#you can be a jerk in that façade i respect that

[mouse-romance]

Always amazed how the biggest jerks in online games are always paladins.

The irony of how the most power-hungry gamebreakers with no honor will pick the class that suposedly enacts altruism and good vibes.

[veronicavanessavictoria]

Chaotic Thoughts on Femininity

I feel inspired. I just watched Sex and the City, and I was hit with the realisation, that being a woman has always had its unique challenges. That is to say, that besides the obvious like; the patriarchy, lack of rights and the constant fear of getting attacked when you are going back home at night. No, there are these generational unique little quirks to our lives, signs of the times maybe? But at their core they are all the same. I think it’s trying to keep your dignity as a person, while being of the female gender, and thus on some levels not a person (to many).

Like with sex, we are some years into the sexual revolution in the West, on the surface level as a woman you are allowed to fuck whoever and whenever you want. But I always am so extremely aware that this a façade and underneath this, lies a cemetery of broken egos, hearts and women. We know that most men who are so very enthusiastic about our sexual freedom, could care less whether we live or die or receive any kind of pleasure from this openness to sex. Their enthusiasm ends at the tip of their dick and any serious thought is only given to how to access as many women in as many ways as possible. Sexual autonomy is only important when it results in you letting him choke you while he pounds you until he gets too exhausted, not even giving you the satisfaction of making him come, because his brain is too scrambled by porn and thus he can only orgasm by violently jerking his limp dick to a video of a woman most likely drugged out of her mind so that she can block out the abuse that is being filmed. And so even just sex, becomes too complicated in my mind. Because I want to be respected above all, and I just doubt that a man who slaps my face truly has much regard for me. But at the same time, my brain is scrambled all the same. Because I do want him to slap me. Not because I enjoy it, I truly doubt anyone honestly does, but because I want him to remember me, if cannot respect me. 

I like sex but I hate it too. I am disengaged from my emotions and from my body and I think rather than live life, I am trying to recreate movie scenes. I do not listen to music, I am creating a soundtrack. Rather than have sex, I fuck, and fucking is cinematic to me. It is performative. My moans are rehearsed. My positions are perfected in front a mirror.  I often think of that quote, the one by a movie critic, that states that a woman watches herself move through life, as seen through the perspective of a man who watches her. Essentially, I see it as always performing a role, even when nobody is watching. How many men wear cute loungewear sets only to stay at home and be seen by no one? How many men fix their messy buns and wear blue light glasses so that their study session seems perfectly in line with their study Pinterest board? And while I do know that I do these things for a reason, they are also some of my favourite parts of being a woman. I love putting on a show for that invisible man. I adore changing my gait to fit the aesthetic of my outfit, which in itself fits into the specific mood I am in. Today I was a girl moving through the autumnal rain in the city, in my mind it was New York, and the movie was set in the early two-thousands. I felt mature, because I was a woman I watched in the movies that came out during my childhood. You know those specific movies that had a slight blue tint, a little grain and everyone had a flip phone in them? The women wore leather boots on a thin heel, and sweaters without a bra underneath and an ill-fitting coat. Anyways the rain today made me act out that movie and I loved it. Tomorrow it will be sunny so perhaps I will be Monica Bellucci in the Italian warn stricken countryside, my lips red, my hair perfectly curled, with that precise highly feminine saunter. 

[bovine-providence]

Opened Hearts

Illuso x Reader

[CWs: mentions of kidnapping]

You studied his face, carefully noting how peaceful and… vulnerable he was as he slept. During the day, he wore his façade well; arrogant, cruel, loudly declaring his superiority over others. But here he was, just a man before you now.

At that moment, his eyes snapped open, locking onto your own.

“Caught you,” he stated, smirking. Well, there went the softness you had been captivated by.

“Shut up,” you muttered, but before you could turn away from him, he reached out to hold your cheek. Your eyes widened as you held each other’s gazes, seemingly unable to find the right words. Finally, he broke the silence.

“You don’t have to hide, you know,” he murmured. You shifted uneasily.

“What do you mean?”

Illuso sighed, then withdrew his hand as he adjusted his posture, his hand resting on the space between the two of you.

“I’ve noticed that when you admire me,” he smirked at your annoyed huff, “it’s like you’re holding your breath. It’s almost like you don’t want to get caught doing something wrong. You…” his voice trailed off, as though he realized something vital. The smirk faded as his eyes widened and his brow furrowed.

“Illuso, I…” you started. You turned away from him momentarily to collect your thoughts before turning back to him. “I… think I’m beginning to… fall for you,” you murmured. Emboldened, you gingerly placed your hand atop his between the two of you.

You and your (captor? lover?) looked down at your hands, before he spaced his fingers for you to intertwine your own between them. Your breath hitched; biting your lip, you returned your gaze to his garnet orbs.

“…Are you sure?” he questioned. “I brought you here against your will, forced you to stay in a mirror, took away your freedoms. If you never felt anything for me but hate, I would understand. You love me?”

You shrug at his self-awareness. “I mean… yeah, you did kidnap me and keep me here. But outside of that, you still respected my boundaries and showed that you value me as a person. You’ve never forced me to do anything I didn’t want, you left my loved ones alone, and you’ve taken the time to actually know me.” Seeing him nod, you continued. “Once I got used to being here, I wanted to get to know you as well. I mean sure, you can be a jerk at times, but you’ve gone out of your way to change when it was an issue. You’re really caring, and I’ve enjoyed spending time with you.”

At your words, you felt Illuso squeeze your fingers. Squeezing his back, you saw a small smile flicker on his face as he glanced at your hands before returning his focus to you.

“I appreciate your words, amore,” he murmured. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I used force at the start. Are you sure about this?”

Hearing the doubt in his voice pained you. Withdrawing your hand from his, you shifted closer to him. His expression, which had turned downcast at the loss of your touch, was replaced with surprise when you cradled his face in your gentle grip.

“When you kidnapped me, I was in a dark place. I thought my life was going to be this monotonous rerun of the same day for the rest of my life. You saved me from that; I look forward to my day now. I actually enjoy life, thanks to you. Maybe you should’ve approached me differently, but… Illuso, I love you.”

You were both shocked by your admission. But you didn’t miss your now-lover’s wide smile when he quickly pulled you to his chest.

“Oh Y/N, I love you too,” he declared happily. You chuckled against him, and you heard his own, the rumble in his chest giving you a warm feeling. Looking up at him, he was gazing at you tenderly.

Though he was awake, you didn’t see his usual arrogance; instead, it’s the softness you’re only accustomed to seeing when he’s asleep.

He looked so relaxed like this.

You felt so, so safe and loved in his arms, so it seemed only right to close your eyes and lean up, puckering your lips lightly. Petal-soft lips met your own, and it was the sweetest kiss you’ve ever shared with anyone. As you pull backed from one another, neither of you needed words anymore to convey what you felt. The soft gazes traded and gentle caresses spoke loudly enough.

There would be time enough tomorrow to figure out the details of your blooming relationship, but for now, you were wrapped in Illuso’s arms as you snuggled into his chest, his heartbeat providing a soothing lullaby to return to sleep.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

"I don't fucking need you. I don't fucking need anyone."

(ideally said to reinforce an angry, apathetic façade)

CW: Panicked whumpee, trauma response, discussion of stabbing/murder, defiant/angry whumpee, referenced prostitution/dubcon, brief internal dehumanization reference

Jake Gets Stabbed: First Second Third Fourth

Also includes @nonsensicalwhump’s prompt ‘don’t fucking touch me’

There was an old backpack already in the closet when he moved into this place. It was worn around the edges, with safety pins all along the top because the zipper had long since broken, an olive green that might have been brighter, once upon a time. The bottom’s duct-taped in layers to hold it together. There are more safety pins holding seams together along the side, another strip of tape where there’s smeared permanent marker, too destroyed for Jameson to even read it.

The backpack looks like Jameson feels, wrecked and ruined and trying valiantly to stay together at the seams, only to come apart anyway.

He stuffs a package of goldfish crackers into the backpack on top of the three pairs of boxers and two shirts and one pair of pants he’s already put inside. Then he adds the bit of beef jerky he keeps up on the top shelf in the closet, where he has to climb onto a box to even reach it. 

His heart hammers in his chest, and when Allyn’s fingertips brush along his shoulder blades through his shirt he jerks away from them, shoving some granola bars in, too. “Don’t fucking touch me!” He snaps, but all he wants is to collapse back into their arms, let them tell him it’ll be okay again, and believe it.

But he can’t believe it.

Their rainshower voice is a lie, the taste of ozone and the relieved wash of cool water is a lie, it’s all a fucking lie and it always fucking was.

“Jameson, no one is asking you to leave,” They say, voice low and soothing, their hands out but not quite touching him now. He glances over his shoulder at those long, long fingers, graceful elegant hands made for gesturing at the parties they tell him about. Fingers entirely unlike his own, the pinky that won’t quite close all the way anymore, the scars layered over them from every time they were hit until they bled, until he begged for more.

“No one has to,” Jameson says, staring down at the empty space in the top of the backpack. Does he own so little? Does he even own any of this? He can’t take the carvings in the closet wall, and that’s most of what he even wants to take. His proof to himself that he was a person, however briefly, before he goes back out to lose it all over again. “I killed m-my fucking-... the person who believed I c-c-ould be better, I killed him-”

“He’s not dead,” They say softly, and their hair hangs over their face. It’s all mussed and frizzy, and he thinks they look even prettier and more handsome somehow, like they’ve rolled out of bed, even though he knows it’s because they’re worried, too worried to pull it back, too worried to care. “I, I heard them call a doctor. Someone’s going to sew it up and he’ll b-be-”

“He’ll bleed to fucking death because of me,” Jameson says, and the weight of it hits him now. He sits down on his bed but it’s more like he falls into it. It’s not his bed anymore, anyway. It’ll be some other rescue’s, someone more deserving than he’s ever been of regaining humanity.

Some other rescue will arrive and lay down here across from Allyn and maybe watch the moonlight move over their face while they look outside and think that no one in the world has ever been as lovely in silvery light as them, and Jameson will be out on the street fucking for cash or food or for ten minutes of safety from himself.

Unless he kills them.

He might.

He might do that, if he-... if he sees Robert in their faces, or Brute, or if he gets lost in himself again he could keep killing people and then he’s not any different, and it wasn’t just to escape and it wasn’t worth it, and from the second he walked away from Nanda’s house he was just going to turn into a killer, wasn’t he? And now he is one.

Now he’s-

Jameson leans over himself, pressing his forehead to his knees, feeling all the scars along his back stretch uncomfortably as he moves. He takes in slow, even breaths, fighting the despair that overwhelms him, buries, drowns him in what he’s done.

He’s just a hand, reaching out, but he’d thought he was reaching out for help. Instead he was holding a knife.

“I won’t let them kick you out,” Allyn says softly, but insistently, dropping to a crouch in front of him. Their hands still hover, wanting so badly to touch him, respecting that he doesn’t want them to. He can feel the warmth of them even so. Their hands are so close. “I promise. I’ll, I’ll convince them somehow to let you stay. We can figure this out, Jameson, you don’t have to be all by yourself.”

“It’s fine, I d-did it before, I can do it again. It’s fine.” Jameson talks into the fabric of his jeans, lets it muffle the emotion and flatten his words. His shoulders shake with a sob he catches before it ever leaves his throat. 

“Jameson, you know we don’t do well alone, you need-”

“I don’t fucking need anyone!” His head jerks up, meeting their gray eyes with his own dark brown. He can feel air move against his skin and realizes with some dull surprise he’s crying again. “I don’t-... I don’t fucking need a keeper, I don’t need... I don’t n-need anybody, I don’t need y-y... I don’t-”

He can’t tell that lie.

“Please don’t leave,” Allyn says, and their hands come to rest gently on either side of his face now, cool dry palms against his flushed damp skin. “Jameson. Please don’t leave me.”

“I tried to kill the first person to help me,” Jameson whispers. “The first person who didn’t ask for anything back. I tried to kill him.”

Allyn shakes their head. “You tried to kill R-... Robert, whoever that was. You tried to kill someone who hurt you. You didn’t know. If you leave, I-I’ll go with you, I can... I can go with you.”

“No you can’t. You don’t know how t-to handle shit out there, Allyn, it’d-...” He looks over their faces, the tears in their eyes, tears he caused, it’s his fault they want to cry. It’s his fault everyone in this house wants to cry, now, it’s his fault they bleed in every possible way. It’s his fault, for thinking he was ever more than just another rabid dog. 

“I’ll go anyway,” Allyn says, fiercely. Their voice pours on his tongue, it’s the taste of a raging rush of river, a flood in the middle of the night, washing out the dry earth. “I’ll go with you anyway, we’ll figure it out, Jameson, you and I. I won’t lose anyone else-... I won’t lose you.”

Jameson hitches in a breath that burns all the way down to his lungs, and his own hands rise, slowly, to rest over theirs. “But... it could happen again, Allyn. What if-... what if it happens again?”

“What if it does? So what? It’ll just be us, we can just run, we can do it.” Allyn just looks at him, with those tears starting to well up and run down their cheeks like the water he tastes when they speak.

He licks at his lips, forcing the words out with every ounce of strength he has left. “What if... what if n-next time it’s you?”

Allyn opens their mouth to respond only for there to be a soft rap at the doorframe, both of them turning to look. 

Jake’s boyfriend, the one who used to be like them, stands there. His wide blue eyes are nearly red from crying, and his face is as flushed as Jameson’s. To Jameson, his eyes seem cold and glittering, shattered glass. 

His voice tastes like pears when he speaks, and Jameson shudders wondering if there’s a needle slipped into the soft skin of the fruit. 

“Jameson?”

The two of them don’t move, except that Jameson curls his scarred, rough fingers over Allyn’s smooth hands and holds on as they drift down. He only looks at Kauri and says, his hoarse voice still thick with his own dread and guilt and fear, “Yeah?”

Kauri rakes a hand back through half-controlled black curls and takes a breath. “He’s all sewn up, and there’s some... someone Nat knows downstairs now, with Dr. Masood. They think-... I don’t know. Probably not going to, uh, to d-die.”

Jameson nods, his grip tightening on Allyn’s fingers, but the other rescue doesn’t pull away or flinch, only holds right back, just as tightly. “That’s-... good. Kauri, I, I didn’t know-”

“Yeah, I get it.” Kauri’s voice sharpens, and Jameson closes his eyes. Pear and razor blades, blood on his tongue, not like Nanda. This blood doesn’t taste like pleasure but guilt and regret. “I know-... I get it. Chris more... more or less explained it to me. But we need to talk.”

Allyn squares their shoulders, jaw settling. “It’s not his fault. You can’t blame him, he didn’t know-”

“I need to talk,” Kauri says with effort, “to Jameson.” His eyes go to the backpack packed on the bed, not yet closed up, the symbol of Jameson’s intent to run. Something changes in his expression, but Jameson can’t read it. “I need to talk to Jameson alone.”

-

@astrobly @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @whumptywhumpdump @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump @newandfiguringitout @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whumpiary @endless-whump @burtlederp

[theangryjikooker]

I think jikook is not the same jikook as before. They're not close as before. (And I'm talking about friendship, I don't think some members are dating each other). Jimin has finally understood that he was the only one to "support" their friendship so he stopped posting jikook and Jungkook (and you can notice that, no jikook for 2 months) and Jungkook doesn't like him that much anymore (and he will never post or talk about jimin). In two months we had taekook, vhope, minimoni, vmin, jihope, jinhope, namkook, jin and suga commented jimin post etc. The only one missing is jikook. Even if they're not working, every member and every "ship" interacted in some way. Jimin stopped posting and talking about Jungkook and jikook is over. This confirms that Jimin was the only one to do everything for "jikook". (Again, I'm talking about friendship). Jungkook really hates to be associated with Jimin and he prefers anyone to him. Nobody can deny these facts. It's sad but it's the reality.

"I'm talking about the friendship."

"Jikook is over."

"Jungkook really hates to be associated with Jimin [...]"

Just say you're a Jimin/Jikook anti and go. I think I have more respect for people who are just blatant assholes about their hatred than those who hide behind this façade of pretentious concern. All this submission tells me is that your perception of a good relationship/friendship is largely based on what you--someone not in their lives--can see, as if people don't have private lives outside of the Internet. As if they need to prove their relationship is fine. Your entitlement to that is so gross.

Jimin hasn't made the jump to IG the way the other members have; Jungkook isn't the only one he hasn't "interacted" with on social media, does that mean his relationship is over with those other members? I don't see you making a big stink about the loss of interaction there.

For the sake of argument, let's say Jikook are currently in a phase of growing separately (surprise: Taekook went through this phase too, and for a lot longer, and it didn't mean they hated each other back then either). This is a concept I can get behind and accept had you presented it as such instead of throwing around assumptions--as if you know them, lmao--like you know exactly how they're feeling towards one another.

It's not out of the realm of possibility that the boys are entering different stages of their lives and need time to grow on their own, but wherever their individual growths take them, it doesn't negate their relationship as a whole. All of them, regardless of their relationships to specific members, are bonded in a way that transcends your narrow worldview on what a friendship needs to look like to be real or active or meaningful. Given their fierce passion and protectiveness over one another, it's a safe bet to say that no one actually hates anyone, sorry not sorry to burst your bubble.

Trust me, there are people who think exactly like you do, and you'd be more welcome in that delusional circle jerk than you are here.

[ackermans-freedom-inc]

god imagine finally breaking levi down so fucking good. maybe it’s a little while after isabel and furlan died; and levi is taking it hard. and the reader is there to help him. riding him, telling him how well he’s doing and how smart and strong and great he is. and levi just looses it. he’s hands gripped white on your hips, bucking up into you as he just sobs. he cums hard as he sobs, fucking begging against you. you just keep grinding down, keep telling how great he is, and just listen to him.

OOP here I am again with sub!Levi, but this time with a soft dom!reader 

honestly I think writing sub!Levi gives me some...control (har har) over my hectic school life and exams and studying and wow, I ain’t complaining - the sub!Levi mindset continues!

Tw: deals with Isabel and farlan so grief, death mention - if I forget something pls let me know. 

Thirsty Thursday #27, soft nsfw, nothing too graphic this time I think, pet names for Levi, 18+ under the cut!

It was getting close to that day again, that dark day that rolls around once a year, when the air chills and the birds seem to stop their chirping. The doom of the impending day casts a shadow over the whole week, and frankly, everyone was on edge.

The anniversary of a death seemed to be an everyday occurrence in the Survey Corps, but you knew how much they meant to Levi, knew how much he tried to hide the hurt behind his barked orders and harsh punishments.

You kept your distance, respecting his space and giving him the time he needed.

What you didn’t expect was for your wrist to be taken in the hall and dragged to his room, apprehension dancing in your heart.

The lock clicked shut and you watched as your partner crumbled, the façade of Humanity’s Strongest cracking, leaving just Levi, hurting and vulnerable.

His eyes squeezed shut, no doubt willing the tears to stay in while his fists balled at his sides as he struggled to temper his voice.

“Help me.”

You stepped closer, arms coming up to wrap around him, ready to hear what he needed from you.

“What can I do?”

His eyes met yours, and you could see, hell you could feel for yourself the depth of the hurt and turmoil in his heart.

“I’m losing control Y/N,” he rasps out, “I’m helpless, useless. Humanity’s fucking strongest and I couldn’t save those closest to me.”

“Oh Levi…” you cooed, bringing him to your chest, but he pushed back, shaking his head in desperation as he brought your hands to his tented pants.

“I’m sick of it. I need something, anything. Help me.”

“Levi…are- are you sure?” you asked, not wanting to be disrespectful for one, and worried you were taking advantage of him somehow.

“Y/N. Please.” He nods, already unbuttoning and taking articles of clothing off.

You complied, following suit before the two of you were skin to skin in his bed, your mouth suckling soft marks to his chest.

“Just listen to me Levi. I’m gonna take good care of you okay?”

He just nodded against you, chin bumping against the top of your head as you slid downwards, settling between his legs.

Your tongue snaked out to lick at him, lapping at the bubble of moisture at the tip of his length while your hand worked, gripping him tight.

With each groan and jerk of his hips, you took in more of him, humming at his response to your touch. You took him as deep as you could, wrapping your lips around him, little flicks of your tongue against the vein on the underside of him whenever you pulled back.

His stomach clenched and you could feel his thighs jerk beside your ears when you slowed the bobbing of your head when his hands started to grab at you.

“So close – stop stop.”

You froze, and let off him with a soft pop, eyes searching his face. Cheeks flushed, bangs against his forehead, an arm across his face trying to hide his sounds and expression from you, but no other signs of discomfort.

“’M so close, but want to…cum inside”

His voice was barely a whisper, but you heard him, loud and clear as you felt yourself slicken with more arousal, already dripping down your thighs from sucking him off.

Knees around his sides, you straddled him, taking his hands in your own and threading your fingers, effectively pinning him down while you sat back, gliding the tip of his cock against your folds, hissing when his probing length mashed against your clit before sliding into you.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you sank down, the slight burn and stretch of him inside riling you up as you rolled and wiggled your hips, adjusting quickly.

You leaned in, “Good boy” a whisper, lips grazing against his. He was rarely in such a mood for kissing, so you were going to get your fill. You started to move as your lips met his, limbs still trapped in your hold as you used the leverage to push back against him over and over, making a mess between where the two of you were joined, both of you swallowing the moans of the other.

He didn’t hold out much longer after that, tearing away from you.

“Gon-gonna cum!”

His voice was almost a whimper, indistinguishable from the harsh monotone he usually spoke in, and you relished in the fact that no one else got to see this side of him.

You stilled on top of him, fully seated but not moving any longer, fingers squeezing his before you guided them to your hips.

“Not yet. Not yet, hold it for me.” Meeting his glassy eyes as you resumed your motions.

“Doing so good for me Levi,” you praised, watching his face scrunch trying to stave off his release, your own control wavering at the same time, “you’re so good to me, so strong, hhah, so damn handsome, so perfect, always looking out for your, mmf, y-your squad. Love- love you so much, so much, fuck, you’re doing so well for me.”

You watch his eyes slowly fill with tears at your words, his fingertips gripping against your hips with bruising force.

He chokes out his plea, practically a sob as he begs you for permission, begs you to allow him to do as he pleases as both of you reached the end of your rope.

“Cum for me Levi, cum for me baby boy” you managed, feeling the waves of your own orgasm wash over you, relenting to his begging and clenching around him as he let out a sob.

Control given back, permission, allowance and acceptance and pure love washed over him and he thrusts against you a couple more times, the stimulation boosting your release as he finally cums inside you, your denials from earlier on in the evening proving too much when mixed with the circumstances, each shot white inside you punctuated with a hiccupped sob of your name, tears streaming down his cheeks and wetting the pillow underneath.

You tipped forward, thumbs wiping away the moisture as you kissed him, still feeling him pulse and throb inside you.

“Did so good for me Levi, did so well, ‘m so proud of you. Such a good boy.”

All he could do was hold you to him, tears subsiding and morphing into sniffles when relief washed over everything, finally feeling okay and like himself again. The two of you needed no words for the moment. The silence hung heavy, but the meaing was clear. Everything was going to be okay. I love you.

The dying light from outside the window cast shadows across the walls, a reminder of the grim and dark things that lurked in the darkness, but for the time being, you rested on top of him, neither bothering to separate as you continued to press soft kisses against him, cupping his cheeks in your hands as you listened to him recount stories from his youth, stories of happy days flying around in the underground, stories of kinship, love, and acceptance rather than loss and hopelessness. Everything was going to be okay.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Spilled Pearls

- Chapter 5 - ao3 -

The Nightless City was like nothing Lan Qiren had ever seen before in his life.

It was grand and glorious, everything writ large on a massive scale – the number of people, the number of buildings, the size of the buildings…it was said that Lanling City was more crowded and full of people, but that was because it had a smaller scope, shoving all those people into a small area, while the Nightless City never ran out of space because any time it did it would just expand its borders further.

For someone like Lan Qiren, who longed to travel to the strange parts of the world and see all sorts of things for the first time, it was a dream come true –

Or rather, it would be, if only he had the ability to give it the attention it deserved. Which he didn’t.

The issue had initially arisen in the week leading up to their departure from the Cloud Recesses. Like all the other disciples, especially those nominated for their musical talents, Lan Qiren had spent a great deal of time in the library pavilion, perusing score after score in search of the one that they would present as their own individual selection.

He’d found one he rather liked: an exceedingly complicated piece, composed for the guqin, meant to signify the orderly chaos of nature and winning mastery over the internal chaos within. It had been a challenge to master the complex finger work, not to mention the necessary qi fluctuations required to properly showcase the song even if he had no plans to wield it as a spell – no one actually needed roots to leap up from the earth to try to trap his enemies in the middle of a musical demonstration – but he’d accomplished it, meeting even his own stringent standards for excellence. He’d been very proud, and eager to display it at the discussion conference.

His brother, in conjunction with the teacher that would be accompanying them, had rejected it.

They hadn’t even let him demonstrate that he’d adequately mastered it – their teacher, the swordfighting master that his brother liked so much, had taken a cursory look at the score and deemed it too eccentric; his brother had judged it too flashy, and thus too risky. They had recommended he perform one of the more traditional Lan sect songs that they knew he had mastered perfectly: Inquiry, perhaps, or Evocation.

Lan Qiren had decided to ignore them.

He hadn’t told them that, of course. He’d kept his decision hugged close to his chest, buried beneath a façade of calm that was easy enough to keep in place since most people couldn’t tell his stressed expression from his regular one, and his tone never really got that far from a monotone anyway.

He’d kept that secret, turning it over and over in his head, unable to think of anything else, unable to enjoy the distant travel (well, unable to enjoy it as much as he should), unable to really appreciate the grandiose opening ceremonies, the sect leaders of the Great Sects seated together on their platform, the smaller sects beneath them…

Luckily, the music competition was scheduled for the very first day of the conference, right after the opening ceremony. First there was the technical challenge, in which they all played together – that made it especially difficult, because a single wrong note by your neighbor could knock off your own playing if you weren’t focused, while the judges were all cultivators powerful enough to sharpen their hearing and pick out any discordant sounds even out of the large crowd of them all going at it together – and then the individual performances.

Lan Qiren had the honor of going fourth.

He went out there, saluted the judges, saluted the audience of sect leaders, sat down on the platform and played the song he wanted to play. If perhaps he had his heart in his throat because of a mixture of nervousness and anticipation, if perhaps his gut churned, feeling unusually full of spite and rebelliousness – he put it all aside in favor of the music.

Nothing mattered when he played but the music. Nothing.

When it was done, he stood and saluted again – the judges, then the audience – and retreated back to the area where the Lan sect was standing. As he’d expected, his teacher was waiting for him, hands behind his back and apparently calm on the surface; a small jerk of his head, and Lan Qiren knew to obediently follow him.

They couldn’t leave, of course, since that would be rude, but they went a little ways off to the side to a more secluded corner of the field where they could be safely ignored - everyone’s attention was on the performances.

“Do not tell lies,” the teacher said, a censure, and Lan Qiren dropped into a deep salute.

“I did not lie, honored teacher,” he said, eyes fixed firmly on the ground. “According to the guidelines set out when the event was announced, each disciple has the right to select his own music for the independent portion of the competition, provided that they can perform their selected composition to an adequate degree of mastery. Although you and my brother recommended that I select Inquiry as my performance piece instead, I did not accept your recommendation, and have never said that I would.”

His teacher’s frown deepened. “I would have expected better of you,” he said, and Lan Qiren’s shoulders curled inwards a little, the words cutting as deeply as any knife. “Quibbling over such a technicality with your elders – do not forget, arrogance is forbidden.”

Lan Qiren held the salute in place. “I understand, honored teacher.”

“Have you anything more to say to yourself?”

Lan Qiren thought about simply accepting the punishment that his teacher’s tone warned was inevitable, but – he really, truly did not believe he deserved it. And so, even though it might only make it worse, he opened his mouth and stumbled clumsily through the argument he had written out in advance, citing the rules and prior interpretations of the rules that he believed supported his actions. He was very confident of his grasp on the rules, but less sure of his persuasive powers and altogether despairing of any oratory skill, and yet...he had to try.

His teacher listened in stony silence. When Lan Qiren was done, he said, “I had never supposed you to be born with a lawyer’s tongue,” which was an insult – the Lan sect, like most cultivation sects, were gentry and thus had no need to seek employment in the magistrates’ courts. “Do you intend to continue on this rebellious path?”

“No, honored teacher,” Lan Qiren said emphatically. “In all other respects, I will listen to your orders, and my brother’s, as if they were carved on the Wall of Discipline.”

His teacher huffed disbelievingly, but he flicked his sleeves and went back to the crowd of Lan sect disciples currently spectating the next player in sequence without imposing any immediate punishment. That was an implicit concession to Lan Qiren’s argument: if he had failed to be convincing, a punishment would have been imposed at once.

Lan Qiren straightened himself out of his salute – his teacher had not granted him permission to rise throughout his recitation, and he hadn’t wanted to make his rebelliousness worse by presuming – and allowed himself a brilliant smile.

His teacher’s departure did not mean that he would escape all censure; his brother, sitting up at the sect leader’s pavilion, would undoubtedly have his own views on the subject, and of course simply disrespecting age and authority in public was reason enough for discipline. But Lan Qiren had done it. He had maintained his own position despite adversity and remained true to himself; he had not yielded, even if only in such a small matter, and he had persevered. Truly, it was as the rules said: have a strong will and anything can be achieved.

He looked around to check to make sure that no one had noticed their little interchange, mindful of his promise and his brother’s instruction that he not lose face, but it didn’t seem to be that way. Even on the sect leader’s pavilion, the sect leaders were all watching the performance – Wen Ruohan even had his head tilted to the side as if sharpening his hearing so as to listen more intently, which Lan Qiren supposed was further evidence that he wasn’t as disinterested in musical matters as others had speculated, and also that whoever was playing (he wasn’t paying attention) must be quite good.

It didn’t matter. Lan Qiren hadn’t played his selection because he’d been obsessively determined to win; he had only wanted to display some part of himself sincerely, and he had done so. Whatever else happened, that was sufficient.

He took a moment to find his calm once again, allowing his face to return to an expression of neutrality – gloating was unseemly, and forbidden by the rules, if other lose to you, don’t look down on them, even if the victory here was minor – and then at last returned to his place among the other Lan sect disciples.

He watched the remaining performances calmly, and without incident.

After the competition was done, the judges began to debate their rankings. Musical competitions were generally not favored at discussion conferences because of the need for careful consideration before victory or defeat could be determined – unlike in a contest of martial strength, when the contestants were near to each other in strength there was no immediate understanding of who had won – but Wen Ruohan had apparently planned ahead for that.

He announced that the contestants and audience would be dismissed while the judges’ deliberations were ongoing – in order to allow them to begin enjoying the wonders of the Nightless City, he explained with a supercilious smirk – and that the results of the competition would be announced shortly before the banquet planned for dinner.

Lan Qiren was not surprised when the sect leaders largely stayed behind, at least initially, to continue conversations; he was only relieved that he had a small reprieve before his brother came to scold him. Similarly, he was unsurprised when his fellow disciples immediately split into groups to go out to explore the Nightless City, and when those groups did not include him – even the ones that he would have otherwise expected to invite him, the ones he was more friendly with, cast fearful glances at their stone-faced teacher and apologetic ones at him; no one wanted to be associated with a troublemaker lest they be dragged into the mire alongside them.

It was fine.

Lan Qiren nodded at them, indicating that he understood, to their evident relief, and turned to look at his teacher in silent question. It was not unthinkable that he could go out alone…

“Perhaps you should stay behind,” his teacher said icily. “You can use the time for contemplation.”

Lan Qiren had promised himself: one rebellion, and nothing more. He raised his hands into a salute.

“As you say, honored teacher.”

Instead of following the others out, as he might have otherwise wanted to do, he turned his feet instead to one of the internal gardens in the Nightless City, brightly lit and shining, with a bench for him to sit and observe the designs, seeking calmness and clarity.

Maybe he could meditate a little. At least that would help pass the time -

“Congratulations on your victory.”

Lan Qiren raised his head, surprised out of the trance he’d settled info.

He had not expected anyone to find him in the garden where he was lurking, least of all Lao Nie.

“What victory?” he asked, and the older man grinned at him.

“Your imminent one, of course,” he said, gesturing for Lan Qiren to move over on the bench and settling down next to him once he complied. “That was a fantastic performance you gave earlier, and it wasn’t like we weren’t all expecting the Lan sect to win the music competition anyway.”

“Expecting the Lan sect to win doesn’t mean that I would be the one to win,” Lan Qiren mumbled, feeling his cheeks and ears go hot. “Arrogance –”

“Forbidden? Big surprise,” Lao Nie teased, and Lan Qiren ducked his head.

Technically, as a junior, he shouldn’t be acting overly familiar with sect leaders from other sects, but Lao Nie – no one ever called him Sect Leader Nie, and it wasn’t disrespect but fondness that drove them – was an exception to most rules. His Nie sect was longstanding allies of the Lan sect, and he himself was effortlessly charismatic, charming and gregarious. Even Lan Qiren’s brother admired him.

Lan Qiren also admired him.

It had been Lao Nie’s occasional intervention that had convinced his brother to take Lan Qiren along on some night-hunts when he’d been younger, and while they weren’t especially close by any means – Lan Qiren suspected he was currently simply too young to interest Lao Nie as an equal, as opposed to a junior in need of mentoring, and he longed to get old enough that that to no longer be an issue – Lao Nie was one of the few people Lan Qiren knew that had never minded indulging his eccentricities.

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Lao Nie remarked. “With all your talk of travel, I would’ve thought you’d be out exploring the city.”

Lan Qiren’s mood, which had been starting to improve, plummeted.

“Hmm. Sore spot?”

Lan Qiren’s shoulders were up by his shoulders. “I shouldn’t complain.”

“That just means you want to,” Lao Nie said wisely, and nudged him a little with his shoulder. “Did you get ordered to stay behind? You? You never break the rules.”

“I didn’t break the rules! My teacher made a strong recommendation that I reconsider my selection for the independent performance portion of the competition…”

“And you didn’t take the suggestion?” Lao Nie was smiling. “What a show of rebellion.”

Lan Qiren flushed red again. He was being teased, he knew.

“Since you’ve already had one rebellion, why not another?”

Lan Qiren frowned, not understanding.

“Go out,” Lao Nie clarified, still smiling. “There’s still at least half a shichen before dinner; you could see some of the city, apologize later – no? Why not?”

Lan Qiren was shaking his head. “I promised I would listen to my brother,” he said simply. “He instructed me to listen to the teacher, and the teacher said to stay, so I’ll stay. Perhaps tomorrow he will yield and allow me to explore by myself.”

“By yourself?”

“It would trouble the other disciples to be associated with me until there’s been an appropriate opportunity to review my behavior and determine if punishment is required –”

Lao Nie shook his head. Presumably things were different in his Nie sect, as they often were.

“Well, if you really need some company to go out, let me know,” he said.

“I couldn’t presume –”

“I’m offering,” Lao Nie said firmly, and this was why he was Lan Qiren’s favorite sect leader other than his father. Sometimes, secretly, even more than his father. “Really, I don’t understand your sect sometimes. What’s the point of keeping you so restricted? You’re already an adolescent, you’re old enough to join your own night-hunts…you can go night-hunting, right?”

“I can,” Lan Qiren confirmed, because he really was old enough to have gone on his own - old enough to night-hunt and swear oaths, that first formal stage of adulthood - but then conceded, “With company, and permission from the sect. Otherwise, disciples are only permitted to leave the Cloud Recesses to visit family.”

“…your family is the Cloud Recesses, Qiren.”

Lan Qiren shrugged.

“Don’t you feel stifled by it?”

Most of the time, he didn’t. Lan Qiren truly loved his home: he loved the routine of it, the rules; the peacefulness, the predictability, and all the familiar people; he loved the comfort of knowing where everything was and why. There was no place in the world he would rather call home, not even if he had the rest of it placed at his feet.

Still, sometimes…

He shifted a little in his seat, and decided to be a little daring. It was only Lao Nie, after all. “Well, knowing I’ll be able to leave one day helps.”

Lao Nie laughed and reached out to pat Lan Qiren’s head. His hand was large and warm.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t consider a little adventure, earlier on…?” he asked, trailing off.

“No, Sect Leader,” Lan Qiren said, and he wasn’t even that regretful. “I promised my brother. It’s important to him, you know, that I not lose face for him and the sect, and that means it’s important to me. So I won’t. I wouldn’t do that to him.”

Someone cleared their throat.

Lan Qiren looked at the doorway even as Lao Nie pulled back his hand: it was Wen Ruohan, standing there with his hands behind his back, a false smile on his lips and his eyes glittering with some strange and inexplicable emotion. “Several of the other sect leaders are demanding that you come and settle a dispute,” he said to Lao Nie. “Assuming you’re not too busy.”

Lao Nie chuckled. “For my fellow sect leaders? Never. I’ll be along momentarily.”

Wen Ruohan nodded, surveying them both briefly – Lan Qiren felt strangely vulnerable beneath his gaze, and he didn’t know why – before turning away in a swirl of robes.

“He seemed angry,” Lan Qiren observed, wondering why, but Lao Nie was already shaking his head.

“Oh, Hanhan’s more bark than bite,” he said confidently, and Lan Qiren nearly choked. Hanhan? Who would call Wen Ruohan by a diminutive? And anyway, since when did Lao Nie do that – had their relationship changed since the Lan sect conference or something? “Don’t worry, I’ll talk to him. Enjoy your upcoming triumph, Qiren!”

Lan Qiren didn’t bother to remind him once again that he was not sure to win, watching him go after Wen Ruohan with long, loping strides that Lan Qiren could only envy, his own frame gawky and still uncoordinated.

He sighed.

“ – such a fuss!” He could still hear Lao Nie in the distance, the older man’s voice carrying a little too far as always. “Really, Hanhan, haven’t you done enough already, with all those rumors that are always going around since last time…?”

A brief pause, murmurs in lower voices.

“ – more honored in the breach. Even in the Lan sect!”

And then there was laughter.

Lan Qiren wondered what Lao Nie meant by that. Was he talking about Lan Qiren? To Wen Ruohan?

Surely not.

[izzielizzie]

I’m guessing you’ve seen Bridgerton. Could you do a Which OOU characters would be which Bridgerton Character? It would be cool to see.

i have indeed!! also these explanations are so bad i'm really just choosing based on vibes so i apologize in advance <3

bronwyn: kate

bronwyn and kate both put their families first -- especially their sisters -- and they have their lives planned out and then they meet these men that annoy them to no end and mess up their plans (a drug dealer and a rake respectively) but in the end they end up with the people that they love the most.

cooper: gregory

okay gregory is a little menace and cooper definitely isn't, but gregory has always wanted the kind of love that his siblings had, and cooper has been surrounded by these relationships that don't mirror the way he feels and he wants to be like them

addy: daphne

they're these golden girls who get the guy but have a lot more under their beauty and allure and are actually quite fun and vibrant once you get to know them. only difference is simon isn't a jerk and jake definitely is

nate: benedict

nate and benedict both love the people closest to them, but they can be awkward and earnest and,,, yeah i don't have a reason it just fits

kris: sophie

they both come from worlds that are different than their partners, and sometimes it seems like they don't fit in, but they're so happy and they help their partners grow

luis: anthony

they shoulder so many family burdens so they have developed a façade that is so hard to crack and they end up falling for the girl no one expects

maeve: pen

i know this is super controversial and el or hyacinth would be a better answer but i feel like maeve is really overlooked by people in bayview but she's observant as heck and she picks up on dynamics and relationships. her narration in oouin really showed that she is an observant wallflower (no other character had that much knowledge of people they hardly interacted with) just like pen

knox: hyacinth

again, another one that doesn't really fit, but for a lot of the series hyacinth was just an observer that said stuff that was actually pretty profound and she was always right. which is really similar to knox. also: they're both the youngest in a big family

phoebe: francesca

they're just,,, there? i mean they're super kind and nice but i hardly even remember fran from her own book and phoebe is still getting her development so i don't know a lot about her.

[plaidbooks]

SFW Alphabet - Rafael Barba

I’ve been meaning to do this for forever--it was bugging me having the rest down and not Raf’s (I still need to do Mike’s at some point, too whoops).

Taglist: @witches-unruly-heart @beccabarba @thatesqcrush​ @itsjustmyfantasyroom​ @stardust-fray @permanentlydizzy​ @infiniteoddball​ @ben-c-group-therapy​ @glowingmess​ @whimsicallymad​ @lv7867​ @storiesofsvu​ @cycat4077​ @shroomiehomie​ @glimmerglittergirl​ @alwaysachorusgirl​ @dianilaws​ @averyhotchner​ @mrsrafaelbarba​ @crowleysqueenofhell​ @detective-giggles​ @dreamlover31​ @prurientpuddlejumper​ @madamsnape921​ @joanofarkansass​

(gif by @minidodds)

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Rafael shows his affection in a different way than most. He’s slow and unsteady while trying to open up to you. He needs your help (and patience) to let more of his affectionate side out. He’s definitely a gift giver, showering you with expensive gifts, or a fancy dinner, or a high-class show. But the more he gets used to you, the more he’ll switch from gift giver to physical touch. Cuddling with you, rubbing your calves or shoulders, playing with your hair.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

It started at work, whether you’re a paralegal, lawyer, or detective. You had a particularly snarky response to Rita, leaving her speechless (for once), and Rafael was quick to find out if that was a fluke or if you were that quick-witted. As much as Rafael seems like an egotistical jerk, he’s actually a very good friend. He’s the one you can vent to, or go get a nightcap with, no matter what time it is. He also has amazing advice for almost all situations.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At first, you have to initiate it. Rafael does love it, but he’s afraid of looking too soft. Once he realizes you’re not running from him, then he’s incredibly touchy, wanting to hold you or be held by you at all times. He’s a big fan of laying on the couch, with you laying on top of him, your body weight comforting.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Rafael wants to settle down, but he needs to be absolutely sure that you’re not going to leave him. He’s afraid of his heart being broken again. But, once you’re in, he’s in, too. He’s been used to cooking for himself for a long time, so he begrudgingly likes it. That is, until he sees how you light up at eating his food; then he likes it more. He hates cleaning—his motto is if nothing is dirty, he doesn’t have to clean. He’s very much a “clean up after yourself” person, his loft immaculate. You don’t mind doing dishes, since he cooks, and you normally do the laundry, but only because Rafael barely has dirty laundry. And if he does, it goes to dry cleaning—except for the odd polo shirt or sweats.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

In person. Rafael has a tight-lipped grimace, upset that it didn’t work out. He’ll stay strong, but you can tell that this hurts him as much—if not more—than it hurts you. He’ll also go to your place to do it, so that if you cry, you’re not out in public, nor do you have to travel home.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

It takes Rafael a while to get married. He moves much slower in a relationship, afraid that if he goes too fast, you’ll be close enough to hurt him. But, once you get past his walls, he’s pretty quick to do the other things, such as moving in together and planning a future.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

At first, Rafael’s not gentle. He doesn’t go out of his way to hurt you or anything, but his sarcasm and arrogance has been a defense mechanism for so long, it’s hard to abandon it. Plus, his public self is what he thinks people want from him, so he hides behind that façade. But again, once you can get him to lower those walls, then you’ll find a hurt, emotional man. That’s when he’s most gentle; when he’s vulnerable.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Shockingly, Rafael is a big hugger! Since he’s too afraid to cuddle too quickly, he makes it up with hugs. He wraps his arms around your shoulders, tugging you against his chest, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. His solid body is comforting, especially with that citrusy cologne he wears.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

It takes Rafael a long, long, long time for him to admit he loves you, even to himself. You can say it, and he’ll get choked up, hugging you close and kissing your cheek. He mutters something, and you assure him that he doesn’t have to say it back if he doesn’t want to; you understand. But he shows you that he loves you in every little thing he does. He may also write it down on a sticky note—left on the mirror when he goes in early—before he says it out loud.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Rafael gets very jealous, but it quickly changes to insecurity. What do they have that he doesn’t? Then he’ll start listing his faults in his mind, and it makes him even more sad. If he gets you back before the insecurity happens—while he’s still jealous—then he’s pushing you against the wall and reminding you who you belong to. If you come back to him when his insecurity is running wild, then you need to remind him that you love him, and only him.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Rafael’s kisses are soft, tender, and somewhat desperate…as if you’re going to pull away from him at any moment. (I wrote a HC about his kisses here). He likes to kiss your forehead; he feels it’s more intimate. But also your spine; he loves the feeling of you moving against his mouth. He loves when you kiss his tum—he’s a little insecure about that section of his body, so when you kiss him there? He melts.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

Babies…not great. Rafael has no paternal instincts at all and he doesn’t know how to interact with them. But once they start talking, and understanding what he’s saying, he’s better. He’s the type of guy that talks to children as if they’re people, treating them with respect. And he loves to teach them things (especially things that will shock adults).

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

Usually, you don’t spend mornings together. Rafael is a “sleep as much as possible, shower, work” person. He’ll kiss your shoulder before rolling out of bed, and he’ll have coffee ready for you for when you get up. Though, if it’s a day off, then Rafael stays in bed with you, cuddling, kissing, and whispering sweet words.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

You both take nights to catch up with each other’s days. One (or both) of you will massage the other’s neck, since that’s where all the stress builds up. And then it’s cuddles o’clock, both of you wrapped around each other as you eat dinner and relax.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Rafael holds his cards close to the chest. But, by doing that, you start to learn about him indirectly. You notice that he only ever talks about his mother, and never mentions his father. You notice that he’ll apologize for something that wasn’t his fault. You notice that he tries a little too hard. You never mention these things to him, but you tuck it away, and are patient with him.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Rafael is easily annoyed but not easily angered. He’s very much a logic > emotions person, and will try and tackle any argument head on, using logic and facts. The things that get him angry, though, are usually work related. He may snap at you after a particularly rough day, but you know he doesn’t mean it.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Contrary to popular belief, Rafael’s mind is a steel trap (in Twenty-Five Acts, the belt thing was mentioned once in passing, and Rafael quickly moved on to something else without even acknowledging it). His downfall is remembering what day it is. He may know your birthday is June 3rd, but when he looks at the calendar and sees it’s June 2nd, he panics and calls in favors to make sure he has a reservation at a fancy restaurant.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

When he took you to a Broadway show. He had his arm wrapped around you, holding you to his chest as you watched—a show he’d seen a thousand times, but loved. But, when he heard you quietly singing to yourself, his heart melted. He had no idea you knew the songs, and afterwards, you both walked down the street, singing the songs together. Rafael only ever sang to his mami and abuelita…and now you.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Rafael goes above and beyond for dates and anniversaries. They’re few and far in between, and it’s to make up for ignoring you during the work week (not that you see it as him ignoring you; he’s just busy. But he thinks the worst). Every day tasks aren’t super over-the-top like dates, but he enjoys your company; you calm him after the stress of his work.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

Rafael’s list of importance goes; 1) work, 2) family, 3) you. He’ll always choose work over you (unless you’re in the hospital or something, but then he uses work to get the bastard who put you there). And he’ll always choose his mami over you, as well. This has never been a problem (except for maybe some missed date nights), but the quicker you can accept that, the better.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Rafael is a fashionista at heart. This poor boy growing up in the Bronx, and now shining as a Harvard grad, has an appearance to maintain. He never felt like he “belonged” with the elites he often sees at parties and galas, but the longer he can fool them, the better.

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

At first, he doesn’t need you. He’s too afraid to give you so much of himself, and he’s afraid to let you in. But once you make your way into his heart, he finds himself depending on you more and more, whether as just someone whose arms he can collapse into, or someone who will listen to him rant.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

One of Rafael’s favorite things is at night, when you’re in the kitchen (whether doing dishes or getting a drink), he’ll wrap his arms around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder, then sways with you. He kisses your neck and chin, making you giggle and melt further back into him. He’ll keep it up until you stop what you’re doing and turn in his arms, giving him a kiss and dancing with him.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Rafael doesn’t like clingy. He wants someone independent, as he is. He works a lot, and won’t always be there, so he wants someone who has their own life outside of him. He also doesn’t like messy people—he’s a bit of a neat freak, and he’s not going to be cleaning up after you.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habit of theirs?)

Many nights, Rafael will work until he’s exhausted. He’ll go through his nightly routine before murmuring a “goodnight” and collapsing onto the bed. Though, nights like those, if you lay down close enough to him, he’ll eventually find you in his sleep and wrap around you.

[aot-brainrot]

Everyone (consensually) gang banging Spencer when he falls asleep on the jet and Morgan, Luke, and the soft doms go first so they don’t wake him up and then they cuff him so hotch, Elle, and Emily can pound the shit out of him -🍥

Warnings: poly!bau, somnophilia, gangbang, unprotected sex, bondage (handcuffs), overstimulating, tiny!cock spencer, feminizing spencer for degradation purposes

NSFW content below the line break!

Poor thing just looked so peaceful on the couch, Morgan couldn’t help himself. He just had to start petting his sub’s thigh, and when Spence got hard, Morgan couldn’t hold himself back. Luke helped him pull off Spence’s clothes carefully while they kissed every inch of him, and Morgan didn’t hesitate to line himself up with Spencer’s tight, perfect hole while Luke made sure to lube him up. Spencer squirmed a bit when Morgan slowly thrusted into him, but Spencer was still relaxing on the couch, letting them use him as he still tried to get some sleep-- too tired to really put energy into the game. The case had wiped him out, and he was fine with just being used as a toy for their pleasure because he told them they could way back when they first started dating. Well, initially, they weren’t dating. The team just needed to let out steam after cases from time to time, and the best way to do it was to fuck their pretty boy who was such a good slut for them.

By the time Morgan was done using Spencer, Luke had nudged him out of the way to take his turn. Spencer groaned at the change in girth and length in comparison to Morgan, but still didn’t stop them. Luke was a little more rough than Morgan-- some kind of animalistic need taking over Luke that made him fuck Spencer faster so that he could cum as soon as possible. It didn’t take long. As he was climaxing, he hunched over Spencer’s back, kissing his shoulder blade; then, afterwards, he carefully slid out.

Spencer slumped and cuddled in the fetal position on the couch, figuring that it was over, but it was far from over. Wanting to keep him right where he was, Elle quickly cuffed Spencer’s hands hands and kept them away from his own body as Hotch lifted one of Spencer’s legs to let him thrust into the submissive’s ass from the side angle Spencer was laying in.

“Fuck,” Spencer mumbled, still trying to rest his eyes, even though the position was far from anything comfortable enough to sleep in.

“Language, bunny,” Elle whispered, petting Spencer’s hair calmly.

Hotch didn’t show any mercy, though. While Morgan and Luke had tried to be careful enough to not disturb Spencer too much, Hotch was fucking him like there was no tomorrow-- like he wanted Spencer to hurt when he would sit up or walk around. It turned Emily on. She was watching as she grabbed hers and Elle’s straps from their respective bags, knowing that they would each want a turn at destroying Spencer, too.

Hotch grabbed Elle’s cheeks roughly-- something she didn’t appreciate, but didn’t protest in the moment. “Milk him for everything he’s worth,” he demanded. Elle didn’t hesitate to drop to her knees beside the couch and start jerking Spence’s tiny cock. He jolted awake, unable to keep up the façade of resting/sleeping anymore. “Don’t even think about moving,” Hotch hissed, holding Spencer’s hips still. “Just take it--” He grunted as he suddenly came inside Spencer without any warning.

Emily was quick to take over. “Still so tight, puervus,” she muttered as she watched his cum filled ass stretch around her strap. “Is Ma’am making you feel good?”

“Yes, Mistress,” Spencer answered, keeping his hands were Elle had originally pinned them, making sure not to move his hips, just like Hotch had ordered. But it was all too much. Emily was going just as hard as Hotch had been, and Elle was still pumping her fingers up and down his small shaft to the point he felt his orgasm already approaching. “I’m gonna cum.”

“We’re not stopping if you do,” Elle warned.

When Spencer came, he bucked around, making Emily’s cock hit a new spot within him that was super sensitive, which sent him spiraling. He whimpered as Elle continued to overstimulate him while Emily fucked him, and it was like there was no time between his first and second orgasm.

“So greedy,” Elle teased as he used her index finger on her other hand to pick up his cum and shove it into his mouth. “Maybe we should put you into chastity to keep you from cumming so much.”

“No!” he whined. “Please, no, Ma’am.”

When Hotch forced an orgasm out of Emily by fingering her while she fucked Spencer, she finally dismounted him and switched spots with Elle. While Ma’am lined up with Spence, and Hotch started fingering her, Emily continued torturing Spencer’s little cock that was slowly getting hard again.

“Aw, your little clit’s so sensitive, bunny,” Emily teased. “Does it like being tortured?”

“Yes, Mistress--” Spencer choked when Elle thrusted forward, sliding every inch into him. She let out a moan when Hotch curled his fingers into her g-spot.

“Are you going to cum on Ma’am’s cock?”

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good boy.”

Spencer couldn’t help but move his hands to try and push Emily off when he got close to the edge again, but Luke and Morgan hurried over to pin his hands over his head again and put a palm over his mouth to keep him quiet. Spencer let out a scream against Morgan’s hand since he knew it would be muffled. The scream had been building since Morgan first fucked him, but now he had a chance to let it out, and he took it. They laughed at him.

“Go on, bunny. Cum for us again,” Luke encouraged.

Spencer shook his head desperately.

“Are you telling us no?” Elle hissed, ramming into him as hard as she could as punishment. “Don’t ever do that again.” 

As some kind of apology, as he nodded, Spencer let go, cumming into Emily’s hand.

“So pathetic.” Hotch scoffed.

“He’s not even stretched anymore,” Elle chuckled. “Look at him. If I just...” She slid out of Spencer and they all gawked as his hole gaped. “Fuck...” She slid back into him with ease. “Do you like being destroyed like a good slut?”

Spencer kept nodding.

“Cum again and we’ll let you go,” Morgan said.

A tear from Spencer hit Morgan’s wrist, which only made them all laugh again. “Poor thing,” Emily cooed while Luke wiped his tears away. “Crying isn’t going to stop us.”

Spencer’s last orgasm crashed through him.

“You cum as easily as a girl, bunny. Your clit’s just as sensitive as theirs are.”

He whimpered and slumped as she finally pulled his hands away from him, Morgan removed his hand from his mouth, and Elle slide out of his ass.

“Good boy,” Hotch praised, squeezing Spencer’s ass. “So good and broken for us.”

“Let’s put him in chastity when we get home,” Elle said, pulling her strap off.

They all hummed agreements as Spencer closed his eyes again, this time falling asleep without any trouble or distractions.

[jiejie-eonni-onee-sama]

Play me like a violin...

For the wonderful @marilynmonroefanfics​ 👄👄​

Hope you’ll like it!

TW: Smut in the area!

I wanna be loved by you, just you

And nobody else but you

I wanna be loved by you, alone! 

Boop-boop-a-doop!

I wanna be kissed by you, just you

And nobody else but you

I wanna be kissed by you, alone

Marylin Monroe - I Wanna Be Loved By You (1959)

Bruce can't believe it. Even if it was days ago, he still can't believe what happened to him: he married him. He married this wonderful and handsome angel named Peter. 

He feels like it was yesterday they start dating. He, Bruce Wayne, the renowned playboy of Gotham, finally settled with the young man he met during a gala two years ago.

He remembered well the night when he introduced his lover as his boyfriend to his family: they were astonished that someone managed to get his hands on Bruce Wayne. 

Alfred exclaimed: "Finally! He found someone!" while Stephanie, Cassandra, and Barbara cheered gleefully. As for the boys, Dick was amazed, whereas Jason was taken aback, yelled: "WHAT THE HELL?". 

Tim was happy for his mentor, and Damian stayed calm, as usual, but expressed his respects towards Peter.

Overall, he can say that the Bat-family accepted Peter as its new member.

He was glad to find him: his husband is loving, caring, understanding, patient, and funny. The embodiment of perfection, at least.

Speaking of the angel, Peter appears in the room, dressed casually and with a genuine smile on his face.

"Hello, beloved husband. What are you doing?"

And this voice, my God: it sounds like an angel.

The billionaire smiles:

"I just wondering how lucky I am..."

"Lucky?"

He holds the hand of Peter.

"I mean, I am grateful to have you with me!"

"Til death do us apart if I remember well..."

"Correct."

"It's been six days since we get married if you don't forget?"

"How could I even dare to forget the best day of my life?" chuckles Bruce as he gently kisses Peter's knuckles.

The young man beams at the lovely gesture. And to think that he was a bit worried when he caught the interest of Bruce Wayne...

He was so scared to be just a one-night stand of the notorious Gotham Don Giovanni that he rejected his advances first. Slowly, he discovered what hides behind the seductive façade.

He saw a tortured soul, wounded by personal tragedies, who tried to give meaning to his life as the Dark Knight of Gotham named Batman. 

He also noticed the other side of Bruce's personality: a caring and loving man who have compassion. How not fall in love with this man?

Peter leans his head on his husband's shoulder while enjoying the view in front of him. Currently, they fancy their honeymoon in California, where Bruce rents a mansion with a look of the sea.

"I'm happy that we manage to have a moment for the two of us... I know you have a turbulent life and that we won't have a lot of quality times. But at least, you try to give me the best of you!"

"Because you deserve the best, love!" answers Bruce as he looks at the ebony eyes of his beloved.

They are shining like two black pearls of innocence. Something that amazes Bruce... and also turns him on.

While smiling, the billionaire holds his young husband against him as he lets his hands linger over this body he worships every day.

Suddenly, his phone rings:

"Oh, what again?"

"Let's see... Ah, it's Alfred!" says Peter as he answers the phone.

"Hello, Peter Wayne's on the phone!"

"**Hello, Master Peter. I'm calling to check if everything is fine!**"

"Oh, Alfred, it's a living daydream! California is a lovely place, especially when I am with my dear husband!"

"**I'm glad to hear that. May I speak to Master Bruce?**"

"Sure! Wait a minute, I turn the speakers on!"

Once it's done, Bruce speaks:

"Hello, Alfred."

"**Hello, Master Bruce. According to Master Peter, you enjoy your vacation in California?**"

"Exactly. Everything went smooth."

"**I'm relieved to know that both of you are satisfied with your honeymoon.**"

"And you, Alfred, how are you?"

"**I'm fine, thank you. And your protégés are fine, too. They expect your return on Saturday with great impatience!**"

"They missed us that much?" smirks Bruce.

"**You had no idea, Master Bruce. But, as a picture is worth a thousand words, why don't you hear it by yourself?**"

Half a second later, the couple hears the voices of all the young members of the Batfamily saying hello.

"**Hello, Californian lovebirds. You're alright?**"

"Hello, Dick. Yes, everything is perfect!"

"**Aw, you are so lucky! Can't wait to hear your stories!**"

"Don't worry, Stephanie: I'll tell you the best when we will come back!"

"**Does Bruce treat you like a prince?**," asks Tim.

"Not like a prince, Timothy, but like a king!" states Bruce with a smile.

"**You better do: he marries you, so you have to respect and cherish him!**" reminds him Damian.

"Don't worry, Dami: he is the best husband ever!" says Peter as he glances tenderly towards Bruce.

"**We hope so. Well, as long as you say everything is cool, we are happy for you! Enjoy your honeymoon!**" kindly replies Barbara. 

"**Yeah, sure. Especially Bruce, who wants to satisfy his hunger for Mama Peter!**" snickers Jason.

Bruce facepalms while Peter brightly blushes.

"**Master Jason, are you sure it was necessary?**" sighs Alfred.

"**Todd, you pervert jerk!**" snarls Damian.

"**Boys, calm down! Anyway, we are delighted to hear from you. Especially with good news!**"

"So are we, Cass."

"**Well, we leave you alone. See you on Saturday, Masters Bruce and Peter!**"

"Goodbye, Alfred! Thank you for the call!"

After he hung up the phone, Bruce sighs:

"Those kids, I swear to God they are going to kill me!"

"But you love them!" Peter smiles.

His husband returns the smile and holds him again.

"Yes, but I love you more than anything in the world!"

"Oh, really?" innocently asks Peter.

"Of course... Let me prove it!"

And with a mischievous smile, Bruce kisses his partner with passion. The latter, amused, answered the kiss with the same intensity.

Without interrupting the kiss, Bruce slid his large callused hands under his husband's shirt, greedily stroking his soft skin.

This gesture surprised Peter, who asks:

"But what are you doing again?"

"I take care of my husband, this is what I do!"

"Don't be innocent, honey. You've got an idea in your head, and I'd like to know which one!"

"Very well, since you insist ..."

Bruce leaned over his lover's neck and kissed it several times.

"Since we are on our honeymoon, I said to myself that we could take the opportunity to consummate the marriage ..."

At these words, Peter began to blush. So far, they had never had sex and the thought of having his first time with his husband scared him: what if it turned into a fiasco?

"Are you all right, Peter?"

"Yeah, it's just that ..."

"What?"

The young man lowered his head, a little ashamed.

"It's just that I'm scared!"

"Afraid of what?"

"Let's say I'm apprehensive because it's my first time ..."

Bruce strokes his husband's cheek:

"You don't have to worry, Peter: I'll be careful! I'll make it unforgettable!"

"I don't doubt it, but ..."

"But what? What can you worry about so much?"

"The two of us! I mean, look at yourself: you look like a Greek God, while I look like a bun next to you!"

Bruce rolls his eyes, a slight smile on his lips, before stroking his husband's hips.

"You should stop putting yourself down, honey. Of course, we're different, so what? That's what I liked about you: your playfulness, your zest for life, your kindness ... You are the light that was missing in my life! "

He takes Peter by the waist before adding:

"As far as your body is concerned, know that I find it perfect. Besides, comparing it to a bun is not completely inappropriate ... since I find you delicious!"

And without warning, he lifts his husband off the ground and takes him to their room.

"Bruce, stop!" laughs Peter.

"Definitely not! I'm hanging on to you forever!" the latter jokes.

Once in their room, he gently set Peter down on the bed before closing the door behind him.

Then, he comes back and positions himself above his lover, who gives him an innocent smile.

"I guess it's time to get down to business!"

"Exactly, my little prince! Now let me do it and enjoy!"

With that, Bruce again captures Peter's lips in a passionate kiss.

The newlyweds hasten to get rid of their clothes, and they find themselves naked as on the first day.

Bruce is dumbfounded at his husband's naked body: for him, it is the most beautiful thing he had ever admired in his life.

As for Peter, he is amazed by the impressive musculature of his lover, but not only. It must be said that Bruce is well fitted, especially at the level of the private parts.

He swallows: he wonders how something so huge would be able to penetrate him? Nothing to think about it makes him uncomfortable ...

"If you don't want us to do this right now, I would understand. It might be going a little too fast for you ..."

Peter shakes his head:

"No, Bruce, it's going to be fine. I trust you."

Reassured, the latter kisses his husband again before letting his lips slide down Peter's neck and chest, making the young man moan with pleasure.

This reaction amuses the millionaire, who continues his little game, lingering on his husband's hips before descending to his penis.

"Bruce ..." Peter moans, bracing himself under his lover's expert licks.

His cries of pleasure grows louder when he feels Bruce's mouth tickle his cock. He thought his brain would not stand the shock of the sensations that seizes him.

"Oh my god, Bruce!"

"Good boy, so responsive!" his husband whispers as he continues to explore the young man's privacy with his tongue. While doing so, he lets his large hands caress and pinch his nipples.

Quickly, Peter becomes a moaning mess, clutching at the sheets as if his life depended on it.

He's used to Bruce's hugs, but this is different: it is addicting, and he always needs more.

"Tell me, Peter, do you want to go further?"

"Oh yes, Bruce."

"Tell me what you want, Peter."

Catching his breath, his husband answers:

"I want you to take me, Bruce. I want to offer you my innocence!"

A hungry smile appears on Bruce's face:

"It's a beautiful gift you are giving me, beautiful boy! And it deserves a reward!"

He lays down on top of Peter, tucking himself between his legs, and position himself close to his privacy. Before doing anything, he glances at Peter and asks:

"Are you ready?"

"Yes," the young man whispers.

Bruce kisses his lover before slowly penetrating him so that the latter gets used to his presence.

Peter gasps when he feels his husband's cock inside him. The pain is so unbearable that he sheds a tear that slid down his cheek.

Seeing this, Bruce feels guilty: he wanted this moment to be magical for them, not to make his husband suffer. Gently, he brushes the tear away from Peter's cheek.

"Excuse me if I was brutal."

"No, no. It's not your fault. It's just that I'm not used to ... It's my first time, after all!"

"Don't apologize; you'll be fine. Take your time, and when you're ready, we'll continue!"

"Okay!"

Peter took his time to calm down and get used to Bruce's presence.

He mentally told himself that he does not have to worry, that everything would be fine. Besides, Bruce is patient and understanding: with him, he is in good hands.

Gradually, he relaxes and let his husband understand that he was ready. The latter understands, and he begins his thrusts so as not to rush Peter.

Once he is more at ease, the young man lets himself go and quickly takes pleasure in feeling the kidney strokes of his husband as he moans louder.

As for Bruce, he gives a slow and sensual rhythm to this particular dance. With his old one-night stands, he was content to have a good shag and nothing more. But there, with Peter in his arms, he is taking his time and experiencing a pleasure he had never reached.

But above all, he loves Peter, and he wants to give him that pleasure he currently feels. And the latter's cries of desire confirm that he is doing it well ...

"B-Bruce ..."

"Yes, my angel?"

"G-Go faster!" Peter moans, wrapping his legs around Bruce's waist.

"Your wish is my command!"

And with that, the millionaire picks up the tempo, thrusting faster.

Overwhelmed with pleasure, Peter feels his sanity give up, and he latches onto Bruce's back, scratching him lightly at the shoulders.

This action excites his partner, who continues his thrusts between the hips of his lover rhythmed by their sighs and cries of pleasure.

"B-Bruce, I ... I'm going to cum!"

"Yeah, me too, babe! Just wait for me, darling!"

After several thrusts, the two newlyweds reached seventh heaven with a final moan of pleasure.

Then Bruce slowly withdraws from Peter's privacy before laying down next to his husband.

The latter is still under the effect of adrenaline and does not realize what had just happened. But for sure, the young man loved it!

"So, honey, this first time?" Bruce demands, slightly panting.

"It was perfect. Yes, really perfect!" Peter replies, settling in the strong arms of his husband.

"Good, that's what I wanted for you."

"And I thank you for that."

Chuckling, Bruce kisses his husband's forehead before hugging him and settling down to sleep.

"Come on, I think we have the right to a well-deserved rest!"

"Yes, my body is numb for now!"

"Tomorrow, you will probably be in pain."

"I will hold you personally responsible!" jokes the young man.

"What if I offer you a bath tomorrow to make amends?"

"There, I accept."

The two men laugh and take advantage of the calm, embraced. Then, won over by sleep, they let themselves go in the arms of Morpheus.

"I love you, Bruce Wayne."

"I love you, Peter Wayne."

And with these words of love, the two lovers fell asleep with serenity, far from the tumult of Gotham.

Must be love on the brain

That’s got me feeling this way

It beats me black and blue but it fucks me good

And I can’t get enough

Must be love on the brain yeah

Rihanna - Love on the Brain (2016)

Thanks for the reading!

Hope you enjoy the story!

See you later! 🥰😘😍

[magicallightcandy]

“It sure is a good day today,” Naruto hums from a tree branch. He hadn’t exactly been silent while pursuing him but he hadn’t been that loud either. Sasuke doesn’t show any outward sign of acknowledgement. Maybe he was expecting him after all.

“Hn.”

“You know travelling after so long may be a little difficult,” he says, jumping down the branch and landing next to Sasuke. “I could talk to the council, maybe you can stay for a few more days- “

“That’s kind of you, Naruto.” Sasuke interrupts, still not looking at Naruto. “You’ve always gone above and beyond for me. But you don’t need to risk everything for our bond all the time.” His voice is soothing, Naruto doesn’t know how will he survive without listening to it on a daily basis.

“I mean, I kinda have to. You’re my best friend. Our bond- its indescribable. I mean, what I feel for you cannot be put in words. The way we mean to each other.” Naruto exhales softly, he could’ve stumbled through it but he’s been thinking about them for so long, and every single time, these are the only words that make sense to him. What they mean to each other transcends beyond their lifetime.

“Is it?” Sasuke asks, he turns to look at Naruto, his eyes piercing as if searching for an answer on his face. “You tell me our bond is strong but without a label. You care for me, you respect me, admire me, and I do you, too. So how is it that our bond is filled with so many feelings for each other yet it remains untitled?” He raises a brow, his voice loaded with emotions Naruto is scared to describe.

He’s done that before and the result wasn’t positive. “Well, I- uh- I”, he shakes his head of the fog, he needs to say this, need to tell Sasuke how hurt he is, how tired of trying. “You are my strongest bond, Sasuke, you know that. What I feel for you, what I could give to you had, no, is always rejected by you. I said you were my best friend, my brother, my family, and you don’t want it!” His voice getting higher as he keeps talking.

“You’re right,” Sasuke confirms, his voice calmer than it had been a moment ago, his eyes are back to scanning the view in front of them. “I’ve always wondered why you couldn’t be like a brother to me, but I had a brother and what I felt for him isn’t the same as I felt- as I feel for you.” His voice does not falter on Itachi. “Then again, you could’ve been my best friend, my one and only friend, and just thinking about it leaves me unfulfilled.”

His eyes are back on Naruto, “Maybe it’s because what you have to offer to me isn’t enough for me.” He breathes, a wistful smile on his face.

And Naruto is trying, he really is. But listening and understanding are two entirely different things. All the insight he receives is that he’s not enough and that is the tipping point for him. “Then what the hell do you want from me, you bastard!” He screams, all up in Sasuke’s personal space. Sasuke’s eyes don’t leave his. “After everything I’ve done for you! After I was ready to die for you. To die with you. I’m not enough! Is it not enough? Am I not enough?” he holds Sasuke by his collar, pulling him even closer. “Tell me!”

“I’ll show you,” Sasuke says, and that is the only warning he receives before Sasuke pulls him in by the lapels and-

And their lips crash. Naruto gasps and Sasuke shoves his tongue inside his mouth. The kiss is fierce. Sasuke pushes him until his back hits the bark of a tree. The push causing Sasuke to bite his lower lip and his tongue runs over it to relieve, Naruto lets out a moan. His hands travel from the collars to the back of Sasuke’s head, pulling at his hair. While Sasuke pulls him by his waist.

At the back of his mind a voice is screaming something but it sounds gibberish, as if from underwater. But for the life of him, Naruto cannot stop. Sasuke has all his attention.

Their tongues caught up in an intense battle, Sasuke mapping out his mouth hungrily and Naruto sucks on his tongue filthily. Naruto cannot imagine ever being kissed like this. This passionate and this wanton.

He thinks he realizes now what Jiraiya must’ve been searching for whenever he describes this fervent love. And-

Wait. Love.

Love.

This is what he was searching for. This is what Sasuke was trying to tell him. This isn’t what brothers feel for each other, or even friends.

This is what lovers feels. Oh, to be in love and to be loved is what he had always wanted. And Sasuke does.

Sasuke does.

The idea is enough to shock Naruto in the present reality. He pulls back for a breather. But Sasuke does not stop. He shifts his kisses to down his jawline to his neck, sucking and licking as if in search of something. He finds it when a well-placed bite on curve of Naruto’s neck draws a moan out of him. His hips jerking on reflex. Sasuke replies in kind.

“Sasuke, s-stop. Stop.” He gasps. Sasuke gives a grunt in defiance, his thigh rubbing against Naruto’s hard on. And really what is wrong with him. He is in love with someone who loves him back, just as fiercely and he wants to stop. What an idiot he is.

A righteous idiot. Just like Sasuke says. He pushes lightly on Sasuke’s shoulders, who glares at him in return. He gives him soft but sad smile. “Stop.” And just like that, the spell is broken. Sasuke stands straight but doesn’t create more space between them. His eyes searching Naruto’s in desperation.

Naruto nestles Sasuke’s face within the uninjured hand, feeling the warmth. “You love me.” He whispers. After a moment, Sasuke nods.

“You do, too.” He says, not asking for confirmation, just stating. As if they are going over old facts. Naruto nods. Sasuke’s eyes roam his face, and what looks like much deliberation his face smoothens into a cold façade. He steps back causing Naruto’s hand to drop.

“I must take my leave now.” He states, his voice back to its impassiveness. He turns to leave and Naruto does not know what to do. Alarmed, he pulls on Sasuke’s shoulder.

“Wait.”

“Don’t make this harder for both of us, Naruto.”

“Wha- but, but- “

“You know I can’t stay and I know you can’t leave.”

“No, what, no. Of course not. But- “

“Goodbye, usuratonkachi.” Sasuke walks away with one last smile.

Naruto is dumbstruck. This isn’t how he had imagined their parting would be. It wasn’t like that at all. And like hell would he allow it to be such open-ended. So, in true Naruto Uzumaki fashion, he takes a deep breath and screams. “I LOVE YOU! I WILL WRITE TO YOU.”

Sasuke throws a hand wave in response but does not turn. A few birds nearby, too, startle and fly away from him. Naruto feels his cheeks hurt from smiling and his hand from waving. After a while, when Sasuke is out of his sight, Naruto walks back to Konoha.

[bbnibini]

PSISLY: An Obey Me!CYOA – sixty-four🔖

While being kabedoned had definitely been a part of your bucketlist, you were expecting it to be more…romantic. Not in a seedy corner of a street, done by your flustered bouquet thief who looked like he’d been through hell/Devildom or whatever its figurative namesake was. The terms are blurry after actually staying in the place for almost a year. He didn’t look like he had much sleep—his unkempt uniform seemed even more untidy than usual. His necktie was a breath away from you, finding yourself reaching your hand to tie it for him when you heard him speak.

“Yer my only hope, human!”

Hope? In what? For what? He was getting a little too close so you placed your hands on his shoulders to push him away, earning his flustered apologies. “You could have just messaged me.”

Mammon looked confused. His eyes looked at you incredulously as if you’re saying something absurd. “Do you think Satan would make it easy tryin’ to get to ya? I almost died there last night!”

“Were his worries warranted?”

“Of course not.” His voice sounded weak in reply. “Didn’t ya say you’d hear me out?”

You had a feeling there’s more to the situation than it seemed. Mammon’s motives were barely even scratching the surface. Everyone started acting really weirdly last night—Levi in particular seemed like he was on the verge of blurting out whatever conspiracy they were keeping amongst themselves from you. You were touched by his loyalty, but were also concerned about why they were going to such extents in the first place. Lucifer was usually the notorious secret keeper of the family—to involve his brothers in his secrets was the last thing he’d ever want to do. From your months of knowing him, you had at least an idea that the eldest sibling wasn’t the type to share his burdens with his family if he had a choice.

“Of course. But…” You looked around and smiled awkwardly at him. “Is this really the right time and place for that? I was supposed to meet with Satan.”

You saw the colour leave his face. It was as if the thought only came to him at your suggestion.

“E-Even so!” His façade was cracking at every second.

“?”

“Just come with me, darn human! Before he comes for me!”

A cold hand squeezed yours that felt small despite the fact that it enveloped your own. With relent, you shook your head and sighed, willing whatever consequences he may face and sharing his burdens. “Just how did he even punish you?”

You heard a gah! Squeak out of him as his face paled upon remembering. With a soft and unsure voice(and more respectful gestures that placed some distance between both of you), he answered. “Seventy five.”

“Pardon?”

You saw him bite his lip as you asked for an elaboration. Then, a blush coloured his cheeks that hinted of his embarrassment. “I should score 75 in all my subjects or else I’ll sksnjhfddfkjdf—“

“You lost me at or else I’ll—“

“IF I FAIL MY EXAMS I’LL GET HANGED!” His shaky voice finally let out all its steam in frustration. “I’m so tired of this crap! I really had a reason for this time and…” No, he shouldn’t be getting angry at you. You were his only ally on this. The fact that you’re even willing to listen to him proved that at least you cared for him and you had faith in him.

“Sorry.” He pulled away from you and placed a hand atop your head. “Yer the one who got affected by this. I shouldn’t get angry atcha. It’s just…frustrating.”

Mammon, more often than not, suffers the blunt of his brothers’ ires. Witnessing it already indicated its severity, but you wondered just how strongly would it be felt by actually experiencing it yourself? By putting yourself in his shoes?

“I’m sorry you feel that way Mammon.” You hid behind him again once you noticed some classmates passing by your corner. You really wanted to comfort him right now, but this isn’t the time. “We should talk about this in a more private place.”

He nodded in understanding and offered his hand. “You don’t have to help me. In fact, I might get in deeper trouble if ya help me study. Just …think with me. Please? I know it’s weird I’m asking ya this but…I can’t ask anyone else.”

You know that feeling, at least even a semblance of it. To face hardships alone with no one to lean on, to be faced by something you’re too small to handle by yourself but have no choice but to endure alone—you wondered. How long had Mammon been lonely in his own thoughts? Who really understood him? Surely you didn’t. A conversation ago, you had bitter feelings towards his “betrayal”(even if you were aware there was more to the situation than he let on). Perhaps the idea that we can spare some thoughts and care to someone else when we, alone are facing our own hardships is already a miracle in itself. After all, the world surely doesn’t revolve only at us. Even when we disappear, we return to the earth as something barely recognisable as us. Fragments of us could only exist in other’s memories and someday, even they would disappear too. If such an inevitable would happen in the future, then why should we care so much?

“Okay,” You found the answer to your many thoughts when you took the hand he offered. To see the storm in his eyes calm at your understanding made you feel that even he might be considering those thoughts despite the huge divide on your lifespan and race. Or perhaps you’d only like to think so to feel a closer connection to him. “What do you want to do, Mammon?”

“Pass.”

“Well, of course!” You laughed, conscious of his joking tone. “We can ask someone to help you. Do you have anyone in mind?”

.

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“Don’t involve me in your problems, idiot brother.”

Rejected on the spot. You thought the offer of the latest memory foam pillow would do the trick, but it only earned you Belphegor’s disgusted look once he put two-and-two together and realised you’d been in on his dearest brother’s plans as well.

“Even for two pillows?”

“Are you kidding me?” There was now a frown on his face as he looked up at Mammon. “Get lost. And you!” He turned to you, annoyed. “Let’s just leave this idiot alone to suffer the consequences of his actions. Why are you even helping him?”

“Because he’s my friend.” You answered on instinct.

Purple pairs of eyes looked at you in shock. He seemed to be muttering something to himself, but it was too soft for you to hear. “You trust him so much, but you couldn't do the same for me."

“Belphie?”

“It’s nothing.” It didn’t sound like it was nothing. “I want a nap. Leave, you two.”

“But classes—“

“Just…leave.” Despite declining your request, you left the pillows for him anyway and bade him goodbye. For a fleeting second, you felt sadness in his eyes as you turned away from him and asked Mammon about your next plans. A part of you felt like you should have stayed with him. But you wondered why…

“Well that was a bust.” Mammon jutted his lips into a frown. “The only other smart person I know is Lucifer and…you know that option ain’t even viable.”

“Satan—“

“Are you flippin’ me, human?! You want me to really die?!”

Well. Satan was the best option, that was true. But both of you highly doubted he would ever willingly tutor someone he had been conspiring punishments against. Mammon was very vocal with his bitterness towards the fourth-born, and was spouting expletives that would make even the most vulgar of sailors blush.

“That freakin’ two-faced jerk! Just wait till I—“

“Just wait until I what?”

You were familiar with that aura. A mop of gold on your peripheral confirmed Mammon’s worst nightmare. There was pain on your shoulders as his nails dug into you, his taller form hiding behind yours almost like a shield. The only weapon his adversary had, meanwhile was a cold smile on his lips, green eyes glowing in sinister shades as you felt pressure in the air.

“You have 10 seconds to run. I can only be so patient.”

Mammon swallowed, giving into his survival instincts in a heartbeat. “S-see ya in Purgatory Hall, human!” You heard him cry out as he ran like the wind. “I’LL BE WAITING!”

“Now,” you felt Satan’s gaze at you as Mammon left. “Do you mind telling me what’s going on?

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Don’t act cute to get away from this! It’s not going to work.”

You were a little scared of him, but beneath all that wrath, you knew your Satan was in there. To be fair, the idea of acting cute to get your way didn’t sit right with you either. So you did what you could only do: be honest with him.

“I wanted to help him.” Your eyes didn’t turn away from his. You refused to show fear; not for your sake, but his. You witnessed him growing weary every time his representative sin takes over him—how he’s genuinely trying not to hurt anyone, especially you. Taking his hand, you rested your cheek against his palm. “But until I hear his own reasons for doing so, can you please let me try and make judgements for myself?”

You saw him considering the thought. His eyes were still muddled but was slowly gaining composure. He touched your other cheek with his free hand, feeling it trembling slightly. “How can you be so understanding? So…unafraid?”

You kissed his palm and smiled at him. “Because I have nothing to fear, Satan. You won’t ever hurt me.”

Those words were what he needed to hear at that moment. You were right. Beneath all that wrath and rage, he was there, wide-eyed and vulnerable. What else can you do but hold him in your arms? “Is something bothering you right now?” You asked him as you stroked his head. “Does it concern me?”

“How did—“

“You worry so much over others rather than yourself. See?” Holding him by his cheeks, you kissed the tears forming in his eyes. “You’re doing it right now.”

It was a relief to finally see him smile(even if it’s just a little). “You’re the only one who says that.”

“And it won’t be the last one you'd ever hear from me.”

You stayed still in an embrace for quite a while, calming both of your thoughts with your own heartbeats. As the transience of the moment started to scatter in the flow of time, you felt the world move again. “I have something to tell you.”

What something was it that he requested access for the restricted section in the library? You saw runes being cast on the entrance door as he sat next to you on the settee. Hundreds of books filled the room with its musty, dusty scent, seeing better days between their pages. Familiar school supplies and cat items were scattered surreptitiously in each area—something new about him that you learned again today. Something you’d like to ask about later when the seriousness of your situation subsides.

He saw the question in your eyes and smiled a little as he answered it for you. “Yes, I stay here for long periods of time. And I had plans to show it to you in a more…romantic light than right now.”

“Just being with you is romantic enough.” You answered earnestly, which made the colour on his cheeks turn a lovely pink. He cleared his throat. “As much as I’d love to make this a more romantic summon, I can’t. Not if your life is in danger.”

Alertness registered on your features. “My life?”

He held you by your hands and squeezed them.

“Yes, kitten. Your life. Can I ask you something?”

“Yes?”

Now you’re starting to feel nervous. Satan had always been quite the worry-wart when matters come to you, but he seemed more apprehensive than usual. “Where did you get the flowers?”

Huh? Flowers? The bouquet? Your answer was almost instinctual.

“From you?”

You felt him squeeze your hands tighter. With a shaking head, he told you, “Kitten, I only sent you one. The bouquet is not mine.”

Then some proverbial cogs in your brain started to turn as he spoke. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as memories started flashing back in your mind: what did you read in that Flower Language book again?

“!!!”

You heard him call your name. “What is it?”

But instead of answering, you scrambled through your memories to remember the passages in the book as much as you could.

But wait. Do carnations even exist in Devildom? How would someone be able to procure one in the first place? This must have cost a pretty penny. You hesitated to take it after all until you noticed the single carnation was but a stray that lost its way from its bouquet…”

“A pink carnation in human world flower language means, I will never forget you…”

“Satan…” you looked at him in confusion. It was your turn to squeeze his hand.

Honestly? You didn’t really know what to feel. However, you were sure of one thing: you had questions you wanted to be answered.

“Is the one who sent me the bouquet…trying to kill me?”

Realising his blunder, he kissed your forehead to pacify you. “Sorry. I did not mean to scare you. We don’t have any solid proof yet besides the tin of cookies—“

“Cookies?”

So you didn’t know anything at all, he thought. Satan was beginning to worry if telling you all of this when the issue had not been resolved is the right choice. “When you checked your locker that day, what did you get?”

Despite the cacophony going on in your head right now, you urged yourself to answer. “A bouquet of carnations, a tin of cookies and a love letter…”

“Love letter?”

You nodded. “Someone sent one to me but he never really revealed himself. I didn’t think anything of it. As for the cookies...”

“Love, it’s okay.” He wrapped his arms around you. “Barbatos already investigated about the cookies. The tin was poisoned. The antidote should have worked now.”

“Antidote?”

Satan frowned, torn. “Lucifer laced antidote in your meals, apparently. I wasn’t even aware until last night.”

Was that what Lucifer meant when he said you’ll know soon? Just how many secrets is that demon even keeping from all of you? But then again, Lucifer is Lucifer. To him perhaps, this is his own way of protecting all of you. Always shouldering the burden for his and his alone, never even considering if other people cared about him taking such burdens by himself. Pride was a sin that ails the mind and the hearts of those who are loved, however unaware. You wondered if his brothers ever felt the same way as you are feeling right now. Then again, they always had an awkward way of showing that they genuinely care about each other.

“No getting mad at Lucifer. You’re frowning right now, aren’t you?”

“Tsk.”

“Deep down, you know he cares.”

“That’s the most disgusting thing I ever heard.”

Pfft. Typical Satan.

Laughing, you buried your face on the crook of his neck. “Actually, maybe getting mad at him a little is okay,”

“I’m mad at him all the time.”

“I know!” You laughed again and pulled away from him. “I take it that everyone besides Mammon knows already?”

“Levi blurted it out, didn’t he?”

“Almost,” you shook your head and smiled. “Thank you for protecting me, Satan. I now understand what caused you that reaction last night.”

You felt like he held you tighter than usual. You wanted to argue that you weren’t some fleeting human like his carnation but with the situation now, you couldn’t really tell. Maybe he had every reason to be protective of you.

“I have to make some investigations myself. I’m sorry.”

You wished you didn't understand what he meant. It would be a lie if you’d say that you wouldn’t miss him at all. But this was for your own safety. “I’ll do my best to stay still and not worry you.” You answered back. You weren’t stupid. You were barely exposed to the dangers of Devildom because of the joint efforts of the student council and Lord Diavolo’s vassals. Add that to the fact that you barely had any magic in you and you’re basically a meal on wheels for most of the demons here. Pacts can only go a long way either. It was best to be careful.

“As much as I am against it, I feel like Mammon’s presence is good for you right now.”

“Wait—does it mean?!”

Satan sighed and placed a chaste kiss on your lips. “As much of a scum he may be, he’s quite reliable. It would be reassuring to know you will be together at times I could not stay by your side.”

“Woo! I love you, Sataaaaan!~” He laughed when you tackled him on the settee, receiving your head rubs and hugs unabashed. “Did I ever tell you you’re amazing? The best demon brother out of the Seven? Don’t tell  the others though.”

Smiling, he answered--all the love in the world reflected in his eyes as he looked at you. “I’d be troubled if I wasn’t, dearest.”

“Oh hey! Yer finally he—Gah! What is he doing here?!” Mammon looked betrayed when he saw his brother standing beside you. Ah. Satan seemed like he can’t be bothered to explain anything. He looked at you expectantly.

Messenger mode: ON

“He was just escorting me here. He’s going to go somewhere else.”

“If he’s gonna agree we can look for a tutor together, he shoulda said so!”

Mammon looked confused when Satan leaned on your ear and whispered his something to you. It was utterly childish and petty, yes… but you decided to humour him. Hah, love was blinding you terribly. “He says don’t get your hopes up.”

“What the heck?”

Another whisper and Satan left.

“So what did he say this time? Oi! Earth to human? You there?”

“...nothing.”

…because the bloody bastard bit and blew on your ear!

You shrugged off any more questions that Mammon raised about your weird behaviour(and your incredibly flushed face), and instead directed the conversation to asking his progress on his tutor search. He had told you (in a hopeful tone) that Solomon might agree to teach him as long as he can offer a bargain that would benefit the sorcerer. It sounded pretty shady, but you were both desperate and were left with no other options so you didn’t really give any more thoughts to its obvious consequences in the future. In terms of brains, Solomon was no doubt, an excellent student. He lives up to his name as the Witty Sorcerer after all. Surely with a pact of a powerful demon like Mammon, he would definitely—

“Yeah, about that…I already said that and he declined.”

“Oh?” How surprising. You were quite sure that he would agree.

“Want to ask Simeon then?”

Mammon shook his head. “He’s hosting some party thing with Levi, remember?”

Oh yeah! Ruri-chan’s birthday party. You almost forgot!

“…then, how about me?”

Mammon flicked your forehead and frowned. “I’d get in trouble, stupiiiid.”

“Want to ask Belphie again?”

Mammon was considering the thought, but he already blew his budget on buying the expensive memory foam pillows you bought for the youngest as your bribe. “Got any cash then?”

“Hahaha—“

“Thought so.”

You signed in unison, dejected over the bleakness of his situation.

“Ah, you’re still here?”

…until his ray of light finally descended upon him again.

“Solomon, my man!” The said man effectively dodged Mammon’s attempts of skinship. With a vague smile on his face, he tilted his head and noticed your presence. “Oh, you’re here too?”

“Emergency meeting time! Code M, I’ll secure the target.”

“Hah! I’d like to see you try! The Great Me was already turned down, you know?”

Well, that’s true. Compared to Mammon: a powerful demon, Solomon wouldn’t really gain anything from doing you a favour. You considered using Lucifer as a bargaining chip, but thinking of the consequences of that risk, you concluded that it wasn’t worth it.

“Soooooooo Solomon…” You forced a smile. “How have you been doing lately?”

Catching your intentions, the sorcerer smiled to himself and played along. “You wanted to ask something from me, don’t you?”

!!!

“W-what do you mean? I was just interested in your well-being!”

“Oh, a sudden interest in my well-being, I see. But what for?”

“I-“ Crap. This man is a fortress!

“I told ya. You ain’t getting through him with that weak ass excuses yer pullin’!”

You mouthed for Mammon to shut up or else you’d blow your cover, not knowing that there wasn’t much of a cover to fall back from the start.

You were bad at this! It felt bad to lie anyway so you decided to shed your false pretences and be honest with him. You felt more comfortable doing so anyway! Holding his hand, you made sure to look at him straight in the eyes so he would know you are being sincere.

Deals, deals. What could this conniving man ever benefit from you? Surely there’s something he would want from you! But what?

“Please tutor Mammon!”

…as you thought: you had nothing to bargain to win him over. Well at least you tried.

“It’s okay, Solomon. I understand. Sorry for bothering you.

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Solomon?”

He went quiet so you couldn’t help but look up at him. It turns out your candidness was something he wasn’t expecting…or so it seemed from how taken aback he was.

“…you’re not…a bother at all. Haha!” He reassured you. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

Suspicious.

You raised an eyebrow to that and retorted. “Just like that?”

His light-hearted laughter was already telling. With an impish smile, he placed your hands back to your side and said, “Please do Simeon’s favour for me. He’d understand.”

Favour?

“Why am I getting a bad feeling about this?”

His whimsy returned with gusto and now you weren’t really sure if the favour was worth it.

“I promise it isn’t anything bad,” He reassured you. “And when did I ever break my promise?”

“Since ever. We never made any promises.”

“I suppose you’re right…” He laughed once more. His expressions, however smiling and friendly were impossible to read. “Then think of it as an act of service; from one human to another human. We only have each other in this big, cruel otherrealm. It only makes sense for us to look after each other, doesn’t it?”

“If the human were anything less than Earth’s most powerful sorcerer.”

Sometimes, it felt like he was speaking in another language every time you exchange words with each other. Does he really mean it? Is there anything hidden beneath his words? Perhaps the brothers’ (except Asmo) apprehensiveness towards him was rubbing off on you. You didn’t know.

“You flatter me~”

What you did know was that Mammon’s troubles were already solved. The aforementioned second eldest was currently slack-jawed and absolutely stupefied at whatever the hell he had witnessed.

You can only offer him shrugged shoulders and an equally confused reply to his silent questions once the sorcerer left. “He says it’s an act of service from one human to another, but then gave me errands to do anyway. Weird guy.”

Needless to say, nothing could ever prepare you for the truth that will reveal itself once you went back to Lamentation.

💌 continue to next scenario

💌 tag request: @krussyfed, @lilliansstuff , @cupsof-tea

[vanaera]

The Heart Holiday | Act 1 | 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 your 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!yoongi x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating

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

Wordcount: 11, 798

Warnings: Lots of curses from two emotionally-constipated characters (PG-15 Rating)

A/N | This fic is in part with FWL’s Valentine’s project, The Luv Library: Romance. I had this premise about a Valentine’s holiday for a while and finally, I got to use it for this fic.

next  | series masterlist

             Ten seconds are enough to look at Min Yoongi. Two seconds to look at his unkempt, unprofessional, and stupid fringes that nonsensically cover his already small eyes. Three to look at his stupid, smug smile. Another two for his overly-confident stance—leaned forward in his chair, elbows on the table, hands clasping together—as if he’s better and of higher power than anyone else around the room when he’s just a measly representative of the day for the Creatives Team. And the last three seconds—they are enough to look at his mocking eyes, his jeering gaze, and the arrogant quirk of his brow.

               This is the same look he gave to Y/N when he got promoted ahead of her. This is the same look he flashed to Y/N when he berated every word choice in her reports. And, this is the same look in his face when he ruined her presentation which could have been her ticket way out from this hellish job. Smug, arrogant, and proud, Min Yoongi is set to ruin Y/N’s life. And all Y/N could do now is glare at him and hope her eyes could set him on fire so it will be easy for hell to swallow him up and—

               “Y/N?”

               Y/N whips her head to her right, “S-sorry?”

               Nancy Kim clicks her tongue, “Why are you just standing there, glaring at the windows? I told you to distribute the copies among the room.”

               “R-right,” Y/N gulps and rushes forward. She hands the copies of last month’s Travel Loca issues among the representative of each department. Gracie from the Marketing Team sneaks her a small smile, which Y/N returns. However, that smile falls into a frown when she reaches the devil himself.

               “Good morning, Y/N,” Min Yoongi greets, chin rested on his palm. When Y/N doesn’t greet back, Yoongi takes it upon himself to wink at her. With a huff, Y/N slams down the copy on the table in front of him, enough for the glossy, firm cover page to hit his pile of notes and cause some pages to fly off the table.

               “Thank you, Y/N,” Nancy calls out, sighing. She waves away at Y/N and the latter takes it as a cue to sit back on her chair. Nancy leans back in her huge black chair, “Okay, let’s get the ball rolling. Now tell me something I don’t know.”

               Y/N seats herself on the chair by the corner of the room, behind Nancy’s chair, far from the round meeting table. Every team representative starts to report their progress last month and their suggestions for the next, next month’s issue. Meanwhile, Min Yoongi is still busy picking up his notes on the floor. When he’s gathered them back, now in a sloppy stack, he looks from his crouched position and flashes Y/N his middle finger. She flashes back a finger at him, grinning. Y/N looks down at her small pocket notebook.

               “Y/N – 1. Yoongi – 0.”

               So far, this morning is really good.

               Y/N hates Min Yoongi, and this is beyond an understatement. She hates him so much that the word “hate” started to become insufficient to describe her tantamount distaste for that man. Y/N blames his last name for that. “Min” should not be how his last name spelled. It should be M-E-A-N because that man is beyond mean.                

               When Y/N first met Yoongi, she knew there’s something off with him. He stands so arrogantly, so prideful as if he deserved every bit of the floor space of Travel Loca’s Main Office when he just got hired because there’s no other job-seeker that has actually applied. Yoongi looks at other people as if he’s any much greater than them. Lazy eyes, far-off gaze, indifferent façade—he just looks at you as if he’s listening when he’s actually just hearing so he can make some witty comeback. And Yoongi talks like a dictator know-it-all. He corrects every word people say here and there, like “Y/N, are you sure it’s ‘demonstrate,’ not ‘visualize’? We can’t physically see something if there’s nothing to see,” or “Y/N, you shouldn’t say ‘Xerox.’ It should be ‘photocopy.’ Xerox is just a brand, our junior high teacher told us so,” as if every word anyone says but him, will always be wrong. Yoongi talks as if no one but him will always be right and that everything around him does not deserve a bit of his attention unless they prove their worth to him.

               And it frustrates Y/N to no end that no one seems to see his real form but her. Because apparently, Yoongi is “amazing.” Yoongi knows a lot of foreign places, having traveled to Malta, New Zealand, Hawaii, and yaddah yaddah, making his first-hand knowledge essential to the Writing Department. Yoongi has a lot of expertise in various editing apps, and he’s willing to teach the tricks and nicks to it to anybody. Anybody but Y/N. Because behind closed doors, Y/N knows his true face:  Min Yoongi is a thick-skinned, double-faced bitch. That even if his name is on the tip of the tongue of anyone around the office every single morning, his quick promotion as manager of the Creatives Team a never-ending topic starter, Y/N knew the real story. Because Min Yoongi started out as Nancy’s Personal Assistant…just like Y/N.

               Nancy Kim is the best photojournalist in the history of travel magazines. God-tier even, because when Nancy is just an intern in The Traveler’s Foot, she wrote the best articles Y/N has ever read. It didn’t matter if they were about a cliché tourist spot that has been featured over and over again or something bizarre that could make anyone wonder someone in their right mind would actually go there. Nancy is the goddess of travel journaling and Y/N obsessively consumed every article she wrote during her entire senior high and college life. So, to be able to get accepted in a company Nancy built, as Nancy’s personal assistant, is a sweet as fuck dream come true. Y/N didn’t care if she has to go home by 12 A.M. or 1 A.M. as Nancy said PA’s always have to leave the office after their bosses left. Nancy just shows the dedication to work one must have. Y/N didn’t find it tiresome when Nancy has to send her back-and-forth for errands both for work and personal life. She’s learning how to be resourceful while being good at time-management all at the same time. She’s learned a lot from Nancy. So, seeing Min Yoongi be so lax at work after getting hired frayed Y/N’s nerves to no end.

               Yoongi doesn’t keep a tab on Nancy’s schedules just like Y/N does. He says there’s no reason for such rush to keep every event on track because Nancy will just cancel or push forward them anyway. It’s true, Nancy does sometimes mess up the week calendar Y/N arranged for her, but still, not tabbing anything on your work diary is still an evident proof Yoongi slacks of.  He even takes a nap in between work hours for God’s sake. Yoongi also likes to talk behind Nancy’s back: of how inconveniencing, overbearing, and unnecessarily over-the line abuser she is as a boss. He tells this to Y/N day in and day out. Yoongi even mocked Y/N’s work ethic as a “willing subservience to work slavery.” He mercilessly reduced her dedication to work as blind obedience to an authority for the sake of monthly paychecks instead of hard, honest efforts to learn the essential skills in travel journalism.

               And, it’s not a miracle no one finds out about this. Because when Yoongi is indeed caught, he finds one loophole in his and Y/N’s dynamic as co-PA’s for Nancy and implicitly, oh so subtly, turns it around against Y/N. Y/N remembers one time when Nancy berated them two for not inserting her friend Rosa’s son’s first birthday party into the 6 PM slot of one Monday in March. After her long sermon, Yoongi apologized for not encoding it into Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet. Y/N handles Nancy’s Schedule Work Sheet, not Yoongi. Nancy knows this. So, after her 9-12 shift that same Tuesday, Nancy reminded Y/N of her replaceability in Travel Loca during one of the most tension-filled elevator rides in her life. She went home to her flatmate, Mina, in tears which did not permit her to get an ounce of sleep. Y/N turns up the next day at work, red eyes and red nose close to make Rudolph the reindeer run for his title, only to know from the call logs that Yoongi did not receive Rosa’s call because he was sleeping when Y/N outright told him to take over the phone because she needed a bathroom break.

               Min Yoongi is mean and Y/N has seen the last straw of her respectful tolerance to people ticked off by this insufferable man one cursed Thursday night of September.

               Thursdays are horrible. It is always assured to be the worst day Y/N will have in a week. Either an investor will change their mind about a deal with Travel Loca, or Nancy will lash out at her because of stress from stupid shenanigans of her rebellious teenage daughter—Thursdays always have it out for Y/N. Y/N can already tell this so when Nancy called for her at 10:30 P.M. to give her a run-down of her schedule for the weekends and the upcoming week. It is already an established routine that Nancy will have Y/N over to her office to give a schedule report at any time of the day. It’s just happened this day that Yoongi took a leave and Y/N shouldered every task to be done, easily wearing her out in the afternoon.

               Y/N is close to crying right now because of exhaustion and it does not help that Nancy is wearing a sour face. She does not even look up at Y/N from her laptop when she said, “Tell me this week’s schedule.”

               Y/N pulls up her notebook and traces her pen over her notes, “Tomorrow you have an 11 AM meeting with investors from VanTae Apparels. At 1 PM you will have an online meeting with our overseas partners, JM Restaurant Group. We also have to submit the Kim Yuna special feature by 2 PM and at 3 we have the Travel with RM to interview. And–”

               “Push the Travel with RM to 2. We’re holding the Yuna feature ‘til next week because Jennie is writing as if she’s still in college.” Nancy presses a hand over her forehead and huffs, “The Writing Department has been consecutively disappointing me with boring, generic articles. Are fresh pieces non-existent nowadays?!”

               Y/N looks up, eyes wide, hands sweaty.

               Nancy turns back to her laptop, “What else is on my sched?”

               “Um, O-on Saturday 4 PM, you are invited to your friend’s, Rica’s baby shower, and for 5, you are invited to Jungsoo’s son’s 1st birthday party. Then Sunday 2 PM is Hana’s sister’s daughter’s 1st birthday party. You are also invited to Nick and Ken’s wedding on Friday and–” 

               Nancy clicks her tongue, “Cancel them all. I have no time for these parties and meaningless chit-chats that always have these housewives bragging how great their husbands are or their children’s stupid what-nots.”

              Y/N nods and slashes through her notes, “Okay.”

              “So send them my apologies and give them a $300 gift instead.

              “Okay, ma’am.”

              Nancy turns her swivel chair to face her, “Did you get my daughter the unpublished sequel of The Swallowing?”

               “Yes, ma’am,” Y/N smiles, recalling her last week’s adventure and success. Maybe Nancy’s mood will lighten up if she knew how she accomplished such an impossible task. “I got to grab a copy after weeks of talking with R. Lewis’ manager. Luckily, R. Lewis caught wind that it’s for your daughter. So he agreed to give me the copy. I actually have it right now, let me go back to my table –” 

               “You don’t have to. Suzie changed her mind. She doesn’t like The Swallowing anymore. Return the copy and get her the unpublished sequel instead of Bird and Foe.”

               Y/N’s jaw nearly falls as she stammers, “S-sure, no problem.” Deep inside, Y/N cannot help but think to herself, “Yes, Nancy may be fickle-minded and forgetful of differences in company protocols that intervene with such transactions, but she cannot just disregard my hard work! All the money in my train tickets and brain cells have gone all in the drain for nothing—Okay, calm down, Y/N, this is Nancy. Nancy can help you to write the best articles in no time. This is just training for the real deal—

               “Y/N, did you hear me?”

               “S-sorry, what?”

               “I said, where’s the USB I told you to get from my laptop at our home? I need the files for the JM Restaurant Group.”

               Oh shit. The USB. Y/N told Yoongi to get it since he lived nearer to Nancy’s residence in West Street than her. And since, Yoongi’s on leave, the USB is—!

               “And first thing in the morning, I want you to go to the Writing Department to get some fresh stories. I do not want to personally see them or else I will be able to fire one whole department in a day.”

              At this, Y/N fiddles with her fingers. “Umm, I think I have a story.”

               Nancy quirks her brow.

               Y/N wrings her hands behind her back. “I-it’s not yet polished and I still have more to cover on–”

               “So, you’re already telling me it’s bad before you even pitch a formal proposal –”

               Y/N’s eyes widen and she rushes to Nancy. “No! I-it’s about the Write and Backpack Trip Club. The-they’re a club of unpublished writers, usually late 30s, who met on Facebook and decide to travel together to the countries or places their stories are supposed to take place.” Nancy tilts her head and Y/N picks up her tone. Her hands start to quiver with her voice as she says, “People think—people think it’s hopeless. Like, like, they’re wasting their lives on something so trivial instead of focusing on their jobs. But this club gave them a purpose to still reach for their dreams even when people tell them it’s already too late. And I just,” Y/N wipes a stray tear on her cheek–which she doesn’t know if it’s because of her attachment to the club, Nancy’s new orders, or her frustration at Yoongi for leaving all their responsibilities on her–but she sucks them up and breathes out, “I find it really inspiring to have the courage to seek out your purpose when everything in the world is against you.”

               Nancy stares at her, brows furrowed. Another drop of tear falls from Y/N’s eyes. Nancy fixes her eyes back on her laptop. “The USB, Y/N, I need it now. A.S.A.P., capiche.”

               Wiping her cheeks again, Y/N nods, “Ye-yeah, capiche.”

               Y/N could not remember any time she’s rushed out the office as fast as now. Yoongi’s cell is out of reach and nothing is present in Y/N’s mind but to just run out of the building. She needs to clear her mind. She has to think of a solution. She can’t go back to Nancy empty-handed. Nancy’s already unimpressed of her sloppy work for this day, much more at her uncalled emotional breakdown in her office. She will definitely get fired for sure this time.

               The cold dry wind hits Y/N’s face the moment she pushes past the large glass doors of the Rockfort Building. The night sky has blackened into dark indigo and the establishments that dot the neighboring grounds of the building have blurred into monotonous dim shops. With just their solar lights left on, the rest of the complex looked like a washed-out commercial center. The only thing that stands out has to be the small mango tree just a meter away from her—the center-piece and quite the only humanizing element of the harsh Rockfort Complex.

               Okay, this is great. Y/N always tend to get the best ideas and solutions when she’s standing near this tree. She proved this twice. First, when Nancy demanded her to re-do all their presentations for VanTae Apparel. Y/N managed to slay it by getting inspired by the mangoes and editing the templates to look like nature’s rendition of Van Gogh’s starry night, which happened to be the favorite painting of VanTae’s CEO. And second, when Yoongi messed up Y/N’s schedules for Nancy’s personal events by misnaming each invitation, this mango tree provided her peace to quickly fix everything up before Nancy gets to the office.

               Put your thinking cap on, Y/N. What should you do? Should you rush to Nancy’s house now? Oh no, maybe Yoongi already got the USB. Should you go then to Yoongi’s house? Shit, I don’t know his house address—

               “Here’s $25, sir. Thank you!”

               Y/N freezes. It can’t be.

               Y/N turns to her right only for her eyes to land on a man with a familiar jet black mop of hair, standing about two meters before her, talking with a blue-vested delivery man.

               No. No. No. NO. Min Yoongi cannot just swoop out of nowhere and sound so chirpy like that while I have to stress over a problem that I DID NOT create. I cannot get fired in a company I’ve spent my life on for two years just because of this man’s unreasonable incompetence!

               Fueled by the purest form of aggravation, Y/N stomps ahead and brushes Yoongi’s shoulder, making him turn back to her.

               “Oh, hi, Y/N.”

               “‘Hi?!’ ‘Hi,’ yourself, Min Yoongi!—"

               “Oh my God,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, “she’s Adolf Hitler again.”

               “Adolf Hitler?!” Y/N scoffs, “Say it for yourself, Min! You’re Hitler because you’re twisted enough to ruin my career because doing shit in yours is not enough. Where’s Nancy’s USB?!”

               “If you’re going to talk about work again, I gotta leave. If you didn’t know, a ‘leave’ is a leave.” He emphasizes the last syllable as he starts to walk toward the street.

               Letting common sense knock into her, Y/N momentarily disregards her pride and runs after him. When he rounds the corner of a clothing boutique, she slips by his side and places herself in the middle of the sidewalk, blocking him.

               Unlike his usual work attire, Yoongi is clad in a black hoodie and denim ripped jeans, an ensemble that remarkably turned to look horrible in 0.5 seconds just because he’s wearing it. Y/N deduces it’s just Yoongi ruining fashion because he 24/7 looks like an asshole.

               “What, are you just gonna stare at me?”

               Yoongi’s voice brings Y/N back to her purpose. “No, I’m here to tell you, you forgot to do your job—Nancy wants her USB for JM Restaurant Group right now.”

               “Well, I don’t have it, sweetheart. Work hours are already over so practically, I’m in no responsibility to do whatever the fuck Nancy wants,” the man quips back, smiling.

               Y/N cannot help but snap. “Why are you even here in Rockfort, then? You didn’t turn up for work and now you’re just casually strolling in front of our building. You didn’t take home at least a quarter of our tasks and dumped everything on my shoulders like an irresponsible, signature free-loader high school groupmate. And now you think it’s okay to tell me ‘sorry, I don’t have the USB’ when I told you yesterday to bring it today?! I cannot believe what an asshole you can be, Yoongi.”

               Yoongi raises a hand. “Okay, chill, tiger. To answer your question, I am here because my friends and I hung out at a bar near here. Not that you will understand, of course, considering your whole life revolves around work, work, and work. Ooh, and Nancy,” Yoongi grins. “How can I forget you idolize Nancy? Actually no, you worship her.”

               Y/N’s face falls into an indignant scowl, “I do NOT worship Nancy! I respect her. Which you also should do because she employed you, not the other way around. Also, I have friends! Mina is my friend!”

               “Correction, Mina is your only friend at work. And she happened to be your flatmate and college buddy first before you both had luck to also be co-workers. So no, your friendship with Mina is out of the equation.”

               Y/N opens her mouth to tell him Mina cannot be out of the equation when Yoongi beats her, “And second, how could I be a free-loader? A leave is a leave. Our job description did not say we should also take work home. You are the only one who does that because you’re paranoid. So don’t impose your so-called work ethic, that is actually masked obsession, to me because I am a mentally healthy person. I don’t want to have a stick in my ass like you do.”

               Y/N steps closer to Yoongi, making the latter cock a brow at her. “I’m not paranoid, Min. It’s you who is the problem. You don’t take this job seriously. You don’t take on responsibilities like a mature adult. You think you’re so great just because no one told you you suck at something when you were a kid. Well, let me tell you now. You suck at plain human decency, something that should be innate in every people. You’re so high up your ass you think you can just do anything and get away with it and you–”

               “If you’re just going to insult me, can you do that tomorrow? My food is getting cold.”

               Oh no. Nancy’s USB. Y/N closes her eyes and releases a long sigh. She thinks her eyes already did a 360 by the time she managed to fix her composure. She looks up at the man in front of her, currently giving her an amused look. Y/N’s voice cracks as she says, “Yoongi…This is the only time I will ask a favor from you. Please help me with Nancy’s USB. I just want to end this night and go home peacefully without her chewing my head off further more. So please, please, please, can you just help me for once?”

               “Hmm,” Yoongi scratches his chin, “let me think about it first.”

               “Yoongi, please!”

               “Okay, fine,” Yoongi grimaces, “considering you practically begged to me for dear life, I, as a human with pure soul will help you out despite all the shits you said to me—”

               “Just help me out!”

               Yoongi slaps your reaching hands, “Stop, I’m not yet done with my speech. Anyway, considering this as a favor, not a request, I expect a return of favor, too.”

               “Sure, fine, anything!”

               “Okay, I think I may or may not have slipped in Nancy’s USB in my bag,” Yoongi breathes out as he reaches for his black satchel. “Oh yeah, I totally have it,” he says, flashing the orange 32 GB USB in front of you.  

               What the fuck. All this time-!

               “Why didn’t you tell me you already have the USB?!”

               Yoongi nearly guffaws, “Didn’t I tell you a “leave” is a leave? Wait, oh my god, you should see yourself, sweetheart. You’re about to pop a vein.”

               “Min Yoongi, I fucking hate you!” Y/N snatches the USB from Yoongi’s hand and stomps back to the direction of the Rockfort Building. The man doesn’t seem to go on his own way though because Y/N hears him holler “Same sentiment too, Y/N!”

               Y/N doesn’t turn back. She just raises a middle finger up that she’s sure Yoongi will not miss. And he did not, for the man’s faint chuckles only continued.

               The travel back up to the 12th floor seems like the longest elevator ride Y/N has ever been on. Every additional second into the constricted metal box feels like a one-second deduction from her own lifetime. So when the elevator doors open to Travel Loca’s floor, the air is immediately knocked off Y/N lungs. But not because of relief. Nancy stands in front of her, bags in hand, and obviously upset.

               Y/N quickly steps out of the lift. “Nancy, here! The USB!”

               “You took too long. Just e-mail them to me. I have to cram-reading them in the morning anyway because a certain someone forgot to do their job.” Nancy brushes by her shoulder and steps into the elevator. “You know, Y/N, if I’m paying you to make my life easier for me and instead, you’re making it harder, your position in this company is useless.” Nancy presses the button for the parking lot. The doors close in front of Y/N, letting her see the disappointment on Nancy’s face for the last second of the night.

               Y/N goes home twenty minutes later, worn out, and ready to sleep the second she reaches her floor. But when she opens the door, Mina’s smiling face greets her, and she immediately rushes to the sofa next to her bestfriend.

               “Mina, oh my god, I have so much to tell you.”

               “Me, too!” Mina giggles, wrapping her arms around Y/N’s arms, “Can I go first though?”

               “Yeah, yeah, sure,” Y/N smiles, fixing her seat.

               “Well, remember last week when I told you I finally confessed to Mark?”

               “Mark, as in, the café barista Mark Tuan?”

               Mina jokingly hits Y/N’s arm, “Yes, what Mark would I be talking about?”

               “Sorry, you know how I get so spaced out when I’m tired and groggy. Anyway, what happened?”

               “Well, Mark finally said yes!” Mina bursts into a wide grin, arms outstretched in joy. “I finally get to date Mark!”

               “Oh my god, I’m so happy for you, Nana,” Y/N engulfs Mina into an embrace, “I can’t believe you’re finally in a relationship! I mean, who would not want to date you? You’re smart, pretty, and funny. The boys have missed out on you for seven long years. And now, there’s finally someone who has eyes and can see what a gem you are. And damn right, Mark would see that. It’s not every day he can have a gorgeous girl court him for six months after getting rejected twice.”

               “Oh my god, stop bringing that up!” Mina playfully slaps her back and Y/N chortles.

              “Okay, okay, I’m just joking. What I really mean is: Mark is a lucky guy. I’m glad he finally realized what an idiot he will be if he rejects you again for the third time when you’ve been with him through all his problems. He won’t find another beautiful girl willing to ride his motorcycle with him in a huge-ass dress just to help him deliver orders in time. You’re the total package Mina and I’m so happy Mark has realized it.”

              “Oh, Y/N, you’re making me blush,” Mina laughs. She sways the both of them in their hug, “Mark has an impossibly high standard to meet now because of you.”

               “Mark doesn’t have to meet any standards,” Y/N snickers, “You already drool at his face the moment we enter The Daily Bean.”

               Mina detaches herself from Y/N and dramatically places a hand over her chest. “How can you remember that so well and not who Mark is?”

               Y/N shrugs, “Because I’m not staring at Mark and eye-fucking him 24/7.”

               “Oh my god, I do not!” Mina giggles, making you laugh again as she hugs you tight once more. Mina’s fingers card through your hair as she murmurs “But you do know, Y/N, even if I’m in a relationship now, I’m not gonna leave you alone. Even if Mark will start to occupy the top priority in my life, it doesn’t mean you will lose your spot in the top-pest part of my list. You know you’re still and will forever be my number one, right?” Y/N hums at that, closing her eyes from the head massage Mina is currently giving her. She feels Mina nod, “Right, you should because you’re practically my baby.”

               “No, I’m not.”

               “Yes, you are! Who would wash the red stain on your pants and underpants in the girl’s CR while you prance around the cubicle only in a top because you bled through your bottoms during your period, much more, on our Christmas Party, other than me?”

               Y/N grimaces, “Oh god, you didn’t have to bring that up.”

               “You hit right through me when you said I eye-fuck Mark so yeah, eye for an eye, bitch,” Mina cackles as she finally unlatches her arms around her friend. “Anyway, I’m finished with my story of the day. Your turn. What happened tonight?”

               Y/N bites her lip, unconsciously easing an inch between her and her bestfriend. Mina is in a good mood today. Y/N doesn’t want to ruin it by ranting off about how horrible Yoongi is again. She knows Mina. She will listen to her rant about another bullshit done by her co-PA and she will also indulge in an insult-fest against the man. That’s just their dynamic: Y/N’s enemy is Mina’s enemy and vice versa. So as Y/N looks at Mina’s smile which doesn’t do much covering up her dark eyes, which have grown from staying up late to wait for her to come home for multiple nights on end, Y/N decides it’s enough negativity for the day.

               “It’s nothing, Mina,” Y/N shakes her head, forcing a smile on her face, “just another tiring day from work.”

               Mina tilts her head, “Are you sure?”

               “Yeah,” Y/N flashes her another smile as she heads for her room, “I’m totally fine. Just tired. Congratulations to you and Mark again.”

               “Yeah, thank you,” Mina replies, but the look on her face tells Y/N she’s unconvinced of what she said. Seemingly aware that her friend needed space, Mina turns back the TV. Before Y/N closes her door, she hears Mina chuckle to a punch-line in the airing sitcom.

               Y/N flops on her bed face down. If Yoongi didn’t put much of a fight and just handed her Nancy’s USB when he knew he already had it, then maybe this night won’t be so horrible. Y/N would have given Nancy her USB in time, and her boss could have acknowledged it as a peace offering to her unremarkable work performance that day. Y/N would have totally rejoiced with Mina with her full heart into it and not force a smile on her face when such an announcement deserves much more celebration.

               Y/N releases a stifled scream into her pillow. Thursdays are really the worst and it’s all Min Yoongi’s fault.

               However, what Y/N didn’t expect is that the following week will get much worse. The Writing Department is late in their deadline, causing the online publication of the September issue to be pushed in the first week of October, a big deal late to the releases of their magazine competitors. Thus, Nancy became more pissy and naggy, giving Y/N a cold shoulder for the longest streak in her work life. Nancy became more frigid when Y/N failed to get Nancy the copy of the unpublished sequel of Bird and Foe. Y/N tried her best, she really did. It’s just that the publishers of Russell Park refused to give another copy because they said they cannot give out two unpublished copies at the same time. Of course, this turned out as a lazy excuse to Nancy, making her dump additional workload on Y/N’s already staggering pile. But that was not what made Y/N’s last week of September the worst week she’s ever had. It was Min Yoongi getting promoted as a staff member to the Creatives Team after giving Nancy the unpublished Bird and Foe sequel.

               Ringing phones, staff members running to- and fro- the beige faux wood office floor, and the occasional requests for coffee from the break room–Travel Loca is buzzing with life as usual. But not for long though, because the clock hands are currently on 12:49 P.M. At 12:57, it seems everyone on the floor have gone silent. Almost everyone taps their foot against the floor. All eyes were set on the digital wall clock. Some have even glanced on their own wristwatches to check if the wall clock was right. The hands start to move. Everyone gulps.

               The hands hit one o’clock. Everyone scrambles off their swivel chairs. Some have bee-lined for the break room.  Meanwhile, a huge mass had created a bottle-neck of office workers at Travel Loca’s main door. No one is left on the staff chairs, except for one: Mina Young.

               The accountant slides her swivel chair to the left. Her hands meander through her large file cases and when she feels a cold, ribbed metal surface on her index, she smiles. Mina pushes the on-button and immediately, the then-silent office space has now become a replica of her own flat.

               “Good morning everyone! Today seems an extra sweet day than yesterday because you know what? I can smell and see the sweet aroma of those dark, chewy chocolates and those pretty pink balloons surrounding our streets. That’s right folks, Valentine’s Day is just around the corner! Which also means–drumroll for me, Alexa–Holidays are about to sweep in! It’s just three weeks to go, folks, note that! So, for our dear, sweet listeners, I hope you already got your hotels booked and your plane tickets ready so you can finally have that amazing buffet, relaxing spa, or a fun tour around places you’ve never been with your very lovable significant others! I’m sure all of you will have that wonderful, exciting, and pleasurable rendezvous away from school, work, and any responsibilities. Just make sure to channel in on our station if you want the best playlist to get you in the mood for some steamy, passionate, and intimate time–”

               “Mina, will you turn off that radio?”

               The short-haired brunette frowns at her friend, whose also frowning at her. Mina pushes up her glasses on her nose, “Why? You know I always listen to this station during break time. Plus, Nancy is not here.”

               “Still, it doesn’t excuse how irritating that DJ sounds.” Y/N rolls her eyes as she plops herself on another swivel chair. “His voice sounds like there are two styrofoams gyrating each other in a sweaty club.”

               Mina’s jaw drops as she turns off her portable mini-radio on her desk. She faces Y/N with a frown this time—actually a scowl now. “Kim Seokjin’s voice is like creamy velvet to the ears! Also,” she scrunches her nose in disgust, “you did not just sexualize non-living objects so casually as if you’re not aware that the mental image you’re painting is so disturbing.”

               “First off,” Y/N turns to her, swivel chair squeaking in her abrupt movement, “you’re already seeing Mark Tuan for you to have any weird fantasies about Kim Seokjin and his voice or how cute his laugh is when it literally sounds like he’s an old man dying on a choked-out old joke. And second, sexualizing objects is not illegal by law and even if it so, I did NOT sexualize them. They are just the perfect representation of how Seokjin’s voice sounds.”

               Mina purses her lips and props her elbow on her desk to cup her face. “Cut to the point, Y/N. Just tell me what is with you today. You barged in furious in here for no reason, threw a fit at the break room, and now you’re ruining lunch by insulting Seokjin for something so trivial.”

               “Trivial?! His voice is fucking irritating! Just because he’s handsome does not mean his voice will also sound good on the radio. It’s like listening to a whale dying while making mating calls–”

               “The point, Y/N?” Mina cuts you with an unamused look.

               You deflate in your seat. “Fine, it’s Min Yoongi. He made it a point that he is more intelligent and capable than me in our 10 AM meeting with Nancy for this month’s spread. Said he knows more about weird facts and trivia about Sweden because I never got to travel outside this fucking country when I damn well know he only uses some advanced search engine to look for info like the computer whiz that he is! I went so many times on his Facebook to know he posts nothing in his wall but his work achievements—and his dog! Of course, if you went outside the country, you will post pictures in your wall, ‘cus social media sites are just platforms masked as an outlet for free expression when we damn well know it’s just a place where you can brag and be not called out for being arrogant. And damn hell, Min Yoongi does not have any out-of-the-country pictures posted there. What only comes close is his picture of that gumbo he said he made—yeah, quotation marks—because it looks too good to be made by his ugly crooked hands and even if it’s got this aesthetic background not expected to come from this fucking country, I still think he just photoshopped it.” Y/N crosses her arms, “Bet that gumbo did not even taste good.”

               Mina scrunches her forehead, “Are you the only flawed person Min Yoongi sees? Why does he always have to nitpick every single bit of your work? He just criticized your last week’s report because of your ‘poor articulation.’”

               “Right?!” Y/N leans back on her chair. She groans, “I still remember how he sabotaged my files for Nancy’s professional and personal events. Who in their right mind would change the contact names to mythical creatures? Rica’s 2nd baby shower was named ‘Merlin’s Demon Baby’s Party?’ It’s a baby event for God’s sake!” Y/N looks at her friend, “I swear Mina, one day I will get a brain hemorrhage because of Yoongi’s shits.”

               Mina winces, “Please don’t. I don’t want to be the one to tell your mother you already died before you even managed to pay your housing loans.”

               “Hey! Don’t attack me like that,” Y/N slaps the back of her friend’s chair. Mina, choking on her spit first, erupts into a fit of giggles.

               Unfortunately, it seems lunch’s fun will be cut short as Y/N hears Nancy’s megaphone’s speaker start up, “Calling for Y/N to come into my office. A.S.A.P!”

               Y/N scrambles from her seat as Mina sees her off with a sad wave. Pushing through Nancy’s glass door, Y/N could see the lines of ridges forming on Nancy’s forehead before the latter can even eye her.

               “Y-yes, Ma’am? You called for me?”

               Nancy pins her a look, “You’re asking me if I called you? Are you deaf? Did you not understand what I said?”

               “Yes!—I-I mean on the understanding part, yes, not about being deaf or something hehe-“

               “Y/N,” Nancy clasps her hands on her table, “I called you here because I have something important to tell you.”

               Y/N nears her table, pulling up her notebook and pen.

               “I need you to work in the Creatives Department for the next two weeks.”

               Y/N’s fingers freeze. She looks up at Nancy with eyes as wide as a goldfish. And before she can brain-filter out her words, they’ve already escaped her mouth. “What do you mean I have to be in the Creatives next week? I’m your personal assistant, not Min Yoongi’s!”

               “Y/N, I didn’t say you will work for Yoongi. He’s not the head of the Creatives. Steven Spielberg is,” Nancy gives the girl an unamused look, waving her off from her desk. Y/N bites her lip as she takes two steps backward. She didn’t know she’s rushed up too close to Nancy’s table just at the prospect of Yoongi and her working together came from her boss’ lips.

               Nancy leans back on her chair, “I know you two have this petty children-in-the-playground fights ever since the start of October last year. I get that your differences are too great to be bridged anytime soon, thus the reason why I grew tired telling you to stop doing your cat and dog thing because I know you two wouldn’t listen anyway. You two just like to bang heads whenever you like—”

              “But, it’s Yoongi’s fault-”

              Nancy raises a finger, “But, Y/N, this is really important. I will be out-of-the-country for the next three weeks for both some business and family matters. Hence, why I cannot bring you with me as usual. And why I will need you to work under Steven for the meantime: to report to me about any of their progress. The Creatives’ current designs will have us late into this month’s deadline and I do not want this business going down anytime soon because of a weak holiday cover. So, as my PA, you will report everything about their progress to me, and you will report my feedback to them. At the same time, you will tame your childish fights with Yoongi to a minimum so Travel Loca will function as well as it can be while I’m not physically here. Understand?”

               Y/N nods, “understand, Ma’am.” She doesn’t have a choice even if she wanted to object. Whatever Nancy dictated is already set in stone.

               “Also,” Nancy looks at Y/N, “since I will be off the next three weeks, my schedules for the weeks in my absence will be pushed and packed on the following week. So, I expect you to still work on your station—and work even harder after I came back. Understand?”

               More workload? Y/N internally groans. She doesn’t like work getting reduced early into the week then doubling into hell in the latter part of the month. She likes them evened out—everything is balanced, familiar, and predictable. Nevertheless, Y/N only nods, “yes.” “No” doesn’t exist in Nancy’s dictionary.

               Nancy returns to her laptop and waves her off, “Okay. Then, capiche.”

               “Yes, ma’am, capiche,” Y/N makes a quick bow and scampers out of her boss’ office.

               When Y/N reaches her station, she sinks herself into the cushion of her seat. First, Min Yoongi belittles her researching ability in the morning meeting. Then now, she will work with him for the majority of three weeks. After that, another hell will start because of Nancy’s incoming packed schedules.

              Y/N’s eyes land on her laptop and she immediately sees her calendar. January 16, 2020. Thursday.  Y/N releases an inhumane groan. Of course, the goddamn Thursday curse. When will she ever live?

.

               “When will I ever die?” Y/N sobs into Mina’s shirt. Her friend keeps her arms around her tight as she cards through her hair.

               “Hey, don’t think so negative,” Mina coos, “Think of this as an opportunity to finally have Nancy off your back.”

               “Yeah, as if working with Min Yoongi is better than that. He already ruins my life when we only physically encounter each other in meetings and breaks and lunches. Imagine working with him for a whole fucking day!”

               “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I take that back,” Mina hugs her friend tighter.

               Y/N continues, “And after enduring all that, my workload will quadruple when Nancy comes back after three weeks! I already experienced this during her daughter’s debut last year. When Nancy said a pile of work will come, it fucking means four metal file cases of work. I spent the last two weeks of August plunging myself into an abyss of papers. I did not sleep for two weeks straight! And now— I will have three weeks-worth of hell work to come after spending three weeks working with the personification of Satan. Can the world just eat me up?!”

               “Wait, wait, wait, wait,” Mina pulls away to hold her bestfriend at arms-length, “What did you say will happen in three weeks?”

               Y/N closes her eyes, “Another hell will come because a shit-pile of work is coming in three weeks! Mina, I’ve been telling you this since morning-”

               “Y/N, after three weeks, it’s Valentine’s Day.”

               Y/N’s eyes immediately shoot open, “What?”

               “Look,” Mina clicks on her phone and flashes Y/N her calendar app. “Today’s January 17. Exactly after three weeks is the Valentine’s week.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops ajar, “Oh my god.”

               “Yes, Y/N, oh my God. It’s the fucking Heart Holiday.”

              “…The country’s long-time problem with their low birth rate has driven the government to build another department that will help its citizens build, manage, and maintain healthy relationships. The Department of Relationship Management was established in 2015, and ever since then, there have been impressive developments in our country’s birth rate. One of the best programs of DRM behind this wonderful growth is the Heart Holiday, the holiday held in the week of Valentine’s Day. It grants any person employed in a private sector one week of paid holiday vacation leave as long as they are currently in a relationship. Meanwhile, education establishments and students are given one week off their academic calendars without regard to their relationship status. Isn’t that sweet? The only downside to that, folks, is that government employees can only have two days of paid holiday leave on the 14th and 15th. But, still, a holiday is still a holiday! So for our lovely listeners, start planning your vacation trips and hangouts! Especially when Cloud 10 Airlines is there to make your holiday week even sweeter with their 70% discount on local trips! Just contact 675-9859 and 568-987—”

               “Mina, can you turn off the radio?!”

               “Again?!” Mina heaves, “What’s with your aggravation streak these days against Kim Seokjin’s voice?”

               “It rattles me,” Y/N half-screams, plopping into the swivel chair next to her friend’s cubicle. “Yesterday, he already announced that goddamn timeline of the DRM and ‘all hailed’ importance of the Heart Holiday. Why does he have to repeat it again today? In that overly-enthusiastic voice, too, as if he’s never read of that script again and again?!”

               “Y/N, it’s how broadcasting works. It’s one of the most awaited holidays in the year, so of course, they will nab as many advertisement deals as they can.”

               “Well, I don’t like how they work!”

               “You cannot just tell a radio company to stop working,” Mina turns in her chair to face her friend, “Also, stop venting your frustration on Seokjin. He doesn’t even know you hate his voice. Routinely doing this noise pollution doesn’t do anything at all. Just tell me what made you upset today.”

               “It’s Yoongi!” Y/N scowls. “He won’t explain to me the technical editing terms on Steven’s report for Nancy! He said a five grader can even know what they are. I went through fifth grade, Mina, and I did not freaking know about any photoshop shit!”

               “Well, that’s because you’re old.”

               Mina looks up and sees Yoongi hovering her cubicle.

               Y/N’s scowl deepens, as she turns her chair to the direction of the intruder.  “As if you’re any much younger. From what I know, you’re four years older than me, dumbass.”

               “Well, at least I know what Steven is talking about,” Yoongi props his chin on Mina’s cubicle.

               Y/n rolls her eyes, “Because it’s your freaking line of work! Of course, you’ll know about it!”

               “Well, you’re now working most of the time in the Creatives Team and you don’t know it. What does that make you, then? I’ll give you a hint: It’s what you called me three seconds ago. Starts with the letter ‘d’ and ends with the letter ‘s.’”

               “What? You think you’re so smart now just because you know that vector-mask-thingy?! News flash, Yoongi, you did not graduate with any Latin honor. I did! So, who’s the real dumbass?!”

               “You damn well know Latin honors doesn’t actually have any effect on real life. Practical knowledge has—especially knowledge about terminologies used in digital designing. Which you need because you won’t be able to report anything to your god Nancy. Because, well: You. Don’t. Know. Anything. Like. Always.”

               “Min Yoongi, fuck you–”

               “Guys, guys, guys, can you stop?”

               Y/N gives Yoongi another glare before fixing herself back in her seat. Mina puffs, “Yoongi, can you leave us alone for a while? We’re talking here and you just invited yourself in our conversation.”

               Yoongi chides, “Well, tell your friend that if she wants to shit-talk a person just a meter away from her without the said person barging in the conversation, she should keep her voice on the down-low. Not screaming around like a crazy ape.”

                Y/N’s jaw drops open, “What crazy ape?! You’re the crazy ape! You look like a fucking gorilla who accidentally get dwarfed by a tooth fairy and-”

               “Min Yoongi, just leave us alone,” Mina gives the man a pointed look.

              Yoongi shrugs and detaches himself from her cubicle. He heads back to their office but he doesn’t completely leave the room without giving Y/N a middle finger.

               Y/N’s mouth drops open in disbelief. She turns to Mina. “See? Isn’t it obvious he just wants to make me the bad man to Nancy again? What kind of person are you to not cooperate with your co-worker like a goddamn adult? I don’t get why no one sees this bitch’s true face but you and me! I just want to freaking tear off his face, make him wipe it in his ass, then place it back on his head since he’s such a literal ass—”

               “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mina clasps a hand over your shoulder, “don’t get too homicidal. What you just said, aside from disturbing, is very disgusting.”

               Y/N slumps in her seat and crosses her arms.

              Mina sighs. “Okay, yeah, I know, Min Yoongi is the worst. But I don’t want you to do anything stupid so let’s not talk about him for a while, ‘kay?” Y/N nods. Mina leans back in her seat with the nth sigh for the day. “Okay, I got some update from Jaehyun.”

               Y/N leans forward. “What did he say?”

               Mina gives you a sad smile, “He already has a fiancé.”

               “So soon?” Y/N scoffs. “He was just courting me two months ago.”

               “Yeah, well he’s getting married this week. Whatever,” Mina waves off, “I don’t like him for you anyway. He dresses like a college fuckboy.”

               “Okay, what about Dahyun?”

               “Already married.”

               Y/N’s eyes widen, “and she didn’t tell us?”

               “Yeah, I already nagged her on the phone. She said it all kinda happened too fast–her and Sana. And the marriage was in New York. We’re too broke for out-of-the-country trips to attend anyway if we were informed.” Mina smiles, “She said she’s gonna invite us to the Christening of their baby.”

               “Okay, I’m glad she still cared about us. Oh,” Y/N pipes up, “what did Jackson say over the phone?”

               Mina gives you a tight smile. “Getting married, too. And guess what, the invitations were already in our mail box when I went to get our bills.”

               “Momo?”

               “Engaged. She and Heechul just broke out the news a week ago.”

              “Sam?”

               “Married. And 4 months pregnant.”

               “Jongdae?”

               “Engaged. Also has a baby in way.”

               “Hana?”

               “Engaged.”

               “Changmin?”

               “Engaged.”

               “Jaebum?

               “Engaaaaaged.”

               Y/N throws her hands in the air, “Why is everyone getting married?!”

               “Well, we’re in our late 20s. It’s the “marrying age” they say. It got more enphasized when DRM’s programs had succeeded in encouraging hundreds of people to marry in the recent year. Even my mom already expects Mark to propose by next month. We’re just dating for 6 months!” Mina cringes. She pulls Y/N’s chair closer to her to hold her hands. “Y/N, I’m really sorry. It kinda slipped my mind that we always apply together for the Heart Holiday every year. It’s just that Mark and I—”

               “Hey, hey, don’t blame yourself. You’ve been pining after Mark for about two years and now look at you—together, stable, and in-love half into the year! I don’t want you to fret having a relationship with the boy you liked for so long.”

               “Yeah, Y/N, I know,” Mina closes her eyes. “It’s just sad and unfortunate everyone we know are already in relationships.”

               “Yeah…” Y/N nods and the two fall into silence. Why is everyone conveniently in a relationship just in time with the Heart Holiday? What, the whole world suddenly knew the loophole in DRM’s program? Y/N and Mina studied that for a whole year! This is unfair. Y/N cannot be the only single person out there who’ll miserably work in the office while everyone gets to have the time of their lives—wait.

               Y/N grabs Mina’s hands. “Hey, Nana, I know we said co-workers are off-limits because Nancy will definitely know it’s a ruse. She’ll block my application form before it can even have the seal from the HR. Especially when she found out our lesbian “relationship” was fake after you and Mark updated your civil statuses.” Mina winces and opens her mouth to apologize again but Y/N cuts her with a finger to her mouth. “Nancy will definitely call me a liar and grill my head if she finds out what we’re planning to do now. But look, Nancy’s out of the country. Teddy is the general supervisor and she’s the next in the hierarchy. We damn well know her 45-year-old heart is soft for some nicely-woven romantic story. Even more, in an office setting—the bane of every middle-aged woman’s sappy romantic heart. So, what do you say?”

               Mina lets out an exasperated breath, “That crossed my mind, too, you know. But, Y/N, the thing is—the whole Accounting Department is in a relationship. And the same goes for the Writing, Marketing, Logistics, and HR.  All of them are either in a relationship, married, or getting married.”

               “What?” Y/N’s eyebrows curve up high, “How come I didn’t know this?”

               “Uh, because you’re busy working for Nancy day-in and day-out?  Also, I just happen to be friends with Jisoo from HR. She’s in charge of the company’s relationship records. Sometimes, she slips in everyone’s stories while we listen to WWL Radio during break time.”

               Y/N bites her lip. This can’t be happening to her. Not now. Not when the most un-objectifiable reason for a break from Nancy is about to slip through her fingers like fine sand.

               Mina scratches her nape, “I…may have someone in mind though.”

               Y/N’s eyes look straight into Mina’s. “Tell me.”

               “Well, the entire Creatives Department is either married or engaged save for one.”

               Y/N holds Mina’s hands tighter. “Who?”

               “Min, Yoongi.”

               Y/N must be going crazy. She thinks she must be growing a nest of vultures in her brain now, the mother routinely picking on her numerous dead brain cells to feed to her young. It doesn’t help that the bags under her eyes have started to droop like a waterfall, forming a sad saddle of grey on her cheeks. She cannot even remember the last time she had a decent meal. All she remembers is the finger foods Mina hands to her station every once in a while.

              The universe is being unfair to her and it is all taking a toll on her body. They weren’t kidding when they said adjusting to a new environment is an entire whole work in itself. The Creatives Team runs a completely different routine. Large monitors crammed with multiple editing softwares Y/N cannot understand surround the studio-size office space. There are drafted papers and previous issues scattered in every possible corner, some even gathering dust by the floor-to-ceiling windows. Y/N is not even sure if anyone has re-arranged their desks in the last few months. The Creatives’ work ethic is loosely bound on schedules and everyone seems to be doing everyone else’s job.  Except for Y/N, because Steven is the only one willing to share their team’s progress to her. But that alone is not enough for her daily report to Nancy because Steven is always busy in his computer. More unfortunately, everyone is wary of her. Y/N’s sure she even saw Kim Myungsoo clutch their design folders closer to his chest when her eyes glanced at his cubicle.  

              Sure, Y/N expected everyone will have their guards up on her. Who wouldn’t be when they know Nancy still has eyes on them even if she’s countries away? But still, it doesn’t lessen the pain on Y/N’s self-esteem and the stress on her back. If Y/N can’t get someone to talk to her, she won’t be able to provide a more substantial report to Nancy more than just reading Steven’s printed reports verbatim.

              Y/N is desperate to find a workmate to discuss everything happening in the Creatives with her, but unluckily for her, she only has someone she wishes to not even breathe the same air with. Of course, no one in the Creatives wants to talk to her except for Min Yoongi. He’s an insufferable ass who doesn’t know when to shut up.  He welcomes Y/N every single day with an annoying “Yo, Y/N” and an unneeded commentary about her outfit, like how yesterday he told her “I know retro is in but I didn’t know grandma blouses are deemed stylish again.” He blabbers about his unnecessarily extensive general knowledge about every South Asian country, even if Y/N countlessly told him she didn’t care.  He brags about the cover designs and templates he did in the previous issues, flipping the pages too close in Y/N’s face while he speaks about colors and mixing like Y/N is an imbecile about basic color combinations high school students used in their PowerPoint presentations. Yet despite them all, Yoongi still refuses to explain to her the jargon in Steven’s reports.

              Y/N tried her best to keep herself from bursting and giving Yoongi an earful of sense. Yes, everyone knows she does not like Yoongi but Y/N doesn’t want them to know to what extent she can go to express them, afraid of embarrassing herself.  But in her defense, three days into the first week without Nancy, Yoongi has gone as far as to chip a small bit off Y/N’s mug in the break room. The mug with the “creative juices” in cursive printed around its body—Mina’s gift from college. Y/N’s patience meter was blasted off the roof. It will be safe to tell that at the end of the day, Y/N has screamed the hell out of Yoongi that everyone can be sure the latter’s ears may have fallen out of his head. Steven was close to reporting to Teddy what just happened. It was just Y/N’s remaining luck that helped her successfully and implicitly begged Steven not to do so by telling him calling Yoongi “a mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk who should eat his shit because people are what they eat and he is obviously the biggest shit in her life,” is just her “unique” way of expressing co-worker appreciation to the man.

              Aside from putting up with Yoongi’s Satanic attitude, Y/N has to endure Nancy’s intermittent calls with her forever pissed voice coming in first thing in the morning until in the late, ungodly hours. And despite Teddy’s patient guidance over Y/N’s “transition” to the Creatives Team, Y/N’s still close to digging a six-feet deep hole in her station. No, not because of Teddy or Nancy. It’s because she poured her remaining effort dedicated for work by spending the entire week going through every staff member of Travel Loca. Y/N thought Mina must have overlooked a face. That it’s possible Jisoo skipped on a detail she told to her friend. But despite learning Lee Minyoung from the Writing Department is going to call it quits to her boyfriend just after Valentine’s, or how Michael Park from Marketing is about to pop the ring to his girlfriend just right on Valentine’s Day, the looming fact Y/N dreads presents itself on January 24, two weeks before Valentine’s: No one else in the office is single but her…and Min Yoongi.

              Of course, it didn’t surprise Y/N, Yoongi must be single. With that know-it-all façade and condescending tone wearing you out like a 24/7 walking instruction manual no one even asked for, who would even like to date him? One week with him as a co-worker alone already makes Y/N want to throw herself into the flaming hot pit of the nearest volcano.

              But it’s only two more weeks before Valentine’s and Y/N is desperate and desperate times call for desperate measures. Y/N did a last-minute check-up on her and Mina’s lists of contacts—phone, social media, e-mails, everything under the sun—only to come up with nothing. Mina’s “marrying age” theory must be true because everyone, every single one, of their acquaintances are already married or getting married. Y/N then changed up her game.  She started to opt for resources she never thought she will ever use in her life: dating apps. Tinder, Bumble, The League, Grindr—name it, Y/N had made every account for every conceivable dating site. She even spent the most of her break time this week hiding her phone beneath her desk and swiping right. But even this last considerable option proved to be pointless as all the replies she received are either honest “sorry, not interested,” rude “you’re no fun,” or out-right salacious “suck my dick.”

              This then left Y/N no choice but to consider the most unspeakably horrendously unfortunate option she didn’t even want to have. Min Yoongi is her only choice left. And for that, Y/N spent two days making an elaborate plan. She can’t afford any loose threads or plan-holes that can further make her at the mercy of the infuriating jerk. However, even if she made everything as seamless as it can be, Y/N knows it will be the worst decision she’ll ever make in her life. Mina also expressed the same concern, even apologized for planting that small information about Yoongi in her friend’s mind. But even her friend’s day-by-day discouragement to push through with her plan is not enough to deter Y/N.

              Because even if just thinking about the plan makes Y/N feel the world is about to crumble and swallow her down in its unending, fathomless depths; even if it makes her want to set up an appointment with an exorcist, Y/N knew she won’t back out. It’s not viruses or bacteria, it’s a seeded idea that is the most contagious living entity that can take hold of any human being. And the moment Y/N realized there’s no other ticket way out of her dilemma but Yoongi, she knew this thought will haunt her for nights on end.

              This is the reason why Y/N’s currently standing by the corner of the Creatives’ office when it’s already 6:46 P.M. while almost everyone has left the office. Almost, because Yoongi, apart from her, is the only one left in the office as Steven requested him to finish a color palette by tonight. Y/N gulps a thick blob of saliva. Sweat runs thick on her forehead. God, if Mina could see what Y/N’s about to do, she will be already by her side, yelling for her to just give up. Y/N shakes her head. This is Mina’s fault anyway. If she didn’t plant the idea in her head, she wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t be creeping behind a door like a disgusting stalker. She wouldn’t be profusely sweating in an air-conditioned room like a guilty murderer. She wouldn’t be-

              “What the hell are you doing behind the door?”

              Y/N shrieks and jumps a half-foot away from her spot.

              “The hell—what’s gotten into you?!” Yoongi frowns, “And why are you even here?”

              Y/N’s brows meet together in her forehead. But before she can speak, Yoongi’s snickers drown out the words in her throat.

              “Wait, don’t tell me you’ve come as far as spying on my work. I didn’t know you’re going to be this petty,” Yoongi sighs and puts his hand on his waist, “Well, if you think going through my work laptop will get you to understand Steven’s report, I’m sorry to say you won’t get anything, little girl.”

               Yes, it’s true. The words did die out in Y/N’s throat. It’s just flames of anger sweeping in the valleys of her mouth. Y/N surges forward, fists clenched tight, “‘Little girl’? I am not a fucking little girl!”

               Yoongi grins, “Then what should I call someone who’s a foot smaller than me?”

               “What fucking ‘foot’?! We’re just inches apart! Have you ever seen yourself in a mirror? You’re not even that tall!”

               “Says the one who’s looking up at me just to level her eyes with mine,” Yoongi raises his brows, “and who’s now standing a little too close to me because apparently, standing a socially-decent foot away won’t enable her to see my face.”

               Y/N’s eyes widen and she immediately takes a step back. She doesn’t get how easy it is for Yoongi to rile her up that she instantly forgets how to control her body. When she looks up at him, the man is smirking at her. Her mouth aches to tell him he actually looks stupid with that lopsided smile if he thought doing it will make him a tad bit inch sorry excuse of “sexy.” But then, Y/N remembers she has a purpose tonight. She didn’t just waste an hour waiting in the excruciating office space of the Creatives Team just to get nothing done.

               Y/N closes her eyes and breathes out. When she opens them again, she looks at Yoongi in the eyes. “I’m not here to fight with you, Yoongi. I’m here to make an offer.”

               Yoongi scoffs, “An offer? You? Are you hearing yourself right now? In case you weren’t informed, I don’t need anything from you. And I didn’t—”

               “You’re single right?”

               Yoongi gawks at her, “W-what?”

               “Well, I’m single, too. And Valentine’s week is coming in two weeks.”

               “So?”

               Y/N tries not to grit her teeth, “So, that means the Heart Holiday is also coming. Nancy is bound to come back during that time, too, with an obvious incoming large workload to come for me. I can’t afford to hole myself up in this office while everyone gets to enjoy a paid holiday week. And since you have an affinity for disliking your job, I figured you also wouldn’t want to go to work during Valentine’s week.” Y/N crosses her arms, “So I’m here, Min Yoongi, to give you an offer: Fake date me for two weeks to make it to DRM’s PRS’ application deadline. When our application gets approved, we part ways and never speak about what happened in these two weeks. It’s a win-win situation. I don’t get to work during Valentine’s. You also don’t get to work, and we both will still get paid. So, what do you say?”

               Yoongi just stares at her. Y/N could feel cold sweat running from her scalp and down to her back. Why is he looking at her like that? Why is he being so silent? Is he about to make fun of her and bring it up to work tomorrow? Oh God, Y/N shouldn’t have even gone through with this plan. This is a bad idea. A bad, bad, bad, idea that should have never been entertained and buried in a trunk of embarrassing memories, never to see the light again—

               “I’m in.”

               Y/N freezes, “W-what?”

               Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N. He leans forward, closing the distance between their faces into mere six inches. Y/N doesn’t need to crane her head up anymore because this time, their eyes are finally leveled with each other.

              Yoongi smiles, “I’m telling you, Y/N, I’m in in your plan.”

              Y/N looks at him. She just looks at him. Five seconds have already passed. Yoongi should be laughing in her face right now. But the man did not, and takes a step back away from her. He fixes his satchel on his shoulder and closes the Creatives’ glass door behind him shut. When Yoongi looks back at Y/N, he gives her a shrug, “Hey, if you’re not going home, I am.” He heads for the main door, hands dug into his pockets. Y/N’s eyes just follow his figure. Before Yoongi completely gets out of the office, he hollers, a hand cupping over his mouth, “I said I’m already in in your plan. You can go now. See you tomorrow.” He sends Y/N one last smile.

              It takes Y/N five more seconds before she breaks her frozen stance. What did just happen? Yoongi didn’t laugh at her. He didn’t put up a fight. He….agreed? Just like that? This is impossible. This cannot happen! Yoongi doesn’t agree, he argues! Always! And he just doesn’t bid her goodbye and “see you tomorrow.” Yoongi annoys her with one last hit of “goodbye, grandma.” And Yoongi doesn’t smile. He smirks. He just pulls up one side of his lips, squints his eyes, and snorts. Y/N must be going crazy. This is not Yoongi!  A whole different man has suddenly appeared before her. This cannot be!

              But despite all the things going back and forth in her head right now, there’s only one looming thought on top of them all that had Y/N release a staggered breath:

              What the fuck did she just get herself into?

next  | series masterlist

Disclaimer: This first chapter is based on Netflix’s Set It Up (2018), particularly Nancy’s briefing scene and the USB scene. Netflix’s Set It Up (2018) is the inspiration for this fic and so I based Ms. Nancy’s personality on Lucy Liu’s portrayal of Kirsten Stevens! Ms. Lucy Liu was fantastic in her performance! 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. Anyways, if you wish to watch the movie, don’t worry about encountering any spoilers in this fic!

A/N pt. 2: Hi hons! I decided to cut this fic into parts as this will be very long (hello banter dialogues). Writing a 25+k wordcount (so far, this is my assumed final wordcount) may overwhelm a lot of readers and make them not want to read this anymore ☹ Anyway, the succeeding parts will be released soon as I already have a detailed storyboard and outline for this mini-series so you don’t have to wait that long. Thank you for giving this fic a chance, hons. Also, feedback is more than appreciated. Tell me what you guys think!  ♡♡♡ \(> u

Taglist: @fangirls94​​ @ditttiii​ @chogiyeol-utopia​​

All Rights Reserved 2020 © Vanaera. Reposts, modifications, and translations of content are not allowed.

[damnusillygoose]

Jerza fanfiction

disclaimer: these characters belong to hiro sensei

title: Somebody is jealous

summary: will erza be able to maintain her calm when her beau starts getting a lot of female attention?

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13786166/1/somebody-is-jealous

Erza was a jealous woman.

She wasn't insecure in her relationship with Jellal by any means, not that she had to vie for his attention. He gave it to her willingly. He made her feel loved, so much that she was practically brimming with it. He showed her his affection not only through words but also through his actions.

But that didn't mean she couldn't get jealous.

Jellal's popularity proliferated after he settled in magnolia and started indulging himself with voluntary service. Crime sorciere might be officially disbanded but the former members having spent ample amount of time with each other wanted to continue working together and take missions. They also diverted their funds to start an orphanage for abandoned children.

Their pious efforts were recognized and soon they started receiving all sorts of grants from public and from private companies in the form of corporate social responsibility. As the grand master of crime sorciere, Jellal was often called upon by organizations for collaborations and for interviews to further elaborate upon the work done by his guild.

Erza couldn't be happier for him but the limelight he received also turned out to be slightly infernal for her. Jellal became instantly well-known and even topped the charts of 'The Most Handsome Man Alive', dethroning Hibiki Lates who took pride upon himself for holding this position for 3 years plus.

She lost the counts of love letters that Jellal started receiving from his female following. Whenever they would go out to spend time with each other, there would always be eyes hawking him or pestering him for autographs. Erza really wanted to maintain her demeanor as a good girlfriend who doesn't get jealous when her partner gets excessive attention from the opposite gender but there had to be a limit right?

However, Erza was grateful for a fact that there was never a reciprocation from his end. Jellal never returned their efforts. He never bothered.

He was staunch in his belief and was firmly loyal to her.

The realization made her feel extremely loved.

'Stop brooding Erza, you look hideous.' Mirajane snapped Erza out of her murderous intent as she reached across the table enamored with mahogany wood to collect empty glasses.

'Mira! that reporter bitch is all over him again! Can I murder her?! '

'Calm down Erza. She is here for her job after all.'

'Her job is to interview and ask him substantial questions! Not throw herself all over him! He is clearly uncomfortable with her vexing advances. Is she blind or what?!' she roared as her fist slammed against the table top nearly knocking off the glasses in the tray.

Her abrupt yet fierce declaration was enough to scare Natsu and Gray who were once again at each other's throats. She was seething with anger and gritted her teeth with helplessness. She wanted to jump in and slap the day lights out of that abhorrent creature but she wouldn't dare disturb Jellal's interview. Fairy tail has a reputation to maintain anyways. Not that they had a respectable reputation to begin with but she wouldn't embarrass her guild any further.

Erza witnessed as that female reporter proceeded to smirk smugly at her paramour and leaned forward on the pretext of not being able to hear his answer owing to uproarious energy of the guild.

Jellal leaned back as his company continued to disrespect his personal space relentlessly.

'Mr. Fernandez, I think it's equally disturbing to interview you here. How about we move to my private chamber? No one would interrupt us there and we can take all the time we want', the female reporter purred and twisted her lips in a vicious smirk, touching the top of his hand.

'No, thank you. I can't afford that. My girlfriend is waiting for me. Let's wrap this up quickly', Jellal repudiated, pulling his hand aside, rejecting her advances in a disapproving grunt.

That's it! Erza stood up from her seat as she saw that wretched bitch lean towards him, churning with incorrigible wrath. Her emotional turmoil had successfully won over her and she was ready to slice that bitch into pieces. But before she could do anything, she saw her beau lightly bow his head towards his female companion displaying the dismissal of their conversation.

She inhaled a breath of relief as he walked towards her and took a seat beside her. His eyes looked genuinely tired and he rubbed his temples in exasperation.

Her anger melted into concern.

'Are you okay, Jellal? Was she pestering you a lot?' she asked empathetically.

'Yes, I am fine. I am glad it's over', he took her hand in his and entwined them firmly.

He gave her a worn-out smile as he requested Mira to bring him a drink.

'that bitch.' Erza cursed as she weaved her free arm to loop around his bicep. She rested her head against his shoulder and let out a sigh.

'I am fine, Erza. Seriously, Let's eat something and then we can head back home'

'I know you are saying this to put me at ease but we aren't heading back home Jellal. That bitch's presence will not ruin the party for us. We will enjoy till the very end'

Just when they thought the trouble was over, that female reporter strode unapologetically into their love nest.

'I am sorry to barge into your conversation but is it okay if I sit here? I am not familiar with anyone here and I only know Mr. Fernandez so...?'

Jellal clicked his tongue in annoyance and looked at Erza to check her reaction only to find her extremely calm and collected. However, He knew that her exterior appearance was a façade. She was probably singeing internally hotter than any inferno.

'sure', Erza replied in her imperturbable composure, her wrath at the brim of her limit, ready to walk over the barbwire at any moment.

Lucy and Cana marveled at the guts of this prying female as they witnessed this scene from the next table.

'So, how long you two been together?'

'I didn't know there was another interview?', Erza eyed her as she retorted sharply.

'nah, I am just curious about you two. You are a well-known couple in magnolia after all. Everyone looks up to you guys for couple goals.'

'About six months', Erza replied unsure whether this person was genuinely intrigued or mocking them half-heartedly.

'Ah. From what I have heard this is the first ever relationship for both of you, right? Six months isn't even a long time to know your partner intimately. People break up over minute scuffles all the time. Anyways, Mr. Fernandes, a handsome man like yourself must find himself flocked with female attention all the time, no? I don't think you should settle yourself in a relationship this early- '

This fucking bitch is going to breath her last breathe today! there is no way I am letting her out alive! Erza bellowed internally. How dare she insult her relationship like this?! This jerk continued to spew bullshit even when she was kind enough to overlook her advances towards Jellal earlier! How dare she-

'Ms. Erina, we don't recall asking for your unsolicited advice on our relationship. This is our private matter and we do not appreciate third party interferences. Your job was to interview me on professional basis and I can very well report back to your organization regarding your unethical behaviour. This can cost you your career and you know that', Jellal shot her down with his sharp retort. He took hold of Erza's hand in his, underneath the table, in a reassuring manner.

'but I was just kidding around- '

'We don't appreciate this degraded sense of humor. It was disrespectful and you were clearly trying to jeopardize my relationship', Jellal, when triggered, had no mercy for people who undermined his relationship with Erza.

'You've crossed the limits of my personal space and I ask you to leave'

His refute left Erina stunned. She had successfully seduced countless men in their so-called committed relationships but Jellal Fernandez was one such man she was unable to surmount no matter how many cheap tricks she pulled. Admitting her inevitable defeat, she stood up in shame, trembling with anger for he insulted her blatantly, dragged her feet across the guild hall, colliding with Kinana on her way, almost knocking off the drinks in her tray ,had Erik not intervened preventing her fall. He let out a muffled snare at the vile woman who passed by him. .

Jellal finally let out an audible sigh and looked at Erza.

'sorry, my love. You had to witness this', Jellal whispered anxiously. He moved his hand to fondle her inner thigh intimately in way he knew would calm her trembling down.

Erza had a wide smile that adorned her lips. She wasn't angry now. In fact, she was extremely satisfied the way Jellal shot her down. The respect and adoration he held for her was oozing out of every word he spoke. She loved him so much. Her ears felt warm as she snuggled into his shoulder.

'thank you Jellal. I am fine. I am not bothered by her ignorant remarks. She has no clue about what we both went through to stand where we are today and frankly I don't care', Erza stated, referring to their past history.

'if it doesn't bother you, it doesn't bother me as well', Jellal smiled as he leaned down to capture her lips in a passionate kiss and then traced his soft lips against her jawline, giving her a peck on her cheeks.

Laxus looked at his buddy from the second floor, impressed, for he handled the situation very maturely.

'sheesh, that's a slick move Fernandes'

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please review if you liked it. Constructive criticism is appreciated.

[indomitableicequeen]

Ficlet 7 in the No Happy Endings verse wtih @must-hate-dogs

Original thread || Ficlet 1 ||  Ficlet 2 || Ficlet 3 || Ficlet 4 || Ficlet 5 || Ficlet 6

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The door of the interrogation room slammed open, startling Miles. His head jerked over, not expecting it to open this soon. The general hadn’t even been in the room five minutes. Most of her torture sessions took much longer than that, especially considering that the three men she had been given were high ranking officials. She had spent three days on one, and four on another before getting any information from them. Miles had expected this one to take at least as long.

(He was, admittedly, concerned about what all of this was doing to her mental state. She hadn’t had a break of more than some sleep at night since she began. It was wearing on her, and he could see it.)

But she had been in the room no more than five minutes before she opened the door, barely have gotten started, and strode out, slamming the door behind her. While a layman would have only thought that she was angry, Miles had known her long enough to see that there was something else behind her mask—something he had never seen before.

She slammed the door closed, locking it, and he asked “General?”

She didn’t look at him. He wasn’t even sure that he heard her. But she did shudder, a sudden, full body shudder, her usual façade dropped, and something in her eyes suddenly looked wild, panicked, vulnerable. It took Miles aback, and he didn’t know what to say. She took a few steps forward—and then faltered, as if her knees had started to give out. Miles sprang forward, reaching for her, supporting her. He said nothing, though, not wanting the prisoners to overhear anything, knowing that she wouldn’t want that either. Instead, he supported her and bustled her out of the cell block, letting the door that led to it slam behind him.

“Go get Doc!” he snapped to the soldier on guard. Obviously, something had happened to the general. Had that man managed to keep something on him, something that he had used against the general? Was she poisoned? Hurt? Possibilities raced through his head. The soldier raced off, and Miles, still supporting her, sat Oliver down on the floor, her back against the wall. He knelt next to her and bent his head to look at her. “Olivier?”

She had a look about her that he had never seen before, not from her. She was breathing heavily, there was a tremble in her, and she her gaze wasn’t here in the present. It was somewhere else, and he didn’t know where it was.

“It was him.” Her voice was rough, breathless, and had a tremble of fear in it.

This didn’t make any sense. “Him?” Miles questioned. He didn’t know who she was talking about. Who was ‘him’? The only ‘him’ lately had been Heymans Breda, and that certainly wasn’t him in there. “Him who?” he questioned more directly.

“Him,” she repeated, more insistently, the tremble picking up in her voice. “The one who—”

Her voice cut off, as if she couldn’t say anything else.

“Olivier?” he questioned again, trying to figure out what was going on. Her arms were wrapped tightly around herself, digging into her uniform. He had never seen her act like this before. It was like something had triggered a past trauma, but what trauma? And what did the prisoner in the interrogation room have to do with it?

Hurried footsteps came down the hall, quicker than he expected. Doc was probably on standby already, though, knowing what was going on here, and the soldier—Schmidt, Miles recalled—had probably gone to the nearest phone to call her. Not to mention, Doc was fast. She could make her way around the fort faster than anyone else here, and all of them would bust their butts for the general.

As predicted, Doc came around the corner, Schmidt not far behind her. She had her bag with her, and focused in on Olivier immediately, all business. “What happened?” she demanded.

“I don’t know,” Miles said. “She went in, spent less than five minutes, came out, and then was like this. We searched him thoroughly, but there’s the chance he managed to keep something on him.”

Doc nodded at his words “General?” Doc said to Olivier. “General, can you tell me what happened?”

The general shuddered again, her eyes still far away. “It was him,” she repeated.

“Him—” Doc cut herself off as she took stock of Olivier’s arms. Miles could see understanding light in her eyes. She turned towards Schmidt. “Go guard the door. Let no one in. And keep this to yourself. Not a word of it to anyone.”

Schmidt saluted. “Yes, sir!” He went towards the door, following Doc’s instructions, although he did glance back at the General before closing the door behind him.

It left the three of them alone in the barren and cold corridor. Doc still looked grim but satisfied enough. Miles still had no idea what was going on, but he was going to follow Doc’s lead. She at least seemed to have some idea of what was going on.

“Olivier?” Doc said. “Olivier. I need you to listen to me. I need you to loosen your arms. I need to see what damage you did. Can you do that?”

Olivier still didn’t seem to be all there to Miles, but she nodded, just a miniscule thing, and Doc gave a nod back. “Good. Now. Just match your breathing with mine while I work. It’s just you, me, and Miles, alright? That’s all that’s here. We’ve closed off the door to the interrogation rooms and the one to the main hall. No one can get in, and no one is going to see or hear us.”

Miles was completely out of his depth here, but he stood ready to do whatever was necessary. Slowly, Doc got Olivier to undo her arms, coaxed her out of her coat, and uniform jacket. Miles could see small holes in them where Olivier’s fingers had dug through the with her fantastical strength. He blinked in surprise. She seldom had a loss of control like that. What was worse, though, was that on her shirt Miles could see blood. Doc coaxed her out of that one too, and the undershirt.

And Miles sucked in a breath.

Miles was a married man. The only woman he saw in a state of undress outside of a non-emergency situation was his wife. Even in emergency situations, he had seen very few women down to their bras. This included Olivier. In fact, he couldn’t recall a time when she had let her back and sides be openly seen. He had assumed it was because Briggs was so cold that even workout clothing was fairly covering. But now he had a better idea of why.

As Doc got to work, Miles couldn’t help but stare. On her back, on her sides, scars crisscrossed her. They were old, but they were there. He recognized scars like that. They only came from a whipping. And, he realized, they had to come from multiple whippings, for there to be that many scars.

“When the general was young, she went undercover in Drachma,” Doc said, looking at the wounds Olivier had given from her nails digging into her skin. “She was found out and spent three days getting tortured in a Drachman prison before she was rescued. What the medical records describe was brutal.” Doc’s mouth set clearly displeased. “I was afraid that something would happen with the amount of torture she’s been doing.”

“It was ordered,” Miles said, barely even realizing that he was talking.

“It shouldn’t have been,” Doc replied.

Olivier seemed to be coming back to herself a bit more, although there was still a vulnerability in her eyes that Miles had never seen before. She stared at the top of Doc’s head as Doc worked, not looking at him or even around. She took a breath in, breaking the pattern of breathing that Doc had set.

“’It was him,” she said, and her voice sounded haunted. It made a chill go down Miles’ spine.

“It was who, General?” Doc asked.

“Him.” She paused, swallowing. “My torturer.”

Miles’ blood ran cold.

Doc paused, looking sharply into Olivier’s eyes. “General. Are you sure?”

Olivier raised her eyes to meet the other woman’s, surety and a growing anger in them. “I have never forgotten his face.”

Doc was silent for a moment, then returned to treating Olivier’s wounds. Miles had no idea what to say.

Silence reigned in the hallway, the only sounds being Doc’s work, which was quickly finished. As soon as she was, Olivier began to redress, pulling her layers back on over her obviously cold skin. She stood, and Miles did as well, Olivier taking a moment to gather herself. Something was off, though. Miles could tell and he was suspicious that Doc could too. Her sharp eyes hadn’t left Olivier even as she finished pack up. For a moment, Olivier didn’t do anything, and Miles felt the sudden compulsion to tell her not to go back in that interrogation room. But before he could form a sentence in his mind, Doc spoke up.

“General,” she said. “You do not need to go back in there right now.”

Olivier’s eyes cut over to the doctor. “Excuse me?” she growled out.

Doc was not intimidated. She finished closing her bag and stood, meeting Olivier’s gaze. “You know the toll that torture takes on your mind. You’ve been torturing people for seven days. You are in no mental place to go face the man that tortured you in any capacity, much less to torture him in return.”

“I have been ordered—” Olivier began with a growl in her voice, but Doc cut her off.

“Yes, you have. But I still hold rank. As Chief Medical Officer, I have rank over everyone in medical issues. This is a medical issue. You need to go, leave here, shower, eat, and sleep. You need to stay away from here for a few days at least.” Her even gaze held Olivier’s. “If the General has any issue with it, he can take it up with me.” Doc said. “You are not capable of handling this in a healthy manner right now. You need to step back.”

A tense silence settled over the corridor, and Miles looked between the two women. It wasn’t often that Doc pulled rank on Olivier. The two had a mutual respect for each other and a trust that they would balance the necessary with health. However, when she did, it was usually for a good reason. Miles found that it held true now, as well.

Olivier’s jaw worked. “Fine,” she finally spat out. “But I will come back to finish the job.”

“Of course, sir,” Doc said, her voice carefully neutral.

As Olivier turned to head towards the door that led out, Miles and Doc’s eyes met. Doc’s expression was unusually grim and serious. Miles wasn’t a big believer in signs indicating the future, but something about Doc’s expression felt foreboding to Miles. It gave Miles a chill but gave Doc a nod. He would look after Olivier for now.

Olivier slammed the door open, and Miles could see Schmidt jump. He gestured for the young man to stay put and followed Olivier out. Something was still off with Olivier. She was angry and it was growing, but that wasn’t what it was. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but something was off in a way that he’d never seen from Olivier before. He’d have blamed it on the past week, but this hadn’t been present before she went into torture the last man. Was this all because of that last prisoner? Because of what he, personally, meant to Olivier? It wasn’t like Olivier to get her personal affairs mixed up in her duty, but was this the thing that pushed her too far? Whatever it was, it had made something in the usually stable woman unbalanced.

The walk through the fort was mercifully uneventful. They encountered few men, which Miles personally thought was for the best. He didn’t want this moment to shake anyone up. Schmidt was going to be bad enough with the rumors as it was. They arrived without incident at her quarters, Miles breathing a mental sigh of relief. He would go in, fix her tea while she showered have it ready for her when she got out. It was her usual ritual, and he had been doing it for her for the past seven days. He expected today to be no different.

Instead, when they got to her door, she stopped in the door frame, whirling on him.

“You may go,” she told him sharply.

Miles blinked. He didn’t think leaving her alone at the moment would be best. “I would prefer to help you—”

She cut him off. “You may go, Major,” she repeated, her voice cold. “I don’t need help.”

Her eyes were blazing, something in them that gave Miles chills. It was unsettling, disturbing, and he felt like he should do something, although he was once again at a loss.

“Olivier---” he began.

She didn’t even respond to him. She just stepped back into her quarters, and slammed the door shut.

Miles stood outside of it for a moment, staring at it. This wasn’t right. The way she was acting wasn’t right. He knew that. But he didn’t know more than that, and he wasn’t sure what to do. This wasn’t the sort of situation he found himself in, typically.  Finally, he turned, heading away from her quarters. Miles may not know exactly what was going on, but there was at least one person who had more information than he did. He would speak to Doc, see if he couldn’t get a look at those medical records. Something wasn’t right with Olivier. But maybe he could do something before it got worse.