#read an article the other day talking about how no writer can hold anything longer than a college-level paper in their head

[bedlamsbard]

I always forget how many options Horizon had until I go back through the convos Reena and I were having about it. At one point there was a subplot about the Red Room setting Tony up as a stooge and Ross arresting him and the Avengers having to figure out if that was possible or not.  The heavy Loki focus in Chapter 1 is an artifact of the fact that at that point I hadn’t decided yet who the big bad (and thus, the plot) was going to be and was still planning on using someone from Thor’s rogues gallery.  I kept hedging my bets on whether Steve was going to get Winter Soldiered or not and didn’t decide until I was literally writing the rescue.  At one point the Red Room was operating out of Generic Mansion.  The weather magic was a CYA because I hadn’t done the math on the passage of time between IW and six months later and Chapter 1 went up before I realized it was November.  Madame was originally still working for Hydra instead of running her own Red Room.  There was a subplot about Steve’s blood being sold on the black market through Justin Hammer’s connections and the Avengers catching Hammer at the auction.  (I actually have cut scenes from this one though it didn’t make it past the “Avengers talking about it” stage before I went ‘nope this isn’t working.’)

anyway, in other words, I still don’t outline.

#horizon behind the scenes #read an article the other day talking about how no writer can hold anything longer than a college-level paper in their head #please

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics with a long distance relationship in an alternate universe as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

✈️ Darling, so it goes by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 195k, Grace Kelly au) Harry Styles is a world-famous actor at the height of his career but a personal low point when he meets His Serene Highness Prince Louis of Monaco by chance. 

✈️ Hold You Now by solvetheminourdreams / @cursethedaylight

(M, 131k, ex-fwb) When he accompanies his best friend to a family wedding across the Atlantic, he'll be forced to reopen old wounds and face his past—one that no one wants to hash out, but may just have to.

✈️ Heading for Limbo by @kingsofeverything

(E, 100k, friends to lovers) When Harry discovers some life-changing things about himself, Louis is there for him, however he needs. But it’s all temporary because Louis has plans that will move his life from New York all the way to L.A. and the distance isn’t the only thing between them.

✈️ Old Photographs & Times I'll Remember by @jaerie

(E, 54k, time travel) A camera, a suitcase, and a relationship forged through time.

✈️ Without you it's a season I ain't needing by @perfectdagger

(M, 38k, fashion designer Harry) A long distance relationship au in which Harry is away for a year and Louis is left to pick up the pieces.

✈️ Up On The Shore by wordsnnotes / @quelsentiment

(M, 33k, Eroda) Louis hides his feelings under sarcasm, Harry is too sweet for his own sake, everyone is a rebel, the mums are amazing, Harry's dad is a jerk

✈️ wait up, i'm coming home by @hattalove

(T, 28k, Italy) the one where louis finds harry, then loses him, then finds him again. a flawless performance from fate featuring some penguins, some celestial bodies, and a whole lot of tea.

✈️ some things fade (some never do) by we_are_the_same / @so-why-let-your-voice-be-tamed

(T, 25k, magical tattoos) Three years after their break up, Harry calls.

✈️ Play (series) by @taggiecb

(E, 19k, famous/not famous) Right now he is working towards his before twenty five bucket list, and fate must have been smiling on him the day he won tickets for a show at Wembly, getting into one of the locker rooms is something he will have to think about later.

✈️ You're A Universe by Jiksa / @jiksax

(E, 15k, kid fic) Louis’s a stay-at-home dad in London and Harry’s a business expat in Qatar. Louis doesn’t know how much longer their marriage can survive the distance.

✈️ Paper Houses by @allwaswell16

(E, 11k, famous/famous au) When model Louis Tomlinson admits to having a celebrity crush on a very famous actor in an article in GQ magazine, he has no idea it will lead to anything.

✈️ Baby, I'm Right Here by @fallinglikethis

(E, 8k, drunken confessions) Harry and Louis are best friends who live on different continents and may or may not be in love with each other.

✈️ What Goes Up by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(NR, 5k, space) The six month program at the space station means a very long distance relationship and a very nervous Harry back on earth.

✈️ Talk the Night Through by @lululawrence

(NR, 4k, chat rooms) It's 1995 and a chat room is the last place Harry ever expects to find the love of his life.

✈️ With All My Surrendered Hearts by softandslow

(E, 4k, pwp) the one where they're long distance boyfriends, and Louis rides Harry while wearing his snapback.

✈️ Follow the sun by momentofclarity / @gaycousinlarry

(T, 3k, light angst) Louis feels like last night’s Skype call changed something though, even if the emotional distress is pretty common during their talks. 

✈️ It's All Mixed Up! by orphan_account

(G, 2k, deck officer Louis) 4 times Louis' crew mates get sick of hearing about his "girl" and the one time when they finally meet the mystery lover.

✈️ until you’re home by @nouies

(E, 1k, pwp) Louis lives in London, Harry lives in Tokyo. They make it work.

✈️ Looking for Life Out There by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(T, 1k, girl direction) Doctoral candidate Harry Styles moves to Boston to complete her Ph.D. leaving her professor girlfriend behind in London.

—Rare Pairs—

✈️ The New Posh and Becks by mistresscurvy

(E, 28k, Liam/Louis) 2016 is a big year for solo artist Liam Payne. After his amazing experience on X Factor, releasing his own album and touring with Little Mix seems like the height of success. Then he meets Arsenal midfielder Louis Tomlinson at a charity event, and suddenly everything else fades into the background.

✈️ Oceans and waves and wires between us by becka

(E, 8k, Niall/Zayn) Niall wants to meet his online girlfriend, Veronica, and enlists the help of MTV's Catfish to do it.

#ficrec #1dficvillage #trackinghappily #trackinghome #tracksintheam #hltracks

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

I have a lot of feelings about this. (Disclaimer: I’m speaking not based on research data, or TikTok trends, but mostly from what I’ve seen on tumblr.)

(Other disclaimer: this was one of those “people are reading today” articles at the bottom of my browser, and I thought, “Oh, I know what -core is!” so I clicked on it. I don’t normally click on or read these things.)

Spellings argues that, though she herself describes things as -core, in the 9 years since it’s been coined and circulating the internet, it’s become “meaningless” and “a phenomenon, not just clothes”, and something that people “will forget about a month after they use it.”

“Depop—the resale app beloved by Gen Z—also tells Vogue that the trends that have held strong through 2022 on the app are fairycore, gorpcore, and cottagecore. Kidcore saw an 82% search increase between the end of 2021 and Q2 in 2022. To be clear, my issue isn’t with the fact that young people are coming up with new trends. I’m more interested in the disposability of these terms and the constant cycle of identifying and naming a new thing only to forget about it a month later.”

I think, if you put together what Spellings is saying, it doesn’t hold up. That the -core suffix has risen to popularity over the years, especially recently among people from Gen Z, speaks to its popularity and relevance.

Furthermore, as a writer for Vogue, a well-known fashion magazine, she of all people should be saying that clothes are more than just clothes.

Linguistically, the -core trend is rich with information: in a time where everything is fast and bright and easily digestible, being a part of whatevergroup-core does signify being tied to it in some way, often relating to emotional values or how you’d like to be rather than just clothes. Even more interestingly, people commonly are in several of these intangible, transient groups at a time. What does that say about social ties and community, and ability to blend in and relate to new people?

Even if it’s only around for a short time longer, it would signify a certain time period, both linguistically and socially, where identifying with others and using this kind of language was everywhere, where it was an easier (if possibly watered down) way to find other people who like the same things as you.

And really, at the end of the day, what does it matter if young adults are having rapidly-changing aesthetic phases? Kids and teenagers in general have a propensity to seek out new things, and try to learn ‘who I am’ and ‘where/who do I fit in with?’, and the difference now is that technology is involved, so there’s much more information and, well, trendability.

I think you could argue that, with certain cores, there’s distinct problems arising— like how cottagecore seems is very… full of tradfems, and how almost all people who are into cottagecore aren’t actually going to want to live in a cottage and clean manure and get up very early to feed the animals, and that therefore it’s sort of gentrifying rural life (I don’t remember if that’s the word for it). But I also think, if there’s critical thinking and outside perspectives involved who you’re also interacting with (i.e. not everyone you know and talk to is cottagecore), you can probably not be…. gross about it. I also would add that this is not something the author touched on at all in the article, and that my only online experience with cores being gross is cottagecore.

Overall, I think the author’s issues with -core are that it “doesn’t mean anything” because it’s everywhere, and that therefore it’s “meaningless.” But I’d argue that— even if it is annoying if someone posts a lot about it sometimes!— just because it’s ubiquitous and something that many young adults find happiness and connection in, and though it’s shorter lived and has more variations than fashion/aesthetic trends of the past, doesn’t mean that it’s meaningless: it means it’s more malleable and less tangible than trends of the past, and is changing with the current times and technology and social connectivity, as trends that keep surviving and being innovated do.

#personal #someone tell me why i was able to write this easier than any essay i’ve ever had to write for school? #i’d like to add #i don’t consider myself a part of any cores and also don’t care about fashion in general #i don’t mean this in a mean way genuinely but like. it feels like a very ‘i don’t like Kids These Days with their New Words’ kind of thing #but i read the article and was like THESE ARE MY WEIRD TUMBLR PEOPLE i will FIGHT #also ps the article didn’t mention tumblr at all 💔 #my writing #i have opinions #this took me like 2 hours lol #linguistics #essays #okay to comment #okay to reblog

[wolfpants]

Hello beaut! I'm a really big fan of your writing. I'm reading Pages of You for the second time and just loving it so much. Your fics are worlds I want to stay in and I find them really comforting and safe, especially during this unsettling time.

I know this is a bit of an annoying / tricky question for writers to answer, but I wondered if you could talk a bit about where you get your ideas from? Do they sort of fall into your head or do you work them out for a while? How do you know which idea is the one you want to go ahead with? Do you have lots of different fics on the go or do you just focus on one?

I've always wanted to have a go at writing but I get overwhelmed by all the ideas I have and I never know which one I should go with. If I do sit down to write one, I get really into it for a few days and then it sort of fizzles out, and I move on to something else so I never complete anything!

Hello sweet anon! What a lovely message to recieve, thank you so much for your kind words!

Not an annoying question at all. But hopefully my reply isn't too disappointing!

My ideas come from loads of places. Real life, films, books, history, songs... I tend to grasp on to little nuggets of ideas in fleeting moments, and when I do, what works for me is writing them down. Even if it's just a few words on a notes app, which I then add to my WIP trello board if I think the idea has legs (and yes, I usually have 2+ things on the go at once!).

For example, I've been thinking a lot about a Quidditch/mystery fic lately that came out of watching the TV show Yellowjackets earlier this year. Back then, I jotted it down and let it marinate for a while, because I knew I had a bunch of other things I needed to focus on - fests, gift fics, another long fic I've been planning for a while - so I only came back to it yesterday to flesh it out a little more after watching another film that got the little cogs in my brain whirring.

I think it's absolutely fine to jot down an initial idea then come back to it later - you might have more to add to it after an experience or a conversation, or after reading a good book or article or watching something inspiring, and this way you can watch it grow like a plant and evolve. That method works for me for my longer projects.

For my shorter things, I definitely start by thinking of all of the different 'ingredients' of a fic before I start baking it:

the simple outline or perhaps just the context of where the characters got to be where they are the moment the fic begins (as I tend to 'open' my stories with action),

the atmosphere (this is a huge thing for me in my writing - I like writing that evokes feeling, that incorporates the senses through setting and environment),

whose POV I want to focus on and how they are feeling and how they got to where they are feeling (you've probably noticed that I pull in a lot of memory in my writing, I like to layer memory with present action),

and then I usually think about the end point/conclusion to the story and work my way backwards from there.

I'm not a professional writer by any means, I don't read many, if at all, writing tips literature or use that many tools to help with my writing as sometimes I can feel they hold me back rather than help me (disclaimer: this is just my way of working, and won't work for everyone!). I just follow my emotions when I write and often that leads to, some amount of, success. I feel deep empathy with my characters and just let that run through me.

I think it's really important to also remember that you need to love something in order to get it done (or at least get it done to a standard that you're going to be satisfied with). Pages of You was hard for me in places to get through, don't get me wrong (100k is a lot of work), but I was very in Harry's head the entire time I wrote it and I was in love with his point of view of the world, of his way moving through and navigating the landscape I'd created for him (queer London in the 80s). Originally, I thought about a multiple POV story and was going to write Draco's POV too, but as I got started I realised I just didn't want to leave Harry. And I loved falling in love with Draco from Harry's POV too.

So if you're struggling to complete something, perhaps ask yourself if you should be coming at it from an angle that makes more sense to you, that you love: a POV change? A setting change? Maybe even a ship change? Even something like a tense change! Experiment! There's genuinely no rule book here.

Good luck with your writing, I think the main thing is to just start, to enjoy yourself, and to give yourself grace and a break when you struggle. You will get there. I believe in you.

#wow sorry that was a long reply #ask #anon #writing #pages of you #fanfic #fanfic advice #fic #fanfiction #on writing

[radicaltitta]

Unmarried man v attend jesus undistracted

In and through each other we redeem one another. They are for us the very image of God in our lives. It is achieved through one's single-hearted commitment to one's spouse. One can have this same commitment in marriage. "Or perhaps his celibacy was another manifestation of his single-hearted commitment to God."Ĭelibacy is not the only way to have a single-hearted commitment so I hope that is not your thought. I would like to say something about this sentence in your article: I don't see what holding either belief (whether or not he ever married) has to do with looking "foolish" or being followers of Jesus. This is not unusual - there is no historical evidence of a great deal about Jesus that christians take "on faith". If Jesus did marry at the expected age (while a young teen), he could easily have been widowed by the time he was 30 and possibly long before that.īut, there is no historical evidence of this, nor is there evidence that he never married. Thoughout most of history many women have died young from complications of pregnancy/childbirth. But, it was even more dangerous for women. Life was far more precarious then than now and average lifespan at birth (because of the high risk of death from disease or accident) was less than 40 years, although those who survived to adulthood had a better chance at a longer life. And it is also likely that he would have followed tradition and married while a teenager. Some think he might have been a carpenter like Joseph since boys often followed their father's profession. Jesus must have had some type of work in the many years before his public ministry, between the ages of 12 and 30. He was 30 then, and most people married in their early teens, shortly after puberty. Perhaps he was once married and was a widower at the time he began his ministry - which he started quite late, by the standards of the day. It is doubtful that anyone will ever be able to prove anything about Jesus' marital status. So we read of women like “Mary, the wife of Clopas” and “Joanna, the wife of Chusa.” Consequently, it is more likely that if Mary Magdalene were married to Jesus she would be called not "Mary of Magdala," but “Mary, the wife of Jesus.” Most women and women disciples in the New Testament are referred to, by the convention of their time, as “the wife of” or “the mother of.” In a patriarchal world, they were most often identified through their associations with either a husband or a son (or sons). Other theories, where Mary Magdalene is proposed as Jesus’s wife, are also rather far-fetched. After sifting through the facts, Meier lands on the last reason: “The position that Jesus remained celibate on religious grounds the more probable hypothesis.” Or perhaps his celibacy was another manifestation of his single-hearted commitment to God. Jesus may have foreseen the difficulty of caring for a family while being an itinerant preacher. As a Jew, knew the fate of other prophets. What are some possible reasons for Jesus’s remaining unmarried? He may have intuited that once he started his ministry it would be short or even meet a disastrous end. The Gospels’ silence about a wife and children likely means that Jesus had neither. In his magisterial book A Marginal Jew, John Meier, a professor of New Testament at Notre Dame, and scholar of the “historical Jesus,” suggests that being unmarried was seen as undesirable for most rabbis of the time, and even though Jesus is not technically a rabbi, it would have been strange for the Gospel writers to concoct a story that he was celibate if he was in fact married. How do we know this? For one thing, the Gospels talk about Jesus’s mother and “brothers and sisters” several times, so if he had a wife it would be odd not to mention her. Now, it is almost certain that Jesus was celibate. How do we know this? Here’s what I say in my new book, Jesus: A Pilgrimage Overall, it’s more likely that Jesus was unmarried. Three hundred years later, people take many more liberties with he story. In general, it’s better to rely on sources closer to the actual events, particularly, as in the case of Mark, when there were people still alive who had known Jesus, and could presumably have corrected any inaccuracies in Mark's text. The fragment in question, at its earliest, was written three hundred years after the canonical Gospels. By contrast, the earliest Gospel, Mark, was written in AD 75, only 40 years after Jesus’s time on earth. The fragment is most likely from the fourth to the eighth century. Also, before I talk about the reasons scholars believe that he was almost certainly single, I should point out that the manuscript in question was written long after the canonical Gospels (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John) were written.

#Unmarried man v attend jesus undistracted

[maries-gallery]

Hi hun! Could I ask for an ikevamp match up please?

My pronouns are she/her, hetero.

Personality:

I'm an infp and a pisces. I'm very dreamy and artistic - love crocheting, reading, writing poems and stories as well as doing arts and crafts in my spare time. I also LOVE going on walks and exploring places - my curiosity knows no bounds. I'm a responsible, efficient and reliable person though I can also be very childish once I feel comfortable around someone. That being said, I am a perfectionist and have depression and anxiety as a result of growing up with a gaslighting alcoholic parent so I'm absolutely terrified of being imperfect and people judging hating me for it. I think my most distinctive feature is that I'm very nurturing and love taking care of others. Also, I have absolutely no impulse control when it comes to spending money - I see something I want, I'm having it no questions asked.

My likes:

Waa I kinda said it already didn't I 😅😂 walks, exploring, shopping (not clothes though; give me a book/stationary store or tiger or a quaint little shop or crystal shop etc. and I will not leave for half the day), writing, arts and crafts, reading. I also LOVE discussing things with people, especially philosophy stuff. I actually study neuroscience at university atm so I also absolutely love science especially biology - I love theorizing and being able to bounce ideas around with another person.

And yes, I am a thirsty, kinky mofo - I'd be grateful for sfw and nsfw.

Thank you! Hope you have a wonderful day 💕

So I really hesitated between Leonardo and Arthur, but I finally decided to match you up with Arthur.

General SFW :

- Arthur would probably find you endearing right from the start. He’d probably tease you for being innocent (his words, not mine). However he wouldn’t be able to push his worries away concerning your safety, considering the fact you just jumped in a house full of vampires... But unlike in the game I don’t see him actually trying to push you away or scare you, he’d tease you a lot, of course (come on, this is Arthur) but he already has a soft spot for you and doing anything which could scare you would be a no. 

- Instead he’d probably hang around you and try to spend time with you to make sure nothing came your way. Although he wouldn’t admit that and would cover it up by teasing you some more and playing around, being his usual flirt. 

- But the more he’d get to know you the more his affection and interest for you would grow. There is so much more to you than just an artistic and cute girl. You are in fact, a true whirlwind ! Both responsible, smart and adventurous, both nurturing and hardworking... And what’s more, you like to read and write ! Then he also finds your curiosity really attractive, he is himself very curious and adventurous. 

- You two would spend hours debating about whatever subject came to mind, Leonardo sometimes barging in and joining the conversation. Although in these moments Arthur would probably feel insecure as Leonardo, having lived longer than him would probably be more knowledgeable on certain subjects. You’d probably have to reassure him afterwards and wipe this cute pout off of his lips. 

- He’d love listening to you as you talk about your new work in progress or the latest book you read, or pretty much anything you had going on. And I can imagine the two of you spending late nights cuddling in his bed and one of you reading aloud to the other as you both wait for sleep to take you down. 

- He’d love to go shopping with you during one of your many outings. You two would have so much fun going from one shop to the other and looking at all the different articles and trinkets. 

- Considering his own experience with crippling  depression and healthcare he’d be the best at comforting and supporting you on hard days, weeks or however long it lasted. He wouldn’t leave your side, ready to listen, cuddle or do whatever you want. He’d make it a point for you that perfection is boring and unachievable anyways. That he loves you because you are human, and thus have flaws. And that it is normal. He’d make a list of his own flaws in a humorous way for you both to laugh about it and for you to know that it is okay to be imperfect. 

- However keep in mind that he two has some issues and as mentioned previously he can get really insecure too. I see him being a bit distant on some days but he’ll always come back into your arms in the end and talk about whatever has been bothering him. You’d both be very considerate and supportive of each other, sticking together through thick and thin. Arthur is also quite lonely and having been a war doctor he has seen his fair share of horrible things. But when with you he can forget these memories and enjoy the beauty the world has to offer. 

- You’d be one of the few people to whom he opens up. You, lucky girl. 

Scenario :

You sat in Arthur’s room, the two of you writing on his desk. Your eyes scanned over his concentrated features. A light frown adorning his brows, lips pressed together and glasses perched on his well sculpted nose. 

Your attention then fleeted to the lines written in your notebook, scrutinising every word, conflict rising in your chest. You picked up your pen, ready to make some modifications to your writing. Just like you had done a few seconds before, three times. 

However the dark haired male beside you had other plans as he stretched and groaned, sending you a playful grin. 

“Are we done, Luv ?” He voiced, leaning in to take a peek at your work. This didn’t go well with you as you impulsively hid the paper. 

Arthur’s eyes widened, grin fading at the sight of your conflicted expression. He immediately knew what was going on. He could read you like an open book after all. 

A flicker of sadness passed through those blue eyes and his heart clenched in his chest. He let out a sigh, looking intently at you, any trace of his usual playfulness gone. 

“Luv, I don’t know what you wrote, okay ? But what I know is that you put all your heart into these lines and already edited them four times in the last five minutes.” He held your gaze, aching at the thought of what may be going on inside your head. 

Your lips quivered, “But... You’re such an amazing writer... When all I can come up with are some flawed stories and flawed lines and-” Your voice trembled by now, tears on the brink of falling.

“It doesn’t have to be perfect on the first try. Nor can it be perfect, for perfection doesn’t exist. It is not human.” He explained, voice soft and tender as he leaned into you. “And I can assure you that my writing is far from perfect, Luv. But this is also what makes it so unique and authentic.” He grabbed his papers, placing them in front of you and reading over the lines he had written. 

“Look. There, this is one imperfect line, don’t you think ?” 

You read over his shoulder. 

‘The walkers walked along the streets.’ 

You couldn’t repress a small chuckle, a hand covering your lips to stifle your amusement. Arthur only sent you a joyful smile, warmth flooding his system at the sight of your smile.

“See ? No one is perfect. And we all make mistakes.” He reassured, eyes swarming with his love for you. He gently took your hands in his own, cradling them glass. 

“And remember, I fell in love with you. The whole you. Your qualities and your flaws which all make you the wholesome person you are.” With these words his soft kiss pressed against your brow, the intensity and honesty of his words pouring into your cracks like sweet honey to fix your insecurities. 

Song : 

Be my Baby, The Ronettes 

NSFW :

- It is no secret that Arthur is good with his mouth, in more ways than one. Would it be to dirty talk the soul out of you or to eat you out, he is skilled both ways. 

- Speaking of eating you out, his favourite place on earth is probably between your legs. He could spend hours there, teasing you, enjoying and rejoicing in the way your body quivers and shivers in his hold, how your head rolls back and eyes close with his ministrations, with every lick of his tongue on your sensitive bud. 

- He is also very skilled with his fingers and loves fingering you. 

- Arthur is also a huge tease. And I can’t stress this enough, he will come up to you in the middle of the hallway as you’re dusting the shelves to whisper the dirtiest of things in your ear. He just loves how a deep blush creeps onto your cheeks and how flustered you become. 

- I can see him being into role play too, you as his assistant and him as the detective. 

- Wear a maid outfit to clean his room ? The guy is dead and crumbling at your feet. 

- Arthur can both be passionate and serious or playful and a tease. Depends on the mood and circumstances.

- Not very surprising but he has a very high sex drive and can’t get enough of you. If he could, he’d spend his life with you in his bed, under the covers.  He is also very energetic and has stamina. 

- He is a switch, can both be a dominant tease and a lovesick puppy eager to please you.

There, I hope you enjoyed it ! I had lots of fun doing it and may have gotten a bit carried away... 

This is my first match up ever so I am really sorry if it is a bit clumsy. You really seem like a sweetheart and I truly hope this gave you some serotonin ! 

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevamp arthur #matchups #ikevamp match

[pinencurls]

“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

Hiii so this is my entry to @stellarboystyles‘s three year anniversary fic challenge! I’ve been busy with getting ready for classes starting and balancing other stuff so I wrote it on and off for a week and a bit but I hope you all enjoy! Feedback is so so encouraged and appreciated <3 

Here’s my masterlist of some other stuff I’ve written x 

Enemies (more like friends but oops) to lovers, prompt 9 “I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.”

14k+ :) Not read through sorry! pls let me know of any mistakes and I’ll correct them <3 (also i k n o w the title's bad but i couldn’t think of anything, pls feel free to leave any recs.)

- - - - 

It isn’t that I hate Harry. He just makes me feel...insecure. He’s never said or done anything directly but it’s hard to feel good about yourself when all your closest confidants seem to compare you to somebody else, somebody they so clearly hold higher above you. There wasn’t a single day I could meet a mutual friend of mine and Harry’s and not have them sing his praises, and apparently everyone was a mutual friend. I’ve known Julia and Theo for years, we all met in uni when they first started going out but it wasn’t until a year ago that I somehow ended up finding myself a regular within the friendship group they’d formed when they both went into the music and fashion industries. They had ties everywhere and after a pure coincidence of running into them and their circle at a pub, almost all my weekends were spent in various art galleries or new restaurants owned by somebody’s cousin or the guy they met last night at a Fleetwood Mac concert. 

I’d met Harry about five months into hanging out with the group. He’d known them a lot longer than I had, weaving his way into the little pockets of interesting people for years since the x factor. I was busy with work the first few times he was in town but after a while, Nick, the persistent party planner of the group who always managed to wrangle us together, insisted that I just had to meet him.                  . . . . . 

Eleanor’s house is huge and buzzing with hundreds of strangers. I cling to Julia and Theo’s side, Nick and Eleanor are nowhere in sight - most likely playing host or drinking too much chardonnay in another corner of the house. These four are the only people I can say I really know here, sure there are a few familiar faces on the dance floor, either from having met them at any of Eleanor's past elaborate parties or just because of they’re not so subtle fame. That’s another thing, all the people sipping wine and dancing around me are fairly...well known. Either just within the industry or to the general public too, they’d all gain fairly high status. It was a fluke really that I got on so well with Julia when we first met on a fashion course in uni. 

Julia had big goals, all of which she was on track to fulfil, that conflicted slightly with mine. Her goals consisted of runway show models clad in designer brands she might one day contribute to whereas mine were more...anti, that whole world. It took a few years to find a steady footing but eventually, I was proud of where I’d ended up: a comfortable little cubby in the fashion and sustainability columns of a handful of independent magazines. After a few nights out with Julia, I was pleasantly surprised to find her shared interests and solidarity in my work and ambitions of her own within the same ideology. But whilst that’s all well and good, I’m still very much the small indie journalist that slips through the cracks when it comes to small talk at these kinds of events. It became apparent pretty quickly that my latest articles on how fast fashion had begun its destruction of a liveable environment in developing countries weren’t as relevant or interesting to the people promoting Prada and Calvin Klein as the next met gala theme. 

“Do you want another drink?” Theo asks from beside me, pulling my focus from my scan of the room. 

“No thanks..I’m good.” I murmur, debating how long I have to stay before I can slip out and feel a little less awkward around all the people I have no clue how to talk to. “Think I’m gonna head off actually..”

“Look I know you hate networking, but this is just a chill get-together yeah?” Theo chuckles, squeezing my shoulder before taking another sip from his gin and tonic. “We’re in the same boat about these snooty things but tonight’s not like that, relax a bit will ya.” 

Theo works mostly with small-time music artists, producing debut albums and such so we share the same deep discomfort for the many events we often find ourselves at. It’s how we got close really, week after week we’d trail behind Julia as she strikes up conversations with Hollywood elite...and he always makes getting piss drunk in someone’s pool house exceptionally fun. 

Before I can further any excuses about getting home to start on the legitimate and ever-growing pile of work deadlines on my desk, a tall man in far too much Gucci to belong anywhere but in a room full of models and artists makes a beeline straight from the bar to our awkward party. 

“Harry!” Theo shouts, embracing the slightly tipsy man in a hug he reciprocates. 

“It’s been too long mate, how ‘ave you been?” Harry cheers, leaning back from the hug and grinning down at his friend. 

“I’ve been good - busy, enjoying the free bar as always.” Theo jokes, motioning between his and my matching G and T’s. Harry’s eyes wander up from the drink, realisation dawning on his face as he smiles again.

“Ah and you must be the famous Olivia,” He reaches his hand out to mine and shakes it lightly. “Sorry I didn’t introduce myself, ‘m Harry, it’s good to finally meet you, love.”  

“Likewise.” I smile, trying to suppress the blush his words of endearment tease. I can’t deny the natural charm and charisma everyone always talks about now that it’s hitting me straight on. There’s something about the way he doesn’t hesitate to hold eye contact just that little bit longer that makes the room go still for just a second. He’d got it down to a T.

“Aww I see you two have finally met!” Nick interrupts. My hand falls from Harry’s grip as he’s welcomed into another hug. “About fucking time as well, been trying get this one to take a night off for weeks!”

“I literally came out with you last Thursday!” I counter, not missing the smirk setting on Harry’s face as he watches Nick and I’s back and forth. “And the Saturday before, come to think of it I’m always out with you Nicky.” 

“Not when Harry’s in town though n’ that’s a different kinda night.” Nick laughs, his beer sloshing slightly in his free hand as his other remains draped over Harry’s shoulders. 

That was maybe the first sign of my slight resentment for Harry. All night I wandered around with Theo hearing little bits of conversations, all surrounding the star of the party. I understood this wasn’t his doing, his humility was clear in every one of his bashful attempts to turn the conversation away from his growing achievements and onto literally anything else. He was, however, a self-proclaimed narcissist. Every time somebody would swoon over him and insist he stay the topic of conversation, a smirk tugged at his lips and stayed there as he consumed the endless and animated praise from almost all the party guests. 

I’d expected some of his qualities to be untrue, learning from the past never to believe blindly of someone’s pure character when you didn’t truly know them. Especially when they frequented the gossip columns. But it wasn’t him so much, he was true to his motto of kindness and courteous even as people fawned over him, it was more the attention that surrounded him. As the night went on it became clear what Nick meant even if he didn’t know it himself. A night out with Harry was different because everyone made sure to capitalize off how different he made them feel.

. . . . .

“Can I get you anything else M’am?” The young waitress asks as she clears up my empty mug and saucer. My eyes falter a little as they adjust from the blue light of my laptop I’ve been staring at for the last twenty minutes. 

“Um- oh please could I just get a refill?” I ask. 

“Sure thing - mint tea right?” She smiles, adjusting the mug in her hands to make a quick note. 

 “Yeah..s’perfect - thank you.” She’s gone before she hears my delayed gratitudes, definitely used to the throngs of bemused writers tapping away at their laptops for hours. 

I turn back to my open google doc. So far it’s written in two parts I have no idea how to connect and my senseless rereading hasn’t resulted in any legitimate progress in almost an hour. I’d accept the rut I’m stuck in and work on something else for the day if I didn’t only have the day. Last night had been filled with plans of settling in early and finishing the last two thousand words on an upcoming sustainable clothing brand. That all went out the window of course as my phone buzzed off the kitchen counter with Nick’s insistence of yet another night out to celebrate ending the work week - his was quite different to mine. It was easy to ignore the persistent beeping of my phone as new texts and call notifications popped up every three minutes, but less so when the rhythmic bursts of noise were replaced by knocks on my front door. 

Within 40 minutes of opening it to Nick in a silk shirt and jeans too skinny for someone pushing thirty, I was two drinks in and dancing to Blue DeTiger with a pair of hands on my waist that I didn’t entirely recognise. It was just the six of us: Me, Nick, Ellie, Theo, Julia and Harry.

He was hard to ignore, not that I was trying particularly hard. On the drive over, the limited backseat space in Nick’s car and close proximity had practically forced me into his lap. Even with thighs pressed tightly against each other, we hardly talked, a few polite hellos here and there and then silence as we listened to Eleanor recall her latest night with whichever blonde bassist was her ‘soulmate’ that week. The whole ride over, Harry kept his hands on the thigh closest to the door and leant his shoulders the same way as to touch me as little as possible - which was still quite a lot considering the packed five seater pushing seven passengers. It was fairly common knowledge we weren’t close and I got the feeling he wasn’t too keen on me, but he could at least not act like touching me would be the worst thing ever. 

As the night went on he clung to Theo, ever the cuddly drunk, and I stayed more to the pleasant stranger I’d found on the dance floor.

No meanest was ever intended between us but I couldn’t help but watch the kindergarten like bitterness grow as everyone just loved him. We couldn’t go anywhere without a crying fan or two approaching the sweet and smiling man who always answered their questions affectionately and hugged them goodbye. The times he was out of town were always filled with comments about his absence, as if none of us were good enough without his added presence. I couldn’t help but wonder why they even bothered to bring me into their little group. The lack of closeness between Harry and I felt almost like a lack of closeness to the group as a whole, despite how much my individual friendships with everyone advanced. 

Just as I thank the waitress - Alice, her name tag read, and take the first sip of my third tea (I had to switch after a particularly strong starter coffee) I notice a familiar man out the corner of my eye looking just as rough as me. Of course he’s wearing it better than I am. 

Harry collects a drink from the counter and bows his head slightly in thanks, turning and catching my eye just as he’s on his way out. He waves with his free hand and shoots me a candid smile before making a quick change in direction towards my small table. 

“Long time no see,” He pulls the chair opposite me out a little as he chuckles at his own joke. He perches lightly, temporarily. “How’ve you been?”

“A little hungover, I won’t lie..” I laugh, surprised by the whole encounter. “You?” 

“Same, I might have had a shot or two too many,” I nod knowingly and shut my laptop softly. He sips what smells like coffee before going on. “Are ya workin? Sorry to interrupt.” 

“Oh no- I mean I am but it doesn’t matter really, ‘ve kinda hit a dead end.” His eyes hover, waiting for me to go on. “I was gonna get it done last night but Nick had other plans..” 

“Yeah Nick’ll do that to you,” He laughs, “What’re you writing ‘bout?” 

He leans slightly forwards, holding eye contact and shuffling comfortably into his chair. 

“Oh just this promotional piece on a new company, they’re hiring young women and training them to make these handmade clothes. They’re paying them above minimum wage and focusing on sustainability so this editor I’ve written for before offered me it.” I’m not really sure how sincere he is in his curiosity, he always seems to have time to listen when Julia has a new design plan or Theo’s found a new artist but that’s different really. I stop before I start to ramble, just in case. 

“That’s so cool, what kinda stuff are they making?” He prompts, resting his chin on his fist, imitating the posture of an eager little kid. 

“They've started stocking stuff by other independent artists but mostly dungarees and these cool cord trousers, they’d suit you actually, even got some 70s style ones.” Now that the two worlds are colliding in my head, I can’t help but imagine Harry in a pair of their forest green cords, the wide legs would almost bury his vans but a part of me is pretty sure he’d love them. 

“Thanks, if they come at your recommendation I might have to get my hands on a pair,” He smiles, his tone’s a lot different to the usual polite cheer, it’s difficult to place where it’s landed before he’s talking again. “Reminds me of that show you took us to with the upcycled clothes, all those dungarees made of old quilts - remember?” 

It’d been a small exhibit just outside of London I’d mentioned offhandedly and somehow ended up showing everyone around. It was nice to have them all in my world for an evening. Marcus, a friend of mine from college, had put it together and created a lot of the pieces. He and the others I’d met through my work were fairly shocked to say the least when Harry Styles came traipsing through the doors behind me. All night he quietly asked Nick questions, to which Nick only responded by motioning towards me and wandering off to the bar. 

“I do - I’m surprised you do to be honest.” It slips before I can decide if it sounds passive aggressive or not. To be fair, it had been a surprise to me, meeting everyone at the train station and watching Harry and Nick scramble out a taxi and run towards us. He’d been dressed in proper gallery attire and seemed genuinely thrilled to be joining in on the rare night I actually played host. 

“Course I do, it was a good night...I’d choose it over Nick’s tequila Tuesdays anyday.” His phone buzzes on the table, a text popping up in green. “Oh I- my manager’s waiting sorry.” 

A sheepish smile is accompanied by a loose arm movement towards the door where, out on the street, I see Jeff. He’s shaking his head and motioning for Harry to hurry up. Had Harry sat down to talk to me whilst his manager had been waiting this whole time? 

“It was good running into you, good luck with it all,” He stands. “See you friday yeah?” 

I’d totally forgotten about his “Whenever I’m in town Friday film night.” until he mentioned it. I’d been twice in the past and stayed quietly to my corner of the sofa, only watching as everyone else laughed at whatever romcom had been chosen that night. 

“I-maybe.” He shakes his head as I smile, not quite ready to commit a whole evening to watching Nick raid Harry’s wine cellar. 

“You better, I’m gonna need to hear more ‘bout those cords.” He points his hand in a kind of joking reprimand/wave before he’s gone back down the aisle of tables to the door where Jeff ruffles a hand through his hair and laughs when his hands fly to fix the now birdnest of brown curls. 

I open my laptop back up, skimming over the last few lines I wrote to get myself back on track. I take a sip and my tea’s gone cold. 

. . . . .

“Are you coming to Harry’s tonight?” Eleanor asks down the phone, her voice chipper as she no doubt raids her closet. 

“Maybe, I don’t know..I’ve got this deadline Monday morning that I’m nowhere near meeting.” 

“Come on Liv, we haven’t seen you all properly together since last month, and last week doesn’t count it was too loud to actually talk!” She chimes in, the sound of clothes being tossed to the floor clear in the distant background. “Have you got a problem with Harry or something?” 

“No Elle, of course I don’t-” 

“Then why do you guys never talk? You hardly come with us when he’s around and when you do you barely even say hello.” Eleanor complains, she’s mentioned it in the past but it’s been easy to blow off with excuses of how busy he usually was making his way around the room to greet everyone or how we just hadn’t known each other that long and weren't particularly close yet. 

“I just...I don’t know, I don’t think he likes me very much.” I pause. I still haven't decided what last Saturday was in the cafe. “We’re not really close and I’d prefer not to spend another night listening to people tell him - and everyone else - how great he is.” 

“You’re saying that like he’s some arrogant twit, if you came out with us more you’d see what he’s really like around his friends. Or you know, you could actually talk to him when we’re together and see that he’s not a dick?” 

It was a fair point. I haven’t made much of an effort over the past year to spend any time with him outside of larger gatherings or to have genuine conversations with him that went past the weather or a new jacket one of us had on. Maybe he really is a good guy away from all the pretentious crowds and watchful eyes he usually called to our group. He’d certainly seemed different in the quiet Saturday surroundings of Blondies Coffee Roasters in between sips of coffee. 

“Okay, okay yeah I’ll see you there.” We hang up a couple of minutes later and I’m left alone in my kitchen again.

. . . . . 

“Hey!” Harry cheers as the door swings open to reveal him in yet another pair of flared pants that hung comfortably around his waist. “Come in, come in.” 

We all pile in through the doorway as he steps aside. Arms weaving through each other as we hang coats and jackets and Julia passes Harry the fruit platter she’d made (and scolded us all for picking at on the drive over.) 

“Oh very appropriate,” Harry laughs as he uncovers the tray to reveal an array of sliced watermelon, strawberries and grapes, He sets the fruit down on the table in the lounge for us all to eat and shakes his head lightly. I look up at Julia for an explanation but she’s too busy claiming the comfiest loveseat for the night. “I’m never telling you anything again, Jules.” 

Julia and Harry tease each other for a moment more until Theo catches my confused stares and laughs to himself. 

“Harry wrote a song ‘bout fruit- another one actually,” Theo starts, tucking himself beside Julia and letting her take over before he can finish. “S’not just about fruit though is it H?” 

Harry blushes slightly and settles his glare on Julia as he carries six wine glasses through to the table. 

“‘S about watermelon, it just has some..” He clears his throat as he fumbles for his next sentence. “Other themes to it too.” 

“As if mate,” Theo’s laughter booms, “ Basically Liv, he wrote this new song the other day all about how much he loves to-” 

“Watermelon!” Harry yells, pointing an accusatory finger at Theo. “S’all about how much I love watermelons...I’m a fruit guy.” 

“Oh are we talking about the pussy song?” 

All heads snap round to see Nick, obviously having let himself in and now chuckling softly to himself as he leans against the archway into the room. 

“Oh sorry H, were you tryna give an interview answer?” 

Harry just slaps his palm over his eyes and lets his shoulders shake for a minute before he bounces back to host mode. 

“Okay!” I can’t help but notice how flushed the tips of his ears are as he claps his hands together, desperately trying to move on from the conversation. “Who wants wine?” 

Fifteen minutes later everyone is settled onto the sofas with an array of throws between us and a layout of fruits, crisps and other mid rom com snacks that make me feel bad I left my flat in too much of a hurry to remember anything but hummus. 

“Okay - Sixteen Candles, When Harry Met Sally or Mamma Mia?” Nick calls out, waving the tv remote above his head to get everyone's attention. An outpour of votes follows - you’d think between only six of us we’d be able to sort out a process by now but still we fall into momentary anarchy as the room divides. 

“Mamma Mia is a classic!” Eleanor protests as Nick’s shaking his head. 

“And Billy Crystal isn’t?” He yells back, eyes wide and genuinely offended. 

“Colin Firth is arguably more iconic, Nick really, come on.” Theo sighs. He accepts the high fives Ellie and I reach out to him and saluts us both. 

“We’ve all seen Mamma Mia before though, we’ve never watched When Harry Met Sally all together,” Julia points out, winning a smirk and nod of approval from Nick. 

There’s a beat of silence while Nick weighs up the votes in his head. He tilts to the side slightly and eyes Harry up, our gazes following. 

“Harry?” 

“Ellie?” 

“Come on, you’ve got the last vote here, and I know how much you like Meryl.” Nick gasps a little, the mention of Meryl Streep as a wager to win Harry over to his opposing team was definitely foul play in his eyes. 

“Yeah but he loves When Harry Met Sally...and he is a narcissist..” Julia offers into the debate, a few snickers follow her comment before we all turn to look at Harry. We’re all already half a glass in but I could swear for just a moment his eyes lingered over me, fluttering down to my smile before turning back to announce his decision to Nick. 

“I’m afraid I am in the mood for a bit of Abba,” Cheers and not so subtle murmurs of frustration fill the lounge as Nick scrolls through the Romance bar on Netflix before clicking on the film of just over half of our choosing. 

Everyone goes quiet as the film starts, breaking out into bursts of song only as the cast does. From the conversation in the car, it’s pretty clear everyone has just been through a pretty tiring week. We all tended to pile our workload a little heavy so it was always nice to escape for a few hours at the weekend and relax together.

Just as Voulez-vous plays through the room, a slightly tipsy Nick leans into Harry to serenade the singer with his own rendition. The duo sway slightly, both narrowly avoiding Nick’s wild limbs before there’s a crash and Harry’s cursing. 

“Oh- H, Sorry!” 

Nick’s wine glass that’d been balanced on the coffee table in front of him moments before now lays on its side. The, luckily white, wine trickles down onto the rug but most noticeably splashes into Harry’s lap. I’m not entirely sure how he managed it, it must have flown forwards when it was knocked but Harry quickly stands to access the damage. 

“I’m so sorry Harry I-” 

“Don’t worry mate, I’m just gonna go change and toss these in the wash..could you wipe that up for me?” Nick nods, looking a little less cheerful and a lot more guilty now as Harry makes it way out the room. He calls behind him: “Keep watching I’ll only be a second!” 

Nick finishes wiping down the table and rug just as Harry jogs back into the room. I don’t mean to and I’m never one to check people out..unless very subtly, but I can’t help but let my eyes linger a little. 

He’s still in his plain tee but instead of his fancy pants he’s found some soft wash denim jeans. The whole look paired with his thick rimmed glasses and how his hair's gotten tousled about by Nick throughout the night just made him look so...ordinary. Not in any bad way, anyone who met Harry knew he could never be ordinary, no matter how casual he dressed, but something about seeing him abandon the more dressed up looks and go for the comfortable option just made him seem different. 

In a second his green eyes are complimenting the look too as he gazes down at me. 

“Hi,” He mouths, nobody’s taken much notice of his return, yet another musical number taking everyone’s attention. It’s my turn to blush a little now. I avert my eyes quickly, anywhere really, before sneaking a quick look up at him to smile back. 

Ellie had helped Nick in the “For fucksake save Harry’s rug it probably costs more than your car” mission and had stolen the seat beside him after they were done. It slipped my mind until Harry set the new bottle of wine on the table and sunk down into the space beside me, He curls one leg underneath him and slips me one more smile before turning back to the screen just as Donna and Sam start singing SOS.

. . . . . 

“Ah shit, I think I left my book!” I curse just as we make it down the road to Julia’s car. Parking was shit so by the time we found a spot we’d ended up a good 15 minutes away from Harry’s house. “You guys go on, I’m only round the corner anyway.” 

Theo and Julia were familiar with my stubbornness so let me go, yelling their goodbyes after a few hugs as they drove away, Ellie and Nick do the same as they clamber into a taxi. I turn quickly in the chilly air and make my way back down the street to Harry’s drive, punching in the familiar code at his gate before running up to the door hastily. 

It was open - as always, so I let myself in. He was probably still cleaning the lounge up after we all got a little too tipsy. 

“Hey it’s me...just left my book sorry!” I call down the hallway. It’s quiet despite the light Paul Simon playing in the distance so I make my way quickly to the sofas I’d spent most of the night on, praying to avoid an awkward run-in with Harry. 

Although we’d actually shared some light conversation throughout the night and a handful of smiles, I’m not sure we’re quite at the stage in our friendship that me more or less breaking into his house wouldn’t be awkward to run into. 

The lounge is empty when I get there. The side tables are still littered with wine glasses and tacky red rings on coasters but no Harry in sight. Or book for that matter. 

I start pulling back the cushions carefully - god knows how much they cost. Despite scouring the one spot I’d pretty much clung to the whole night -  incidentally beside Harry -  I have no luck. Nick tossed the book back to me at some point in the night after reading it by my recommendation but knowing him it could have ended up anyway. I follow the breadcrumbs of our night down another hallway as I vaguely remember Nick talking about a certain plot twist as we searched Harry’s kitchen cupboards for the wine he’d sent us off to restock. 

As I come around the white archway into his kitchen I catch a glimpse of him from around the kitchen island. He has his back turned to me but he’s leant forwards against a counter with ring covered fingers clutching the edge, a glass of amber liquid set slightly away from him. 

“Oh, sorry I was just-” He jumps a little at my voice, turning quickly to face me with his now free hands coming up to hold his chest. When his eyes finally meet mine they’re red and it takes a second for him to register the tears still streaming from them before he replies. 

“Shit, fu- what are you..are you alright?” His hands bat between tangling into his hair and wiping the tears from his cheeks, anything to avoid actually looking up at me again. 

“Yeah, I just..um..left my book,” I mumble, taking a step closer to him when I notice how his hands shake as they move timidly around his face. “Harry, what’s wrong?”

“Uuuh um.” He wanders for a moment before slapping a palm lightly atop the counter and pulling out his infamous grin. “Nothing much, how bout you - find your book?” 

“-Harry..” I take another step close, “I know we’re not, ya know..close. But you can talk to me.” 

There’s a beat of silence when he keeps up the act, I’d almost believe it if it wasn’t for his bloodshot eyes and anxious fingers drumming against the tile. 

“What’s wrong?” 

He pauses for a moment, assessing whether or not to tell me whatever’s weighing so heavy on his shoulders. But the dam bursts. 

“Fuckin’ everything Love” He laughs, rubbing his palms over his face. I try to focus on the matter at hand: Harry weeping in his kitchen. But that name’s only ever left his mouth directed at me a handful of times and it’s never made my stomach flutter quite as it did just now. “Just..Fuck I’m so lonely Olivia.” 

I don’t really know any of the details but between conversation - mostly overheard, and the media frenzy, it was hard not to be aware of Harry’s break up two months ago. I can’t claim we were close enough to discuss it, having hardly ever talked beyond trivial issues, but I knew that despite them only being together two or so months, he’d been incredibly distant for the weeks that followed the break up. 

“I hear about you and Aubre..I’m really sorry it didn’t work out for you guys-” Harry laughs almost, a pained sort of chuckle that told me I was way off with this one. 

“It’s not..that isn’t why I..” He takes a deep breath before lifting his head up slightly to focus on where his fingers still tapped out a nervous beat on the counter. “I was lonely before her...and with her. I just, I can’t seem to get it right ever...feels like nobody wants to be with me for the right reasons.” 

“Hey no..what about tonight? Your house was full of so many people who love you yeah? Maybe your bougie wine collection had something to do with it but still,” He laughs at that, peeking up from behind his fringe for just a moment. “They- we love you ‘k?” 

“I know but, ‘clock hits the am and everyone leaves, it just gets...it gets so fucking lonely to see everyone in perfect pairs ya know?” 

I don’t really know what I’m doing but I’m doing it - my arms wrap over his shoulders and lock with a hand at the nape of his neck. We’ve never hugged before beyond a general greeting but anyone watching wouldn’t know it, his face burrows quickly into my shoulder and his arms cocoon over my waist, holding me tightly and slipping under the thick layers of my jacket. 

“I know exactly what you mean, H.” 

The hug lasts longer than I imagined it might. He smells of vanilla and the coffee he brought back in bulk from Jamaica. He lets out a shaky breath and melts further into me, nuzzling my neck softly with the tip of his nose. His curls are soft between my fingers and I find myself shhing him, lulling us both into a tired kind of calm. 

Another moment passes in the silence of his kitchen before Harry lets out an awkward cough and straightens up, pulling out of our hold and immediately covering his face with his palms again. 

“I..sorry Jules and Theo must be waiting for you..” Harry murmured, wiping the last of his tears away and letting his hands fall and fidget by his sides. 

“Oh no don’t worry they..um they already went I was actually just gonna walk.” I tell him, making his head perk up a bit. 

“Wha-It’s past twelve Liv it’s not safe, how far do you even live?” He clears his throat and his voice is clearer now, it feels like a whole different world to the one we were in just a minute ago. 

“It’s fine honestly, only take like thirty minutes walking - I’ve done it before-” I ramble, eager to put this situation behind me before I embarrass myself anymore. 

“No - let me drive you yeah?” Harry shakes his head, adamant. 

“Harry..we’ve been drinking all night, I think that’s more dangerous than me jus’ walking.” I laugh, holding his gaze for a second longer than I usually would - fuck, how do we usually act around each other?

Before I come to a conclusion, his eyes rest heavy on mine and I can see the cogs turning in his brain as he tries to work his way out of this one. Ever the people pleaser. 

“Then stay.” 

“Harry-”

“You said you know how it feels.” He cuts in, unwavering now as he doesn’t let my eyes fall from his. “So stay …’s safer anyway.” 

. . . . . 

“I can take the sofa, really Harry I don’t mind,” I reassure as he tosses me an old t-shirt and joggers to sleep in. “It’s comfier than my bed anyway. 

His guest bedrooms had just been painted and were still pretty fume filled so the sofa or his bed were the only options. For twenty minutes now he’s tried to convince me to take his bed and leave him on the sofa, despite the fact we both know he’s a little too tall to sleep without his feet hanging off the end. 

“But you’re my guest!” He protests again, coming up from his wardrobe to stand in front of me, hand on hips and an expression of concern on his face. 

“And you’re almost six foot!” 

“Hey, I am six foot.” He takes a deep breathe, exhaling through his nose in defeat before speaking again. “Okay, you can sleep on the sofa but if anyone asks I was the perfect host and you bullied me into this.” 

I laugh softly, this whole new side of Harry had never been directed solely at me before and it was honestly refreshing. Usually Nick or another friend was the target of his jokes and playful demeanor and I only noticed it from afar but now he was right in front of me, hauling pillows off his bed and sticking his tongue out when he caught me staring. 

“Are you sure you’ll be alright?” He asks for the third time since I agreed to stay the night. We’ve just finished setting up the sofa to sleep on and despite the duvet and many quilts far more lush than my own actual bed, he seemed unconvinced it was enough. 

“I’m sure” I sit back into the pile of blankets and pillows, tucking my feet underneath me and looking back up at Harry. “If you’re really not, just come watch a film with me and see how cozy it is.” 

The quick change in dynamic was a lot smoother than I’d imagined. Within an hour of being alone together we’d already talked more than in all our past interactions, not to mention how close we’ve gotten. He only nods his head quickly and he’s settling under a quilt beside me, rummaging around for a controller to pull up netflix again. 

“Mamma Mia two?” He asks. 

I chuckle a bit and nod. At the beginning of the evening I hadn’t quite seen it ending in a Mamma Mia marathon with just me and Harry. 

He presses play and as the opening display begins we both lean back into the sofa and pull the blankets up over us. It’s only in the quiet of the first few scenes that I notice we’re matching. We’re both dressed fully in his clothes, grey joggers and t-shirt - his rolling stones, mine fleetwood mac. And it all smells of him. I pull the blanket a little higher over my chest and the faint, but now familiar, scent of vanilla and coffee fills my lungs and for a second all I can focus on is how desperately I want to be in his arms again. 

. . . . .

“-ow” A groggy voice mumbles from above me and I feel myself being pulled forwards slightly against something hard - and warm. 

I’m a few seconds from falling straight back asleep before I feel the painful ache in the side of my neck. I reach a hand up to gauge my current situation and feel my fingers plunging into soft hair - soft hair that ends too soon to be mine. 

“Hi..” I recoil my hand quickly back to my side and push myself up so I’m sitting slightly. I look down and see Harry, half asleep still and hand still resting on my side. 

“Oh-hey sorry,” What do you say when you wake up beside the guy you barely knew but simultaneously had been incredibly vulnerable with just the night before? 

Harry seems to be waking up now and certainly more aware of our predicament as he pulls his hand away from where it was holding firmly onto the material of my - his - t-shirt and pushes himself up to sit against the arm of the sofa. 

“We must have fallen asleep..sorry I didn’t mean too, ya know…” His eyes flutter between where I sit opposite him and the “Are you still watching?” Netflix screen. 

“It’s fine, accidents happen an’ everything.” I smile, slipping out from the warm cocoon of blankets to stand. “I’m just gonna wash up quickly and I’ll be out of you hair.” 

Before I can rush off to tame my hair and hopefully find some toothpaste to rid me of my morning breath, Harry clasps his hand gently around my wrist and tugs slightly to get my attention. 

“Not in a rush Love, I’ll make us some breakfast.” He says it effortlessly, like it was a regular occurrence for us to fall asleep cuddling on his sofa. He stands, groaning as his knees pop appreciatively and lets my hand go before he’s disappearing into the kitchen.

“Okay…” I murmur to myself. “....okay.” 

. . . . .  

Alice is back at my table with my second refill before 11am. I thank her and take a gulp of the fiery ginger tea before reading over the last three paragraphs I just wrote. The spice licks my tongue as I tip the cup up for a second sip; it’s autumn after all. 

In the last two weeks September had slipped into October and all the trees in London had received the memo. I’d been busy, hoaled up in the quietest corner of Blondies the whole time with coffee filling all my senses. I haven’t seen everyone together since that night at Harry’s. I grabbed lunch with Eleanor the Monday afterwards and told her nothing, preferring to avoid the texts my phone amassed over the fortnight. I've turned down all proposed group activities and focused on work instead. To be fair, I do have a lot to get done. There were always seasonal pieces in my to do list and with the weather getting colder it was time I got to them before it was Christmas already. 

I haven’t talked to Harry either. He made us pancakes with blueberries and maple syrup in the morning and we haven’t even texted since; I’m not sure that we even have a private text between us. Eleanor and Julia have told me how much fun they’ve all had the times I’ve politely but persistently declined, I can only assume Harry’s in the mix with them all. He’s in town for awhile if I’m remembering our breakfast chatter correctly, it makes sense that they’re all hanging out together really when they don’t often get time together. Ellie’s phone calls keep me from sliding into thoughts of how easily I could fall right out of the group and not be missed, at least. I was just taking space for work. The fact that most of my afternoons at the cafe disappeared into me analysing anything I might ever have felt or said to Harry means nothing at all. 

Neither does the heightened pace of my heartbeat when he walks through the stiff wooden  doors of Blondies. 

He orders what I assume is his regular black coffee, scans the room for a second and lands directly on me. He hesitates a little to hold my gaze, turning his head to look outside before looking back at me and smiling. He thanks the server and takes a few quick steps towards me, weaving in between the packed tables to my little spot hidden away in the corner. 

“Hi,” He smiles again, although his toneos overshadowed by a slight anxious hilt. “Can I sit?” 

Nodding, I close my laptop and pull my tea closer to me to make a space for him. 

“Hi.” He repeats, smiling a little sheepishly. 

“Hi,” I wait a second, nervous to start when I’m so unsure of how this conversation has already gone in his head. But he doesn’t say anything so I push through and bite the bullet against my better judgement. “Look, about that Friday I-”

“Can I just-” He cuts me off, leaning forwards and opening his hands out as he mulls over his next few words. “I’m sorry if it was awkward at all, I didn’t mean for anything to happen and I thought we were fine an’ everything but then I haven’t seen you in two weeks and Ellie keeps saying you’re not comin’ out. Did I do something wrong?” 

“Oh god no,” I hurry, “You didn’t do anything it was just - I didn’t expect to wake up..like that...and it was just a really quick change because we’ve never really been close and suddenly it was just, us, like that.” 

He nods, pushing a loose curl back a second later that broke free in the motion. He seems understanding as he looks down before leaning his elbows against the table so only the two of us can hear what he’s about to say. 

“I know, I didn’t expect it either but, can I just tell you I’m glad that it happened?” He leaves a three second pause for me to flounder in confusion before continuing. “What I told you, ‘bout feeling lonely, it messes with my sleep all the time. I just get stuck in my own thoughts but the night you stayed over I slept fine - perfect even.”

Not sure what else to do with this new information, I nod for him to continue.

“I know we’ve never been close, but hanging out with you just really calmed me down.” He smiles, gaining confidence now in his vulnerability tucked away in our little hiding place. “Thank you for staying.” 

“I get what you mean.” I mumble, slightly anxious any of the busy customers with prying eyes could overhear my confession. “I never really know when to stop working and I think I got the best night sleep on your sofa I’ve had in awhile, which really speaks volumes about how crappy my mattress is.”  

He chuckles. Relief seems to settle in as he lets his shoulders relax and face soften. 

“I was thinking - especially now that I know it was good for you as well, maybe it could become more of a regular thing?” He asks, his forefinger and thumb pinch together and twist one of his rings a little - a nervous habit, I’m sure. 

“How do you mean?” 

“Like..when we all go out, maybe we go home together, you know - so we can sleep better.” He moves down to focus on the metal rose he’s still fumbling at. “If..if you don’t want to or you think it’d be weird it’s fi-” 

“I’d like that.” I reach forwards to comfort him, absentmindedly cupping my fingers around his. “I think it’d be nice, to get a good night's sleep I mean.” 

“I’m glad.” He beams.

“..That and you make a mean blueberry pancake.” I tease, earning a light chuckle from Harry. 

Just like our last cafe encounter, the ping of a his phone beats me to my new few words. He checks it quickly, shaking his head and glancing down the large room to the shop front where, once again, Jeff waits. He seems a little more agitated this time, waving vigorously whilst trying not to attract the attention of passersby, all  rather unsuccessfully. 

“Bollocks okay - I’ve gotta go,” Harry swears, collecting his coffee from the table and pushing his chair back quickly. “I’ll just - we can text before we go out next yeah?” 

“Cool, yeah - wait a sec, let me just give you my number.” I reach up for him to hand me his phone but he doesn’t make any effort to move, instead he blushes slightly and stares at the floor. “..What?” 

“I um, I already have it.” He fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck before talking again. It’s hard not to remember how it felt when it was my fingers carding through his brown curls. “I got it from Theo awhile back when we were going to this thing, felt weird not having it. I hope that..okay and everythin’” 

I nod, smiling up at him. The idea of him having a part of me for this past year without me even knowing is oddly precious. The fact that he felt odd about not having my number and going to the effort of getting it from Theo was unbelievably endearing. 

“That’s fine, helpful actually.” I smile still, “Text me before we meet everyone and we’ll make a plan or somethin’” 

“Okay,” He smirks, his slight cocky nature reemerging. “Will do, Liv. See you soon?” 

“See you soon.” 

Jeff flies a hand up to his hair like before but this time is met with a grinning Harry who doesn’t seem to mind so much. 

. . . . . 

Unknown Number 

‘Hey! Is tonight good? We can slip off after drinks at the gallery. H x’ 

I look down at my phone. Caught off guard by the sudden text, I’d almost forgotten out arrangement. Julia invited us all to a gallery opening of one of her friend's new exhibits. Even as I flicked through my wardrobe for the right jacket, I hadn’t put two and two together and realised I’d be seeing Harry again for the first time since our chat at Blondies four days ago. 

I save his number and I think quickly, not wanting to leave him on read when he knew I’d be leaving to see them all any second and most likely spend the whole tube journey on my phone. 

‘Hi :) That’d work for me yh, just let me know when you want to leave and I’ll make an excuse. Liv x’ 

With another thought rushing through my head, I send a quick follow up. 

Me

‘Can we keep this between us right now? Might be a bit tricky to explain to the others.” 

Harry

‘Read my mind love.’

‘See you in a bit :)’ 

I’m still not the hugest fan of the airy feeling that rushed through my stomach as I read over the pet name. He was just from Manchester, it was normal up there to call everything by casually affectionate little names. It didn’t mean anything at all. 

. . . . . 

“Livia!” Nick calls out when he sees me scanning over the faces at the entrance to the gallery. I smile instantly and make my way over, quickly falling into his arms as he rocks us for a second. “Haven’t seen you in an age!” 

“‘Ve been working, we can’t all piss about Monday to Friday.” I giggle, smiling wide as he murmurs something under his breath and plants a big kiss on my cheek. “Is everyone here?” 

I try not to look suspicious when I peak over around us, trying to pick a certain brunette from the crowd.

“Yeah, they’re just over there with Julia’s friend.” Nick points and I see him immediately. He’s dressed just as I expected - half gucci half grandpa sweaters. “I’m gonna get us drinks, meet you there?” 

“Mhmmm” I hum, breaking out of his hold and slipping through the crowds to our small group of friends. 

“Hi!” Julia smiles brightly. She hugs me quickly before stepping aside to give Eleanor and Theo their turns. They all whisper quiet ‘Missed yous’ in my ear as if I’ve been gone for years. 

“Hey,” Harry appears by my side as everyone else turns their attention to the front of the crowd where it looks like the artist is setting up to introduce the night. “How’ve you been?” 

“In the last four days?” I chuckle, “Good. Not been sleeping great, but I’ve got a lot of work done so that’s been great.” 

He nods approvingly. A smile tugs at his lips at the mention of sleep, almost like some secret inside joke we’ve managed to form between just the two of us. 

“Me neither. Jeff’s been buggin’ me what feels like every hour with deadlines.” I find myself squeezing his hand a little under his long coat sleeves so nobody can see. “Looking forward to just collapsing tonight, if I’m honest.” 

“Me too.” I smile tiredly, tonight had been a big ask come to think of it. I've had work piled up twice my height all week and even having worked day in and day out I’ve still only made a crack in the mountain of final edits and emails to respond to.

Harry squeezes my fingers back and our hands linger in each other's hold until Nick emerges beside us and the artist begins her speech. 

. . . . .

 The comfortable chatter surrounding the booth we’d taken up a few hours ago died down as the clock ticked later and later. We’d left the gallery a while ago now in favour of the after party at a pub down the road but by now the heavy scent of beers and various gin based concoctions were giving us all headaches. 

“I think I’m gonna call it a night guys,” Harry announces, a slew of groans following from the group. “Sorry, sorry! It’s been great but it’s getting late.” 

Julia and Theo move out the way to let him out the booth. He slides across the red cushion to stand, pulling his coat over himself as he sneaks a quick look at me. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too,” I smile, waiting for Eleanour to stand and let me out as another wave of complaints flooded me. “Sorry! I’ve got work and the tube’ll be hell any later.” 

“Well if Harry’s going too couldn’t he take you home?” Julia suggests, looking between the two of us as we now stand slightly away from each other. “You drove right?” 

“Yeah, I did.” Harry turns to smile at me, amused clearly by how our plan was being unknowingly encouraged by our friends. “C’mon, I’ll drive yeh.” 

I nod, biting back a smirk. We say our goodbyes and wave as we slip out the heavy pub doors out onto the road outside. It’s started to drizzle slightly and I resent choosing the jacket without a hood. 

“I’m just over here,” Harry points a little ways off. “Hurry, think it’s about to pour.” 

We walk quickly down the street and through a metal gate into a car park when there’s a loud rumble of thunder and immediately the rain thickens. 

“Fuck!” Harry laughs as he scrambles for his keys, we match each other's paces until we’re practically sprinting to his car in the far corner of the lot. The click of the locks sounds out and his lights flash red a second before we’re both pulling the doors open and throwing ourselves inside onto warm seats. 

We catch our breath, chests rising and falling with uneven pants before our laughter settles and Harry slots the keys into the ignition. 

. . . . . 

“Do you want anything to eat?” Harry asks as he closes his front door behind us and we kick out shoes off in his hall. “I think I have some takeout menus somewhere..” 

“I’m not really hungry, thanks though,” I cut off his search as he walks through to his kitchen and starts opening draws. “Kinda just wanna go to bed now.” 

He nods and rubs a hand under his eye in silent agreement of my exhaustion.

“I’ll make us a tea, meet you up there yeah?” He calls over his shoulder, having turned quickly to retrieve various packets from his cupboards. “Chamomile okay?” 

“Yeah chamomiles good,” I hover for a second in the archway leading into the kitchen, suddenly awkward to be alone in his house again. “Where um..where is it?” 

He looks over his shoulder at me, slightly confused. His eye brows unfurrow when I motion behind me. 

“Oh- just up the stairs and third room down the hall..on the left.” He smiles, turning back to the cupboard to look through his extensive mug collection. 

I nod to myself, spinning on my heel and making my way up his stairs. I’ve never gone beyond the downstairs of his house before and even then I stuck to the kitchen, dining room and lounge. It felt odd to suddenly have access to something as intimate as his bedroom, I try not to overthink things as I push open the third door I see.

The first thing I see is his large bed, there’s probably enough room for three people on it and there’s definitely enough pillows to go around. The room as a whole is tidy, whether it’s always like that or only organised so precisely for my visit, I don’t know, but the thought makes my stomach flutter. 

I walk up to the side of the bed with no charger on it’s table and set my bag down. We hadn’t talked about the logistics of our...arrangement, but I’d brought the basics to last me through the night. I plug my charger into the wall and take out my wash bag and a set of clothes to sleep in before sliding my bag under the table. I look around for a second. Somehow I hadn’t really thought through the fact that by the end of the night, I’d be in Harry’s bed. With Harry. In a completely platonic way with the only function to soothe our mutually crappy sleeping habits. 

I hear Harry walking up the stairs just as I slip into the un suit to wash up and get changed. He’s humming a song under his breath. The clink of mugs being set down is followed by wardrobe doors opening and closing and a light thud of clothes being thrown on the bed. 

I wait a few minutes to make sure I don’t walk in on him changing. Opening the door tentatively, I step out into the room in a large sweater and pajama shorts. Harry turns to look at me, he’s in the same t-shirt he wore last time and a pair of boxer shorts and the whole situation suddenly seems so amusing. After just one night of falling asleep on the sofa together, not having ever talked before, here we are standing at our most vulnerable about to cuddle in his bed together.

“Hi.” 

“Hey,” He nods, looking down at himself. “Hope this is okay...I don’t want to make you uncomfortable or-” 

“It’s fine,” I reassure him, “I didn’t really know what to wear either.” 

His eyes flicker down my body and he smiles back up at me. He motions to the bed and we both nod a little awkwardly before making our way over to our sides. I climb in and instantly let a small groan out as my body sinks into the mattress, the pillows and duvet feel almost like a cloud as I burrow under and pull my tea up to my lips. 

Harry chuckles from beside me, I peak over the mug to seem him grinning down from where he sits slightly taller in the bed.

“Sorry, you look comfy.” He laughs a little, 

“I am, your bed’s insane.” I set my mug down and turn to him, bouncing slightly to emphasise the quality of his mattress that probably cost more than a year of my rent. “I really should start earning millions, feel like it’d suit me.” 

He returns his tea to the bedside table and copies me, turning to face me with his legs crossed. 

“It definitely would.” He smiles, bouncing a little before I let out a yawn. “Tired?” 

“Exhausted.” I mumble, hand still covering half my face. Harry reaches behind him to turn to switch the lights above his headboard off before pulling the duvet back for us to slip under.

“C’mere,” Without hesitating, I shuffle back slightly until I can feel his chest behind me and an arm come up to rest around my hip. “‘This okay?” 

“Mhmmm,” I hum, “What about our teeth?”

“We’ll brush ‘em in the morning,” I nod, groaning again as all the aches in my body subside as I sink into his arms and the foam mattress. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” I mumble, embarrassed to have let myself go so easily around him. “Your mattress is just unbelievable. Might have to make this a regular thing.” 

I speak before I think, mind clouded with sleep and my eyes already fighting to stay open. 

“That’s the plan, love.” 

. . . . . 

When I wake up, Harry’s arms are tight around my middle and his body’s like a furnace behind me. I vaguely recall pulling my sweater off in the night to cool down as I lay now only in a vest and shorts. I slept better than I have in months though, despite the warm breaths on my neck turning my cheeks flushed. 

The mix of Harry’s company and his safe haven of a mattress made for the perfect night sleep. I push back slightly into his chest and feel his arms tighten around me and a low murmur of his voice in my ear. The clock on my bedside table reads 6:30. It’s a Saturday and I can quite easily imagine spending the rest of my day - weekend even, exactly like this. 

I slip back to sleep for a little awhile before I’m woken up to a low groan behind me. Harry shifts slightly, burying his face in the base of my neck and squeezing around my waist again. He must still be half asleep to be this comfortable with me. 

I’m proven right when it takes another fifteen minutes for him to poke his head up over my shoulder and mumble: 

“Breakfast?” 

. . . . . 

Our routine works smoothly for weeks. After sleeping so well the first few times, it became a given that we’d pile into Harry’s car after every night out with our friends and go back to his. Sometimes we’d get takeout or watch a film, but it wasn’t so rare that we’d just stumble out of his car, or a taxi - depending what the night had entailed, and walk with eyes almost closed straight to bed. 

I stopped bringing things every night about two weeks in when a new toothbrush appeared next to Harrys and an oversized t-shirt of Harrys found its way onto my side of the bed. We also ditched the awkward pleasantries. Spending two or three nights a week in his house, I’d become pretty familiar with it all. I sometimes brought us breakfast if it was a weekend, or left a coffee beside the bed for him if I left for work first, We had very easily slipped into an oddly familiar sense of domesticity. It was strange to never mention any of it to our friends, it made it special though. We helped each other, and it was all just between the two of us. Nobody else knew Harry taught me how to make coffee just the way he likes it, or that we share his lavender shampoo sometimes. 

“Ols?” Harry calls up the stairs to me. We’re running late to Julia and Theos anniversary dinner. 

“Coming!” I yell back, reaching into his wardrobe to snatch a jacket before running down the stares. 

“Oi! Slow down love, you’re gonna fall,” He complains, holding his hands out at the bottom of the stairs to catch me as I skid a little on the wooden floors of his hallway. “Hey! This’s mine!” 

He tugs playfully on the opening of his jacket. I pull the fabric from his grasp and smile up at him. 

“Not anymore…” He scrunches his nose up and pulls me towards him. The sudden movement pushed the air from my lungs suddenly. “-Fine! Just for tonight...nobody’ll notice anyway, you only just got his one.” 

He shakes his head, bringing his fingers up to tickles across my stomach quickly before letting me go and clapping his hands. 

“Shoes now!” He points down at my sock clad feet, “Come on we’re late already.” 

I sling my bag over my shoulder and slip my boots on before trailing after him to the front door. He’s pulled his large green coat off the hangar before he’s looking back down at me, brows pulled together in confusion. 

“What’ve got yeh bag for?” 

“Ah see Harry, I tend not to leave my stuff places I don’t actually live.” I laugh.

“You’re not coming back tonight?” The confusion’s not joined by a hint of sadness as his hands fall from the door knob and he turns to face front on. 

“Oh I..hadn’t thought ‘bout that. I’ve gotta water my plants.” I haven't been home in two days, I spent the whole day at Blondies yesterday then headed to Harry's after a few drinks with him and Nick. We’ve hung out around his house all day, sleeping in and finishing our last few bits of work for the week. “I can let them go a little dry I guess-” 

“Can I come to yours?” Harry cuts me off to ask. “It’s just, I haven’t ever seen it..and that way your plant’ll be fine.” 

I stay quiet for a second. Our world of sleepovers and movie marathons and home made curries for dinner existed within his house. My flat was small in comparisons to the homes of our friends, who were all, delicately put, pretty well off. Not that I wasn’t, I’d just gone into a lower paying area of my industry. I lived alone anyway so there wasn’t much point paying thousands in rent when I didn’t need much space. 

“It’s fine it you want a night to yourself I can just-” 

“It’s not that, H, I just didn't really think about how we only ever come here.” I mumble the last part, “Come back to mine, I don’t feel like going back on my own anyways.” 

I smile a little, unsure of where we stand on the whole admitting we’d grown pretty dependent on each other’s presence, front. He smiles back, twisting the door open and holding it for me as I slip under his arm. 

The car clicks unlocked and I settle into my seat. I reach over to push my seat belt in as Harry pulls his door shut and the car rumbles to a start. 

“Can’t believe Jules and T have been together so long.” He sighs as we pull out onto the main road. 

“Tell me about it,” I gaze out the window as rain dribbles lightly. “Feels like the year just went straight by.”

“They seem so happy still, like they’re still honeymooning,” Harry hums. 

“I remember when they just started going out in Uni, even then it was obvious they’d end up together.” 

“I like those kinds of people. The ones who make each other just completely themselves, ya know?” He glances over at me before turning back to the road. 

“Yeah...they’re proper soulmates aren’t they.” 

. . . . . 

“Okay but seriously, what the fuck is up with you and Harry?” Eleanor bursts out as soon as we reach the bar. We’ve been sent off to get the third round whilst the others stayed at our favourite booth of the pub we frequented. 

“Wait what?” I yell over the loud chatter of the pub, “What do you mean?” 

“You know what I mean!” She’s still waving her hand out for the bartender when she glances down at me again. “You’re tryna say you’re suddenly so close and nothing’s happened between you?�� 

“We’re not that close.” I quip, “We’ve just talked a bit more lately, I guess.”

“And nothing’s happened?”  She raised a brow at me suspiciously. “You guys have left together every night for the past few weeks, just admit you have feelings for each other.” 

“No, nothing’s happened.” I sigh, unsure if I sound convincing or not. “We just live close and it’s too cold now to get the tube back so late, he’s just being nice. You know Harry...he’s like that with everyone.” 

Eleanor laughs a little, shaking her head. She places our order with the bartender when he makes his way to our side of the bar before turning back to me with her arms crossed. 

“He’s nice to everyone, but he’s not just being nice to you.” She smirks, “And he usually doesn't give just anybody his clothes.” 

She reaches out and rubs the fabric of my - Harrys - jacket between her thumb and forefinger. She looks up and quirks her brows up a little again. Before I can splutter out an explanation our drinks are being laid out on the counter beside us and Eleanor is pointing to the ones for me to carry and turning back to our booth. 

A surge of anxiety washes over me as I follow Eleanor back to the group. My breaths feel unsteady and I can’t help but dart my eyes to get a quick glance at Harry to see if he’s experiencing the same kind of interrogation. He seems fine though, laughing at something Nicks said. 

Soon we’re at the booth, slipping back into our seats and setting the drinks out in front of everyone. Harry’s eyes hover on me for a few seconds, brows raised a little in question. I smile and shake my head - everything’s fine. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor glances between us throughout the whole night. Especially not when a different two get up for the next round and Harry and I are pushed next to each other when they climb back into the available seats. Harry seems a little suspicious too. He clearly hasn’t noticed Eleanor’s strange behaviour - or doesn’t care - because he’s kept gazing down at me every now and then since we came back with drinks hours ago. When I stop looking up at him, nervous Eleanor might question me about his constant and slightly nervous glances when we’re alone, he reaches his hand under the tables and pulls mine into his lap. He squeezes our hands every now and then. He’s always a touchy, cuddly drunk. Normally it’s a bit more obvious; he’ll wrap his arms around one of us on the dance floor or lap his head on a shoulder, nothing too intimate. Just friendly. But now he’s stroking his thumb over my knuckles and tapping out the beat of the current song playing with his foot, his knee bumping mine. 

Julia and Theo are the first to go. Relief settles in me at the idea of not being the first two to leave for once. There’s no way Eleanor wouldn't’ve have noticed me and Harry sneaking the other a glance like we usually do to signal we’re ready to go, without some kind of distraction. 

“It was so lovely guys, feels like we haven’t just sat down and talked in so long!” Julia smiles, leaning into Theos side tiredly as they say their goodbyes. 

“I think I’m gonna head off too, it’s getting pretty late,” I smile, waiting for Harry to speak when Theo pipes up before him. 

“Livs, you want a lift?” Theo looks down at me. 

“Oh Olivia, that’s a good idea, you were just saying how it’s too cold for the tube.” Eleanor beams, smiling cheekily as she knows I’m the only one who’ll understand her subtle teasing. 

“Oh I-” I stutter before Harry’s squeezing my hand again and looks up at Theo. 

“I was actually gonna take her home, we’re only 10 minutes apart so it’s just easier.” He smiles politely, if I couldn’t feel his foot hooking over mine I’d believe he was just being nice and helping out a friend. 

“Yeah but you’re gonna stay a little while aren’t you?” Julia countered, “We’re pretty close, it’s fine really.” 

I nod, motioning to slide out of the booth. Harry lets me by, dropping my hand before anyone else could see. Julia, Theo and I say goodbye quickly and head out to the car park. As soon as we’re all strapped into their car, I pull out my phone and click Harry’s contact. 

Me 

Meet me at mine x

Harry 

Okay - what was that about? 

Me 

I’ll explain when u get here, just something w Eleanor

U might have been right about the jacket :/ 

Theo pulls up outside my flat and I jump out the car, thanking them quickly and waving them off. I climb the stairs of my building and click the keys in my door, pushing it open and kicking my shoes off the second I get in. After a fifteen minute frantic clean, the place is looking slightly better. There’s no time to perfect it as I hear my phone buzzing on the counter, a dorky photo of Harry in one of his infamous sweaters all sprawled out on the sofa and sticking his tongue out at me flashes the screen. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, I’m just outside,” He talks softly, “What number are you?” 

“24, wait a sec and I’ll buzz you up.” 

I tread quickly to the button by my front door and let him up, hearing a quiet thanks over the phone and a “See you in a sec”  before the line goes dead. 

A minute later there’s a quiet knock at my door. I open it and see Harry, he looks a little more tired than when I left him forty minutes ago, he rubs his knuckles under his eyes and sighs softly. 

“Hey, come in.” I pull the door a little wider, stepping aside to let him inside. He walks past me, eyes watching the floor whilst I lock the up behind us and turn to face him. There's an awkward tension in the air that I haven’t experienced with Harry before, maybe a little that first night when I walked in on him in his kitchen, but nothing like this since we’ve gotten closer.  

“What happened?” He asks quietly, lifting his head with an uncertain look on his face.”You barely even looked at me. 

“I..” I stumble over what to say, I’ve been thinking I could just explain what Eleanor had said and have it done with but now I know we’re not going to be able to just leave this. If somebody’s going to find out about our arrangement then something would have to change. “Ellie thinks there’s something going on with us and she kept staring all night. I just, I couldn’t give her anything to be suspicious about.” 

“S’that what you mean about the jacket?” I nod, “What did she say?” 

“Just that we seemed closer, talk more I guess.” I sigh, “She didn’t believe anything I said.” 

“What did you say?” He presses. His tone is unclear, he seems less hurt now and more focussed on getting answers from me. 

“I just, I told her nothing’s happened.” I mumble, “She asked about us leaving together and I told her it was just because we lived close and it’s easier than the tube.” 

Harry bobs his head a little, taking in what I’ve just told him before laughing a little. He shakes his head and brings his palms up to his face, cursing under his breath. We stand in the quiet of my hallway before he speaks up again.

“Can we still do this?” That catches me off guard. Of course I knew we’d have to stop sometime when one of us started dating or a friend found out, I just hadn’t thought seriously about it happening anytime soon. “If she does find out, would that be the worst thing in the world?”

I shake my head, taking a step towards him to close the gap between us that’d been building my nerves throughout this whole exchange. 

“I don’t wanna stop hanging out.” I confess. Harry quirks his lips up a little, obviously relieved as he pulls me to his chest. He wraps his arms around my shoulders and rests his chin on my head as we breathe together for a moment. All the while we’ve been spending nights at his, there’s been no serious moments like this. We’ve opened up about vulnerable subjects and confessed more than we probably should have to each other, but never anything like this. There’d never been a  time I thought I could lose him. 

“What if something did happen.” He whispers into my hair. 

“Like what?” I murmur, voice a little muffled by his jacket. 

“Like..” He trails off a little and I’m pretty sure I hear him inhale a little and smell my hair. “Like what if I kissed you..or something.” 

“Or something?” My chest tightens, stomach fluttering suddenly. 

“Mmhhhmm,” He hums, “What would happen then?” 

“Eleanor would have a field day.” 

Harry laughs, shoulders shaking a little as he giggles above me. He loosens his grip on my and pushes away to create a little space to see me again. 

“Oh yeah?” He teases. 

“Uh huh,” I smile, “She’d never let us forget it if she knew she was right.” 

“And what would she be right about?” Harry lifts his hand to cup my face, tilting it slightly to make sure I’m staring right up at him. 

“..Something..happening.” I whisper, “Having feelings for eachother.” 

Harry grins, cheeks a soft rosy between the outside cold and the new blush. He strokes the pad of his thumb against my cheek and beams down at me. 

“Oh yeah?” 

“Uh huh…” 

“Really..she’d be right about that?” 

“I’m pretty sure-” 

Before I can tease anymore, Harry’s leaning down to press his lips against mine. I inhale sharply, closing my eyes and looping my arms around the back of his neck to hold us in place. His hand still holds my face firmly, thumb fluttering over my cheek a couple times before he pulls away and we both breathe in deep. 

“She’s definitely right.” He smiles, tone turning serious for a moment. “I really like you Olivia.” 

Butterflies surge through my stomach for the millionth time since he walked through my door. Blushing and happy, I tighten my arms and push my face back into his shoulder. 

“I like you too H….just a little bit.” 

“We don’t have to tell anyone, just want this to be ours for a little while.” I can hear the smile in his voice as he leans back down to whisper into my ear. 

“I want this to be ours forever.” I hum, words quiet and part of me hoping he doesn't hear my honest confession. 

A comforting quiet settles over us. I remember how tired I really am as I melt further into Harry’s body, breathing in the sweet cinnamon and vanilla scent. His breathing lulls me half to sleep as I let my eyes flutter shut and bury my head further into his neck. I feel him lifting me up as my body relaxes against his and I catch his last few words before I he’s shifting me into his arms and walking us up the stairs. 

“I could hold you ‘n listen to your voice all night long, love.” 

. . . . .    

“Oh my god!” Julia yells out, unravelling a long shawl from pristine white tissue paper. “Okay whoever got me, thank you so much!” 

She continues to squeal a little as he wraps it over her shoulders and presses the end to her nose, inhaling the lavender scent of her favourite designer brand. 

I’d only spent one Christmas with the whole group before but it was clear secret Santa was a bit of a tradition. Between the six of us we all had other friends, family and mostly, relationships. Organising a secret santa within our group just relieved some of the stress of present buying - and it was fun. 

We’re all sitting around Harry’s living room, it felt the homiest  to us after all. The kiddy advent calendar I bought for him hung by the fireplace reading December 21st. We’ve all finished our egg nogs, meaning it was officially present time. Over the next few days we’ll all be driving up and down the country to visit family, meaning today’s the last day most of us will be seeing each other. Harry had whined about me leaving, begging me to stay another day with him or better yet - spend christmas with his family up north. 

It was when I told him my own parents were spending the holidays visiting my sister and her kids in New York that his campaign started. We kissed almost three months ago now and have been on a slew of dates since. Between all the secret dinners out, brunches and farmers market trips, we haven’t found time for the talk. We had no official title. I’ve heard Harry refer to me as “m’girl” a couple times when I’ve wandered into the kitchen and overheard him on the phone to mitch, but nothing he’s told me himself. Despite this, he still insists I have to come and spend christmas with him and his close family. The idea of me hanging out with my young cousins and distant relatives apparently doesn’t satisfy him. 

“Are you serious!” Eleanor gasps as she unwraps her own present. Everyone had picked the perfect gifts for each other this year. In a pure coincidence, I ended up with Harry’s name after Nick made me trade because he’d already bought Julia’s present for her. I’ve been nervous about it all evening, I was sure he’d like it, a little too sure. That was the problem. One night, wrapped up in Harry’s bed, he’d recalled his latest tragedy to me: He’d taken shroom with Mitch on his last trip to LA and subsequently decided to skinny dip in the sea, losing his favourite mustard cords in the process. The only times we’ve seen everyone else has been with the both of us present and , to my knowledge, he hasn’t mentioned this to anyone else. The brown paper package that sat on the coffee table could invite a few more questions that I was prepared to answer. 

“Harry, you’re next!” Ellie grinned, hugging her present to her chest. 

Thanks to our early secrecy, there’s been no opportunity to tell our friends we were dating. Eleanor hasn’t stopped her constant questioning but we’ve kept up a pretty good front of excuses. It was still freezing out so it made sense for us both to climb into his car together at the end of the night. Nobody had to know we would be going home to the same house where we’d climb into the same heavenly bed and scramble eggs together in the morning. 

“I’m going, I’m going!” Harry laughs as Ellie tries to hurry him up, playing perfectly into her role as the youngest in our group. 

He pulls the first fold of paper back with his ringed fingers and immediately looks up at me as the mustard fabric shines up at him. He grins wide, beaming back at me before pulling the rest of the paper back and laying the trousers out in front of him. 

“No babe...where did you find them?” He’s running his fingers down the cord, in awe to have his favorite trousers back - or at least a copy. 

I don’t miss how Eleanor and Nick’s heads turn to share a look of shock as the pet name tumbles out. Before I can put anything together, Harry’s standing and leaning over the coffee table. He wraps his arms around my shoulders, pulling me into a hug and whispering his thanks in my ear. 

“Wait I dont - how did you know it was h-” Julia pipes up, before she can finish she’s cut off by the joint gasps of Nick and Ellie as Harry plants a wet kiss to my cheek - then my lips, and laughs at our friends reaction. 

“I knew it!” Ellie yells, pointing frantically between the two of us, Harry now having stepped over the table and come to sit next to me, pulling me into his side.

“What was-” Julia stammers, “Since when!” 

Harry’s eyes flutter down to my face. He giggles quietly when he catches on to my glare. This wasn’t exactly how I’d imagined the evening going. 

“Have you just been lying to my face for the past three months?” Ellie asks, crossing her arms over her chest and pouting her lips. 

“Five,” Harry mumbles, almost just as an inside joke for the both of us to enjoy. I slap my hand against his shoulder to shut him up but the damage is already done. 

“Five months!” Even Theo’s joining in now. “How didn’t we know?” 

“It didn’t start out like this honestly, we would’ve told you.” I try and explain, eager for this to quiet down so we could get to the roast dinner waiting for us in the oven. 

“How did it start?” Nick pokes, drawing Julia and Ellie’s attention as the same puzzled expressions adorn their faces. 

“Unimportant,” Harry brushes off, standing up to tower over us all and reaching a hand back for my own. “We better get dinner, we wouldn't want burnt potatoes.” 

Harry pulls on my arm gently, leading me out the room before anyone can object. 

In the kitchen, he picks up a tea towel and starts to check on the food, prodding at the parsnips. I roll my eyes as he ties his lavender apron around his waist and tentatively pulls the potato tray from the oven. 

“Harry..” I sigh, trying not to laugh as he turn to face me, spatula in hand. 

“Yes dear?”  

“What was that?” 

“Oh - You’ve gotta shimmy a little spatula under the potatoes or they’ll break apart-” 

“No, obviously not that,” He makes it so hard so stay stern, a giggle leaks out as he lifts a hand to rest on his hip. “Why did you do that?” 

“I want them to know.” drops his utensils, tone sincere as he takes another step towards me. “I want our friends to know how much I love you already, and you remember about my mustard cords so..it felt like the perfect time.” 

“What?” I stutter, looking up at him from where he’s pulled me into his chest. His hands rest on my waist, rings a little hold against my exposed skin. 

“You remembered the trousers I lost last month in LA -”

“You love me?” 

His eyes go a little wide, a smile peaking through as the sides of his mouth quirk upwards. Realising what he just said, he lifts a hand from my waist to rest it against my face and lean down a little. 

“Of course I love you.” He whispers, his voice a little croaky and I can see tiny droplets gathering in his eyes that make my heart flutter. 

“Love you too..” I mumble. I wipe a thumb over his cheek before pulling him down into a kiss. I feel his smile against my own, and everything’s perfect for just a second. 

“So you’ll come to Christmas with me?” 

. . . . .

Hiii I hate the ending :)

Tysm for reading !! pls leave a like or reblog (it rlly helps <3) if you enjoyed it x

#Harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #stellarboystyles3years #“I could just hold you and listen to your voice all night long.” #dani's masterlist #dani's writing #fan fic #harry styles #nick grimshaw #reader #idk #what do u even put in tags #christmas vibes? #friends to lovers

[sunflowerim]

I LOVE YOU 3000!

-PART 11

Tuesday, 12:30P.M. BBC Recording Studio.

Louis had to basically drag himself to the studio. He tried to talk to Nick about switching him but it was of no avail. He just had to do it.

Harry would be here soon. Thankfully the show was gonna be pre-recorded. So, if he said something mean to Harry "accidentally", the world wouldn't know. Maybe the studio will, but who cares about that.

After a few minutes, Louis watched as Nick suddenly stood up and reached the glass door to greet someone. Probably Harry Styles.

Louis sighed. He couldn't really remember how Harry Styles looked. He hadn't paid much attention to the tweets concerning him and from the distance, he could just make out a tall figure who was shaking hands with everyone and speaking in a slow drawl.

He took deep breaths and braced himself for the worst. He watched as the tall figure slowly made his way towards him and suddenly Louis forgot to breathe.

Harry Styles was gorgeous with a capital G.

No. Fuck. No. Don't think about him like that. You're supposed to hate him. Louis chastised himself, all the while politely smiling at Harry and gesturing him towards a seat in front of him. This was gonna be a long interview.

Harry smiled softly at him and Louis released a breath he didn't realise he was holding.

"Hi, I'm Harry Styles", Harry said in his syrupy drawl as he extended his hand for Louis to shake.

And God Louis might just melt. No.

"Hi, I'm Louis Tomlinson", he managed to say in what he felt like was a confident voice.

"Nice to meet you".

Wish I could say the same. Louis bit back his tongue to stop himself from saying those words out loud. Instead he settled for, "shall we begin?"

Harry nodded and the crew around him started immediately.

"Hello and welcome to Tommo Tuesdays! I'm Louis Tomlinson and today we have among us, none other than Mr. Harry Styles!"

Ugh. He should have used nice adjectives.

Or maybe he did fine.

"So Harry, you've been nominated in the category of Academy Award for Best Actor for your movie 'My Policeman'. How do you feel about it?"

"Uhmm.. I'm really excited about it. I mean... I was already overwhelmed by the audience reaction to the movie and I couldn't believe when I got nominated. Everyone had worked so hard on the movie and I'm really proud of it".

"That's good to know. And how did your friends and family react to it. I mean we saw a lot of fan reactions, screaming and crying on social media. What about your personal life?"

"Haha my best friend bought a hundred pizzas to celebrate and it was just the two of us."

"No way."

"Yes!! And I guess you know him too. Niall Horan."

"Oh Niall!! Then I have no difficulty in believing that the two of you finished hundred pizzas haha.

So how do you balance your work life and personal life. I'm sure there must be a lot of pressure on you right now."

"Yes. I mean ofcourse there's gonna be pressure in every field. I'm sure you have your bad days too when you don't wanna come to the studio but you have to anyway because it's your job and you enjoy it very much. In the same way, the fans' reaction to my work, my family's pride in me and the satisfaction I get from working is just worth all the pressure".

Louis fidgeted in his seat. He'd lost Harry the moment he started talking about Louis not wanting to come to the studio and was just staring at him. Harry staring back at him jolted him back to reality. Yes. Interview. Focus Louis focus. Harry was just generalizing. He doesn't really know that you didn't wanna interview him.

"You're right. Now let's move on to the next segment shall we? The fans have a lot of question for you Mr. Styles. We selected a bunch of questions and I guess the fans would be really happy if you answered them"

"Sure. Ask away."

Louis stopped himself from fonding as he watched Harry say the last sentence while waving his hand in the air with a sweeping gesture. This is no time.

"So, Harry, , the fans want to know who your celebrity crush is."

"Ummm.. Jennifer Aniston."

"Ohh that's a good one, I love her."

"Who's yours? Is it me? Should I blush?"

And what the fuck. Was Harry flirting with him? No that couldn't be. Wasn't he straight?

He ignored the smirk playing on Harry's lips and tried to form a coherent sentence.

"Haha, sorry to burst your bubble but no. I have my heart set on David Beckham."

At that, Harry scrunched his nose and God help Louis.

"Proceeding to the next question. What's your favourite colour?"

"Your eyes."

"Excuse me?"

"You asked what my favourite colour is, so yeah. Your eyes."

If Louis wasn't sure before, he was now. This was blatant flirting.

Louis could feel his cheeks burning and he hoped it wasn't visible to anyone watching him. "Hah, I do have nice eyes. Thank you."

Harry smiled and Louis continued.

"What's your favourite Marvel movie and who's your favourite Marvel character?"

"Ummmm lemme think", Harry said and stroked his imaginary beard. "My favourite character would be Black Widow and favourite movie is Captain America: Civil War."

"Cool choices. On that note, tell us a bit about the upcoming movie."

"I think the trailer pretty much speaks for itself. The rest you have to find out in the theatres."

"Okay. We can be patient. So which actor are you dying to work with?"

"I think I'd like to work with Timothee Chalamet. His work in 'Call Me By Your Name' was exceptional."

"Yes, yes I did watch the movie. Amazing lad. Kay, next question-"

Louis didn't mean to but he started laughing. "So they wanna know what time you go to bed."

Harry joined in his laughter, saying "I'm sure they wanna know this so that they don't miss out stuff when I'm awake and they're asleep."

"I'm aware. You're infamous for dropping stuff when the fans are asleep." False. He wasn't aware. Nick had informed.

"Hahaha it's fun. But for real, I usually go to sleep at around 11, but my sleep time is never fixed during shoots."

"Do you read fanfictions?" Louis asked with a sly smile.

"I don't. I mean I tried, but I don't like how most writers portray me. Like I'm some womanizer, when I'm not."

At that, Louis' smile faltered. Because the Harry Styles he'd heard of was one. So many articles, so many pictures, it couldn't be all false.

"Well, maybe they're taking inspiration from all the articles about you. They're quite the deal breaker you know."

He expected Harry to snap at him but Harry just smiled. Which was somehow worse. "I can't go around telling people what they should think about me. So I've let it be."

Oh.

"Proceeding wi--"

"I have a question", Harry interrupted with a smile. The previous tension seemed to have left his body.

"Yes?"

"Do YOU write fanfictions?"

Louis could feel the air drain out of his lungs.

"NO, I don't have the time or talent for that", Louis replied as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"Aww so you've never written something about me I could read?"

Harry Styles needs to stop.

"Haha no, but if I ever come across good stories about you, I'll make sure to forward."

"I'd appreciate that."

Louis refused to think about how Harry's lips quirked upwards as he said it.

"Back to my questions, would you ever date a fan? Can they keep their hopes up?"

"I wouldn't necessarily date someone just because they're a fan you know but I won't mind if I started liking someone and they turned out to be a fan or someone who really likes my movies."

"That's good."

"I'm currently single by the way."

What the hell. Why would Louis need that information. He needs to talk to Zayn right fucking now. There's no way on earth the person sitting in front of him was straight.

"Good to know." And with that Louis shot him a winning smile. Two can play at this game.

"Would you ever date a celebrity Louis?"

Louis wanted to punch a wall.

"I would maybe, if they managed to sweep me off my feet haha."

"Good to know."

Louis had to finish the interview as soon as possible.

"Moving on, to the next question-", Louis paused. Do you like milk? Who asks that. Louis was gonna kill Nick for handing him these questions.

Louis quickly changed the question card, and went to see the next question. If anyone noticed, he didn't care.

"What fruit do you associate yourself with?

"I think avocados."

"What?"

"They're cute."

"Fucking avocados man. Sorry. Just bleep it out Nick."

"You don't like them?"

"Hate them."

"Oh, I think peaches are great too", Harry said with a smirk.

And no. Louis was gonna ignore the obvious innuendo behind Harry's answers. He'd had enough for one day.

"And that's all the fan questions for today. We hope you had a good time here."

"I sure did." The smirk was still there.

"Yeah, so would you like to tell your fans anything before you leave?"

"I'd just like to say that I love you all and I'm thankful to every single one of you who took time to watch my movie and pushed it to the top. I do hope you like the upcoming movie too. Thank you!"

Nick stepped in after that to talk to Harry and Louis took the chance to grab his stuff and leave. He couldn't risk staying longer.

PREVIOUS / NEXT

INTRO

#i love you 3000 #larry stylinson #louis tomlinson #harry styles #liam payne #zayn malik #niall horan #taylor swift #marvel #mcu #larry #ziam #lilo #zouis #lirry #narry #zarry #nouis #niam #ziall #social media au #smau #halo stylinson #louis styles #harry tomlinson

[fountainpenguin]

It’s an Update

Hello, Riddle here! I know I’ve been pretty quiet on Tumblr lately. Here’s an update on my situation:

I will definitely post more fanfic updates soon. I’ve picked at drafts, but haven’t posted anything lately. Here are the reasons why:

I got a new IRL job. It’s a good fit for me, but I have less free time than I used to, of course. It’s a job that involves writing lots of articles on a variety of topics, and I enjoy how every day is a little different

Most of my free time for the last year has gone towards my mod work at the Creature-Crossing ARPG, and to my personal CC writing. I’ve been working on new activities over there (my recent favorite being our seasonal familiar shows... I won first place in the summer show!) and I have a lot of plot plans that are coming together now. If you ever want to see my original characters and read my CC writing, you can find my character directory HERE and my Table of Contents HERE.

Once November 1st hits, I won’t be preparing for the release of any more CC activities or events. All future activity or event releases will be overseen by the other mods, and I’ll simply be someone they can ask for extra help if needed. This is a big change for a mod who spent the last 12 months working on new releases, and will give me back some of the free time my IRL job will eat

The Creature-Crossing admin (my boss) greenlit my request to bring an assistant on the mod team who will specifically help me with a lot of my behind-the-scenes work, such as data entry and organization. I’ve never had another mod who specifically helps me with the back end duties before, so that will be awesome. I will need to spend some time training them, but once they are official, that will take some of my workload off and allow me more free time for this blog and personal writing time.

===

Fanfic updates you can expect to see soon:

- Reedfilter Rules

- Frayed Knots

- Origin of the Pixies

- Debut of Factor It In, my Kid Math-centric “WordGirl” fanfic (Subtitled “Tales of a third-grade superhero in training”)... Yes I am still in love with this idiot boy, expect lots of doodle pages soon

- The 130 Prompts project is on a slow-burn writing schedule... I’ll write for it when I want to, but I mostly want to focus on Origin and Knots this year.

Further info below the cut. There is more info about non-Fairly OddParents ‘fics in here too (under “non-FOP fanfics”), so if you’re looking forward to Mario World or “WordGirl” ‘fics from me, give this a click so you know what’s coming!

So, what does this update mean for your fanfics?

They’ll be active again soon! I’ve been picking at them behind the scenes, trying to build up a buffer. In an ideal world, I would love to release a new chapter for SOMETHING every Friday. I doubt this will be possible, but it’s something I would love to work towards in the future. Realistically, you can probably expect some kind of fanfic update once every two Fridays (two updates per month).

There might be some Fridays where posting an update is not possible. Instead, I’ll make a post about what progress I made instead. In the past, I often overworked myself to get a chapter out in time for my old deadline. I will not be doing that anymore, but will instead hold myself to a goal of “Make progress on something every week.”

In the best ideal world, I would love to post one FOP fanfic update per week and one non-FOP fanfic update per week. This is not likely to happen for a long, long time, but that would be the dream.

-

Here are the things I most likely worked on if there is no fanfic update:

- A fanfic chapter draft that needs more time

- A sideblog profile

- A Toyhouse profile for personal characters

- IRL work or mod work may have kept me busy this week

- Creature-Crossing writing... I will try to prioritize my fanfics more, but my CC writing is still important to me and I will be working on it in a lot of my free time too. At the moment, I have a hard deadline of December 14th that I need to meet if I want to release huge plot drama on the day that it happens in canon. I’ve been building up to this for a long time, so I’m really excited about that.

I currently have summer or autumn 2022 planned as the “finale” for the majority of my plot to explode. I will be hosting a member-run event in Creature-Crossing that will last for two months, so a lot of my time from January until the event’s release will be spent doing event prep. Once the event ends, my story content will mostly be a “return to slice of life.” Stories will be more casual one-offs as characters grow, live their lives, and start their own families. Hitting seasonal deadlines for plot will no longer be so important. I’ll be giving Creature-Crossing work less attention after that, and much more attention to my fanfics.

- I may not have a fanfic chapter out each week, but I WILL post a note every Friday to let you know what I have been doing with my time. You’ll see me around. Feel free to send Asks and talk!

===

What non-FOP fanfics would you like to work on?

For literal years, I’ve been claiming I want to post Mario World fanfics. This is still something I want to do. I tag Mario World posts as “mushrooms and more.” I’ve already done a lot of worldbuilding, I have thousands of words of content written for this fandom... I just haven’t posted any of it. I hope to do this soon.

- “WordGirl” fanfics are prioritized over Mario World fanfics. After I finish my first “WordGirl” multi-chapter, I will probably be ready to post my Mario World ‘fics. I may possibly post some Mario World one-shots in between other fanfic updates. Might take another year or more before I touch Mario stuff unless there’s high interest in seeing it sooner?

I also really want to write some WordGirl ‘fics and get more involved with the fandom community. I’ve been building headcanons and lore for this show ever since I was a kid, and I have multiple ‘fics for this fandom that I want to write.

- “AlgoRhythm” is a ‘fic I have already posted on FFN and AO3, about WordGirl introducing Kid Math to the villains in town

- 28 Cities is a ‘fic I started about Rhyme and Reason before they arrived in Fair City. I put it on hiatus since it didn’t seem like anyone was interested, but I’m willing to post more for it if there is interest in it now that years have passed and I’ve gotten more followers who like WordGirl. I have a lot of worldbuilding and plot I never shared for it

- Factor It In is a ‘fic I’ve been working for a while that parallels the official show from the moment Kid Math arrives in town. It focuses on Rex’s struggle to adjust to this world as a child coming into his superpowers for the first time (Y’know, the whole “superheroes don’t have powers when they’re on their home planets” thing), his struggle to adapt to the social world of a non-logical planet, and Becky’s struggle to help him become accustomed to Earth and learn to share it with her as well. If the episode “Kid Math” was a full-length novel about Rex’s arrival and character development, that’s what this story is. This is the highest priority of all my non-FOP ‘fics... I’ve had a cover image made for 6 months and even though I tried setting it aside, I’ve always been super inspired to write for it. If I felt like it would be a good idea to commit to weekly updates alongside my FOP updates, I would, haha.

- I have two one-shot WIPs called “Squishy Feelings” and “A Little Ambiguity”, one of them focusing on Becky and Rex talking about the events of “Rhyme and Reason” and what it means for Rex’s secret identity, and the latter being a future ‘fic showing WordGirl and Kid Math dealing with life 10 to 15 years down the road. I’ll probably post the latter, not sure yet on the former.

- If desired, I may make a WordGirl specific sideblog where I post lore, answer Asks, post character profiles [smaller than my FOP sideblog ones], and mention fanfic updates. If you would be interested in this, feel free to send me an Ask requesting I do this. If there’s not interest, I’ll just keep my WordGirl stuff on the main blog.

- I’d like to get more involved in the WordGirl community, so I’ll probably post more content and reblog more art and headcanons

I also have a handful of miscellaneous ideas I might follow through with. I’d like to write at least one “TUFF Puppy” fanfic so I can say I did. In a perfect world I would like to finish the two “Danny Phantom” and “Bunsen Is a Beast” fanfics I started because... I just kind of want to dip my toe in each of the Hartman shows once since I already went through all the effort of worldbuilding for them to make them canon in a single Hartman show universe. “ChalkZone” is another show I adore and might touch someday (You may recall I have a full outline planned for an FOP/ChalkZone crossover ‘fic called “Dust to Dust”).

Will I write all of these things? Maybe not. I have no idea if I want to spend the next 10+ years writing fanfics, or if I’ll simply be done with all misc. fanfics immediately once I decide to be done with my main ‘fics. I definitely intend to write for a few more years and finish my main ‘fics, but I might not go through with some less popular side ‘fics if life is getting busy for me.

===

What is the posting schedule for FOP ‘fics?

Reedfilter Rules, Frayed Knots, Origin of the Pixies, the 130 Prompts project, and “Come What May” are all high priority FOP writings. I will swap between them depending on my mood that week.

Here are some other ‘fics I want to work on.

- If you like, you can send me Asks requesting I work on a specific story above the rest. I will try to prioritize whichever stories interest you guys most.

Snips and Snails is a ‘fic I started and posted the first chapter for years ago. I’m not sure when I will get back to it, as I ran into some writer’s block. It’s still on tentative hiatus for now..... Possibly forever, though I hope it isn’t forever since it’s only supposed to be, like, five more chapters.

Pink and Gray is on official hiatus. I actually have a lot written for it, but I know it’s a little weird to put so much time and energy into Gary and Betty content when... well, let’s be honest: they’re my niche favorites and most of you probably don’t care. So, I am lifting my usual “no spoilers” policy from my Ask Box. If you would like to ask about my Gary and Betty backstory headcanons, feel free. I will tag my replies as “ridwriting spoilers” for anyone who wants to blacklist the tag, and spoilers will be hidden under a Read More line. 

I’d like to return to this story someday because there are tons of things I like about it (ranging from Betty’s secret tattoos to Gary’s plot drama with his mom to the background drama between Talon and Anti-Cosmo, but I always feel immense pressure to make it extra cool to make up for the fact these are weird side characters, so... it’s officially at the bottom of the priority pile. Once Talon shows up in Frayed Knots and readers understand who he is and why he exists, I’ll consider coming back to it.

Identity Theft is a story about Foop and his time in the alternate dimension he was flung into following the episode “Playdate of Doom.” To put it short, Foop was abused by alternate versions of his parents in this dimension and he witnessed some pretty intense stuff, including the death of the alt version of himself who existed in that reality. The trauma he experienced resulted in his alternate personality, Hiccup. Foop himself has very few memories of what happened, as Hiccup has all of those memories. This story is canon in my works, and it is regularly referred to during the 130 Prompts as part of Foop’s backstory. It’s my highest priority side story to work on.

Along the Cherry Lane is a 20-chapter work focusing on the lives of the main human cast from age 11 to age 30, with one chapter showing a snippet of their lives each year. You see Timmy raising Tommy and Tammy in this ‘fic, and it ends with them receiving godparents. Since the 130 Prompts don’t give humans much attention, this ‘fic does. You’ll probably see it debut two years from now, closer to when the 130 Prompts is ready to talk more about humans.

If this becomes a popular ‘fic of mine, I’ll probably write a sequel or continue it past Chapter 30 and write about Tammy and Tommy living with fairies, but I won’t if there’s no interest in that.

Little Imperfections is a Pixie AU ‘fic of mine about what life would be like in a universe where the Fairies are even more like insects than I play them as during my main works (where I already play them as semi-similar to insects). In this world, the Head Pixie is a figurehead whose duty is to reproduce for the sake of the colony and do nothing else, and he’s bored out of his mind until he befriends Sanderson, who introduces him to music. It’s extremely self-indulgent and silly because I like Pixies.

Francis is a multi-chapter ‘fic about bully Francis’s life getting yet another fairy godparent in a long string of memory wipes and godparents. It takes place during the canon series, and when you see an “orange fairy” mentioned in some of my writings, it’s usually referring to this fairy. His name is Rover and I occasionally post art of him. I feel like I can’t truly call myself an FOP fanfic writer until I actually write about a godkid and their godparents, haha...

Hawthorn Haven is a side ‘fic that will be posted towards the end of the 130 Prompts, as it veers off from the prompts in its own self-contained multi-chapter story. It will be approximately the length of “Baby, You’re a Rich Man.”

Acacia Arcadia is a far-past ‘fic detailing the fall of the ancient fae, the imprisonment of the nature spirits, the rise and fall of the chimera nation, the fall of the Martian genies, and the early days of the cloudlands. This is close to the bottom of the priority pile... It’s something I spend time on for personal reference to ensure accuracy in my other ‘fics, but it’s probably not what you guys came here to read.

AA has a bunch of characters in it that you might vaguely recognize, such as Ezekiel Whimsifinado, Evadne, Ione, Two Feathers, Rho, and Sablewood (If you’re astute, you might recall cloudland legends and landmarks in modern day that refer back to these characters). There are also a lot of characters who were reincarnated as Anti-Fairies, in accordance to traditional Anti-Fairy beliefs; Foop for example exists as a main character in one of his past lives, and you’ll see a hint dropped about each of his lives in the first chapter of Identity Theft. My tentative plan is to use Foop’s past lives as my central characters, following the events of each part of the timeline until he gets killed and reincarnates at a later point of the timeline.

I also keep some one-shots in a file I call Mixed Nuts and I may possibly post them someday (they’re mostly just one-shots of main cast characters I do to get a feel for their personalities, I have some Wanda and Cupid in here). @zachbrightside and I are also working on a collab ‘fic called Like a House On Fire that shows more of Timmy and Chloe’s lives during Season 10 (especially around the time of “Which Is Wish?”) No news on a release date for that yet.

-

As I’ve said before, once all my other FOP works are complete, I will write Devil’s Backbone, which is my far-future ‘fic and the finale of my FOP writing. I do not plan to write any more FOP content after that story is finished, as I expect to have all other FOP projects done by then.

- Devil’s Backbone is a finale 'fic, so all worldbuilding from all stories is fair game to blend together, and it’s highly recommended you read everything else first. This story has been outlined since 2016, and it might not be published for another 10 years... Who knows! But it’s something I always work towards as a concrete endgame goal.

- If something serious comes up in my life and I officially decide I don’t want to write this story, I will post the outline for it. The link to this draft is included with all the other Google Docs links I have in a far-future queued post unveiling my WIPs in case I unexpectedly die and you still want to know how my stories would have gone, so you’ll get access to this story eventually even if I die young. Yes, share access is turned on for them all and I do take extra careful measures to be sure that post doesn’t get posted early skldfj

===

What is the plan for the main blog?

Every Friday, I will post either a fanfic chapter or a progress update. You can blacklist the tag “ridlife” if you do not want to see the progress updates on your dashboard. Fanfic updates will not have the “ridlife” tag, so you will not be blocking them.

During the rest of the week, I might post doodles, reblogs, or general comments. Basically... you’ll see the blog become active again. Feel free to send in Asks about my worldbuilding and thoughts on fanfic characters.

@fountainpenguin is my personal blog, so you will see non-fandom things on here sometimes

@riddledeep is my FOP-exclusive sideblog. It contains all my lore notes and goes into a ton of depth, more than my fanfics give in one breath

===

What does this mean for the Riddledeep sideblog?

I really want to go back and edit those character profiles that were posted early by mistake. The reason they were queued is because if I turned them into drafts, they would have been buried all the way at the beginning of my draft collection, and I have many, many drafts saved. There are no page numbers to navigate quickly through the draft collection, so I would have to click through each page one by one if I ever wanted to look at them. I hated doing this, which is why I kept my posts queued.

I was regularly updating the queue deadlines, trying to keep things in the order I wanted to post them in, but Tumblr made a change to the way drafts are dated and it kept throwing off my system. My inability to remember when my queued things would post combined with my busy schedule led to some profiles being posted early and incomplete. I want to fix these.

Over a year ago, my good friend Vulpix150 helped me finalize my designs for the Aos Sí and Daoine Sith. I’ve been sitting on that art in secret for a while, and at some point I plan to post it on the sideblog and talk more about that lore.

Updating fanfics is my higher priority (and it was the priority my followers voted for when I asked you to send votes to my Ask Box a while back). So, I will usually spend my free time working on fanfics unless I need a break from them and want to work on sideblog profiles instead. Thank you for your patience!

===

TL;DR

I’m posting fanfics again soon. I’m going to take a more relaxed approach to posting them. I’m going to post more of what I want to post and what I feel motivated to post, not always a main ‘fic update. If I’m not “feeling it” when working on a draft, then I’ll set it aside for a while unless I know my followers and readers have high interest in the next chapter of that story. I always write for me first, but if I know there are other people who care a lot about a story, then of course I want to write it for you too!

I’m going to embrace my decade-long love for WordGirl and post more ‘fics and art or this fandom. I’ve always been a little shy about doing this, but I’m ready to make it an official fandom on my main blog (unless there are lots of requests for WordGirl things to be contained in their own sideblog). I will be posting the first chapter for a ‘fic called Factor It In very soon. Love my easily frustrated alien kiddos having a long day.

I am working on Creature-Crossing stuff too, and will be especially busy in November and December. Updates will be slow for a few months, but I hope to find my groove and a good pace soon.

Each Friday, I will post either a fanfic update or a mention of what I am working on. I will be checking in on Tumblr regularly. Feel free to talk! I much prefer you send messages to my Ask Box, not my private messenger, please <3

===

Is there a specific story of mine you like and want more updates for?

Asks and reviews help me know which ‘fics people are enjoying. I plan to keep writing ‘fics no matter what, but I definitely give more time to the ‘fics that get more attention (and I have been spending so much time writing for Creature-Crossing because that’s where the attention was coming from)

It’s easy to stay motivated and get the next part of a story out soon if I know that people like it. It’s always harder if you feel like people are silently judging you and ignoring your posts. So, let me know what you’re interested in. And if you only leave Likes or Favorites instead of asks and reviews, that’s okay too! Thank you for interacting anyway and enjoying my work.

Thanks for reading!

#WordGirl #Factor It In #Kid Math #FAIRIES! #ridlife #riddleverse mention #ridwriting #Mushrooms and more #Satirical vocab alien child show #Frayed Knots #130 Prompts #Origin of the Pixies #Pink and Gray #Acacia Arcadia #Devil's Backbone #Hawthorn Haven #Along the Cherry Lane

[mk-wizard]

Optimus Primal: Analysis of a bot who achieved “Nirvana”

Hello. It’s been a while since I’ve done a Transformers article, so to make up for lost time, I am going to do one on a character who was not only famous for their various bodily transformations, but also their spiritual transformation. I am talking about Optimus Primal.

So to get started, what exactly is Optimus Primal besides a Maximal who shares a name and helmet style with Optimus Prime? If you’re thinking that he is the Maximal equivalent of Optimus Prime, you would be dead wrong. Despite his name and looks, Primal is a great hero by his own merit who achieved greatness through grit, hard work, self sacrifice and inner growth on his own and without standing even for a moment on the shoulders of any giant. If anything, he is the reason Optimus Prime lived to make his own legacy. To understand and appreciate all of this, one must delve deep into the life story of Optimus Primal.

In the beginning, Primal was an average ranking leader of an exploration ship called the Axalon and his mission was to observe and collect data on other planets and their life forms. He was intelligent, honourable and not above having a sense of humour. However, he can turn and be very stern. The fact that he was young and inexperienced also showed in how he would have slip ups like making bad decisions, making one too many speeches and even losing his temper. All the same, he was the type who would learn quickly from his mistakes and constantly grow. He is also a skilled fighter with guns, swords and he is shown to be a martial arts master of some kind. He also seems to be part of the air force hence having the ability to fly in robot mode.

One fateful day, he was tasked with following and apprehending Predacon Megatron who stole the golden disks. The pursuit led them to getting stranded on prehistoric Earth though at the time, neither faction was aware that this was Earth yet because it was so different from the Earth they were informed of in the history books. At first, Primal chose a gorilla as his alt mode which proved to be one of the most useful beast alt modes in the series. As the Beast Wars (though here in Canada, the series was called “Beasties” for some reason) progressed and after several encounters with some mysterious aliens who intended to destroy prehistoric Earth, Optimus Primal unintentionally sacrificed himself to save the planet, Maximals and most of the Predacons. In the aftermath, the planet was changed and everyone could now see that they were on prehistoric Earth and with time, Primal was restored to life by having his spark transferred to an transmetal body. He could still transform into a gorilla though now he could fly even in his beast mode as he now had a hoverboard similar to the Silver Surfer’s.

During the second half of the war, the series became progressively darker and Megatron’s deeds became more sinister if not homicidal as he was now not above killing his own and even going as far as attempting to kill a comatose Optimus Prime in the Ark after he discovered it. Primal also clearly lost a lot of his innocence as he became less optimistic, more tense and while his honour remained intact, his hesitance to fight with full force with gone. In order to save Optimus Prime, he temporarily held his spark into his own body though holding the spark of a Prime had side effects on his own spark and body. Primal underwent a powerful change of which he became a giant quadruple changer, his firepower was at its peak and it can be theorized that a part of Optimus Prime’s divine connection to Vector Sigma was transferred to him.

In this new powerful form and now gaining clarity on the severity of the situation, Primal was more motivated than ever to defeat Megatron and return to Cybertron so history could no longer be tampered with. And while he did succeed at defeating Megatron who also underwent his own upgrade after exposing his own spark to the spark of the Decepticon Megatron, this victory was not without a price. When the Maximals returned to Cybertron, Predacon Megatron managed to take over the planet forming a new faction of mindless drones known as Vehicons which he controlled through a cybernetic psychic link, and in the process, wiped out the memories of the Maximal team and reduced them back to their beast forms’ lowest level.

Luckily, Primal managed to gather his team and find Vector Sigma and the entity/program known as the Oracle which purified them and gave them new upgraded techorganic forms which they all retained for the entire run of the Beast Machines series. At this point, Primal was no longer a naive mech of science and had become very hardened as well as fanatical without how he believed the Oracle was guiding him towards wiping out all technological life on Cybertron which also put him at odds with Cheetour who used to look up to him. After the devastating loss of Rhinox who was reprogrammed into the evil Tankor, Primal fell into a depression which affected him on both a physical and spiritual level, but he was brought to his senses after speaking to the spirit of a now purified Rhinox and with the support of his team. He now also realised the Oracle wasn’t guiding him towards eliminating technology. It was guiding him towards finding a balance between technological and organic life. With this new mindset, Primal stayed on this spiritual path though he now handled it with a cool head and a more enlightened tone until the final face off with Megatron. In the final face off, Primal sacrificed himself by plunging himself and Megatron into Cybertron’s core allowing the entire planet itself to transform for the better into a technorganic state and also reawaken the entire population. While the heroic deed did cost Primal his life, his spark was at peace as it joined the Allspark and it is hinted that he became something even more in this state.

Since his time in the Beast Wars and Beast Machines CGI cartoons, Primal has made some appearances in the comics, several Japanese mangas and animes, and may make a debut in the final season of War for Cybertron.

Out of all of the character in the Transformers lore, I find Primal is the one who had the most growing up to do and he not only did grow up, he stepped out of a large shadow he didn’t even know he was in and became something amazing. He is also one of the few heroes who I initially didn’t like. And even now, I didn’t like the naive, long winded immature person Primal was initially as he did feel like someone who was copying Optimus Prime, but as he grew up and dropped the naivety, my feelings towards him changed (pardon the pun). By the time Beast Machines rolled around, I outright loved him and I loved his newfound spiritual Buddha like approach. He found his own identity and it was inspiring. It was also this version of Primal that convinced me to look at the Transformers as being more than just machines. Showing that they had a religion, a culture and more made me see the Transformers in a new light that stayed with me for life.

I admit he is not like Optimus Prime, but in his defense, you simply cannot compare the two to each other because they are so different and their journeys were different. Prime’s war was more political and social, and he was much older and wiser. Primal was really just a young scientist who was asked to do a job though circumstances dragged him into a battle. With time, that battle became a rebellion. And also, Prime and Primal’s personalities are just vastly different. The very point of each of them is that they are not like each other and that is something to be celebrated not scorned. Optimus Prime was the leader for the team, era and war of his time and Optimus Primal was the leader for the time, era and war of his.

My overall analysis is that I can see why people are not initially endeared by Primal as I myself was one of these fans who wasn’t, but as his life experiences mature him, you fall deeply in love with the person he becomes and I think that was the point of him. I think that the writers purposely made him to rub you the wrong way because he was so immature and I think that makes him a cleverly written character. And also relatable. I’m sure by many people’s standards, we weren’t as likeable when we were immature and had a tendency to talk too much and not listen enough. Perhaps Primal could be seen as a Transformers character who embodies a metaphor for how growing up and gaining wisdom can change a person.

With all that said, Beast Wars and Beast Machine is worth watching thanks to Primal if not for the story, to at least see the journey of Optimus Primal, but that is all my opinion. What is yours?

If you have a Transformers theory or character analysis you want explored, please let me know in my ask box. And please, support me through Patreon or Ko-fi if you want me to make Transformers merch and videos. Or if you want a commission of your favourite bot, let me know in my shop. All links are on my profile page.

Thanks for reading and as always, stay safe.

#transformers #optimus primal #primal #maximal #optimus prime #predacon #transformers beast wars #transformers beast machine #growing up #beast wars #beast machines #beasties #rhinox #vehicons #tankor #allspark #oracle #vector sigma #character analysis

[vanaera]

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

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

Characters: Yoongi x Female Reader

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

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

Wordcount: 24k

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

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

prev  |  next | series masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Hey, what’s happening?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               Until the silence gets broken by Nancy herself.

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

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

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

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

              “And what are these places?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               She stops wringing her hands.

DAY 1 – January 26; Sunday

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

               Yoongi nods as he sips on his iced Americano.

               “And then—”

               “Wait, what does PRS mean again?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Validated by what?”

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

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

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

              “What’s true?”

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

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

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

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

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

              “How come you told me this only now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Are you sure ‘everyone’?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “But I already know you.”

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

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

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

              “Then that confirms I do already know you.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “W-what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Your mug’s still functional.”

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

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

              “M-me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “What?”

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

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

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

               “How did you say so?”

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

               “But they both end in ‘E.’”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “You.”

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

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

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

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

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

               “Just like you!”

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

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

               “Yes!”

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

DAY 2 – January 27; Monday

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

              That is until a loud scream breaks from her throat.

              “Yoongi called you a what?!”

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

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

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

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

              “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

                Except that is easier said than done.

              “Uhh, what are you doing?”

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

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

               “Is that Tinder?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

              What the fuck—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              All three give Yoongi an affirmative nod.

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

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

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

              The three Creatives staff sport bunched up brows.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Touche,” Yoongi chuckles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              Yoongi gives her a stop-bullshitting-me look.

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

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

               “Okay. How would we start then?”

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

              “So this is your idea of a date?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “Well, are you still hungry now?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

              “What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “You’re Pitiful – Weird Al”

               “Suck a Cheetah’s Dick – Wesley Willis”

               “You Need to Calm Down – Taylor Swift”

               “That’s What You Get – Paramore”

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

               “LOSER – Big Bang”

              “Grow Up – Paramore”

              “Fuck You – Lilly Allen”

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Hey! Cousins deserve a Hallmark card!”

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

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

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

               “Then how do you appreciate them?”

               “A birthday message on Facebook?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Okay,” Yoongi nods, following behind.

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

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

               “The leaf village what?”

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

               Yoongi shrugs.

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

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

               “You haven’t watched Naruto?!”

               “Too many episodes.”

               “This is Naruto!”

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

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

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

               “The basketball anime?”

               “Yep.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Hey—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “You two are so sweet!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Oh,” the cashier nods slowly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

               “Well, you shouldn’t have agreed to have our date today when you’re not yet done being such a difficult person,” Yoongi spits. Y/N’s almost taken aback by the complete 180 change from the smiling Yoongi who’s telling her he’s willing to suffer 500 plus episodes in exchange for her watching Slam Dunk for him. But then, that must have just been him acting like the professional scam that he is. Reality must sink in. Right in front of her is the true Min Yoongi. The insufferable man who doesn’t think twice about criticizing her, even in a large public place.

               Aggravation starts to light up in Y/N’s throat. She turns to Yoongi, voice dripping with venom and disdain, “Well, forgive me for not being able to stomach dating you. Especially someone like you who’s awfully disgusting as your choices of pet names.”

               Yoongi looks at her in silence. He looks down at the paper bags in his hands. He unceremoniously hands her the smaller one. “If you cannot stomach me dating you, you shouldn’t have asked for my help in the first place.” Yoongi gives her one last unreadable look. He shakes his head and walks away, disappearing into the moving crowd.

              Y/N looks away, feet stuck on the pavement. The awful taste of shame is blocking her esophagus.

 DAY 3 – January 28; Tuesday      

               Yoongi is avoiding her, Y/N’s sure of it. When she sat in her desk in the Creatives, the man didn’t let his eyes sweep over her. He didn’t even address her blatant staring just like he usually does. When Y/N makes her round in their office, Yoongi coincidentally decides it’s the right time to take a bathroom break, obviously avoiding having Y/N pass him by in his cubicle. This is weird. Yoongi is not one to avoid Y/N. It is Y/N who avoids him. Yoongi is the pesky, picky jerk of a fly who won’t stop bugging her. It’s not supposed to be her who’s standing awkwardly whenever he’s near, trying to get the man’s attention.

              The morning was stressfully spent with her trying to play cat and mouse with Yoongi. Fortunately for Y/N, no one in the Creatives has noticed this aberrant change in her attitude. She’s sure she’s gonna succumb to the depths of the earth from embarrassment. Y/N’s relieved everyone already knows she hates Yoongi and vice versa to even attempt to speak to her about it. That is until the clock hits eleven and a no-filter co-worker with the name of Dana Lee comes to her.

               “Hey, what’s up with you and Yoongi?”

               Y/N looks up from her desk. Dana is leaning above her, concern and curiosity etched into her face. From the little time Y/N has spent in the Creatives, it was easy to tell Dana is one of the most extroverted people she has ever met in her life. Unafraid to sound too prying or gossipy, Dana just speaks what’s on her mind. Be it about Myungsoo being too patronizing on her or Steven being so closed-off as a leader, Dana freely talks about anything. What’s only weird though is she also manages to not step on any line. This is something Y/N is simultaneously frustrated by and envious of. No one gets to say anything that they want and play so safe all at the same time. Though right now, Y/N is mulling over if she got Dana wrong as what she’s asking from her is a little bit too unnerving for someone she has never exchanged a word with before.

               “What?”

               The petite blonde woman comfortably plops onto a chair next to her desk. Y/N didn’t notice she even dragged a chair with her. Dana leans an elbow on her desk, “Just yesterday, he was awfully close to you. Now, it looks like he can’t even bear to look at you.”

               “What are you talking about?” Y/N awkwardly chuckles, “We’re not close. We both can’t bear to look at each other.”

               “Then what did happen yesterday?” Dana’s eyes were piercing right into hers.

              “Umm, maybe he’s got…a fever? Fever always does things to people, you know?” Y/N nervously chuckles

               Dana hums, leaning back on her chair, “I don’t think calling someone adorable and sweet has something to do with fever. ”

               “It’s Min Yoongi, Dana,” Y/N flips through the pages of her notebook, “If he doesn’t have a fever, then he’s just plain weird. He always says ridiculous things.”

               “Not always. I don’t even remember hearing him giving compliments ever since he got in here.”

               Y/N whips her head towards her.

               Dana chuckles, “You two do have something weird going on, huh?” Y/N opens her mouth to retort but Dana cuts her chance by handing her a long manila folder. “Anyway, I’m here to give you these. Here are the templates I’ve researched that could work for this month’s profile pages.”

               “Why…are you giving me these?”

               “I just want to,” Dana shrugs, “Since you ‘re part of the Creatives now, I figured why not let you help me pick out what templates to use as inspiration for our own magazine. Since you work closely with Nancy, you should probably know some things she wants to see in our issues.”

              “But—”

              “And inside it is also a mini-guide about the jargons we use to help you better understand Steven’s reports before you report them yourself to Nancy.”

              “You…you did this for me?”

              “Honestly? No. This folder is a peace offering to you so you won’t report me taking too many breaks to Nancy,” Dana informs, smiling. She picks up the booklet, “And this mini-guide? Yoongi made it. He asked me to give it to you yesterday but I forgot.”

              “Oh.”

              “Yeah, that’s why I find it weird he’s treating you like air now when yesterday he’s adamant about telling us to treat you with utmost respect as a co-worker.” Dana claps a hand over her mouth, “Oh my god, does it sound rude? I’m sorry, I kinda gave us away that we’re really wary of you. Okay, I really gave us a way no, but at least you know now…right?”

              “It’s okay, Dana,” Y/N smiles, waving a dismissive hand.

              “Are you really though?”

              “Yes, I’m okay,” Y/N smiles wider, “Thank you for the folder again.”

              “…Okies. See ya later.”

               “I am NOT okay.”

               Mina turns her swivel chair to face her bestfriend. The soft melodies of her radio fill the Accounting Department. Everyone else has left their seats for lunch. Mina sets her jaw on her palm, “Why, did Yoongi do something again? I already told you not to involve him anymore in your plan but you’re still stubborn. Don’t tell me I didn’t see you yesterday getting off work with him and you coming home late yesterday. I may have just set out a midnight snack for you and resigned early to bed, but I have eyes, Y/N. I just didn’t say anything yesterday because it’s late and it’s too early in the morning earlier to bring up, but I know.”

               Y/N pushes her fork around the leftovers of her packed lunch in her container, “Yoongi was really pushy yesterday about making it up to me about the dog-thing in the café so I had no choice. He even told me to quit this Tinder gaming because I’m gonna run out of time if I were to wait for someone else to act with me. And although he paid for everything even if I insisted to share the bill, Yoongi still had us eat street foods and enter some weird-ass ka-doodle shop. Who the hell takes someone into those things for a date?! And okay, he was a bit decent yesterday to not blow up things out of proportion just like he always does. But! He still sent me this cringe-worthy smile that I have to see as something positive because it doesn’t look like his ‘I-will-end-you’ smiles he usually flashes at me and this certainly bothers me. And now,” Y/N blows out an irritated sigh, “I found out he even made me this guide about the Creatives’ jargon and terminologies I’ve been desperate for a week.”

               “So, what really happened? You won’t be this conflicted if it’s just about a non-malicious smile and a guide.”

               “First and foremost, I am NOT conflicted,” Y/N puts down her fork, “In my defense, Yoongi’s still a dumb bitch because he almost uttered in front of the cashier that we are only going in their shop for the date document like ‘hello, this girl and I are just tryna fake it ‘til we make it the heart holiday benefit.’ He even shamelessly got the stroke of ego to even call me ‘cutie peachy pie’ in front of the cashier and I am so not having any of that—”

               “The point, Y/N?”

               “Fine,” Y/N slumps down in her chair, “The night ended with me telling Yoongi I can’t stomach dating him because he’s disgusting as his choice of pet names.”

               Mina winces, “Oof, that kinda hurts.”

               “How does it hurt?” Y/N throws up her hands, “Does he expect me to just accept the disgusting idea of me dating him when I’ve practically dreamt of strangling him in his sleep for so many nights? Not earlier that day he was just dissing me with song titles!”

               “Y/N,” Mina rubs her temples, “Even if he dissed you with those song titles, they are still shallow. But calling someone disgusting to date? That hurts bad. It’s bad as his dog-thing. It hurts to be seen as someone so disgusting to be treated as a romantic partner, even if it’s all for show, you know? It’s like telling a person no one would ever want to be with them.”

               Y/N looks away.

              Mina sighs, “How is he doing now?”

               “Well,” Y/N picks on the seams of her cardigan, “I don’t really know. All I know he’s not his usual self because he won’t look at me. Our desks literally face each other and it seems like letting  himself even accidentally glance to me will give him some sort of virus.”

               “Then you did hurt him.”

               “Minaaa,” Y/N whines.

              “As much as I despise him for what he’s done to you in the past, this time you’re in the wrong, Y/N, and I’m not gonna tolerate it. He tried to make it up with you.”

              “Mina, you’re supposed to take my side and make me feel better!”

              “Well, you won’t feel any better until you apologize. You’re feeling like this because your guilt is eating on your nerves. You’re not helping yourself if you’re just gonna deny everything, Y/N.”

              Y/N wishes she hasn’t talked this out with Mina. If she hadn’t, she wouldn’t be awkwardly lingering around the Creatives’ room, waiting for Yoongi to finish his briefing with their artists. It’s already seven in the evening. By this time, Y/N could be probably running a hot bath in her home while scrolling around her Facebook to nonchalantly react to her friend’s achievements. It’s always how her night goes. Not like this—creeping like a stalker again for a man she hates. The glass door busts open. Y/N scrambles for a corner to hide. But it’s too late.

              “Oh, Y/N, what are you still doing here?” some guy asks. Y/N thinks his name is Jeff. ‘Jeff’ pushes up the slipping portfolios back in his elbow.

              “I think she forgot something,” Yoona suggests.

              “Uhh, n-no—”

              “Who is she?” a nineteen-year-old-looking boy asks. His buttondown fits his narrow shoulders awkwardly. He’s probably a new hire.

              “She’s Y/N L/N, Seojoon. Nancy’s P.A.,” Seojoon’s eyes grow three times larger than their usual size. Yoona continues, “Would you mind going back to check if Ms. L/N left something in the meeting room? We were there yesterday.”

              “You don’t have to—”

              “Of course no, Ms. Park!” Seojoon bows, grinning at Y/N.

              Yoona clasps a hand on Y/N’s shoulder, “You do not need to feel shy, Y/N. We are co-workers here.”

              “I am not—"

              “Ms. Park,” Seojoon hollers, “I don’t see anything here!”

              “Oh,” Yoona looks at Y/N, “then you’re probably waiting for Mr. Min.”

              “Mr. Min?” ‘Jeff’ sputters, almost letting go of his portfolios.

              “Yeah, Jeff, Mr. Min,” Yoona pats the man’s back, “Now go ahead and place the portfolios in my car. I’ll be the one to handle the box.”

              “N-no, Yoongi and I are not—”

              “Yes, Ms. Park.” Jeff bows. “Mr. Min..” He slowly nods at Y/N, “In the denial phase are we, huh?”

              Before Y/N could open her mouth and deny such repulsive remark, Yoona pops her head back into the office, “Seojoon! Come outside, Y/N didn’t leave anything.”

              Seojoon quickly steps out. Yoona gives Y/N a curt smile, “I don’t really fancy romantic relationships at work, but anyway, good luck with Mr. Min.”

              “We,” Y/N nervously chuckles, “We’re not—”

              “You don’t have to deny anymore Ms. L/N, we totally understand! I’m rooting for you and Mr. Min!” Seojoon grins. The two quickly leave and it’s just Y/N again in the quiet hallway.

              What just…happened? How do these people act like they long knew about her when she hasn’t even talked with them before?

              The door swings open again and Y/N jumps.

              “What are you doing here?”

              Y/N turns around. Yoongi is standing at the doorway, brows furrowed, hands on his black satchel. He looks like he doesn’t want to see her right now.

              Y/N’s eye twitches, “Obviously, I’m here to work. You know, past the eight to five work hours, to work on unfinished works I don’t really have.”

              Yoongi rolls his eyes, “Are you seriously being sarcastic right now?”

              “How could I not be when you’re acting like the biggest bitch alive?”

              Yoongi rubs a tired hand over his eyes, “Did you just wait here to start a fight? Because if you are, I’m already tired and I want to go home.” Yoongi steps aside and walks past her.

              What is wrong with him? Did he just walk out on her? When he’s the one who got all dramatic yesterday, acting like the victim when he also picked on her? Y/N holds up her chin. Fine, if he wants to act this way then so be it.

              But what about Nancy? The Heart Holliday?

              Y/N stops. She releases a long sigh. Why does she always end up fighting with him?

              Y/N runs out of the office, pushing the glass doors of Travel Loca wide open. At the end of the main hallway, she sees Yoongi entering the lift. Y/N leaves all thoughts and just sprints. She manages to stick a hand in the infinitesimal space before the metal doors completely close on her. The elevator dings and the doors start to open wide. Yoongi looks at her, eyes wide.

              “Look,” Y/N breathes out, entering the lift, “I know I’ve been an ass yesterday, but you can’t just pin everything on me like you always do. If you hadn’t dissed me with those CD titles, called me cutie peachy pie, and dumbly almost gave us out, I wouldn’t have—”

              “What are you really here for, Y/N?”

              The metal doors close again. Y/N closes her eyes, “Fuck, I’m sorry okay?! I didn’t mean to say those mean words to you. I was just frustrated and mad when you called me a difficult person and I guess I just blew up, okay?” Y/N looks at him, “I’m sorry.”

              “If you’re sorry, why are you still denying that we’re dating in front of my subordinates just now?”

              “You heard that?”

              “Of course,” Yoongi adjusts his bag on his shoulder, “Jeff has the loudest mouth in here and Seojoon is coming in close for that spot. It’s not hard for the two of them to announce what’s happening here to the next city.”

              Y/N self-consciously rubs her arm, “I’m not used to people crowding me like that and asking about that stuff, okay? I’m still adjusting to this…situation we have. I’m sorry, okay? I promise I won’t give us away again. I’m serious this time.”

              “Okay,” Yoongi quips.

              Y/N looks up at him, “Wait, you’re just going to let it go like that?”

              “Of course no,” Yoongi answers, smiling.

              The growing smile on Y/N’s face falls flat, “What do you mean, Yoongi?”

              “I want you to make it up to me.”

               Y/N’s jaw drops, “What?!”

               “When I did you wrong, I made it up to you. Now, it’s your turn,” Yoongi grins. Y/N crosses her arms. Yoongi’s smile grows, “Take it or I leave this deal.”

               Y/N bites her cheeks. She closes her eyes and sighs, “Fine.”

               “Good. Glad to know we’re on the same page,” Yoongi says, pressing the ‘P1’ button on the elevator just before the lift passes it.

               Y/N gawks at him, “When did you have a car?”

               “It’s not mine. Steven let me borrow his for today.” The doors open. Yoongi walks toward the gun-metal gray Ford on the far right and presses the remote open. He opens the driver’s side and looks at Y/N. “Why are you still standing there? Do you want me to open the door for you, sweetheart?”

               “Fuck you.”

               “I will open it if you want me to,” Yoongi chuckles, starting for the passenger side.

               “Shut up!” Y/N dashes to the passenger’s side, blocking Yoongi from pulling the door for her. Yoongi cackles.

               The ride was silent for a few minutes. Save for Yoongi who kept on bugging Y/N with the same question the moment they pulled out of Rockfort Building.

              “So,” Yoongi asks, “where are we really going?”

                Y/N has been muttering directions for a few minutes now, unrelenting to tell Yoongi the exact address. She figured to keep it a secret lest Yoongi make a scene once he knew where they’re going. But with Yoongi pestering her now like a five-year-old toddler, Y/N thinks she might have made the wrong decision. Y/N closes her eyes, “Shut up and just follow my directions.”

               “I won’t if you won’t tell me where you plan to take us. For all I know, you’ve contacted some hoodlums to ambush me in a dark alley.”

                Y/N turns to her side, letting her back face him.

                 Yoongi pokes her shoulder, “Y/NNNN—”     

               “Fine! Turn left at the 2nd stoplight and then a right at the 3rd stoplight. There’s a Burger King joint there. Satisfied?” Y/N glares at him.

               “You’re taking me to fast-food?” Yoongi dramatically places a hand over his chest, “I thought you said dates are supposed to be intimate and of high-quality.”

               “Well, when it comes to you, it’s a different case. Now, shut up.”

               The street was dark. Save for the brightly lit Burger King establishment. The white and yellow lighting inside the restaurant seems to bleed outside. They color the washed-out paint of the closed shops beside it. Some manage to spread onto the wet and cold pavement. The raven night sky further emphasizes the restaurant’s colors with no other lit building to compete with. There were street lamps, but their lights were not bright enough to register distinctly into one’s eyes. They all just looked like burnt-out stars.

               They seem to remind Y/N of the man next to her when they pulled up to the order reception area of the drive-thru.

               “Here’s your order, sir,” The crew staff hands Yoongi a huge paper bag, “Would you like to add anything more?”

               “Oh, yeah, um, do you have a document for like dates and—”

              “Oh no, don’t mind him,” Y/N clamps a hand over Yoongi’s mouth, “We don’t have anything else to add for now. But if we do, we’re gonna go inside to get them later. Thank you,” she smiles at the confused staff.

              When the windows roll up, Yoongi tears Y/N’s hand off his face. “What the fuck was that for?”

              Y/N scowls, “You’re being stupid for almost giving us away! Again!”

              “But I already followed what you said! You told me to just ask for the document plain and simple!”

              Y/N places a hand over her forehead, “That only works when you’ve already spent some time in a date-site enough to be considered as a date. How can Burger King know we’re having a date when we just pulled up and ordered at the drive-thru? If that is so, then they would have been distributing date documents so easily to every single car that passes by.”

              “How will we let them know, then?” Yoongi asks.

              “We park in their parking lot and stay there to eat. Where they can see us spending time with each other. Then we go inside and ask for the document.”

              “Then why did you even insist we go to a drive-thru if we’re gonna go out and enter the restaurant later anyway?” Yoongi throws up his hands, “We could have just dined-in and eat out like usual.”

              “Because I don’t want anyone to see us or else we’ll lose another opportunity to get a goddamn date document.”

              “How can you say we’ll lose another opportunity?”

              “Because I know we’re going to argue,” Y/N looks at Yoongi. His eyes are piercing hers and his brows are scrunched up. Y/N points at to him, “Look, your face is telling me you’re already about to start some shit up.” She reaches across the console and pokes his forehead with her index and middle finger to spread apart the man’s brows, “There, you look less like a dumb asshole now.”

              Yoongi slaps her hand away. Y/N snorts. Yoongi shoves the paper bag into her hand, “Just shut up and eat.”

              Ten minutes later and fingers coated with salt from the fries, Yoongi breaks the silence, “What were you looking at just before we got in the drive-thru? You seem very lost in it.”

              Y/N spares him a glance before going for another fry, “Obviously not you.”

              “I’m being serious.”

              “Okay, fine. The sky,” Y/N slumps deeper into her seat.

              “Wow,” Yoongi chuckles, “I never thought you were one of those aesthetic-obsessed girls of Pinterest.”

              “Where are you going with this? If you’re gonna insult me again, just so you know, I paid for tonight’s meal. Therefore, I’ve already made it up with you. And so, I am in no obligation to–”

              “I’m trying to initiate small talk,” Yoongi turns to her, smirking, “Now look who’s the one starting some shit up?”

              Y/N narrows her eyes at him.

              Yoongi snickers, “Can’t you just answer my question? I’m just trying to have a conversation without us screaming each other’s heads off. It’s getting pretty tiring.”

              Y/N looks down on the empty food wrapper on her lap. She closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay,  but don’t laugh at me. I’m really…into light set against skies. Street lamps, overhead lights in cables, lit up buildings—anything that is illuminated, as long as there are skies in the background. I like skies in general because looking at it feels like viewing a painting in a real classy museum for free. I like free stuff. But, I like skies more if the light that comes with it makes their whole picture entirely different from what it’s really supposed to be.”

              “Like what?”

              “Say for example,” Y/N leans nearer to Yoongi to point at the restaurant, “Burger King is the only brightly lit establishment here. And its bright use of primary colors on the building creates a greater contrast against the blackness of the sky. If you think about it more, Burger King kinda looks like an evil radioactive plant set in a post-apocalyptic world,” Y/N gives Yoongi a pointed look as she raises her hands, “Life’s been boring lately. I’m just trying to see things differently to entertain myself.”

              Yoongi looks at her, mouth agape.

              Y/N points at him, “I told you, don’t laugh. You asked for it. That’s my answer.”

              “I’m not trying to laugh,” Yoongi chuckles, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m into light fixtures.”

              “Light fixtures?”

              “Yeah.  Lamps, light bulbs, lighted chandeliers—anything that’s supposed to light up for interior designing. It’s not as special as your affinity for your light-in-the-skies. I just like light fixtures because, well, they’re pretty and practical. And I like interior designing. I could spend a lot of hours just walking around the home department in malls,” Yoongi turns toward her, “What else do you like?”

              Y/N’s eyes turn into slits, “Are we playing twenty questions right now?”

              “No. But if you want, we can.”

              “Fine. Okay…I like Naruto.”

              Yoongi gives Y/N a blank stare, “You already told me that yesterday.”

              “Yeah,” Y/N nods, “but I think you don’t get me yesterday. What I mean by ‘like’ is that I’m totally obsessed with that anime. And manga. All throughout elementary and high school, there’s not a day where I blabbered about Naruto. I can’t believe an anime can be so, so good. The plot is so well-done and the characters’ motivations and desires are fleshed out so good that they almost resemble real people. The story world is so concrete that I truly wished it existed so I can just go there whenever I want,” Y/N sighs, “Not to say Uchiha Sasuke is goddamn handsome.”

              “Now, I see.”

              “What?”

              Yoongi chortles, “You have a type.”

              Y/N frowns, “What do you mean with that?”

              Yoongi grins, “You like black-haired guys with poker faces and horrible personalities.”

              Y/N releases an offended scoff, “Ho-horrible? Sasuke is not horrible! He just had circumstances he cannot escape!”

              “Well, Kaede Rukawa is horrible.”

              “Are you seriously still fixated on my attraction to that guy?”

              “How can I not?” Yoongi exasperates, “He’s such a pretentious bitch to his teammates and he calls Sakuragi a ‘moron.’ Multiple times!”

              “Well, that’s the purpose of a character that acts antagonistically, you know?” Y/N informs, “They’re supposed to challenge the protagonist to further elevate conflict. And from what I know, he and Sakuragi eventually resorted to a friendly rivalry.”

              “Yeah, they did, but still, it doesn’t excuse his terrible attitude—Wait, how did you know about that? You said yesterday you’ve never watched Slam Dunk before.”

              Y/N flushes, “Well, I-I have hands, you know? And a brain. A little research about their high-five is not that much of a hassle.”

              “Wait, you researched that part with their high-five? Through what, fandom.com?” Y/N guiltily side-glances the side mirror. Yoongi tongues his cheek, “Wow. Just wow. Congratulations, you spoiled your own experience.”

              Y/N turns to him with a scowl on her face, “At least I tried to know a thing about Slam Dunk! What about you? Did you already start watching Naruto just like what you oh-so confidently declared yesterday?”

              Yoongi looks down, “…No.”

              “Hah!” Y/N points a finger at him, a triumphant smile on her face, “See? You’re just a big-talker Min Yoongi! You say a lot of shit but you can’t even do one of them!”

              “Hey! I said I will watch Naruto just yesterday! Did you expect me to start watching it as soon as possible? In case you don’t know, I’ve got lots of work to do thanks to Nancy. You talk as if you’re so great when you haven’t even watched Slam Dunk yourself!”

              “I’ll watch it, okay?! Happy, now?”

              “Very,” Yoongi gibes at her, “You better watch it because I’ve got to suffer through 500 plus episodes.”

              “Fine.”

              “Fine.”

              Silence settles over the car again. A minute or two passes with just the sound of food wrappers’ wrinkling and folding serving as the white noise along with the whir of the air con. Yoongi  leans forward and presses the on button of the car stereo. Post Malone and Swae Lee’s Sunflower fills the car.

               The song is in the second verse when Y/N decides to break the silence between them, “Do you…like this song?”

               “Yeah,” Yoongi smiles, “The heavy beats ironically compliment the soft melody so well. I find it…very unusual and oddly comforting.” Yoongi looks at her, “Do you, too?”

               “Yeah,” Y/N picks up the last fry in their paper container, “I’m not really into pop songs, especially popular ones. They tend to be all about shallow declarations of love or overused odes to sex and horniness because everyone knows sex sells. But this one is gonna be an exception. It just feels so…real.”

               “How so?”

               “Well, it’s all thanks to the sunflower metaphor. Sunflowers are very pretty and they last very long. But they’re also stressful to grow because they drain the other plants from receiving nutrients. That’s why they’re flowers that symbolize true love. The love that is sweet, but also draining. And the fact that you said the heavy beats compliment the soft melody is an audial language to further layer on the metaphor of the song.”

               Yoongi looks at her with a curious glint in his eyes, “How did you know these stuff?”

               “We-well, I learned some things about the flower language in a book about star-crossed soulmates I read a year ago. Do-don’t laugh. It’s a good book, okay.”

               “I’m not even laughing,” Yoongi chuckles.

               Y/N  gives him a pointed stare, “Well, you’re doing it now.”

               “Okay, okay,” Yoongi wheezes, “I’m not laughing.”

               “Sure.”

               “I’m serious,” Yoongi insists, now calm. “I just chuckled because I didn’t imagine you’re into that stuff.”

               “What stuff?”

               Yoongi smiles, “Cute stuff.”

               “Cu-cute?” Y/N gawks, “They’re not cute! That’s so downgrading—you know, just because this stuff talks about love, it doesn’t mean they value any less than other abstractions and values out there.”

               “That’s not what I meant. I’m talking about it being adorable.”

               “Adorable?”

               “You,” Yoongi purses his lips, “It’s adorable that you actually like this stuff. Stuff far from what you do at work. I thought your head is just filled with unpublished stories and worship chants for Nancy.”

               Y/N narrows her eyes at him. Yoongi guffaws. Sunflower ends and some pop song which Y/N doesn’t know starts to play. Y/N crosses her arms, “Let’s do the 20 Questions instead. Having a serious conversation with you is draining.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi chuckles, “How will we do it then?”

              “10 questions each.  Answerable by ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or whatever,” Y/N turns to Yoongi, “I’ll start. What’s your favorite color?”

               “Blue.”

               Y/N clicks her tongue, “Very typical.”

               “What about you?” Yoongi asks.

               “Yellow. What’s your favorite food?”

              “Lamb skewers. Especially the ones sold in the small diner near to my high school. What’s your favorite food?”

               Y/N whips her gaze away from him, “…Fried chicken intestines.”

               “Whoa,” Yoongi turns to her, eyes wide in amusement, “So I got you your favorite food right off the bat yesterday? I didn’t know it will be this easy. This is amazing.”

               Y/N pointedly looks at him, “Shut up. How many crushes did you ever have?”

               “W-what?”

               “Just answer it,” Y/N grits her teeth.

               “Fine,” Yoongi relents, “One.”

               “O-one?” Y/N sputters, “Oh my God. You’re a lovesick puppy.”

              Yoongi furrows his forehead, “What are you talking about?”

              Y/N covers her mouth in disbelief, “I can’t believe Jeon Seoyeon is your first crush at what age, 29? Oh my God, Yoongi.”

               “What?” Yoongi chokes out, “I-I’m not into her!”

               “Say that when you’re not blushing like hell then I’ll believe you,” Y/N smirks, “Next question.”

               “No, I do not have a crush on her!” Yoongi insists, “Where did you even get such ridiculous speculation?!”

               Y/N grins, “I’ll count that as a question. I got it from Mina”

               “What?!”

               “My turn to ask now, Min,” Y/N asserts, “What’s your first job?”

               “Video editor in an advertising firm. Small company,” Yoongi looks at her, “How many crushes did you have and what’s your first job?”

               “I’ll count that as two questions,” Y/N smiles. “Crushes? Three. One of them upgraded from that. First job? Well, I was a secretary in a news company. J&M.”

               “J&M?” Yoongi gapes, “That’s like, the top one news company in the country. I didn’t know you worked for them.”

              “Well, it’s horrible,” Y/N grimaces, “I hated every single minute I spent in there. Didn’t even know why I stayed there for two years. The days just,” Y/N sighs, waving a hand, “seems to pass like a blur.”

               “Two years? And the next two you spent in Travel Loca?” Yoongi hums, “What did you do when you were 21?”

               Y/N turns to him, fully facing him now, “I’m just going to tell you this for the sake of ending this ‘date’ as soon as possible. You don’t get to speak about this in the office, okay?.” Yoongi nods. Y/N closes her eyes, “Okay, I spent two years after graduation home studying and doing part-time. Even if I had Latin honors, the companies I wanted to apply in won’t accept me because apparently, I’m too young. I graduated from college when I was 19. Skipped two years in high school. My grades were enough to get me accelerated,” Y/N looks down at her hands, “It’s one of my achievements I’m really proud of. But…it ended up producing more cons than pros in the long run.”

               “Don’t say that,” Y/N looks up at Yoongi. Yoongi smiles, “That’s still an achievement worthy of being proud of, you know? Everyone wants to get out of high school as soon as they can. But not everyone gets to really do it.”

               Y/N gapes at him. Why is Min Yoongi suddenly giving her encouragement like this? Her, out of all people? From what she remembers, Yoongi is her biggest critic in the office. Whenever an opportunity opens for her making a mistake, Yoongi catches it and will definitely not pass up a chance to throw her criticisms or petty insults.  And now, he’s spouting comforting words?! Min Yoongi is anything but comforting!— Y/N looks away. It’s getting late. It’s just the long night taking a toll on them. She fixes their leftovers in their paper bag, “What are your most embarrassing moments? Do you have a pet? Favorite movie? Favorite song?”

               “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Yoongi holds a hand up, “Four questions in one go?”

               “Yes, four,” Y/N glances at him, then proceeds back to tidying up, “It’s getting late. We have to end the game soon.”

               “But you already know I have a pet, that’s cheating—”

               “It’s not cheating. We still get to ask 20 questions,” Y/N deadpans. “ You only have four questions left. I have two. Now, answer my questions, Min, because I want to go home.”

               Yoongi sighs, “Fine. I have a pet. A dog named Holly. Everyone knows—including you because there’s nothing else I post in my social media but him. Favorite movie is Minority Report. I like the twist in the end and it’s notion against predetermined futures even if the whole system in the story world is about determining crimes supposed to happen in the future. Favorite song has to be, uhh….anything made by Lorde. Love the calm in her rough and edged beats and the unadulterated honesty in her tracks. I have a lot of favorite songs but the first one that came to my mind when I want to play something again and again was her songs so that’s that. And, most embarrassing moment?” Yoongi eyes Y/N but she only continues to keep her gaze on her lap. He sighs, “Well, it has to be when I have to repeat years while studying. Two years in fact.”

              At this, Y/N glances at him. Yoongi pulls a straight smile, “I have to repeat one year in elementary because we moved houses in the middle of the school year because of a job offer. That’s alright though. Dad got a better job out of it and we lived more comfortably. But what hurt was when I have to repeat my fourth year. My thesis paper was okay. But…I flunked the defense big time. I can’t talk for shit back then. I mean, until now, I’m still having a hard time because I don’t really like hanging out with a lot of people. But past me was a real mess. Had a breakdown just right when it’s my turn with the panel. And you know how big of a deal thesis writing is to graduate Junior High. Because of that, my appeals were of course rejected by the board. So, I have to repeat that year again until I pass the thesis writing. It’s embarrassing that I get to see my batchmates graduate to senior high while I’m still stuck in junior high. In the very last year, of all years. It’s even more embarrassing to my family.”

               Y/N bites her lip. She leans nearer to Yoongi, “But, they still treated you..okay, right?”

               “I’ll count that as a question,” Yoongi sing-songs, winking at Y/N.

               Y/N frowns, “I’m being serious.”

               “Okay, okay,” Yoongi chuckles, raising his hands in surrender. “But it still means you only got one question left.”

               “It’s okay. I wanted to end my turn as soon as possible. Answer my question, Yoongi.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi smiles, “Well, my parents never told it in my face, but I know they still see it as a disappointing waste of one year. It’s a different case with my relatives though but it doesn’t matter much. What only matters is my family. We’re fine now. My parents look like they don’t mind anymore of what happened during high school.”

               “That’s good then,” a small smile forms on Y/N’s face.

               “Yeah,” Yoongi says, smiling wider.

              The two fall into silence as the music in the car changes. Abba’s Take a Chance on Me starts to play. When it reaches the chorus, Yoongi decides to break the awkwardness that has suddenly settled in the air, “What’s your last question, Y/N?”

              “O-oh,” Y/N  fiddles with her cardigan, “uh, well…Oh! I already told you my definition of a date, but you never told me yours. How would you like a date to be?”

              “It’s a secret,” Yoongi grins.

              “What?!” Y/N exclaims, “A secret?! Why would that be a secret?! Do you know we’re supposed to have more dates to seal the holiday vacation for sure? It would help a lot if we know how we each want our dates to go so we can deal with each other a lot less stressful than it already is!”

              “My answer is still ‘secret,’” Yoongi smiles smugly, crossing his arms. “Also, you already spent all your questions. It’s my turn from now on.”

              “Fine,” Y/N bites back, frown deepening when she hears Yoongi chuckle.

              “How many times have you dyed your hair?”

              “One,” Y/N gives him a challenging stare.

              “How many times have you traveled locally?”

               “Three.”

               “What’s your lucky number?”

               “Fourteen.”

               “What’s your number?”

               “01048648564—wait, no!”

               “Okay, thank you!” Yoongi pulls up his phone.

               “Wait, Yoongi!” Y/N tries to snatch his phone from his grip. Yoongi turns away, successfully clicking ‘add contact’ with a wide grin on his face.

               Yoongi tucks the phone back into his pants’ pocket. He peers over the car’s dashboard and gasps dramatically, “Oh, well look at that, it’s already getting late. My, my, 10:32 P.M.” He looks at Y/N, grinning widely, “We better get the date document so we can get going now, huh?”

               Y/N scowls at him. Yoongi snickers as he gets out of the car. It only takes five minutes before he goes back onto the parking lot, waving a pale pink envelope in the air.

               Yoongi pulls away from the parking lot, “So shall I now drive you home?”

               Y/N frowns as she looks away from him, focusing on the dark streets outside.

               “What’s your address, hmm?” Yoongi prods, a beaming smile still on his face.

              A beat passes. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. “Drop me at the Village Estates. 27th Street, East Drive.”

               “Okay,” Yoongi chirps and keys in the address in the car’s navigator.

               The ride is silent with only the car music serving as the white noise. Y/N has lost track of the tracks that played in the speakers. She doesn’t tear her eyes away from the window for the entirety of the ride until Yoongi pulls in front of her apartment complex.

               “We’re here.”

               Y/N pushes the door open and wordlessly gets out of the car. She doesn’t wait on the pavement to see Yoongi off nor does she turns around to look at the man one last time. She just walks off. But before she gets inside the main entrance, she hears Yoongi holler behind her, “Tonight was fun, yeah, Y/N?”

               Y/N, still with her back turned to him, raises a hand to dismissively wave goodbye.

               “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then,” Yoongi laughs. Soon after, the street was silent again.

              Y/N arrives in a quiet flat. There are no re-runs of a show playing on the TV. There is also no clamor of the utensils in their kitchen. Only the light on their narrow entrance hall was left lit open. There’s also a bowl of porridge covered on the table. When Y/N rounds on Mina’s room, she finds her bestfriend peacefully snoring deep in her duvet. Y/N smiles. After cleaning up and running a quick bath, Y/N reaches an arm to turn off her bedside lamp only to realize this silence of the night is not for long. Because the moment Y/N lays her head on her pillow, her phone rings with a loud ‘ding!’

               Unknown Number: Just wanna let you know I got home safe. I had fun tonight. You’re already forgiven for yesterday, sweetheart 😉.

               Y/N groans and throws her phone onto the other side of the bed.

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

Disclaimer: The dark side banter in Day 1 was based on Rob Reiner’s (1989) When Harry Met Sally’s car scene! I just loved the characters’ chemistry so much! That being said, all scenes and references from the movie used in this story are the property of its respective owners.  The rest belongs to the author. This work is for entertainment purposes only. No copyright infringement is intended.

A/N pt. 2 | Hi hons! Sorry this chapter came a little later than my original schedule. A lot has changed in the plot points of THH while I was outlining it. Hence, the supposed two-shot is now a series with five chapters! I didn’t expect my first series will be like this. It’s totally unexpected from my initial plans! Anyway, the Act 2 is supposed to comprise the whole 2nd act of the story. But as I was writing it, I noticed I’m already bordering the 35k wordcount (and I’m not yet near the end of the 2nd act asdfghjkl). So I decided to cut it into 2 parts so I may not overwhelm you with a gigantic word-vomit of a text post. I guess the cut was also a good device because the 2nd part of Act 2 is on a different tone from the 1st part.  Thank you for reading this 24k monstrosity and feel free to say what you think about this chapter! If you want to get added in the taglist, just hit me up in the PMs or Asks! I’ll be waiting there ~( > v < )~

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

#ficswithluv #btsboulangerie #btsguild #btswritingcafe #kwritersworldnet #btsbookclub #bangtanarmynet #bangtan bookclub #bts fluff #bts angst #yoongi fluff #yoongi angst #yoongi scenarios #yoongi reactions #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts x you #yoongi x you #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #aera writes

[noona-clock]

The Writers Guild: Jackson

Genre: 1800′s!AU, Friends to Lovers

Pairing: Jackson x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Words: 3,902

“Yes, sir,” Jackson murmured, unable to even meet his editor’s eye. “I understand.”

“By the end of the day tomorrow,” his editor, Mr. Springfield, repeated with a nod.

Jackson simply nodded before turning on his heel and leaving Mr. Springfield’s office. Actually, since it was currently getting dark outside, he kept on going past his desk and left the office entirely.

He didn’t need to turn in the article until the end of the day tomorrow, anyway.

Jackson’s mind was racing as he made his way out of the building; he would be ashamed to admit just how negative those thoughts were, too. He liked to think of himself as a positive, optimistic kind of person, but recently, his job at The Daily Post had a way of souring his mood.

Unfortunately, his mood soured even further when he stepped outside and saw a carriage waiting at the curb.

Before he could even take one step towards it, the door of the carriage opened.

“You’re off quite early tonight, aren’t you?” you noted as you descended from your carriage and waved to the driver to head back to your family’s residence.

“Y/N,” Jackson huffed. “How many times have I told you not to wait for me once it gets dark?”

“Well, however many times it’s been, you’ll have to tell me at least that many times more,” you replied with an angelic smile as you approached him on the sidewalk.

“You know how dangerous the city gets once the sun goes down!” Jackson hissed, his brow furrowed deeply as you stepped up to him and slid your hand into the crook of his elbow. “And if something ever happened to you while you’re waiting out here for me, I don’t know what I’d do.”

“Nothing is going to happen,” you assured him as the two of you began strolling in the same direction your carriage had just gone. “Nothing bad has ever happened to me when you’re around.”

“But it could. That’s why you need to stop --”

“My word,” you interjected. “You’re fussing at me more than usual tonight. What’s got you all out of sorts, hmm?”

Jackson let out a deep exhale through his nose, and you squeezed his elbow reassuringly. “Just... another political article assignment from Springfield,” he told you, muttering the words through his teeth.

A frown curved your lips, and you decided not to reply verbally. You would have asked ‘So, he ignored your request to write a feature news story again?’ and it was obvious what Jackson’s answer would be. He had been trying to gradually shift from writing political and economic articles for at least two years now -- and he had been working at The Daily Post for three years before that.

You had known Jackson practically since you were born. Your mothers had been best friends, and the fact Jackson was a boy and you were a girl hadn’t stopped the two of you from becoming best friends, as well. 

You had grown up together. You had experienced so many of life’s twists and turns together. Jackson had been happy for as long as you could remember, but now...

He wasn’t.

And, if you were being honest, you knew transferring from the Political department to the Feature department wouldn’t even help. Not in the long run.

What Jackson really needed to do was follow his passion.

“Why don’t...” you began cautiously, gripping his arm to give yourself strength to continue on. “...You try again to find someone to publish your poems?”

Jackson stopped walking, turning to face you with raised eyebrows and an expression most certainly meant to scold you.

“I know, but poetry is what you love!” you pointed out hurriedly before he could say anything. “If you could see the difference in you when you write poetry and when you write newspaper articles... Jackson...”

You turned to face him head on, letting your hand slip from his elbow and moving to grasp his fingers. You looked him straight in the eye, your gaze pleading as you spoke again. “Jackson, you are not happy right now. You cannot argue with me because we both know you are not happy. You haven’t been happy... for a while. And if you won’t do anything to try and find a wife like I’ve been pestering you to, then you should at least do something to leave that newspaper. If not for your sake, then for mine. I cannot walk beside you -- literally and figuratively -- for much longer if you continue as such. I will, of course, but it’s slowly breaking my heart to see you like this.”

These were words you’d been holding in for quite some time now, and while you weren’t exactly sure why you’d spoken them tonight, you were relieved you finally had.

Even if the look on Jackson’s face made it obvious that his heart was breaking, too.

He let out a soft but frustrated huff, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as his gaze flitted up towards the darkening sky. “I --”

You waited a few moments for him to finish his thought... but he never did. He just kept huffing and shifting, and when you finally realized he didn’t know what to say, you couldn’t stop yourself from giggling breathlessly.

“Are you speechless?” you asked with just the slightest hint of amusement. “Goodness, I’ll have to check that off on my list of things I never thought possible.”

Just as you’d hoped, one corner of Jackson’s mouth lifted into a smile, and he chuckled under his breath as he shook his head. “Be quiet,” he murmured affectionately. “I’m not speechless, I just can’t find the right words to say. Yet.”

“If you insist,” you grinned at him. “Can you please just promise me one thing?”

Jackson nodded without hesitation, squeezing your fingers.

“Promise me you’ll think about it. Really and truly.” And when Jackson didn’t reply immediately, you squeezed his fingers back. “Your poetry is so wonderful, Jackson. I know there’s a publisher out there who will take you on. Please... just think about it.”

Jackson hung his head to look down at the ground briefly, and when he lifted it back up to meet your eyes, his brows were raised about halfway up his forehead. 

“If I promise to think about it, will you promise me not to wait for me outside in the dark? By yourself?”

...You should have seen that coming.

You shot him a displeased expression, narrowing your eyes and wrinkling your nose before relenting. “Yes, I promise.”

A smile lit up Jackson’s eyes -- no, his entire face -- and he beamed at you. “Then I promise to think about it. Really and truly.”

While you were at it... you might as well try to wring another promise out of him. “Will you also promise to start looking for a wife?”

Jackson’s smile fell instantly, and he turned away from you, moving his feet and continuing the walk to your residence.

“Well!” you chuckled, picking up your skirt and hurrying to catch up with him. “You’re not getting any younger!”

“Neither are you,” he retorted.

“I will pretend you didn’t say that,” you stated as you once again slid your hand into the crook of his elbow.

“And I will pretend you didn’t bring up marriage. Again.”

“Fair enough,” you sighed.

For now, you were more than satisfied that he had promised to think about looking for a publisher. You knew in your heart of hearts there was someone out there who would recognize Jackson’s talent for poetry, and then your very best friend in the world could finally quit The Daily Post and be happy again.

That was honestly all you could ever ask for.

As Jackson rifled through the poems he’d taken out of his writing desk drawer, he became increasingly frustrated.

It had been far too long since he’d written anything, and even if he did decide to seek out a publisher, he wouldn’t feel comfortable sending any of these to him.

So, with a sigh, he plopped down in his chair, reached for a pen and a blank piece of paper... and began writing.

Since it had been so long since he’d written a poem -- or anything that wasn’t a political article for The Daily Post -- Jackson figured he would sit at his desk for quite some time, stumped by writer’s block. But, surprisingly, the words flowed from his pen as easily as if they were the ink themselves.

He wrote one poem, and then two. Two turned into three, and three to four, until he realized he had been writing for some hours, and it was long past bedtime.

Before he extinguished the lamp and headed off to sleep, though, he decided to skim over everything he’d written. His eyes flitted across the sheets of paper, taking in the words he’d created... and as he read over the third poem, he realized...

All of these poems were... about you.

He blinked rapidly, shutting his eyes tightly and opening them again to look at the words on the pages.

His poems were... about... you?

...No.

That couldn’t be. 

Why would they be about you?

I mean, yes, he had written a poem about you before but it had been a poem about friendship and family.

These poems -- the ones he’d written tonight -- all of them -- were about love. Romantic love. True, undying, steadfast, passionate love.

So... how could they be about you?

But, as he read them over yet again, there you were. In every single one.

Not your name, of course, but there was no doubt in his mind it was you. He could feel it. He hadn’t felt it as he’d been writing, but now? Every word he read, he felt your presence. His heart rate increased. His anxiety grew. And... a pit formed in his stomach. 

You were, unsurprisingly, the first person he wanted to tell about these new poems. He had always told you first because you had always been his biggest supporter.

But how could he show you these? Even if it wasn’t obvious they were all about you, he wouldn’t be able to keep it from you. He was certainly capable of keeping a secret, but when it came to this? He knew himself. He wouldn’t be able to look you in the eye and not tell you the truth.

...Hold on.

What was the truth? What truth was he talking about?

The truth that the romantic, emotional poems he’d just written were about you?

Or... the truth that... he had feelings for you?

Jackson had to sit down the instant he thought that. He set the poems back on his writing desk and rested his elbow on the shiny, wooden surface, burying his face in his palm.

Oh, dear.

Oh, dear.

Since when had he had feelings for you?! He’d known you for as long as he could remember. Even in his earliest memories, you were there. But he had never, not once, thought about you in that way.

...Or maybe he had, and he just hadn’t realized it.

Obviously, that was the case because he had just written several love poems about you!

And... well, come to think of it, there had to have been a reason he’d despised it whenever you’d brought up marriage. He just hadn’t understood until now that the reason was... he wanted to marry you.

Jackson rubbed the bridge of his nose, letting out a heavy sigh at this sudden awakening.

It had been you all along. All these years. How had he never known that?

You had always been by his side, through thick and thin. You had always supported him, urged him to follow his dreams. You had always concerned yourself with his happiness -- you still did, to this day.

And, yes, you were beautiful. He had never wanted to admit just how attractive you were because you were his best friend, and being attracted to your best friend was awkward, to say the least. But he was admitting it now. He was attracted to you.

You weren’t just beautiful on the outside, though. Your heart was pure and generous. When you cared for someone, you cared for them deeply and for life. You were loyal and steadfast. And while you didn’t show it outwardly, you were passionate. Jackson’s passion was more obvious, but yours was subtle. Quiet. A simmering passion compared to Jackson’s bursts of flame.

Jackson quickly stood from his desk, knocking the chair over in his haste.

He had to tell you. He wasn’t sure he could go one more minute without showing you these poems and telling you how he felt.

...Except...

His eyes flashed over the clock on his bedside table, and he saw it was well past midnight. The sun would be up in a couple of hours, actually, and... now was not quite the appropriate time for declarations of love.

As Jackson picked his chair back up and blew out the lamp on his desk, he decided to send you a message as soon as he woke up in the morning.

...If he ever got to sleep, that is.

The sun was back up, and Jackson was back at his writing desk. Though, this time, he occupied the writing desk in his drawing room downstairs -- the desk he used for correspondence rather than poetry.

He had waited, very impatiently, until a socially acceptable hour to scribble out a message to you, announcing he would call on you at your earliest convenience.

But just as he dotted the last I and crossed the last T, Jackson’s butler appeared in the drawing room doorway and cleared his throat softly.

“Miss Y/L/N to see you, Sir,” the butler declared. “Shall I show her in?”

Jackson stood immediately, leaving his missive on the desk and instead reaching for his small stack of poems. “Yes, please,” he replied emphatically.

How typical of you to show up just when he’d been planning on visiting you. Sometimes Jackson truly did wonder if you knew what he was thinking...

A few moments later, you took the butler’s place in the doorway, your greeting smile outshining your yellow day dress -- Jackson’s favorite dress of yours, actually, though he hadn’t realized it was his favorite until just now. 

“Good morning,” you said as Jackson ushered you in. “I hope I’m not inappropriately early.”

“No, of course, not,” Jackson murmured. You took a seat on the sofa, and he perched next to you, clutching his poems tightly.

“I’ve been in contact with some of Father’s business associates, and --” Your brow furrowed slightly as your gaze landed on the papers in his hands. “What are those?”

“Ah -- these are... I wrote some new poems last night.”

Your eyebrows shot halfway up your forehead, and a beaming grin curved your lips. “Did you?!” you asked with excitement. “I was just about to tell you I think I’ve found a publisher! He’s a friend of a friend of Father’s over at JYP Publishing. I copied and sent him one of the poems you gave me years ago, and he’d like to see more.”

Jackson heard what you said, but... to be honest, getting published wasn’t the most important thing on his mind right now.

“I -- I would like you to read these,” he said, holding the papers out toward you and holding his breath.

You looked a bit confused, clearly wondering why he wasn’t more eager to hear about this publisher, but you took the poems, anyway.

Jackson’s heart began to race as you bent your head to read them.

It only took a few moments of silence for Jackson to stand from the sofa, shoving his hands in his pockets as he started to pace around the drawing room.

He kept glancing in your direction, seeing when you bit your lip. When you tilted your head. When you finished the first poem and moved on to the second. Once you’d finished the third poem just a couple of minutes later, you paused and lifted your gaze to look at him.

“Jackson,” you breathed, your eyes wide and filled with awe. “These are... beautiful.”

Jackson’s heart skipped a beat, and he stopped pacing.

“They’re -- they’re unlike any other poems you’ve written. You wrote these last night?”

He nodded quickly, finding any and all words had gotten temporarily stuck in his throat.

“I love them,” you said softly. You slid the third poem behind the second, moving on to the fourth.

But Jackson found he couldn’t take it any longer. The words became unstuck, and he hastily moved to sit next to you again.

“Y/N, I --” he began, and when you shifted your gaze to meet his, his heart skipped about five beats. “I have to tell you something.”

Your forehead wrinkled with concern, and you turned to face him better.

“Yes, what is it?” you asked gently.

Jackson searched your eyes for a few moments, looking for any sign that you really did know what he was thinking.

And then he took a deep, somewhat shaky breath.

“These poems... I didn’t realize it as I was writing them, but... they’re... all about you.”

Saying it out loud lifted the heaviest weight off of Jackson’s chest. He felt relieved, even though he may have just ruined your friendship forever.

The papers fell from your grasp, lightly floating down to the floor.

“I -- they’re -- they’re what?” you replied breathlessly, your features morphing into an expression which could only be labeled as ‘shocked.’

Jackson seized this opportunity to reach for your hands, taking them and holding them tightly.

“I had no idea I felt that way about you,” he explained, scooting closer to you. “But as I was reading back every poem last night, I realized I had written them all about you.”

Your eyes became glossy, though the shocked expression on your face had not changed in the slightest.

“Felt that way,” you repeated, though your lips barely moved. “Felt... felt what way?”

Well.

Here goes nothing.

“I love you,” Jackson declared, hearing the earnest passion in his own voice. “I’ve lived practically every day of my life with you by my side, and I want to keep living life with you by my side. Forever.”

Jackson had hardly finished his proclamation before you launched yourself onto him, abruptly pressing your lips to his.

It goes without saying, Jackson was taken completely by surprise. Before he even got the chance to think about getting his wits about him and kissing you back, you’d pulled away. But only just.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed, your voice hardly above a whisper. “I’ve always wondered what that would feel like, I’ve just never gotten the courage to actually try it.”

“Always wondered -- do you mean you -- are you --” Jackson stammered.

Another smile tugged at your lips, and you let out a very soft giggle. “Speechless again? Two days in a row, that’s definitely a first.”

Jackson lifted one hand to your face, sliding it over your jaw and cradling your cheek.

“So... you... feel the same way?” he asked slowly.

You didn’t answer right away, but you did press your cheek into his palm, bringing your own hand up to cover his. Jackson was sure you would be able to hear his heart pounding inside his rib cage through the silence.

“Well,” you began after a few moments. “I suppose I do.”

Jackson narrowed his eyes slightly and said, “You... suppose you do? I thought you just said you’d always wondered what it would feel like to --”

“I did,” you assured him. “I just... never thought that meant I loved you. I was just... curious.”

Oh, you were too adorable. A grin curved Jackson’s lips, and he let out a soft chuckle before he replied with, “So, you thought that imagining kissing your best friend was totally normal?”

“Yes!” you argued. “Look at you! How could I not imagine it?!”

Jackson simply laughed again, his gaze adoring as he met your wide, sparkling eyes.

And then you gasped softly. “You’re saying you never imagined kissing me?!” you asked, clearly affronted.

Instead of answering (because no, he had never imagined kissing you before last night), Jackson leaned in and captured your lips in a gentle but urgent kiss.

You returned his kiss instantly, apparently unfazed that he hadn’t actually answered your question and scooting as close to him as you could without crawling into his lap. As you placed your hands on his chest, Jackson felt his heart flutter as wildly as a large bird inside a small cage.

He felt your fingers gripping the lapels of his jacket just as you hesitantly pulled your lips away from his.

Jackson pulled you right back in, though this time into a warm, tight embrace.

“Thank you,” he murmured, feeling you let go of him as you slid your arms around his middle and hugged him back.

“Thank you?” you replied quizzically. “For what? For kissing you?”

“No,” Jackson chuckled. “For... always believing in me. For pushing me to write poetry again. For encouraging me to do what makes me happy. If you hadn’t, who knows how long it would have taken me to find out... you make me happy.”

You shifted in Jackson’s arms, hugging him closer to you and nuzzling your face in the crook of his neck. “You’re welcome,” you mumbled.

“And! This means I get to keep that second promise, after all,” he added, a smirk growing on his lips.

“What second promise?”

“You wanted me to start looking for a wife,” he reminded you. “Well, I have. And I’ve already finished looking.”

You pulled away hastily, meeting Jackson’s eager gaze with an incredulous one of your own. “Are you proposing to me? Like this? In your drawing room without a formal courtship or a ring or --”

“I wrote you several very romantic poems!” he interrupted.

You pursed your lips in thought and said, “Yes, that is true. I... guess that will do. For now.”

“For now? You want me to propose again?”

“Oh, I absolutely do,” you effused, nodding vigorously. “Once your poems are published, once you’ve quit The Daily Post, and once we have declared our intentions to our families, then you may propose again.”

Jackson leaned back, letting his head fall back against the top of the sofa. “And now I remember why I was so reluctant to find a wife,” he murmured.

He heard your soft giggle before he felt you cozy up next to him, your head fitting onto his shoulder perfectly and your arm gliding across his chest.

“But, yes,” you whispered, your breath fanning over the skin on his neck and sending a shiver down his spine. “Yes, I will marry you.”

Jackson wound an arm around your shoulders, pulling you as close to him as you could get, and in that instant... he knew.

Even if not a single one of his poems ever got published for as long as he lived, even if he had to write political articles until the day he died... he had all he ever truly needed right here in his arms.

Check out the other stories in this collab: Mark, JB, Jinyoung, Youngjae, BamBam, Yugyeom

#kwritersworldnet #jackson wang scenarios #jackson wang imagines #jackson wang au #jackson wang fluff #jackson wang fanfic #jackson scenarios #jackson au #jackson fluff #jackson fanfic #got7 scenarios #got7 imagines #got7 au #got7 fluff #got7 fanfic #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #kpop au #kpop fluff #kpop fanfic #jackson wang #got7

[de-cryptid]

Behind the curtain.

I’ll cut to the chase and simply state outright who I believe, and am almost certain, is behind the social media presence of Simon Alkenmayer.

Kristina Meister.

Kristina deleted her blog yesterday as of posting so I can’t link directly to it for the posts I am going to discuss and showcase here. I will be providing links that preserve their existence, however, so you don’t have to take me at my word alone.

For context: In Simon's world (which is how I will refer to the unreality that is his existence and supposed life), Kristina was his editor for The Creature's Cookbook and also the foot-in-the-door that is the publishing industry. She pitched the autobiography on his behalf, bringing it to Tapas media.

They maintained a friendship, both outside of the internet and here on tumblr. However, one day a fire was set in Kristina's driveway, leading her to what can reasonably be described as hysteria.

Here is an archived link to her reaction.

TL;dr is that she believes @simonalkenmayerisdead to be the only person in the world who could have possibly made a connection between her and Simon (despite the fact they actively engaged with each other on multiple social medias, that and there are far more people on tumblr that know of Simon than his critics) and threatened a multitude of legal action.

Here, The Fool explains the issue with the accusations levied against him and his followers.

Reading the exchanges between Simon, The Fool, and Kristina is what made it clear to me that Simon is Kristina. A lot of those posts are long gone due to Kristina's blog deletion, and are otherwise far too tedious to hunt down on Simon's blog, but they are quite similar to that which is linked above.

You can probably tell there's a level of irrationality (an understatement honestly) in Kristina's posts regarding the fire and her general demeanour.

As she and Simon have each other's personal contact information, which she herself showed a screenshot of, I think it's strange for Simon to respond publicly in the way he did. She's clearly not in a good mental state to be online, discussing a traumatic event, throwing accusations, cussing at and threatening her dissenters.

He's a long-lived observer of humans, in his world, and instead of recognizing this to be the behaviour of someone who isn't in the right frame of mind to be speaking about their circumstances to a substantial audience of presumably a few ill-intentioned people, he endorses everything she says and encourages her to continue on her rants.

Is it not obvious that this isn't accomplishing anything but potentially harming her more? She's shown the suspect that their tactic succeeded. She revealed her vulnerabilities in regards to her child and marriage. Simon, as a friend and the supposed cause for all this, should know better than to further feed into the anonymous attacks on his associate and instead handle it on a personal level.

But that isn't what happened.

The only way for someone to respond in the manner Simon did is for them to be as equally emotionally involved and irrational as Kristina herself is, which is clear from the notes where Simon's loyal audience reacts in a similarly distressed and irrational voice.

That's human behaviour, not that of a people-eating centuries-old non-mammalian monster who has watched famine ravage civilizations, killed countless individuals, and adapted despite it all.

But moving on, as I'm sure that in and of itself isn't enough for some people.

Let's turn our attention to The Creatures Cookbook itself. It's framed as a diary, meaning it was written in real-time and built upon over years, not as an autobiography. This is suspect for reasons I'll discuss further on.

I'd like to begin with the book's publishing history. It was first in print thanks to Fuse Literary, as can be seen in this post from their website, then moved onto the Tapas app (where it remains to this day).

Simon himself says that his book is "out of print", which is why it's not available as a physical copy outside of second-hand nowadays. This is not exactly true; fuse literary dropped the book. He isn't being represented by them anymore. Tapas, which is more of a pulp app where anyone can publish most anything, is not just the new medium he selected dutifully to act out the experiment more effectively; it was a last resort for a book people simply weren't interested in.

The Fool explains this quite well here.

I'd also like to reiterate something touched upon in that linked post; Simon lied about meeting his publisher, either in 2014 in that incredibly descriptive post about his agent and their experience with Tapas, or to that anonymous asker. Why is this? If the original post was incorrect, or no longer what Simon wanted readers to believe, wouldn't it make more sense to delete it? That or he, likely, forgot what was originally said about his publisher and simply made up a response for the asker. His memory spans centuries, and clearly that experience was a vivid one, given his description, but he couldn't keep consistent on his public social media. I find this suspect for many reasons.

Going back to Fuse Literary, we have articles that directly state Kristina is "writing as" Simon, which he has stated in the past was out of necessity to preserve his identity (which is somewhat contradictory, seeing as he claims that the government is aware of his species and him specifically, and also his aim is to convince people he does in fact exist).

Needless to say, a lot of little things just don't add up. Instead, they point to Kristina using Simon's character and presence as an outlet of sorts. He is an identity she assumes.

Here is another clue I stumbled upon, regarding Kristina's other writing endeavours.

Let's talk Cinderella Boy.

So Kristina is both a freelance editor (as Simon states she was for him) and a writer herself, with several published books. Easily her highest reviewed and most popular is called Cinderella Boy, a story about LGBTQ struggles from the perspective of a high school boy. I went through the reviews a while back and a lot were positive! But I noticed that many of those positive reviews were people who knew Kristina through Simon and already liked his character, his voice, his style.

And Cinderella Boy is very much the same.

I linked the Goodreads page above and recommend you go through reviews yourself to better understand what I mean, but below I will show one of the negative reviews that is... Very telling. (Click and swipe through, it's a long one)

And this wasn't the only person saying these sorts of things, either. Again, I recommend seeing for yourself. Here's another excerpt from a different review:

I want to focus in on the "70 year old philosophers" bit. The other review above said something similar about the overly deep and philosophical dialogue.

Sound familiar?

It appears Kristina's writing style happens to be that old-timey philosophically-bent verbose kind, highly reminiscent of Simon himself.

I found this rather funny. You'd think writing a modern YA would have a skilled writer attempting to make the character interactions more relatable and... Well, realistic.

It appears Kristina only has the one setting, however. And that happens to sound exactly the way Simon talks.

I will be going in-depth with the factual errors in Simon's historical assertions in the future, so I'll hold off on those for now, but a previous post of mine shows a clear miscalculation on the part of Simon's creator googling something and applying it to Simon's world, without realizing it was factually incorrect. You can see that here.

To conclude this very long post, I want to make it clear that I do not hate Kristina nor Simon, I am not posting this to harass either of them. I am only interested in making it clear that Simon is not an all-knowing cryptid and is not a reliable voice. Simon is a human creation and his readers should be aware of that. Seek real, professional help if you are looking for some advice. Do not think that an elaborate roleplay is an appropriate substitute.

#long post #simon alkenmayer #kristina meister

[afternoonpoppy]

Camping

Poppy awakens from her slumber, aaaaaa! This was for a commission but also something I’d wanted to sit down and write for a looong while, so this finally got me to do it and I’m glad for that. This turned out longer than I expected but I had fun writing it, so I hope it turned out well!

A bit of a chill had started to creep into the night air, but Allister hardly minded at all. Being sat by a modestly-sized campfire with Wolfram beside him, there was plenty of warmth to go around. And besides, Allister was camping again! 

Sort of, anyway - it was honestly more of a meetup with friends for the evening, and they weren't even more than a twenty-minute walk from Allister's house. But the group had gotten a fire together, brought out a cooler with drinks, and even found some sizable logs to sit on. Allister preferred fold-out chairs, but his cousin Sadie had insisted it would make the whole night more 'authentic.' Plus, it did allow Wolfram and Allister to sit closer together. In all, they'd ended up with about nine people gathered together, some of them being mutual friends of Allister and Sadie, with others being acquaintances invited by said friends. The total was 'about' nine since Allister's coworker Vincent had shouted that they were going on an impromptu snack-run to the nearest convenience store thirty minutes ago.

"Honestly, I don't know what she was expecting to happen," Sadie was saying very emphatically from across the campfire. While the group had split off into their own conversations and activities, she'd recruited Allister and Wolfram into listening to the evening's third rant about the obnoxious roommate she'd been putting up with for the past while. "Like, she was gonna yell at me and then just expect me to finish cleaning up the apartment for her? I am under no obligation to do her laundry, thank you very much." 

Marcus, the other of Allister's two coworkers that had been invited, walked over to take a seat by the fire just in time to catch what was being discussed and followed up with, "I mean, you gotta remember, Sadie. This is the same girl that thought she'd just hand in a Wikipedia article for one of her college assignments. You think she thinks this stuff through?"

Allister's eyebrows furrowed as he stared into the fire and tried to parse that statement. "Wait, as in she plagiarized a Wikipedia article, right?" Surely Marcus hadn't literally meant -

"I mean, I guess it's still plagiarism if you download an entire Wikipedia page and send it to your professor, yeah."

Oh. Allister nodded, struggling for something to say to that, but quickly gave up. Even if that anecdote weren't so absurd that it demanded speechlessness, he'd been content to let his friends steer the conversations of the night. Allister was just glad to hear what they'd been up to as of late, as well as to have a chance to sit outside and enjoy the wilderness. Crickets chirped in the trees of the woods and stars coated the sky up above, making a beautiful sight. 

That sight had been one of his favorite things about moving out here from the city. The other being that he'd been able to meet Wolfram. Wolfram who had spent the first part of the evening nearly dozing off by the fire after the walk to the group's meetup spot, but looked to have regained some energy now that he'd been sitting down for a while. He hadn't bothered to take part in the conversation much either and had also been focusing on either the fire or the stars for most of the night.  Allister wasn't very surprised, though. Considering this was the first time Wolfram had properly interacted with... anyone else in this world in person, Allister was just glad to get him out of the house. Getting into the car was still a no-go, but perhaps that would be another day.

"So, Wolfram, what do you do, anyway? You work, doing the whole 'actually trying to learn' thing, what?" Sadie asked abruptly, apparently letting the previous topic rest for now. "I don't think Allister's ever mentioned."

Allister's eyes widened and he glanced at Wolfram. The two had long ago decided not to mention the whole... 'magic and other worlds' situation to other people for any number of reasons. Not least of all being concerns as to what sort of attention Wolfram would draw as a (somewhat, at least) practiced spellcaster. It wasn't as if the pair hadn't discussed what their cover story would be to other people, but it hadn't come up very much as of yet and Allister couldn't help but worry.

Still, Wolfram seemed unphased by the question and smoothly answered, "I'm a writer. Primarily focusing on short fiction at the moment."

"Whoa, cool," Sadie said with a grin. "What do you write, like, romance, fantasy, sci-fi? Romance? I'm into romance if you've got any of that."

"Apologies, no. It is fantasy, my current project is a series of stories taking place in the same setting, so right now much of my time working on it is spent on world-building."

Allister was impressed at Wolfram's confidence in that answer. Sadie nodded, reaching into the cooler near her for a drink. "Neat. I don't actually read a whole lot, so no promises, but I'll try and give it a look when it's done. Either of you guys wants a beer?" She held up an extra can and tapped on the side with one nail.

"No, thank you," Wolfram said.

Allister shrugged. "Yeah, sure, I'll have one."

Sadie aimed to toss it to Allister but realized the fire between them might pose a problem. Rather than stand up and walk around it, she settled for instead trying to throw the can around the fire at an awkward angle, which resulted in it flying off to the side and rolling across the ground a bit. Marcus stared at Sadie with eyebrows raised.

"Uh, I think we can let that one settle there for a while," Allister said, standing from his seat to grab a can from the cooler. "Let's not ask you to throw things when you've had alcohol."

Sadie objected by holding up her freshly-opened can and saying, "Hey, this is my first one, Alli!"

"That was a sober throw?" Wolfram asked.

"Wait, shit. Okay, yeah, let's say I was drunk for that."

For a while longer, the conversation shifted back and forth through various topics among the group. Eventually, though, Allister glanced over to the trees around the campsite. He leaned closer to Wolfram and asked, "Hey, you wanna go for a walk?"

"A walk?" Wolfram leaned against Allister's shoulder. "Where did you intend to go?"

"Nowhere, in particular. I just wanted to stretch my legs and get away from the fire for a bit. We don't gotta go far."

Wolfram thought for a moment, then said, "We walked here and have to do so again to get home, so I would rather not. Feel free to enjoy yourself, though, so long as you don't end up lost."

"You sure?"

"I'm not frightened of people, Allister," Wolfram said with a smile. "I can handle any questions your cousin directs at me. Either that or I can ask her something about her housemate and let her talk for another thirty minutes."

"Hmm, I guess so. Alright then, if you're sure. I'll make sure I can still see the fire anyway." Allister stood up, stretching a bit, noting that Sadie and Marcus had both wandered off to the rest of the group and were yelling into someone's phone at Vincent, demanding they return from whatever had distracted them on their snack run. Allister had meant to tell them he'd be back shortly but figured he wouldn't disrupt anything if he just stepped away from the campsite.

Once he'd gotten some distance away, he noticed how quiet it was out in the woods. He hadn't been aware of the background noise his social circle's chatter made until he could hear the contrast in nature's quiet cricket chirps. It was nice out here. Much more Allister's pace than when he lived out in the city with his family, but this was the first time he'd taken the time to stop and appreciate it even after moving out here.

He leaned back against a tree, occasionally sipping the beer he'd brought with him, and started searching the stars for any constellations he knew. The answer was none, he'd always been terrible at telling constellations apart and never knew where one ended and another began, but at least they were pretty.

Allister's thoughts were interrupted, unfortunately, as a strong hiccup shook through his chest. 'HUP!' He raised a hand to his chest in surprise and instinctively tried to muffle the next 'HMK!' to follow, his own hiccups startling him as they broke the silence.

"Why n - HULP - now..." he mumbled to himself. As usual, Allister's hiccups were fast and obnoxiously loud. Considering it was almost unheard of for his cases to start up with no reason, he cast an accusatory look at the beer can in his hand. "Thi - HUC - this is you - HIC - your fault - HUC-UP!" He sighed - or tried to with yet another hiccup interrupting - and turned his attention back up to the stars.

Allister had planned to try to wait out his hiccups in the hopes they'd stop on their own. He preferred not to return to the party only to be a distraction for everyone. Unfortunately, he did wait for some time, looking back at the campfire now and then and eventually checking his phone to see that almost fifteen minutes had passed. It was becoming apparent that just the same as the hiccups didn't typically start without reason, they wouldn't stop on their own anytime soon either. 

Allister grimaced at that thought. He had wanted to be back by now, but here he was instead, without even so much as a bottle of water to try to solve the problem. He hated what he was contemplating, but he hated leaving Wolfram on his own even more. So, without putting too much thought into what a terrible decision he was making, Allister inhaled deeply and held his breath. In the past, that had always been a terrible idea, but maybe that had always been a coincidence?

Successfully holding his breath with hiccups leaping through his chest every other second proved to be more difficult than he remembered, and it felt like he ran out of air much faster than he would have otherwise. And he was forced to give up that effort and breathe fresh air when his hiccups abruptly became faster.

Allister immediately regretted his decision. "Wa - HUP - wait - HUC-UP - please ju - HIC! HIGK - just - HUK-ULP - h-hold on - HIC!" His attempt at talking his hiccups into calming down did little to help. Even worse, they had gotten stronger and were starting to hurt now. Allister would have said it was because his own body seemingly wanted him to suffer, but he knew this was his mind's fault instead, for thinking holding his breath might seriously work this time.

"Allister?"

Allister jumped when he realized Wolfram was now standing next to him. When that had happened, he had no idea. "Fr - HUP! HIC-ULP! - Fram, I - HUC-UP! HIGK! - what - HIC!"

Wolfram reached out and patted Allister gently on his back, a look of concern on his face. "Everyone at the fire is currently engaged in a round of trivia about media that is flying completely over my head, so I thought I would come to find you. And it didn't take me very long to hear where you were... Are you alright? Those sound worse than usual, somehow."

Unable to form anything even remotely close to a proper sentence at the moment, Allister could only answer with, "B - HIGK-UP - bad ch - HIC! HUC-ULP - choices - HUP!"

"I'm not sure what that - oh. Allister, did you try to stop them by holding your breath?"

Allister nodded.

"Haven't you told me that's the one thing you absolutely cannot do?"

Allister answered with another nod and a whine between hiccups.

"And why in the world would you do that?" Wolfram asked. "From what I was last aware, there are plenty of drinks available that you could have cured them with instead. That's at least had a partial success rate before."

At first, Allister contemplated how to phrase the answer in a way that his hiccups would allow, then settled for pulling up a note app on his phone and typing. 'I didn't want to bother anybody. My hiccups aren't exactly subtle.'

Wolfram stared at the message, thinking. "I hardly think anyone present tonight would mind as much as you think. You honestly did not need to make yourself suffer like this."

'Suffer' sounded melodramatic, but considering he was still putting up with nonstop hiccup after hiccup, Allister figured it wasn't exactly wrong. 'I know it was a dumb idea. But everyone's having fun, and I didn't want to be a problem.'

"Honestly, Allister, you worry too much about these things..." Wolfram sighed. "Though I... have also hidden in a crate to avoid being seen with hiccups, so... perhaps I am not the best person to hear this from."

"You - HIGK-ULP - what?" Allister asked, too surprised by that statement to bother typing his response on his phone.

Staring down at the ground and fidgeting a bit, Wolfram mumbled, "I, um, it was rarely an issue back home but I... did have a particularly stubborn case at one point and... Hiding away until they stopped seemed ideal..."

"But a - HUC! HIC - a crate?"  

"It - I panicked, I was in one of the Academia Arcana's storerooms to retrieve spell materials and - and I heard someone outside the door - the details aren't important. My point is, I do understand but don't do this sort of thing to yourself in the future, please."

Allister appreciated the thought, smiling at Wolfram and nodding. "Don't w - HUP! HIC-UP - worry, I - HIC - I won't."

"Good. Now then, I'll fetch you some water. Wait here, I'll be quick about it."

After a minute or two, Wolfram returned with a bottle of water, which Allister accepted gladly, trying and failing to state his gratitude, "Th - HIGK - thank y - HULP - you, F - HUC-ULP - Fra -"

"Just drink it," Wolfram interrupted. 

Allister did so, drinking the water in quick gulps between each hiccup. It took a few tries, but eventually, they slowed down somewhat and finally came to a stop entirely. He waited for a few seconds, still unsure if he'd genuinely been cured at first, but then finally sighed with relief.

"Better?"

"Much," Allister said. "Thanks, Fram."

Wolfram smiled and leaned his weight against Allister's side. "Very good. Shall we be returning to the camp?"

"Hmm..." Allister wrapped an arm around Wolfram's shoulder. "It is getting a bit cold, huh? I guess we should." He paused for a moment, then added, "But... Hey, how about we have a real camping trip sometime soon?"

"We won't have an oven for you to cook proper meals, then," Wolfram objected.

"I mean, I guess not. But you've never had s'mores before. Those are best when they're toasted over a campfire."

"I've heard of those... what are they?"

"Chocolate and marshmallows, Fram."

Wolfram's eyes widened at the statement, clearly intrigued. "When is your next day off? We can do it then."

Allister laughed and hugged Wolfram closer. "Okay, we'll talk about it when we get home. C'mon, let's head back to the camp before Sadie comes to chase us down."

#Poppy Writes #wolfram and allister #hiccup kink #hiccups #alcohol