettiness that counts. “Try drinking your damn high-end wine now, jackass.”

Calls Dwarven Automatons “Gundams.” Including she herself, no one knows what that means.

Joins the Companions out of homesickness and a desire to fill in a gap that leaving home left.

Hasn’t bothered curing herself of lycanthropy because her whole schtick is being incredibly resourceful, and that includes using any means of power necessary. Still doesn’t fancy Hircine’s Hunting Grounds as her desired afterlife, though.

As her journey goes on, however, her lightheartedly eccentric face starts to fall off as a number of events push her to begin to question the legitimacy of her actions up until that point.

Some of which include the eventual death of her adoptive father (and how she was indirectly responsible for it even if it was what he wanted), Delphine’s ultimatum, the civil war as a collective, learning the tragic history behind the Falmer and the original Companions’ role in it, and killing of Vyrthur (no matter how much he genuinely deserved it).

She grows disgusted by herself down to the core. She takes to skooma to cope, and starts to be plagued by serious skooma-induced side effects. She ends up shutting herself away from all her responsibilities and distancing herself from her friends.

Does she get better? Maybe. I haven’t thought up anything past this point lol

Moureneris Alta

A very, VERY ancient vampiric snow elf, (though it’s notable she was born a considerable amount of time after the razing of Sarthaal)

Survived many atrocities. Stayed in isolation with a band of vampires for countless years out of sheer disgust for the nature of the sapient races. (I’ll explain her full story some other time. It’s pretty complicated)

She was abducted from her isolated lifestyle by a certain person i’ll talk about later. She managed to free herself south of Skyrim, and uh, walks right into that Imperial ambush. The rest is history.

Super ignorant to modern society as a result of centuries of isolation. Exploited for comedic relief. (“What in the name of Oblivion is a Cyrodilic Empire? Are you messing with me? And please, how does levitation magic simply get outlawed by this hypothetical Empire? What are you to do when you fall down a crevice? Just... let yourself perish? How degrading.)

She reintegrated herself into society with vengeance in mind under the belief that all humans are savage bloodlusting murderers who had to answer for their treachery. (And she was royally angry there was no Dwemer left to spite, but partially satisfied at the same time). But she grows conflicted after being shown genuine kindness, even as early as being freed from her binds in Helgen.

Subsequently has a very muddled redemption arc. Queue Dragonborn hero stuff

She has impaired vision, but she cultivated detect life magic to aid her in daily life and combat (think Hyakkimaru from Dororo ‘19 and his soul detection or Toph Beifong from ATLA and her seismic sense). At her peak, she can detect life from about a kilometer away.

She can just barely read, but only if she holds the text incredibly close to her face, not to mention her Cyrodilic lessons were left unfinished after her abduction, making reading a very taxing process. Weary travelers are often spooked at the sight of a floating, ghastly looking elven woman with her nose pressed up against crossroad signs, and it has become somewhat of an urban legend.

Isn’t as nearly as skilled with detecting the dead and tenses up in burial crypts or around other vampires for that reason. Unfortunately, being the Dragonborn and all, she finds herself in a lot of crypts...

When questioned about her background due to her unique appearance: “Oh, yeah. My mother was one of those mer from the east. You know the ones. Dark elves, I think? And my father was one of those er, tall elv- no, sorry, HIGH elves. Yeah. They both died in a big fire or something though. It was horrible. I can’t get the noxious smell or the deafening screams out of my head. Good talk, but never ask me about that again.”

Queue sheltered old immortal antics: “Wow, you’re THAT old? Enlighten me on how it felt witnessing the fall of the Dwemer. Or perhaps the rise of Tiber Septim’s Empire. The Gates of Ob-“ “Oblivion if I know. I lived in someone’s basement for thousands of years. And I still don’t know what everyone means by Empire. You all are messing with me, aren’t you? That really annoys me.”

She ultimately returns to faith in Auri-El and makes it her life’s purpose to help the Betrayed find peace, as well as to seek out any remaining snow elf groups. Probably good friends with Gelebor or something.

Had a crush on Serana. We all know how THAT went. Damned temples.

Was originally gonna spiral into a much darker corruption arc (another ATLA comparison being Jet or Hama) but I just felt bad for her. Moureneris can have a little found peace. As a treat.

That’s her preliminary design made. I’ll need a mod to properly play her, because that right there was made by choosing Dunmer as her race. But I can’t do that. I’m on console, and while I got the Steam port a month ago, my PC’s stone age specs can’t handle Skyrim yet and I’ll need to wait until I can afford a better graphics card (thanks economic inflation)

Alexandre Armasi, jokingly nicknamed Alexandre the Curious

A complete and unapologetic export of my character from a dead and unfinished DND campaign. Except there are no Aasimar in Skyrim, so he’s half Altmer half Bosmer. And his initial last name was Armas but I thought Armasi suited his Skyrim counterpart more, as subtle a change it is.

He’s mainly Bosmer in appearance and constitution, save for his hair and eyes, which are more similar to that of his Altmeri father’s.

I can’t really export his original backstory though because the campaign wouldn’t translate well into TES lore at all.

He’s a writer who came wandering into Skyrim in search of inspiration. While he mainly writes dramatic fables, he wanted to divert his focus to crafting his own bestiary and herbal compendium surrounding Skyrim’s fauna and flora. The ones at home are simply too vague to him!

He’s very altruistic, wishing to spread cheer wherever he goes, through the art of song (even though he was a cleric in DND and not a bard. My bad.) However, many of his verses are just blatant self promotions of his published fables.

But he’s too naive for his own good. Dangerously so. In fact, he says what’s on his mind with little forethought, with little grasp on the consequences of his actions, which lands him in lots of trouble. “I don’t favor him myself, but you guys kill people over Talos worship? That’s not very cool. A bit scary, if you ask me.” or “A Stormcloak rebel? Didn’t your leader kill a bunch of Reachmen rebels years back, or so I’ve heard. By the divines that’s not a man I’d make a symbol of nonconformity.”

He’s also insatiably curious. The type to ACTUALLY shove alchemic ingredients in his mouth with no knowledge of their properties, experiment with dangerous rune spells, throw rocks at pressure plates, and more. Needless to say he’s very accident prone.

Doesn’t know common curse words. People exploit this for laughs. Think that episode of Spongebob.

Everyone is a little baffled that HE of all people is the prophesied Dragonborn of legend. This agonizingly imbecilic writer who has absentmindedly wandered into burial crypts, troll dens, bandit forts, and more, too busy juggling his manuscripts to pay attention to his surroundings.

His past doesn’t exactly reflect his outlook on life. His mother and father fought in the Great War aligned with the Imperials despite their elven background. Both managed to live to see the war’s conclusion, but his father vanished without a trace shortly after, and it seems his mother knows something she won’t tell him.

With plenty of exposure to bad influences, his innocence is slowly lost throughout the course of his journey, and his altruism begins to grow twisted. But nevertheless, he maintains his jovial, social persona, except this time with much darker undertones. Kinda like a creepy dentist or something.

Whoops. He winds up becoming a feared Dark Brotherhood assassin. (Haha get it “Innocence Lost”???) He somehow deluded himself into thinking that the life of an assassin was the right thing to do. But he’s a funky little guy so he gets a pass for his heinous crimes against society

[elliemarchetti]

Clear As Silver Drops

It’s my birthday and I post what I want to! *sing this as Necessary Evil by Motionless in White*

To be totally honest, this is inspired by @my-darling-haldir who was asking for Haldir fic recs for her bday and I said myself why not? Why not indulge in your love for elves and mixed ocs? So here we are, with something in which Legolas isn’t with the Fellowship and in his place we have Elva, the only woman in a group otherwise made up of men only.  Enjoy!

Words: 3132

"I'm afraid we can't stay here any longer," Aragorn said, turning his gaze to the mountains, raising his sword as if he wanted to curse Gandalf for his recklessness.

“What hope do we have without him, now?” asked Frodo under his breath, talking mainly to himself.

“We’ll have to do without hope,” replied Elva, talking to the whole Fellowship. “It may be that one day at least he’ll be avenged, but for now, let’s have courage and stop mourning: we have a long way to go and a lot of things to do.”

At her words they all stood up to look around, making her weigh for the umpteenth time what her role really was in their mission. She should’ve asked Gandalf when she still had time, but now he had taken that secret to the grave and she could do nothing but find it herself. A skilled archer and an excellent diplomat, Elva felt more like she was there to act as a glue between cultures, and thus prevent those men, all with different histories and upbringing, to go one to the North, dominated by three sparkling white peaks, Celebdil, Fanuidhol and Caradhras, one to the East, where the forward-projected arms of the mountains steepened abruptly, with distant lands extending beyond, and one to the South, where the Misty Mountains stretched endlessly. 

Less than a mile away, slightly lower, as they were located at a high point on the eastern flank of the valley, they saw a lake: it was long and oval, looking like the tip of a spear stuck deep in the basin to the north, with the southern waters out of the shadows, bathed in sunlight but still dark, the deep blue of a clear night sky seen from a lighted room. The surface was calm, and all around the bare banks were covered in soft grass. The Fellowship walked the uneven and bumpy road that descended from the Gates of Moria, just a winding path among heather and twigs, sprouted between the broken stones; it still could be seen that it once meandered from the Dwarf Kingdom’s lowlands, but the broad paved street was now reduced to a ghost of itself, just like Durin’s stone.

“I can’t go on without deviating for a moment to see the wonder of the valley!” exclaimed Gimli.

“Be quick, then!” said Aragorn, checking the gates behind them. “The sun sets early, and even if the Orcs won’t come out, perhaps, sooner than dusk, we must already be very far away at sunset; it’s almost new moon, so the night will be dark.”

Elva almost cursed under her breath: if the lightless night was approaching, even her monthly blood was coming. Of all the advantages of being a half-elf, unfortunately she hadn't inherited the one of not suffering like mortal women.

“Come with me, Elva!” cried the dwarf, distracting her from her thoughts. “I don’t want you to go away without first seeing Kheled-zaram.”

For some strange reason, despite her elven half, the dwarf liked her company, and quite a lot too. Together they descended the long green slope swiftly, followed slowly by the hobbits. A brief glance into the dark waters, and back again to the road, now turning south, going down quite steep from two offshoots that embraced the basin. A little lower than the lake, they encountered a deep well of crystal clear water, from which a steam rose, flowing right after down a rocky groove.

“Thirsty as you may be, don’t drink this water,” Gimli warned. “It’s cold as ice.”

“Over there, are the woods of Lothlorien,” said Elva, pointing at a golden haze in the flat lands. “It’s the most beautiful among all the homes of my people. There are no trees like those of that land: in autumn, their leaves don’t fall but turn to gold, replaced only in spring by the new buds covering the branches with yellow flowers. Then, the soil is gold as the ceiling and the smooth and grey bark of the trees make them look like silver columns, as our songs in Mirkwood still tell. My heart would be so happy if I were among the branches of that wood and the spring smiled!”

“My heart will be happy even if it’s winter,” Aragorn said. “But many miles separate us, let’s hurry!”

For a time, Frodo and Sam managed to keep up, but the warriors advanced swiftly and soon they were left behind. When Elva noticed, she immediately told Aragorn, who, seeing them so far away, ran back on his own steps, calling Boromir to follow him. He apologized, full of disquiet.

“So many things happened today, and we’re such in a hurry that I forgot you were injured. You should’ve said something, because in silence nothing has been done to alleviate your pain. A little further on there’s a place where we can rest for a moment. Come, Boromir, let’s carry them!”

They soon encountered another stream flowing down the western slopes, confusing its gurgling waters with the swirling ones of the Silverlode, diving together from an overhand of green coloured stone and foaming down in a hollow surrounded by fir trees, low and curved, with steeps sides covered with rapeseed and blueberry bushes. They stopped at the bottom, where was a flat area crossed by the bed of shiny pebbles in which the creek flowed noisy. It was nearly three in the afternoon, and they had travelled just a few miles from the Gates. The sun was already turning to west, painting a grave expression on Aragorn’s face as he cared for Frodo and Sam’s injuries.

“Lucky you” he exclaimed, to lighten up the gardener’s mood. “Many have received a worse reward for killing their first Orc. The cut isn’t poisoned, as is unfortunately the case for most wounds inflicted by their blades, so it’ll heal well.”

He then opened his saddlebag and took out some withered athelas. While fresh were more effective, the leaves would still do their work in cleaning the wound. When Frodo’s turn came, he was quite reluctant, saying he was fine and just needed some food and rest, but Aragorn persisted, and took off his old tunic and worn shirt, giving an exclamation of astonishment, which soon turned into laughter: the hobbit wore a silver coat that sparkled before their eyes like light on a choppy sea, the gems bright like stars and the tinkling of the rings producing the same sound as the first raindrops falling into a pond. If word got out that a hobbit had such a wonder, all the hunters of Middle Earth would’ve galloped towards the Shire, but all their arrows would’ve been vain before a mithril armour. Still, there was a dark blackened bruise on Frodo’s right side and one of the rings had passed through his soft leather jacket, penetrating into the flesh. While the others prepared the meal, Aragorn made more athelas water, filling the basin with its acrid fragrance. After the late lunch, the Fellowship put out the fire, erasing all traces of it, and climbed out the hollow, resuming the road. They hadn’t come far when the sun disappeared behind the western heights and great shadows crept along the sides of the mountains. Twilight veiled their feet, and a light mist glided in the depression, while far to the east, the evening lit up with its pale glow lands, plains and distant forests. Sam and Frodo managed to walk briskly and Aragorn led the Fellowship for another three hours with a single, shot break, after which the late nigh imposed her dark reign. There were several stars, but the moon waning would appear much later.

“Lothlorien!” Elva cried. “We have reached the edge of the Golden Wood!”

The trees stood imposing, arching over the road and the river that swept suddenly under their leafy branches, trunks gray in the pale starlight and leaves quivered with a touch of fallow yellow.

“We’re still too little far from the Gates, but we can’t go further. Let’s hope that the Elves virtue will protect us from the danger pursuing,” said Aragorn.

“Assuming the Elves still live here, in this darkening world,” Gimli said, joining them.

“It’s been a long time since some of my folks came back to see the land we abandoned centuries ago,” replied Elva, “but we know that Lorien is still not deserted and a secret force repels evil far from this district. Nevertheless, its inhabitants rarely show up, and perhaps now they live deep in the woods and far from the northern borders.”

Aragorn confirmed with a sigh, as if some memory in him had been awakened. “We must suffice to ourselves, for tonight. We’ll still walk a short distance, until the trees are thick around us, then we’ll leave the path to look for a place to rest.”

“There’s no other way?” asked Boromir, irresolute.

“What better way would you want?” asked Aragorn.

“A simple path, albeit flanked by a hedge of swords,” Boromir replied. “Our Fellowship has been conducted in strange ways, and all of them so far with an inauspicious outcome. Against my will we passed under the shadows of Moria, towards our perdition, and now we have to go into the Golden Woods, even if we have heard of that perilous district in Gondor, where it’s said that few of those who set foot there come out, and of these, non has been released unharmed.”

“Don’t say unharmed, but unchanged, and then your words will be truthful,” Aragon retorted. “Wisdom has certainly diminished in the city of those who were once wise if now they speak ill of Lothlorien. You may not believe me, but there’s no other way for us, unless you want to go back to the Gates or climb the mountains or swim alone along the Great River.”

“Then guide us!” agreed Boromir. “But it’s dangerous.” “Very,” Aragorn confirmed. “Beautiful and dangerous, but only the evil has to fear here.”

They walked a little over a mile into the forest when they encountered a third stream flowing rapidly from the tree-lined slopes, climbing west towards the mountains. They could hear it roar in a cascade hidden by the shadows, before the dark water crossed the path ahead of them, joining the Silverlode in a whirlwind of ponds hidden by tree roots. It was the Nimrodel, the river on which a long time ago the Silvan elves composed many song. She grew up singing them in the North, mindful of the rainbow over the waterfalls and the golden flowers floating on its foam. Everything was dark, now, and the Bridge over it collapsed, but its waters were still able to wash away any sign of fatigue, so she proposed to wade it to find on the other side a place to rest.

“The sound of falling water will perhaps bring us sleep and forgetfulness from sorrows.”

One after another, the men followed her and when they were all on the other bank, they sat down, rested and refreshed. Elva told the stores of Lothlorien, the ones the Mirkwood elves still treasured in their hearts, stories of the sun and stars on meadows along the Great River, from a time before the world turned gray. When finally silence fell, they heard the music of the waterfall that flowed smoothly in the shadows.

“Do you hear Nimrodel’s voice?” she asked. “I’ll sing you the story of a girl who was called like the river next to which she lived a long time ago. It’s a lovely song in Sylvan, but I’ll sing it in Westron for you.”

Then, with a sweet voice so faint it almost disappeared in the rustle of the leaves, she intoned the ballad of the elf with a white mantle edged with gold; she had long hair and white skin, the free girl with a voice clear like silver drops. It was evident that some of her companions thought this creature lost in the dewy mountains could’ve been her, so she sang about her lover, an elven king of trees and clearings, went away on a ship swept by the north wind.

From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing. The wind was in his flowing hair, The foam about him shone; Afar they saw him strong and fair Go riding like a swan. But from the West has come no word, And on the Hither Shore No tidings Elven-folk have heard Of Amroth evermore.

When Elva's voice trembled, the song ended. She said she couldn't continue because she didn't remember how it went on, but it was a lie: long and sad was the story about the doom befallen on Lothlorien when the dwarves roused evil in the mountains. She glances sideways at Gimli, who looked somewhat grateful, and quickly changed subject, proposing to camp on the trees for the night. The Fellowship left the path, entering the shadows of the forest further dense, headed west along the mountains steam and far away from the river, until they found a small group of trees with big trunks.

“I’m at home in roots and branches, but this species is unknown to me; I need to climb to see what their shape and way of growing is,” said Elva.

“Whatever they are,” replied Pippin, “they would really be wonderful if they offer a possible night’s rest to others than birds: I don’t know how to sleep perched on a hanger!”

“Then dig a ditch in the ground, if that’s more to the habits of you race,” Elva retorted, impatiently. “But you have to dig fast and in depth, if you wish to hide from the Orcs.”

Before she could do anything else, however, an authoritative voice spoke from the shadows. In amazement, she crouched frightened against the trunk.

“Stay still,” she whispered to the others. “Don’t move and don’t speak!”

A soft laugh was heard in the foliage, and another clear voice spoke in an elven language. Elva looked up and answered in the same idiom, different from the ones the western elves used.

"Who are they, and what do they say?" asked Merry.

"They're Elves," Sam replied. "Don't you hear their voices?"

"And they say you breathe so hard they could pierce your heart despite the darkness,” Elva hissed, silencing the hobbits. To be honest, there was no reason to be afraid: the elves said they’ve been long aware of their presence but they didn’t hinder the Fellowship in crossing the river since they heard her voice beyond the Nimrodel and recognized she belonged to their Nordic lineage.

“They’re begging me to go up with Frodo. It seems they’ve received news about our journey but they ask the others to be patient for a moment and guard the feet of the tree, waiting for them to decide what to do.”

At those words, a ladder was lowered from the shadows: it was made of a silver-gray sparkling cord and despite its frail appearance, it proved itself strong enough to withstand the weight of several people. Elva went up fast, while Frodo tried to persuade Sam to stay with the others. It would’ve been a wise choice, it was easy to offend her people, but the gardener was immovable and in the end they entered the flet, talan in elvish, through the circular hole open in the centre. The elf holding the ladder, the eldest, invited her to sit with his companions, two younger guards, both fully dressed in silver gray fabric, a valid help to hide among the stumps and then greeted the hobbits in a slow Common Tongue.

“It’s rare for us not to use our mother tongue, since now we live in the heart of the forest and don’t like to deal with other people. Even our own relatives in the North are divided from us, but some still go in foreign lands to gather news and watch over enemies, and therefore they speak different languages like me. My brothers Rumil and Orophin understand little of what you say, but we heard of your coming from Lord Elrond’s messengers when they passed by Lorien on their way home. From many years we no longer knew anything about your race and we didn’t think there were still any hobbit in Middle Earth. You don’t seem bad natured and since you come with an elf of our lineage, it’s with pleasure that we’ll help you, as Elrond asked us to, although is not out habit to lead strangers across our land, but you’ll have to spend the night here. How many are you?”

"Eight: me, four of them,” said Elva, alluding to the hobbits, “and two men, one being Aragorn, an elf-friend of the Westernesse folk.”

“The name of Aragorn son of Arathorn is known in Lorien, and he has the benevolence of the Lady. So, everything is fine,” said Haldir. “But you have so far only named seven.”

“The eight is a dwarf,” admitted the girl, never lowering her eyes, no trace of shame in her voice. She knew that Haldir must’ve understood by now that not only elven blood ran in her veins, but he didn’t seem to care.

“This is not good: we haven’t dealt with them since the Dark Days and they’re not allowed into our country. I cannot let him pass.”

“He’s of the Lonely Mountain, one of Dain’s trusted people and friend of Lord Elrond, who has personally chosen him to be part of our Fellowship,” she explained. At her words, the three elves exchanged a long, knowing look.

“Is he perhaps your companion, milady?” Haldir asked.

“Would it make any difference on his courage and loyalty?” she asked, heedless of what some strangers might think. If she had cared about the opinion of all the souls she had met in her long life, her heart would’ve already burst with pain.

"Very well," said Rumil at last, displeased. Ignoring the fact that the hobbits didn’t understand him, he told her in Sindarin that if she and Aragorn had watched and answered for Gimli, he could’ve passed, but only blindfolded.

“Now, we mustn’t waste any more time,” Haldir resumed. “Your companions have been on the ground too long and soon in the morning you’ll have to continue your march. The hobbits will stay here with us, while you’ll remain in the other talan with the rest of the Fellowship.”

“Call if something is wrong!” he added in the end, as a farewell. Elva was halfway down the ladder when she heard one of his brothers mutter something about such a beautiful voice wasted in a terribly vulgar way, but she couldn’t understand his reply.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Make Way For The New

Pairing: Abaddon x Demon!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: demon!reader, minor angst, minor fluff

Summary: You enjoyed your time on Earth, but you love being a demon just a little bit more. You have a new life, and if you’re going to continue to love it, you need to get rid of your biggest obstacles... the Winchesters.

Fandom: Supernatural

abaddon (2019 card) for @heavenandhellbingo​

if you want a thing done well, do it yourself for @as-the-saying-goes-bingo​

missing and presumed dead for @badthingshappenbingo​

betrayal in @ladiesbingo

traveling woman in @spnfemslashbingo​

abaddon for @spnvillainsbingo​

Author’s Note: Yes, there will be another part. Maybe a third depending if you guys want it. This is unbeta’d and all mistakes are mine. If you have any requests, please send them in!

There are two sides to you: the past and the present.

Before, you did everything with the Winchesters. You met them when your life was at stake because a dragon captured you to eat. Yes, you were a virgin back then, but you quickly corrected that issue to prevent that mistake from happening again (or, that’s what you tell yourself). In reality, Dean was just too magnetic to stay away from.

Working with the Winchesters led to some really fun nights and some of the lowest lows you’ve ever seen yourself in. You three trusted each other with your life, always taking risks that the others wouldn’t. You used to put others before yourself all the time. It didn't matter if you know them or not. To you, everyone’s lives were worth more than yours… it’s why you and Dean got along so well.

You two became closer after you two had sex, even if it was the only time it happened. You’ve flirted with him almost every day, and there have been times when you two would make out, but it never went beyond that. It was just easier to sleep with someone you met in a bar and forget they existed the very next day. It was harder to do that with Dean since you lived with him.

Working with them was fine in the beginning, but the more hunts you went on, the more you realized how much you wanted a family. You’re always saving families and watching them reunite, and you long for one of your own. Dean tended to remind you that he and Sam were your family, and while that was true, you really wanted kids and to build one from the ground up.

It’s why you went your separate ways.

Sam and Dean wanted to continue to hunt, and you really wanted a family. That didn’t mean you weren't going to help if needed, you just weren't going to pick up a gun for them anymore. Whatever they needed, you helped from the comfort of your home. You kept in touch with them every day, told them about the men you were dating, and got so excited when one relationship lasted more than four months. They supported you from the Bunker, and you supported them from your apartment on the other side of the country. The only problem was that something was always dragging you back into hunting whether that would be a monster in your hometown, Sam and Dean needing your help on a hunt since they didn’t know anyone else, or whatever it was.

You got sick and tired of bailing on your boyfriends because you had to fight some monster. It wasn’t fair to them and it wasn’t fair to you. You ended up doing something you never thought you, as a hunter, would do. The need for wanting a family overcame the voice inside your head telling you not to do it. Of course, you never told Sam or Dean what you did… in fact, they hardly ever needed you for hunting after you did what you did.

You sold your soul for the apple pie life. Ten years being happy with a family is better than a lifetime of hunting monsters and never getting anywhere.

However, before you could get what you want, you died because you were in an accident. Now, you don’t know if it was some douchebag demon cashing in on souls early or if it was truly an accident, but it didn't matter because you went to Hell.

At first, it was torture getting tortured on the rack. It felt like a century being on there, but only a few years had passed. You’re used to getting a lot of pain from hunting with the Winchesters, but you’ve never experienced pain like that before.

You broke sooner than you hoped you would.

Instead of being tortured, you decided to do the torturing. It was nice to cut into skin that wasn’t yours. You knew Dean had gone to hell and was an excellent torturer, but you were better. You actually came up with ways that haven't even been invented yet. Everyone in Hell feared you, was scared when your name came into conversation. You got so good at torturing that anyone who was refusing to talk, did when they heard you were coming in.

After a few centuries of bringing the worst pain unto anyone that dare get in your way, you were promoted to a crossroad demon. It wasn’t as fancy as torturing souls, but you did get to see Earth. If you missed anything while you were human, it was being on Earth. Hell is great, but an argument can be made for Earth being a bit better.

After doing a few years being topside, you were a free demon, able to jump between Hell and Earth whenever you pleased. Crowley really wanted you to grab demons who were misbehaving and bring them back to him (injured or not), but you managed to slip into your old days of going to bars and picking up men.

Along the way, you met an equally scary demon, Abaddon. The only difference is that she is a Knight of Hell, and you’re not. You’ve never really clicked with anyone since going to Hell, but you did click with her. She never cared for other demons as her only goal was to overrun Crowley and become Queen of Hell, but you she cared for. There is something about you that taps into her emotions like no other.

You two became the dynamic duo, never going anywhere without the other. Whoever got in her way got in yours, and vice versa. There is nothing you two don’t do together, and that includes going to Earth to enjoy human things. You even traveled the world to see what you couldn’t when you were human.

The bar you two are in is lively with chatter, laughter, and all around good energy. You’ve been a demon for way too long, so you actually miss things like this. Abaddon is in one of her better moods which is why she agreed to something like this. The waiter just brought over your fourth round, and you take your glass to clink to hers.

“To us,” you grin.

“To us,” she smiles widely.

You down the shot, feeling no effect whatsoever. When done, you lean in and kiss her tenderly, glad to be by her side. It’s not every day that you can do this with her, so you’re cherishing each second until you have to go back to work. Your assignment: the Winchesters. But, more on that later.

“You know, I’ve never really understood Princes and Knights of Hell. Do you have wings?” you ask, staring at her in adoration.

“No, dear,” she chuckles. She cups your cheek with her right hand and rubs your cheekbone with her thumb. “That’s angels.”

You bite her thumb gently, and she pulls away with a smirk. She is about to suggest something else to do that’s way better than sitting in this dingy bar, but her phone rings. She’s still getting used to cell phones, but she answers it, nonetheless. You don’t know who is on the other line, but by the looks of her face, it’s not good news.

“What happened?” you ask once she hangs up.

“It’s those damn Winchesters… always getting in the way,” she growls. “They just won’t quit.”

You get an idea, suddenly, you and just smirk at the thought of it.

“You know, I used to work with them when I was human. Apparently, we worked pretty well together. I can make them stop… for good.”

“How?” she asks, intrigued.

All you can do is smile widely as the wicked thoughts enter your mind.

Sam and Dean have yet to find Abaddon and kill her before she takes over Hell and becomes Queen. They’re not getting any closer, and the Mark on Dean’s arm is itching for something more… powerful than mindless demons and monsters. Dean slams his bag on the library table with a frustrated huff.

“We’ll get her, Dean.”

“Yeah, when?”

Dean’s phone rings, and he stares at the strange yet familiar name. It takes a few seconds, but it clicks in his mind that it’s you… after all this time.

“It’s Y/N,” Dean gasps.

“She’s alive?” Sam asks, just as shocked.

Dean answers the phone and puts you on speakerphone so that Sam can hear.

“Y/N? Is that you?”

“Hi Dean. Long time no… talk,” you chuckle, keeping up the innocent facade they know you to have,

“Where the hell have you been? We thought you were missing or dead!”

“I’ve actually never felt better. I needed time for myself, and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going away.”

“It’s been years, Y/N. That’s a little long for just ‘going away’. Where did you go?”

“Doesn’t matter. What matters is that I know how to find Abaddon,” you grin and wink at Abaddon herself.

“What did you just say?”

“I heard down the chain of command you’re looking for her. She’s not far from where you are, actually. We can sit here and talk about how I know where she is and all that or you can come meet me and help me trap her. I heard you have the Mark which means you have the First Blade… you can kill her.”

“Where are you?”

“Believe it or not, Wichita, Kansas. She’s always been close just watching you. It’s why you can never find her.”

“Alright, we’re on our way.”

“Okay, drive safe,” you say sweetly.

As soon as you hang up the phone, you lose the sweet facade and give Abaddon a smirk.

“You want them to stop following you? You have to take out Sam first. Dean will be so hell bent on getting revenge, and that’s when we can use the Mark against him.”

“You’re so bad,” she grins and pulls you in by the waist.

“I know,” you chuckle.

You meet her halfway and kiss her, excited to use your skills on your old life… flushing out whatever good that used to be inside you.

Sam and Dean make it to Wichita in less than two hours, meeting you at the local bar. You told Abaddon to hide and wait for your signal. You dressed how you used to so that the brothers wouldn't suspect anything was wrong. If you want them to trust you after being gone for so long, then you really have to act the part.

“Sam! Dean!” you gasp with a smile, rushing over to them in excitement.

“It’s been too long, Y/L/N,” Dean chuckles and gives you a hug.

You remember what it’s like being in these arms, but you want to know what it’s like to watch his blood spill over them. Sam is next, and you silently size him up. You may be a badass demon, but they have been doing this a long time. If you’re going to get rid of them, then you have to be smart about this.

“Is she still here?” Sam asks when you pull away from him.

“Yeah. On the outskirts of town. She’s been there all day. I don’t know what she’s waiting for, but better make our move now.”

“Wait, are you sure you’re good? You seem a little too eager.”

“Let’s just get her while we can. Then, I’ll tell you all about where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to. Spoiler alert, I think I’ve done every sex position there is.”

“Gross,” Sam shakes his head.

“Nice,” Dean says at the same time as his brother.

“Come on, we need to get going.”

You lead the Winchesters to the edge of town where an abandoned farm is. On that farm is a barn where Abaddon is hiding out. You gear up with the Winchesters when you notice the Mark on Dean’s arm.

“Does it hurt?” you ask, motioning to it.

“I try not to think about it.”

You and the brothers head inside quietly, guns drawn. There is no one in the barn, and it takes Dean two seconds to figure out that she isn’t here, or that something isn’t right.

“Where is she?”

“Right here,” Abaddon smirks, entering the barn from where you three came in.

Sam and Dean turn, and yours and Abaddon’s eyes turn black.

“So glad you could join us,” you chuckle darkly.

You raise your hands, and Sam and Dean go flying across the room into the back wall. They hit their heads on the tables, causing them to black out. You and Abaddon high-five each other before heading over to them.

“This is going to be so much fun…”

Wanna get tagged? Add yourself to this document! If your tag doesn’t work, find out why! Follow my library blog @queenofdeansbooty-writes​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can follow that if you can’t be tagged!

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[d-p-f-m]

Obey me: Asmodeus x fem!MC | Imagine

Genre: Fluff, (slight) Angst

Trigger warning: mentions of minor character death/suicide

Word count: 1820

Author's note:

I don't even write for Obey me or anything otome related at the moment, but I just had to get this idea out of my system so I can sleep peacefully and thought I'd share it here, because there's not nearly enough Asmo content out there and some of my fellow Asmodeus stans might appreciate it. This man deserves more love!

Anyway, hope you enjoy!💞

♠️♥️♣️♦️♠️♥️♣️♦️♠️♥️♣️♦️

▪Imagine a universe where it's canon that every brother owns a ring with their sin's symbol engraved in it, but Asmo's ring has been missing for a very long time without anyone knowing what happened with it because he never gives a straight answer when confronted about it

▪when MC first arrives in devildom for the exchange program, she wears the ring on a necklace around her neck, seeing as it was passed down from mother to daughter as her family's heirloom through generations

▪with six of the brothers owning a similar ring to hers, it doesn't take her very long to put two and two together. Although, once she finds out it's in fact Asmo's ring, she doesn't tell him right away, because he's not particulary responsive as she subtly questions him about the whereabouts of his ring and she's scared of the real reason why it could be in her possession

▪Maybe one of her ancestors stole it from him? Maybe it's a sign to signal that her bloodline is indepted to the avatar of lust due to some deal someone made with him eons ago? Honestly, it could have so many reasons and a lot of them make her worry that it would have negative consequences for her, if anyone found out

▪Asmo simply tells her, that he lost the ring to a woman who died before he could take it back from her and for some reason, his words make her think of the recurring nightmare that would often cause her to startle awake growing up. Anxiously, MC asks him if the woman drowned before she can think better of it

▪eyeing her warily, he confirms her suspicion, asking her how she could have randomly guessed it right. Although, unable to grasp the weird feeling that overcame her while talking about the long deceased woman, she just brushes it off as a strange coincidence

▪she starts to wear the ring less while she's around Asmo, to hide it from him until she knows she can fully trust the demon brothers

▪one time, as she stays over at his room for a sleep-over, he almost gets a glimpse at it when it slips out from the collar of her loose pajama shirt and she doesn't want to risk him seeing it again. Because for all she knows, he could get mad at her for having it. Even though she can't really understand why she has it herself

▪over time, MC and Asmo gradually grow closer

▪they don't have any kind of sexual relationship, because MC wants to genuinely love and be loved by someone before giving all of herself to them

▪while Asmo respects her decision, it obviously doesn't stop him from playfully flirting with her and due to both their affectionate natures, they develop a close friendship that involves constant casual touches and cuddling

▪every time Asmo does try to initiate anything sexual between them out of habit -since it's the only outcome people usually seek from interactions with the avatar of lust and he's not used to someone actually enjoying his company for just his company alone- MC stops him gently and tells him she'd much rather just cuddle or spend time with him in general

▪Asmo appreciates and looks forward to their shared quality time a lot and he slowly starts to accept the fact that, yes, MC's not out there to use him in any way but instead actually cares for him and his feelings

▪it shows in little, almost insignificant gestures. Like her going out of her way to do favors for him, or how she always asks if he's comfortable with the smallest of things, or even how she makes sure to get his opinion on matters where people would usually just assume they know what he thinks, according to his sin and self-imposed image

▪from time to time he even prioritizes MC's innocent, loving touches over the pleasure his usual hook-ups could bring, staying in and spending his nights cuddled up to her instead of going out to party more often than not as the months pass by

▪without neither of them really acknowledging it, they both develop deeper, romantic feelings for each other over the course of the exchange period

▪one day, as MC cleans her room, (that Mammon wrecked while searching for something to sell lol), she realizes the small casket with Asmo's ring is missing from where she had put it and she immediately rushes after the second-born, who had just left her bedroom before she came in, in case he took it. As it turns out, he did

▪when Mammon realizes how important the casket is to her, he remorsefully gives it back and she returns to her room to hide it again but just as she's about to put it away, Asmo comes strolling in

▪seeing the fancy box, he grabs it from her to take a look inside out of curiosity and when he recognizes his ring, he freezes

▪feeling guilty about keeping the ring a secret for so long, MC calmly asks Asmo to let her explain

▪she tells him that her mother gave it to her once she had turned sixteen, but she hadn't been able to teach MC anything about its origins besides that it had been passed down between family members for centuries

▪after listening to her, Asmodeus grows quiet for a while, before finally opening up a little about how he lost the ring

▪a few millennia prior to the present events with MC, while Diavolo's father was still actively ruling and it was allowed for higher-ranking demons to freely roam between the human realm and devildom, Asmo would often times visit the humans to play with people's hearts and desires

▪one day, as he was passing through a small village, he met a young woman who didn't succumb to his charms

▪she was nice and courteous towards him while they interacted, but his powers never had any actual effect and determined to defile her someday, he payed the village more visits any chance he got

▪seeing as it was one of the rare times during the day where he would get her alone, he would often join her as she spent her evenings sitting at her favorite place on the edge of a cliff, located just outside the village

▪while he tried to find a way to get the frustratingly untainted woman to give in to her deepest desires, they would talk about anything that came to their minds and over time, Asmodeus had to admit he quite enjoyed her presence

▪slowly but surely, he came to care for her once he realized that she genuinely cared for him and even though he never admitted it out loud, her friendship was something he secretly cherished

▪as they were sitting side by side one night, like many times before, the woman suddenly admitted to him that she always feared he would stop visiting her someday. That he would find someone who was willing to indulge in him in more ways than she could allow herself to and that he would eventually get tired of her company

▪while she didn't know about his true demonic nature, she had always been aware that he wasn't exactly human per se and it was only natural for her to believe that he was simply playing with her to fight the boredom that overcame him occasionally. Which, initially, had been true

▪that's when he decided to give her his ring.

▪uncharacteristically keen to reassure her he would keep visiting, unless she told him to stop, he slid the ring from his finger and onto hers instead, telling her to guard it until he'd demand it back one day

▪from this day on, she would often times invite him into her home to talk in the comfort of her bedroom instead of at the cliff and Asmodeus would rest his head in her lap while she went on about a new topic every time, gently caressing his hair or playing with the fabric of his clothes in the process

▪when she told him one night, that her father was in desperate need for money and therefore planned to marry her off to a wealthy merchant with a reputation to be cruel and violent towards women, Asmo felt a strange and long forgotten urge to protect her

▪the last person that had made him feel this way was Lilith and without really thinking it through, he offered to take her away with him

▪although, she declined his offer with a mournful smile, explaining how, even though she cared for Asmodeus deeply and wanted nothing more than to stay with him, she could never live with herself if she left her family behind for her own benefit and that she still had time to convince her father to drop his idea, before the merchant would come to take her with him

▪Asmo didn't want to upset her, by ignoring her wishes and taking her away by force, so he reluctantly accepted her decision, thinking he still had time to convince her to run away, but when he came by to check on her a few days later, she was nowhere to be found

▪it turned out she had committed suicide by jumping off the cliff and drowning herself, the morning after Asmodeus had last visited her

▪he always thought that his ring had been buried with her (let's just pretend she had a proper burial, even though at that time, suicide was probably considered a sin and not excepted by society. Maybe her family buried her in secret) and that's why he never found it, when in reality, her brother had taken it, to later give it to his own daughter in memory of his lost sister

▪after Asmo finishes with the story behind his ring's disappearance, MC quickly realizes that she has to be a descendant of the woman's bloodline (which is also Lilith's human bloodline, hence why both of them are immune to Asmo's powers)

▪she attempts to give the ring back to him, because, surely, that's what both the woman and Asmo would want. But he stops her and puts the necklace the ring is attached to around her neck, before explaining that he wants her to keep it, since his promise to someday return to claim it back still stands and he doesn't plan on leaving MC's side any time soon, anyway

▪if anything, MC finding her way to him after so many centuries just means their encounter was predetermined all along and he made the right choice by entrusting his ring to her ancestor all those years ago

▪(maybe he even thinks that him finding genuine love for the first time with MC was fate as well, but he'll have a lot of time to entertain this line thought in the future.)

🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂🦂

Additional note:

Damn, I want to see a full version of this, but with life butting in every 5 seconds, I don't really have the time or energy for it. So, if there's a talented writer out there who loves this idea as much as I do and wants to turn it into an endlessly ongoing, multi-chaptered slow burn, pls (PLS!!!) do and mention me in your post, so I can read it!! I could really need this story right now.

Alright, Imma go to sleep now. Bye guys🔥

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

[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 < )~

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