#I already posted another article released at the end of last year where he said that he might write about Prague | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs | Tumgik (2025)

This article was interesting bc Jacob mentioned the pressure he felt being naked on screen, how exercise affected his mood positively and how he asked Sam if he knew how vampires moved before deciding he wanted to be “reptilian” about it.

Source: Men’s Health - Jacob Anderson Always Wants More Chaos

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haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter fifteen

Summary:After the sudden deaths of her mother and grandmother, y/n is forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke her heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, she vows to get to the bottom of her former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what she’s expecting.

a/n: Will I remain posting regularly? That remains to be seen by everyone, myself included....Because every single time I say something, I end up accidentally not posting for weeks. Anyways, enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.7k

Two nights later, all Bruce could think about was that Alfred had been right.

He should have told y/n the truth while he had the chance.

“Where are you going?”

A full day had passed since y/n found the picture in the elevator, and she half-expected Bruce’s voice to be a dream when she turned around. She hadn’t slept much, except for a brief few hours where her body literally had shut down and forced her into unconsciousness. Fear was her constant companion, but now, when she turned to see Bruce standing behind her with his arms crossed, anger cut through the fog of fear like a spear of flame.

She mirrored his stance and crossed her own arms. “I’m going to let it slide since we’re all stressed, but try to boss me around again and see what happens.”

Both of their jaws were clenched tightly shut.

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. She could practically hear the words come out of his mouth, That’s not an answer.

“I asked Gordon to come up,” she finally said, caving, though the anger still simmered below the surface. The nerve that Bruce Wayne had to barely be home, to barely care about her, and still try to boss her around all the same. She was this close to punching him in the face or pushing him down the stairs. Or maybe she would pour ice cubes in his bed next time he was asleep. “And if you’re going to bother me every single time I’m next to the fucking elevator, think again.”

Bruce relaxed marginally, completely ignoring her barbed comment–which was probably for the best. She had no energy left to really fight, anyways.

Most of that energy had gone towards a preliminary article she had just submitted about the Gallo family. She hadn’t released any details about her involvement with them, merely reporting the fact that they were trying to make a move on Gotham.

She had debated doing the article at all. Was it better to pretend like nothing was happening? Was it better to keep her head down and wait for it to resolve itself, whether because of Gordon and the Batman or through the Gallos finally getting to her?

But then she realized that the people of Gotham deserved the truth, or at least as much of it she could get away with. She was already a target, but she didn’t need everyone else knowing that.

So she had simply decided to send an article to print that Gotham was on the brink of another mob takeover, just like all of the business with Falcone and Maroni and everyone else who had corrupted their city.

If only half of the city shared her views, y/n knew that they wouldn’t be happy with someone else trying to worm their way into their city. Gotham might be a shithole, but it was their shithole.

The moment she had hit send, it had hit her.

She didn’t want to be a sitting duck. She wanted to do something about it. She wanted those bastards gone. She wanted the work Bella Real and the Batman and cops like Gordon had done in the last year to stick–or at least have the chance of doing so.

She had called Gordon, told him she wanted to talk over some things, that she needed company anyways.

And now there she was, staring down the man who had broken her heart, waiting on Gordon to arrive on the elevator behind her.

“Gordon and I are going to have a private conversation,” she said pointedly as the elevator doors slid open behind her.

“Y/n,” Gordon said in greeting, but she still didn’t turn around. She and Bruce were still in the middle of their standoff. “Mr. Wayne. Good to see you again, at least under more…normal circumstances than last time.”

She raised an eyebrow at Bruce. She could tell he wanted to argue, wanted to stick around and stick his nose even further into her business. But after a long silence, he inclined his head and said, “Detective,” before turning and disappearing back the way he had come.

Once Bruce was safely out of earshot, she gave Gordon her full attention and said what had been on her mind the past couple of hours. Or, if she was being completely honest, the past several days.

“I want you to use me as bait, and I don’t want you to argue about it. I want you to help me actually figure out how to get rid of these motherfuckers.” She crossed her arms again for good measure.

Gordon sighed, long and loud. She expected an argument or a lecture or a combination of the two. But instead, all he said was, “We better bring our other friend into this discussion.”

–

“Absolutely not,” was the very first thing the Batman said when she laid out her plan.

“Yeah, well, as I like to point out to certain other people in my life, you’re not the boss of me. I’m going to do something stupid with or without your help, because I am fucking sick of this. Alright? I can’t live like this.” She shivered as a particularly brutal gust of wind cut through her.

They were on top of the signal tower. She and Gordon had decided together that it was easier to smuggle her out than it would be to smuggle Batman in. Besides, she didn’t want those two parts of her life mixing. God forbid Bruce find out what she was up to. She was arguing with him enough already.

Not to mention the fact that she didn’t want to disappoint Alfred, or cause him any more stress than she already had.

The smuggling had taken a willing female detective–a nice woman in her late thirties name Lori Ayers–trading places with y/n. They were relatively the same height and build luckily enough, and Detective Ayers was already assigned to the security on Wayne Tower. An outfit switch, a fake detective badge, and lots of praying later, and there they were. Y/n had asked Gordon and Ayers if she could have a gun, but both of them had practically shouted no in her face.

Gordon held up his hands, ever the peacekeeper. “Listen, man, I’m not saying we should put her in any unnecessary danger, but–”

“The whole idea is unnecessary danger!” The Batman cut in. His voice echoed in the darkness of the night around them.

Gordon continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “–but all I’m saying is that we aren’t any closer to catching these guys. None of us are. So if we can do something we know will draw them out…why not do it?” Gordon gave her a wry look. “And, like she said, it’s probably better to have us for backup before she does anything stupid on her own.”

Y/n gave Batman a triumphant look as if to say See? I’m right.

She studied him while he worked his jaw in annoyance. Was he sick of looking out for her? Because she was certainly sick of needing to be looked out for. She wanted to end it.

“Fine,” he said, the word a growl he spat out. She tried to resist pumping her fist in the air, she really did. He gave her a Look with a capital L that had her lowering it immediately. “But let me just–let me follow this last lead, alright? If it doesn’t pan out, we’ll make a plan. Give me tonight before you do anything stupid.”

She nodded eagerly. “Great, fine. I needed to get out of the house anyway.” Gordon was also giving her a Look. “What?” she said a bit defensively.

“You’re awfully upbeat for someone who wants to offer herself up for bait to the mob.” He raised one dark eyebrow above the frames of his glasses.

She shrugged. “Well, I have cabin fever, so this helped my mood immensely. Plus, the end is in sight. It’s about to be over, one way or another.”

Later, when she thought back to that moment, she would wonder if she had jinxed it. Or maybe she was simply jinxed all along, one thing leading to another, leading to its inevitable end. Leading to the only possible way it could play out. Her luck, ever since stepping foot back in Gotham–and even before then, ever since Alfred had knocked on her apartment door–had been nonexistent.

“One last lead,” Batman repeated, holding her gaze steadily for once. Something ran through her like an electric current at that look. Like he was trying to tell her something.

“One last lead,” she said, crossing her heart for good measure. “I promise I’ll be good.”

Gordon chuckled like he didn’t quite believe her. “Alright, let’s get back.”

“I’ll follow you,” Batman said, interrupting her thoughts of how she was going to get Gordon to sneak her past Bruce and Alfred both. She hadn’t told either of them she was leaving, and she didn’t want to think about what they would say to her if they found out. It would only make her life that much harder.

Her ride back with Gordon was mostly quiet.

“Where did you get this fake badge anyways?” she asked when Wayne Tower’s doors finally came into view. She toyed with it, noting all the ways it looked like the real deal. Maybe she could hold onto it…just in case.

“Confiscated it from a kid caught forging all kinds of stuff, including badges she used to get classified materials.”

She. Interesting. Sounded like somebody y/n would like to hang out with.

She didn’t say any of that out loud, however. All she did was hum and put the badge back on her belt.

“And no, I won’t give you her name,” Gordon said. Their eyes met and they both laughed in tandem.

“Fine, fine. I might be able to find it on my own anyway.” She winked.

They parked in an alley where Gordon or the other detectives on stakeout duty usually parked. As they stepped out into the cold air, Gordon’s phone rang.

“Just a second,” he said, stepping further towards the mouth of the alley. “I have to take this. Don’t move.” He pointed at threatening finger at her. She held up both hands in surrender.

He needn’t have worried–the sound of an approaching motorcycle reached her ears as Batman pulled into the alley behind them. The noise reverberated off of the building walls for a moment before abruptly shutting off. Gordon locked eyes with him, inclined his head, and then answered the phone while striding towards the street ahead.

“So,” she said casually to Batman as he stood broodily in the shadows. “Think I could have been a detective in another life?” She struck a little pose in her smart, borrowed business suit and trench coat, imagining the fake badge glinting in the low light.

Batman made a noise that could have been a scoff or a laugh. “Sure, except you would have been fired for repeatedly breaking the rules. And laws.”

She laughed delightedly. “You’re probably right.” She definitely had chosen the only profession that suited her nosiness and penchant for getting into trouble, something Bruce had pointed out years ago.

“I’m definitely right.”

They were closer together than she expected, the toes of their shoes almost touching. She wasn’t sure how that had happened. It was if they had both been drawn in by the other’s gravity, invisible and inevitable. He stared down at her for a moment before, of course, turning his face away.

“There you go again,” she murmured as she memorized the line of his jaw. “Scared to look me in the eyes.” She reached out and poked his stubbled cheek gently. He froze, but didn’t make a move to step away.

“I’m scared for you,” he said in an equally soft voice that sent shivers over her skin. “I don’t want you to have to offer yourself up. I don’t like thinking that I might not be able to keep you safe.”

Y/n felt each of his words sink into her like rocks in a deep lake, sinking down and down and down until they settled at the bottom, heavy in her stomach. She was staring up at him now, their breath mingling, and he was finally, finally looking back.

She opened her mouth to speak but nothing came out.

Instead, she did the next best thing.

She stretched up onto her toes and kissed him.

He went so still she immediately knew she had overstepped–and had overstepped badly. She quickly pulled away, face on fire, eyes straining to find anything to look at other than the rejection in his eyes. Stupid, that was so stupid. Just because he wanted her safe didn’t mean that he wanted her to kiss him.

But before she got too far, his gloved hand caught her arm and tugged her closer. And then he was kissing her.

She inhaled deeply, her stomach doing somersaults in a way it had never done before. She was flying above Wayne Tower yet still somehow firmly rooted to the ground. It was like she could finally breathe again and yet somehow she was gasping for breath. His lips were gentle. One of his hands cupped her elbow while the other splayed across her upper back. She wished he had his gloves off, like that moment in another alley on another night. She wanted to feel his skin against hers.

Then he was gone, a full step away.

She couldn’t help it–her fingers traced her lips in a daze.

They were staring at each other, both breathing slightly heavier than they had been before.

“Alright, let’s go,” Gordon called from behind her somewhere. She couldn’t bring it within herself to care if he had seen or not. Her and the Batman were still staring at each other, in their own world, a seismic shift between them.

“Goodnight,” she said, her voice low and raspy with want.

“Be safe,” was all the Batman said as he watched her go.

Gordon didn’t look at her like he had just seen them kissing, but she felt as if it were written all over her face.

“Crime never sleeps,” he said to her as they walked the short distance to the doors. His head was constantly swiveling, searching for danger, and she knew a certain vigilante was watching from the shadows as well.

Her entire body was electric, every nerve ending on fire, heat settling in her face and chest and lower, too.

For once, she wasn’t wondering about who the Batman was. Her mind had been rendered totally blank by one kiss. She wasn’t even thinking about how he wasn’t Bruce Wayne, like every other kiss of her life.

Instead it simply felt…right.

She blinked and they were somehow inside.

“Blake, can you escort Detective Ayers upstairs? I have to go to a crime scene.” Gordon gave Blake a long, searching look. Y/n knew that the moment the security guard looked up, he would recognize her.

Sure enough, he did. His face did something complicated before he realized what Gordon said and stammered out, “S-sure. This way, Detective, um, Ayers.” He hit something on the computer keyboard, scrambling, having to hit whatever button it was a second time.

“See you later,” Gordon said to her, the words full of meaning.

She turned towards him and nodded. “Goodnight.”

It felt stupid, pretending to be someone else in the lobby of her home, but they still didn’t know who had breached security two nights earlier. She knew it was better to be safe than sorry, but Blake knew who she was. What was to stop whoever worked for the Gallos from recognizing her as well? She imagined their pub, Maverick’s, covered in hundreds of stalkery photos of her.

Gordon waved over his shoulder as she and Blake stepped into the elevator. As soon as the doors slid closed, y/n relaxed a bit. Everything was almost over.

And she had kissed the Batman.

A smile grew on her face before she could stop it.

When she glanced up, Blake was watching her.

His upper lip and his hairline were beaded with sweat and he was much paler than normal.

“Are you okay?” she asked, wondering if maybe he was sick. Something in her gut shivered with warning.

“I’m so sorry–” he said, the words choked. “I’m so sorry. They have my sister.”

That’s when she saw the glint of a needle in his hand.

Next Chapter

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The timeline autism pleads for the Makoto/Komaru age post

HELL YEAH LET'S DO THIS.

So, Komaru Naegi is the younger sister of Makoto Naegi, as we know. Makoto's birth date is 2/5, while Komaru's is 5/31, just under 4 months apart. Therefore, Makoto's and Komaru's birth years must be at least one year apart.

A school year in Japan starts in April, and Makoto and Komaru are on separate sides of the cutoff. Makoto would be in the younger part of his class, while Komaru would be in the older half of hers. Because they're over a year apart, this means that they're 2 grades apart.

In the UDG opening, Komaru introduces herself and her life in the apartment to the audience, stating that she's been trapped in here for roughly a year and a half, and that she got kidnapped after the unrest of the Tragedy had already begun.

Another clue comes from a clipping from a newspaper. Notably, every other clipping from this group of collectibles is implied to have been released either immediately before or during the events of the game, as they revolve around Towa City and its collapse. The one I'm calling to, though, is speaking on the death of Junko Enoshima, specifically citing that it's been 3 months since her death. This is one of the ones that still speaks positively of how safe Towa City is, so we know it came before, but quite likely not by much.

The final clue is from that very unfortunate minigame Kotoko puts us through in chapter 3. It opens with a line from Kotoko, stating that it's "the opposite of child porn" and therefore makes it okay to keep the game's rating where it is. This all but confirms that Komaru is of legal age in the game, and because they never actually state her age at any point, it means that the character must be assumed as of legal age regardless of what country you're playing the game in. Ergo, she's at least 18.

Now, let's go back to when the game is taking place. Just over 3 months following Junko's death and the end of THH. This is rough estimation, but we can reasonably assume that THH took place during April. While you might think there's no way to guarantee this, the cherry blossom trees in the dojo prove otherwise. They're in bloom, and normally are in bloom in the spring, late March-early May. So we know that it is happening around the time of year the characters think it is, even if it's not the same year. If we want to take it a step further, Byakuya states in one of his FTEs that it's his birthday, and Byakuya's birthday is 5/5, but that's not exactly reliable testimony considering he's wrong about the year, and may be wrong about the exact date as well. That said, THH takes place over the course of just over 3 weeks, so it's entirely reasonable to say that it could be May by the time the game ends. This would put that "3 months" article either near the end of July, or the start of August, and the events of UDG therefore most likely in August. Why is this important?

We know that Makoto and Komaru are at least 2 grades apart, that THH and UDG happen in the same year, and that Komaru is 18 during UDG specifically. Komaru's birthday, once again, is 5/31. That would mean her 18th birthday takes place between the two games, and that this would hypothetically be her last year of high school were there no Tragedy taking place. It stands to reason, then, that Makoto's "last year" was 2 years ago, meaning he's 19 now.

If Makoto's 19 now, then he was 17 entering Hope's Peak, as you can enter at age 16 or 17. I've already gone over why Makoto's class entered in April 2011, so assuming we're right, that would put Komaru turning 18 in 2013 and born in '95, and Makoto born the year before her in '94.

I'm at work so I can't pull up any screenshots or anything, but I can go hunt them down later. This whole post is kinda running on memory lol but that's my theory!

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2013 Haylor Timeline

Timeline Tag, or years, 2012 2014

3 January hair pinned up at restaurant in Virgin Islands. Harry's "might as well.." Tattoo first seen. Covered with Ferns now.

4 January - Taylor's blue dress on a boat. Harry bite bruise on his hip

6 January - Harry seen in NY

7 January -Harry back in London, date People reports that they broke up. Reports Scott swift told them to slow down.

9 January - Harry seen GQ dinner London. photos of Harry in Richard Bransons hot hub on front page after the break up. (I often wonder what the less famous people think now that they treated him poorly as a kid and he is massive now). Gordon Smart (1:12, warning he follows it with a bad anecdote about 18 year old H), who worked on media for One Direction, said in 2020 that Harry had said:

"Simon Cowell actually paid me to do some media training with them back in the day so I met them before they were massive and they were again really lovely kids. [...] I wrote a front page story about him sharing a jacuzzi with a girl on holiday and he told me it was bollocks and we still ran it, because we had a picture of him in the jacuzzi. It was probably totally innocuous and I really I'd like to apologize unreservedly to Harry for that because it was an error of judgment on my part and it probably tarnished our friendship."

Richard Branson also has gross sounding comments about this 18 year old that day.

10 January - made fun of his accent at Grammy's, Harry at nightclub London

12 January when asked, Niall says he listens to WANGBT, Louis says and Harry’s. 22 MV filmed.

15 January - one direction trip to Ghana for Red Nose Day comic relief

16 January - One Direction Tokyo, when movie scenes filmed

20 January - Harry in London

21 January - Taylor in London reports she saw Harry, Harry at friends house

22 January - Harry got the Butterfly and handshake tattoos

23 January - Taylor in Madrid before performing at the '40 Principales Awards'. H London

26 January Both at NRG Awards, 25 January Taylor posts Cannes Sunset situation. They both stayed in the Intercontinental Carlton Cannes Hotel.

27 January - Harry meeting with Simon Cowell Glasgow,

28, 30, 31 Jan, 1, 2, 4 , 8 Feb - Harry London, Leed 13 -16

1 February - Harry's 19th birthday. £5k tab, messy, wild party. Rumour that Taylor had booked a week in Italy which was cancelled

6 February - Savan Kotecha (WMYB writer) gave interview where he said 1D want to be write but can’t. Probably had left 1D already and doing press to build career. His last 1D credit is Happily. In 2017 praised (45 mins) Harry’s writing. In the later interview Savan also says he spent a year being sad after the 1D thing ended until Ariana came into work with him, (52mins) so that article may have been that he’d already left 1D. He said he was working on Emblem3 which may be the other bad project he talked about (released April).

10 February - Taylor at Grammy's, night Ed says inspired Tenerife Sea

18 February - Harry the Box Nightclub

19 February - Harry “I’m ok, thank you for asking. I’m good. She’s a great performer and she always performs great. She’s always good on the stage. She’s been doing it a long time. She knows what she’s doing on stage. It was just another good Taylor Swift performance. I understand why people would wanna know stuff like that. I get it. If someone does stuff like that then I wanna know about it, too. It is what it is, I guess.”

21 February - both attend Brit awards - Taylor performs I knew you were trouble with Harry in the audience. In march she told the Sunday Times "Well, it's not hard to access that emotion when the person the song is directed at is standing by the side of the stage watching." She goes to an afterparty with Tom Odell and out with him the next night. Tom writes Country Star about Taylor and Harry wrote Happily about wishing they were together. Ed is asked if he would trust Harry around his girlfriend and he said “well he trusts me around his girlfriend so yeah I do. We’re friends we don’t do that.” Harry went on Nick Grimshaw from 6am a hungover.

23February- 3November - 1D Up all Night tour, start in Europe

7 March - Taylor sells Hyannis Point House at $1m profit

15 March - Taylor vanity fair article. Says Harry pursued her for a year before KCA, better part of a year after and it fell apart one night in London when he went out and he’s texting her to ask to see her again at the time of the interview. Pointed mentioned she was born in 1989, Easter egged wonderland, talks about Connor being 2 months and insignificant. Implies Harry was a rebound from JG and Connor was a Harry rebound. Says she’s looking for someone who is interested in her not her wiki page.

25 - 29 March - Harry in LA, then back to London. He was photographed hanging out with his friends Cal Aurand and Jen Kelly in Malibu. Taylor performed in South Carolina on March 23 and in New Jersey on March 27, as part of her RED tour. She was photographed arriving in New York on March 26. She was MIA for the two previous days; she flew by private jet to either Los Angeles or Nashville. It’s possible that Harry and Taylor met in Los Angeles on March 24 or 25. On the 25th, Harry tweeted lyrics to ‘Fire and Rain’ by James Taylor. (Begin again)

29 March - Taylor played “You're Not Sorry” in Newark. “I truly believe that when dealing with anybody you meet, you should start by trusting them. Any new friend you meet. Any new person you meet. I think you should truly believe the beat in them. And the first time that they tell you they’re sorry I think you should believe them. But then if they keep doing the same exact thing that they say they’re sorry for, that means one thing guys. That they’re not. Sorry.”-here. Appeared in Wonderland cover April 7, 2013

11 April - Louis says 'Taylor Swift' after Harry sings "I'm in love with you" in Little Things

12 April - Harry’s high school friend, Nick who was in White Eskimo says he liked Taylor since he was 15 before x-factor to the Mirror

Nick has known the One Direction star for years, and recalled the moment Harry (then just 15) admitted fancying country singer Taylor Swift when he watched one of her videos in 2009. Nick said: “He was like ‘Oh my god, she’s really, really good looking. I would do anything for a bit of that.’ Then he went and got with her years later!”

13 April - Harry tweeted “I really like that song 'Dumb' by @lamtich. Just heard it again” a song about regretting breaking up with someone.

18 April - Harry holmes chapel

20 April - TS on B stage song before “I Almost Do” in Tampa, FL. “everybody’s got like one, maybe two, I don't know how many you have, but at least one person in your life that doesn’t belong in your life anymore because maybe they hurt you or maybe it’s just over but you kind of want to call them sometimes. And you think better of it. But, you almost do it.”-here.Then a Red tour break till the 25th; One Direction tour break starting in Manchester till Paris on 29th. Louis stays in Europe,

23 April - Harry arrives alone in LA without the Peace ring

24 April - Neither Harry or Taylor seen. The day Harry got the ring

25 April - First day Peace Ring is seen. Harry has dinner with Rod Stewart, Rod then plays the Troubadour and Harry stayed at Rod Stewarts house. Taylor in Cleveland

28 April - Harry posts photo of sunglasses on beach. Taylor photographed in a gym in Los Angles. Wears the ring to leave LAX and there is an absolutely insane mob because he is there alone with no security.

29 April - Arrives in Paris alone, still wearing ring, described as a riot. The ring is in This is Us in Paris

April 30 - Taylor buys Holiday House Rhode Island for $18m cash

1 May - Everything has changed released as single

7 May - Harry goes on a party bus in Norway, photos of him drunk, with blonde and talks about party bus in interviews

18 May - Taylor posted rose’s with a Great Gatsby quote: “Just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer...“

19 May - Taylor said to fans, pointly "You are the longest and best relationship I've ever had" at BBMAs and that she only writes about ex's she doesn't want to see again. In the press room she said

27 May - Taylor wrote Wish you Would

2 June - Taylor attended a pre-show meet and greet at KYGO radio in Denver where David Mueller allegedly reached under Taylors skirt. In 2015 he sued Taylor who counter sued. It was not resolved until 2017 when Taylor won damages of $1.

June - September Midnight Memories written with Happily

12 June Taylor on Grimmy, he says Trouble is the “best song ever” 4 times at 11 mins. Best song ever was released 22 July. :)

13 June - Never Gonna Dance Again tattoo seen when Harry got off a yacht in Miami, seemingly drunk, he was underage at the time lyrics from Wham song "Careless Whisper" about regret for being unfaithful. Grimmy had referred to it in September when Harry sung the song on radio

16 June 2013 - Louisville - Harry was feeling himself during “Last First Kiss” and at the end was flirting with someone in the crowd, he mimicked pole dancing then he kissed his heart tattoo

22 June - Taylor and Selena getting ice cream in Mystic Connecticut, near RI.

28 June - Harry seen with Paige

29 June - Taylor gets a fans face paint on her neck that looks like lipstick in Vancouver, Gaylor 'proof'. 1D NY

1 July - Harry cross tattoo NYC stayed at the Bowery Hotel NYC

6 July - both play in Pennsylvania, Taylor has a week off after, unseen. On the 8th Harry was sick on stage.

20 July - Harry on Ryan Seacrest in Niall’s place and says the rest of the band went back to uk on their break but he stayed in LA.

22 July - Best Song Ever released.

30 July - September GQ cover story where they badgered Harry about how many people he’d slept with (two)

6 August - Ed posts photo with Harry and snow patrol “Decent night with the ladz”

August 14 - Lover Journal: August 14, 2013, Watch Hill RI. Says she feels like a tiger in an enclosure, feels hunted, talks about paparazzi and cell phones. Also calls herself a rabbit, a flower growing in a sidewalk that is picked and how photos ruin a moment, online photos/comments and 'level of possession'.

25 August - VMAs, texting each other and shade, together at afterparty. Sang purple rain together at after party.

3 September - Harry tweeted 1975, Matty Healy told an interviewer that went from 4K followers to 15k in 10 minutes and they exchanged numbers and texted, made plans to meet up and he stood Harry up.

5 September - the 1975 cover WMYB in the live lounge

8 September - Taylor “"People think they know who I've dated and they just don't," "They don't know everything."

9 September - Harry badgered by paparazzi till he cries in London. They called him a womaniser. GQ Article where the interviewer bullied him into how many partners he had has (2)

10 September - Media that they had a heart to heart at VMAs

11 September - Harry Rose tattoo.

18 September - Harry at Pixie Geldorf’s birthday, with Nick and first time seen with model Daisy Lowe in photo pixie posted.

27 September - 1D sign another contract with Syco for 3 albums, they are each paid £10m.

28 September: On the anniversary of the Begin Again weekend in Paris 28 September- 5 October 2012 Harry tweeted: "We don't need no piece of paper from the city hall". from Australia.

5 October - Harry pulled a blonde out of the crowd and hung out with her that night in Australia

8 October - Harry tweeted Shania Twain is so good. Shania thanks him and invites him to her show in Vegas.

16 October - Harry talked about Shania Twain 'Still the One' on stage, Tweet Q's - what song would you like to listen to now?

17 October Harry cried onstage, (0:55) during over again Taylor seen with Alexander Skarsgard 3 days later. Skeleton in a suit/death card tattoo first seen, Harry had been wearing long sleeve shirts since arriving in Australia.

18 October - throws up on stage reports touring taking toll

28 October - Harry talked about Shania Twain 'Still the One' on stage again, What's the most embarrassing song on your ipod.

1 November - 1D, Katy Perry and John Mayer take photos backstage at a Japanese radio station in Tokyo. New Romantics was written about Taylor being sad her ex had gone to Japan with his new GF.

November -j14 article where Harry says ok to get back together with ex. Also reports Taylor is house hunting in London. Rumour Taylor was seen with Douglas booth.

13 November - Taylors first Victoria Secret show where she wears a union jack dress in NY and performed IKYWT. On 14th Harry in UK for Gemma's graduation, TS in NY for billboard awards. Liam says he’s switch places with Harry because “there’s a lot he goes through to be Mr Styles” backstage at xfactor

18 November - Courtney Cox said she hung out with each of them at her house in Malibu

20 November - Harry has dinner with Kendall Taylor tweets ""I've listened to "Hold On" by @ColbieCaillat 45 times today. So on repeat. So important." on the 21st when dinner reported.

22 November - midnights memories release party in la with Ryan Seacrest

23 November, both at AMAs, gold dress. Kendall PDA reported but no record of it

25 November - Midnight Memories released with Something Great written with Jacknife Lee who also worked on Red.

3 December - Lover Journal - December 3, 2013, Sydney.

6 December - Harry leaves Kendalls hotel and they have breakfast. Lunch the next day NY. Harry is carrying notebooks and dressed that same as in the Spotify visual for Where Do Broken Hearts Go. Tabloids say not dating Kendall and he is texting Daisy Lowe.

11 December- Taylor ATW speech talks about songwriting like a message in a bottle, she mentions still love you and I’m really heartbroken

12 December - One Direction in Milan, record the Xfactor final interview with cushions on the floor.

13 December - Taylor posts a series of photos to IG about a rose garden party in Melbourne, Australia while on tour for her birthday. Many think 1989 will be called Roses. The captions made a sort of poem "Roses. Red Balloons. Pretty.... Sparklers. The best birthday I've ever had." Which could be a dig at Harry, Roses being common Haylor imagery, his tattoo and she famously said her 2012 birthday was her best ever when he took her to the Lakes. Harry's "better still be my winding wheel" tweet. Harry posts his Cannes photo December 14.

15 December - One Direction performs Midnight Memories on Xfactor UK Final and Harry arrives at Kendalls London hotel at 2am.

17 December - Harry, Ed and Taylor spotted together in Suffolk. Harry got injunction banning paparazzi from outside his home. Harry likely had moved into his current house. First confirmed at Ben Winston's with Morgan Spurlock in April 2012, Harry later told Rolling Stone he stayed there 20 months. He was seen house hunting in July and reports of his house were September 2012.

21 December - midnight memories MV filmed

Continue to 2014

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LT2 masterpost

If it was up to me, we would get an autumn or winter EP. Since it’s not up to me at all, here, enjoy this post with everything we know so far of LT2, which is to say, not much at all. Everything here is hypothetical. I’ll be updating every time I see something relevant. A little disclaimer that while this is a masterpost (kinda), it could be read as discourse (duh, it’s also a theory), AND it’s also by me, and you shouldn’t expect me to be serious at this point.

Due to me restraining myself, there’s no reference to any of the times he’s mentioned his guitar skills and him improving but I hope you know I cried every single time.

I’m also linking my old pinned here. It was written before AFHF and around the free merch thing that didn’t lead to much, but I still think I made some good points.

Possible tracks:

Copy of a Copy of a Copy

Change

Faith in the future??

369??

Possible names:

369

Faith in the future

When is the album coming out?

Your guess is as good as mine

Friday 28th of January 2022. Almost two years after Walls. It’s a Friday. It’s a 28th. What else can I say?

Here you can find @want-to-be-loved timelines for every month.

Here you can find @berlinini’s timeline of what Louis has been up to this year (2021).

The rest is under the cut. And here you can find a PDF version where Tumblr can't tell me how many pictures I can add.

2020

He said back on May 2th 2020 he wasn’t writing anything new yet.

(x)(x)(x)

Interestingly enough, he’s said many times after that that the album’s not ready cause he has no new experiences to drawn from. I won’t call him out because he does it himself.

May 4th. He liked a tweet from DMA’s Johnny Took saying they had to go write together again. Louis has been credited as an influence for them and (kind of) participated in their previous record, so I’m assuming he meant for their music and not his, but you never know.

Nothing(literally nothing??? how did we survive) until 11th of July. We all know what happened that day. We all celebrated it. Nonetheless, that’s not what I’m talking about here.

(x) So, by the beginning of July 2020 he was working on concepts and ideas for the new album. That was fifteen months ago. I know perfection takes time but…

Brief summary of important things that happened from then until the next mention of new music:

Louis left Syco!!!! 10 days later he rescheduled the tour for the first time. He followed Matt Vines on Twitter, probably so we could publicly shame him into doing something. Also, the 10thanniversary. He followed more people I wish he hadn’t.

Then more nothing until September. Not even a single tweet. The first merch drop was on the 28th of August but he just RT’ed the tweet. He first mentioned Free my Meal on the 25th of September. Then on October 1st Walls hit #1 on a lot of countries and Louis was incredibly happy and excited about it ^^

And then, that same day, October 1st, 2020, he dropped this bomb:

(x)

He also said it was too soon to be sharing new lyrics with us (x)

And, obviously, this tweet which is actually what made me start this whole post. I would hope you know mate.

(x)

He also told us he was cooking "banger after banger" and that he was incorporating more social themes into his music (x)(x) (I believe any social issue is a political issue but that’s not the point rn).

COPY OF A COPY OF A COPY?!?!

These next paragraphs are brought to you by my mind not remembering things and me not having any links. I’m assuming COACOAC came from those writing sessions that supposedly happened in October. Or in LA but I have no idea if he actually was in LA at any point other than a Daily Mail article putting him there on December which would have been too late, but I do remember that someone said he was in the studio in LA last autumn???? A rumor. Maybe. IDK. Did I mention already all of this is very hypothetical?? Well, this is it. I can’t even remember if this was October or November or what. So, take this with a grain of salt.

I’m also… taking the liberty to assume, if you must, that Copy wasn’t meant to be a Walls reject because it sounds more mature and darker and it has a vastly different tone that Walls songs. I know he’s said that song probably isn’t getting into the album, but I want to have faith (in the future) that I’m getting a studio version. (But also, Louis, if you’re reading this, first of all GET OUT OF MY BLOG second of all, please don’t ever feel pressured again to add a song to the album because we have already heard it before. It’s your art and it should always be under your own terms).

So yeah, I believe that Copy is either one of those four songs (then imagine the other three??!!) or was written around the 1st of October date.

---End of the Intermission---

Then not much important (other than sharing more about Marcus Rashford fight against food poverty and the 2nd merch drop) until he announced the livestream on the 24th of November. (x)

It wasn’t until a few days before the livestream date we even thought again about new music (jk, I know we’re always thinking about new Louis’ music). So, December 9th/10th, 2020. Nine months ago. We got our first taste of new music!

He made sure we knew Copy of a Copy of a Copy isn't a cover! (x) (x)

(x)

Ok, so that’s it for 2020. (I feel like I’m missing something from September 17th because tweet was deleted but maybe he was still talking about cucumbers. We might never know. Unless I understand how Tumblr tags work). Expected, cause Walls was released in 2020. We needed to let it sit for a while.

2021

Another Summary: Louis third tweet of the year was telling the UK government off. So was the fifth. What a good beginning. On the 26th of January, he said he prefers pancakes over waffles. I hope he meant pancakes other than his own. More importantly, he tweeted the infamous “you lot read into things too much”. Don’t get me started, Tomlinson. Don’t. Then the 31st came around and Walls was one. He tweeted this. How wise. And Project Defenceless happened!!

15th of February!! Who cares about Valentine Day when the next day we got this? ♥

(x)

(x)

So…AN EP?? AN EP?? PLEASE RELEASE AN EP.

“I’m sure I will have something out this year but unlikely that will be the album”. Unlikely but not impossible. Also. A single would be good. This is the second time he mentions releasing something in 2021 and he sounds surer about it than the first time around.

He also said that he isn’t sure we will get a studio version of Copy. And that the best bridges from Walls to LT2 are Walls, OTB, KMM and Copy. Can’t wait!

Then we jump to March 6th when he announced he was going to create his own management company. “Sometimes action is needed first to encourage the motivation and belief”. As we can tell he was already manifesting some stuff which will lead us to the numerology stuff/Tesla… kidding. Or not. We might never know.

On the 22nd of March he answered some questions:

He told us music was still his main focus ♥ mwha. (x) I included this tweet to guilt-trip him into giving us music in case he’s reading this even after I told him to leave. ILY.

(x) I’d love to get a visual EP this autumn. Just saying. It sounds like a lovely concept.

(x)

…next (I will get into it, I promise. I’m just mad).

On the 25th he left for Mexico until April 10th. You could assume it was just for the documentary where we got ten seconds of footage or admit the obvious: LT2 its a Mexican baby!!

On the 26th (so, not so far apart from that first 369) we got the first Faith in the Future mention: (x)

Back then we were innocent people who had no idea what was coming upon us. We still have no idea because what the fuck does he mean with these. Please explain. I have one braincell and I don’t use it enough for this. I’m linking some theories.

On the 30th of March he confirmed he was already working on the documentary. So AFHF was already on the works. Will it take this long for us to get the Veeps numbers? We also got this tweet: "Got a decent chorus idea down" (x).

Same person that got the “something out this year” exclusive. If you know something share with the class. Also. Is this Change? I feel like this could be Change but I also assume he wrote Change after hanging out with his friends or being in Doncaster. But who knows.

(x) And the second mention to 369.

(x) 15th of April. The second "Faith in the future".

On the 19th of April he announced that he had something BIG for us later on the year which turned out to be the Away From Home Festival ♥♥ (x) I love him so much.

Then on the 28th he announced the 369 merch drop (which it’s probably the Walls drop? Except that the TOU and KMM ones were “drop 1 and drop 2” and this was drop 369 which, again, makes no sense) but we still don’t know what 369 means.

Into May’ 21 we go.

He rescheduled tour again. And dropped another bomb (x).

He announced he has signed with BMG as an independent artist by RTing this tweet on May 10th. The article also says that he’s already working on writing and recording LT2. The timing… we don’t know. What this deal involves… we don’t know either. Bear with me here because I have a lot to say about this.

I think the deal is only a distribution one, but that BMG are interested in Louis and what he (us) could bring to the table. They were either present at the festival or watching it, but officially they had no involvement at all with it (everything is credited either to Louis own company, 78 Productions, or Charlie Lightening’s company). That’s the case for both giveaways too; the vinyl one and the tickets for the festival.

I think it would be an unbelievably bad move not to test the waters with BMG now or soon-ish. At least a single, to see how it performs. Due to the circumstances, it’s obvious there’re certain limitations on place but I want to see how they push it, whether the radio play exist this time around and if the song is playlisted and promoted and all that… I would also love to know, since it says he signed with BMG UK, but it also states it’s a global deal, how things are going to go on the US and other countries.

Yes, yes. I know those are all questions and no answers. But I know the same as you, sadly. If any of you know more than you’re letting on… again, share with the class.

Where was I? Yes, on the 25th of May Louis had a great day writing (x). Since the first time he had mentioned he was officially writing to this date there’s almost eight months. And I believe he was writing before October’ 20.

He followed Robert Harvey that day and, on the 28th of May (why is it always the 28th???) he was spotted at the studio for the first time.

June was an interesting month for the fandom ♥. Lots of LHL content which I will love and cherish for the rest of times. On June 4th, June 9th, and June 10th he was spotted at the studio, but I believe he was there more days.

(x)

This was posted on June 6th and captioned Studio. Charlie also shared it with “Mega tunes being put down, can’t wait for this @louist91 #louistomlinson #LT2” as the caption. This gives me 2019 (Elton-Joint) vibes. I like it. Feels like we’re getting closer to something.

He added the Milano date on the 9th too which I’m mentioning because I’m going alone. Anyone wanna go with me please? I’m nice and I never eat anything before a concert so you can have my food. On other news. It didn’t come home.

During July he was at the studio at least three days too. Probably more. Feels like more with all the fan pictures we got. Or was that June? Anyway, July 1st and 9th we got some videos from Robert Harvey and wearesuperhi, which is who Louis has been working with the most, that we know of. I don’t know for sure they’re from that day. And on July 5th we got an article and lots of pictures of Louis looking really good outside the studio.

On the 12th of July the first fans started getting the free, 369 bucket hat and print. We still don’t know what the purpose was other than to thanks fans. Maybe that was it. I want answers and I still think it relates to a future project (see theories above), but it could also just be a bridge with the Walls breaking.

He didn’t tweet about anything interesting for a while, mostly because he lost his phone (he either throwed it in the air or smashed it who knows). Then on the 29th of July he announced the festival!

I’m glossing over it because there’s already been a lot of talk about it (rightfully) and while it was a wonderful thing, it doesn’t have much to do with LT2.

Let’s talk Change!

On August 3rd he tweeted this about the setlist.

(x)

And this (x) on the 28th! I can’t stand him.

We didn’t get it, obviously. Because who was going to get that. But we read too much into things. Alright.

On the 16thof August Dave Gibson shared this post tagged #LT2 with the eyes emojis 👀👀👀. I believe this has to do both with Change but also with whatever else came out of that Mexico trip.

(x) Last relevant tweet related to LT2 is this one.

So, on the 30th of August we got Change and we cried, and we know that Change is going in the new album. He said it. With those exact words. He also said he was “getting a feeling for it”. This has to meant he already has a general idea of the vibe of the new album and what’s going in it!!!!!! (Right? RIGHT?).

Anyway, let’s go back a few weeks because some other things happened on August. He was at the studio a few more times. Or it was suggested that he was there. On the 17th and the 18th. (Why was it so time-pressing to be at the studio instead of rehearsing for the festival? There was no studio at all on the documentary. Which makes sense, but again, then why?).

On the day of the festival we got another mention of Faith in The Future that made me feel part of a cult ngl. The words were flashing on the screen for less than a second. Okay.

And then he tweeted those words again after watching the livestream/documentary on the 4th of September (x). This is what makes me suspect it's either the name of the album or of the single.

On the same day, we got some interesting quotes about LT2 on the documentary.

“Soon I’ll have to think about me second album, which in my head I’ll get the tour out of the way and then I’ll address that. So, I hadn’t really given it much thought, to be honest”.

“When every day is the same is hard to feel creative and it’s hard to have any kind of proper inspiration”.

“As season started to come back, I started writing again and it was great and some of these songs turned out alright”.

And I think this is it. I might be overlooking some important details but that’s what we know and what we don’t know.

So. Conclusions. That’s what you missed on Glee. I do believe the album is, if not mostly done, partially there. And yes, this post is pointless and never-ending but it’s all in here if you need to tell Louis “Hey, you said this, mate”.

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Ah man I'm so glad you made that post about ski resorts and racism, I never see content about the effects of ski resorts on the land. Keeping jumbo wild was a huge W and I was so glad to see it, and I hope it puts pressure on the people trying to push zincton through. I actually haven't heard much abt the zincton project lately, do you know of any updates? Thanks again for the content, so rarely hear other voices online from the inland temperate rainforest

Hey, thank you so much for the message. I know you’re also a fan of the region. Glad you saw that post and said something to me. :)

Yes, there has been some new media coverage of Zincton as of November 2020. And can I use this as an opportunity to say a couple of things about this rainforest? Sorry in advance for rambling and all of this text.

Right? The downfall of the Jumbo project was uplifting. Ski resorts obviously (like many“parks” in US and Canada) involve Indigenous dispossession and obscuring/erasure of histories and lives. (Details from that article: US sky resort visitors are 88% white, and half make over $100 thousand a year.) As for voices from the inland temperate rainforest: Gotta mention that the province of BC goes to such great lengths to silence the voices of the Sinixt people, declared “extinct” by the Canadian government and whose traditional territory includes much of the inland temperate rainforest (between 2016 and 2020, BC has fought against the Sinixt and their request for recognition, appealing every ruling, culminating in an October 2020 Supreme Court hearing). BC institutions like to claim the inland temperate rainforest as a “treasure” or “prize”, a “globally-unqiue” ecosystem, as a sort of entitlement or patrimony; meanwhile, the province of BC legally fights the Sinixt in court, ignores the caribou extinction, and still issues dozens of logging/timber and clear-cut contracts in the inland temperate rainforest each year. That said, the end of Jumbo was good news.

For anyone unfamiliar: Jumbo was a ski resort mega-development project planned for the Purcell Wilderness on Ktunaxa traditional territory right in the heart of the inland temperate rainforest region of interior so-called British Columbia, in old-growth cedar-hemlock forest, on the edge of glaciers, and in the middle of key habitat of southern mountain caribou, grizzly, wolverine, mountain lion, lynx, wolf, elk, mountain goat, marten, fisher, etc. The Glacier Resorts-owned project would’ve been “the single largest ski resort in North America” including a “resort base” of at least 110 hectares, a hotel with over 5,500 beds, and an expectation of over 3,000 visitors a day. The Ktunaxa had opposed the project since 1991, and took a case to federal Supreme Court. In January 2020, the Ktunaxa were able to buy-out the project, and the Jumbo area will now be managed as a formal Indigenous Protected Area.

The new Zincton resort is also being built on Ktunaxa and Sinixt land, about 70 kilometers away from the former Jumbo resort site.

Traditional territories:

And yes, there are some updates on Zincton from November 2020.

@moss-effect -- I know that you already know this stuff. But for anyone unfamiliar:

The Zincton resort is being constructed only about 70-ish kilometers or so away from where the Jumbo resort was planned. Zincton is also on Ktunaxa territory, as well as traditional land of the Sinixt. Zincton (being built near Valhalla and Goat Range, between Naksup and Kaslo) expects a “grand opening” in December 2021. The project is run by the owner/founder of a local outfitter/recreation company. As of November 2020, BC’s Mountain Resorts Branch is still reviewing the owner’s formal proposal. Zincton sits closer to even more extensive old-growth forest and major protected areas.

Zincton also seems to be a manifestation of that now-classic category: “progressive” settler-colonial entrepreneurs from coastal BC, the Pacific Northwest, and/or Rocky Mountain West are familiar with local rhetoric and therefore elude criticism by rebranding their extractive and development projects as “eco-friendly”. According to The Narwhal (November 2020) the owner/project leader had this to say about the project: “There is a real story here of a proven disruptor facing down the mob to do one last project for the kids and grandkids. … Jobs for locals, a future for families, saving the hospital. Zincton is the Tesla of the ski village business.”

-------

Also, for context: Here’s a post I made about the inland temperate rainforest, its ecology/geography, and its endemic creatures. Here’s a post from June 2020 about the Zincton resort development. Here’s a compilation post with news/timeline/summary and maps describing the extinction of southern mountain caribou in 2019 (southern mountain caribou are a local icon, completely endemic to this region, and are highly endangered; caribou were declared extinct in the contiguous United States in 2019 when the last of the southern mountain caribou were relocated farther north to BC). Here’s a compilation post with news/timeline following the Sinixt case to receive formal recognition from BC/Canada in 2019 and 2020 (much of the rainforest, including the Zincton site, is within Sinixt traditional territory; the Canadian government declared the Sinixt “extinct” in the 1950s).

-------

Location of core cedar-hemlock forest of inland temperate rainforest region, compared with distribution range of the southern mountain caribou:

Photos I took of stream habitat in inland temperate rainforest:

-------

Coincidentally, just a couple of days ago, The Narwhal just released an “explainer” dedicated to the Zincton: Paul Fischer. “Why B.C.’s Zincton resort, the proposed ‘Tesla of ski villages,’ is worrying conservationists.” The Narwhal. 27 November 2020.

Zincton claims that it is a “radical departure from the status quo” and will be a “carbon-zero” resort. But local groups oppose the project, including Wildsight, West Kootenay Eco Society, and locally-famous Valhalla Wilderness Society. (The core of the inland temperate rainforest is sometimes referred to as “Valhalla” or “Caribou Rainforest”.) The project also claims that the resort’s focus on so-called “eco-tourism” is a good way to “grow and replace economic decline,” which you might perceive to be a settler-colonial interpretation of the “value” of the forest and also suggests that the concern here is, of course, making money. From Fischer’s article: ‘In a series of emails with The Narwhal, Harley [the project leader] dismissed environmental concerns. He said impacted grizzly habitats are low quality and categorized the criticism from certain environmental groups as a “copy and paste” campaign motivated by a desire to oppose everything rather than contribute constructively.’

These quotes can be found in the article:

-------

Here’s some other stuff:

-------

Headlines from the Jumbo resort news:

The Sinixt case:

Southern mountain caribou herd decline in the inland temperate rainforest between 1990 and 2018. The Zincton resort will directly affect Purcells South, Central Selkirks, and South Selkirks herd.

-------

And I want to say that both the Ktunaxa and Sinixt people have recently been undermined, insulted, and dispossessed by BC and development projects in similar ways. Media, educational material, and conservation groups in BC like to point out that the inland temperate rainforest is “globally-unique” (in that it’s really the planet’s only sizable “coastal-type temperate rainforest” existing inland and away from a coast). And you’ll see the inland temperate rainforest described with terms like: prized, treasure, gem, hidden/secret rainforest, etc. And the region is discussed in settler-colonial terms/concepts (”BC’s forgotten rainforest,” “BC’s other rainforest”, “a magnificent carbon cache”, “unparalleled resource”) as if it is the patrimony of the province of BC or Canadian state. Which of course is problematic because it (1) associates the forest’s importance with bioprospecting/scientific extractivism, carbon sequestration, or other metrics of settler-colonial “value,” and also because (2) the province of BC continues to fight very hard against recognizing the land as part of Sinixt territory (after Sinixt people and allies were able to win cases against BC, the province continued to appeal, and this case has now culminated in the October 2020 hearing at the federal Supreme Court, which will soon make a final ruling on whether or not Sinixt people are legally allowed land rights to harvest, travel, etc. within BC).

-------

Here’s a map:

From 2018, there is this book:

In the US, too, parks, like ski resorts, are implicated in Indigenous dispossession.

Glacier National Park (at the border of BC, Alberta, and Montana) sits on the edge of the Kootenay and inland temperate rainforest regions. Conservation groups, universities, and other US institutions have taken to calling Glacier part of “the Crown of the Continent” (another possessive/patrimonial term maybe?), a portion of the heavily-glaciated Canadian Rockies that kinda includes Banff and Jasper, too. Glacier National Park is on Ktunaxa and Blackfeet territory. A recently published book that might be interesting: People Before the Park: The Kootenai and Blackfeet Before Glacier National Park. Sally Thompson, Kootenai Cultural Committee, and Piikuni Traditional Association. 2015

Described by Montana Public Radio in 2017: “Step [...] into the world of the Kootenai and Blackfeet peoples, whose traditional territories included the area that is now Glacier National Park. [...] In this book, the Kootenai and Blackfeet tribes share their traditions -- stories and legends, foodways and hunting techniques, games and spiritual beliefs.”

Just a special place.

Thank you for saying something.

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not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]:oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary:all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away.

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic.but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud.

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful.

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there.

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you.

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time.

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you.

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren.

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet.

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you.

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek.“I am— I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin.“Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we mayhave put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him.

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child.

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?”

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while.

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn.

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

taglist (for pedro characters):

@over300books​

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Since a few anons have seemed interested in knowing more details of what Miranda is doing in LA, I figured I would share the research I’ve done into all the possibilities, and maybe with more eyes on it, we can narrow the list down together.

However, I’ve already personally narrowed the list down to what her first project most likely should be—the problem is that not much information has been shared about that one, which tracks with Miranda’s secrecy…

Here is a list of films that have recently shot in LA in this past "quarter" of the year. The news article was released in October 2021, so this information can be used to figure out the first project that Miranda filmed in LA, not necessarily the current one that she started in the last week of October (posting this trailer selfie on October 30th).

I’ve googled all six of these possible projects that Miranda may have been involved in, and concluded that the only one that makes much sense, given her “type” and what I can see her playing, while also fitting the timeline of Miranda arriving in LA, is the “untitled Jonah Hill miniseries.”

While we don’t yet have a title for the project, the general “pitch” has been released, and it’s basically a modern version of Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner, a 1967 Katherine Hepburn and Spencer Tracey film where their white daughter surprises them by bringing home her black fiancé.

I think this film makes the most sense, because I could see Miranda Otto playing a Katherine-Hepburn-like role, and after researching the five other film projects that filmed in LA during this timeline, she definitely doesn’t “fit” as well into the others.

How did I come to this conclusion? Well, some of the films started filming before Miranda moved back to LA (which doesn’t mean she couldn’t still be a small part in them, but still, it makes it less likely). Paramount’s Wild Chickens was already filming in May 2021, while Miranda was still in Australia, so that’s out. Similarly, John Boyega stars in 892, a movie about soldiers and PTSD, which started filming in July, after going through a series of trials and tribulations to find a leading man to replace Jonathan Majors. House Party 2 started filming in the beginning of August, and had some trouble with having to shut down production due to covid outbreaks on set. Miranda didn't move to LA until the second week of September, so it's unlikely she was working on those, either. Purple Hearts is another war film, which started shooting in August as well--again, unlikely for Miranda, both in terms of timing, and her "type."

Finally, we come to Netflix's Me Time. Now, this one has a more plausible film schedule. It started filming in late August, and supposedly wrapped by the end of October. Me Time is like the male version of a chick flick (what would you call that? A "buddy" film, or something?). It's about a stay-at-home dad whose kids are away with their mom for the weekend, when he reconnects with his old best friend and has a wild weekend. I could see Miranda as maybe the wife or lover or something in this movie, but I doubt Miranda would feel the need to keep her presence in the film a secret, you know? It doesn't seem especially top-secret, and it sounds like the wife isn't in the movie hardly at all, so I'm not sure Miranda would fly back to LA and move her whole life just to be a small role in a chick flick.

Considering I haven't been able to identify any other movies that were filming in Los Angeles during the same time period that Miranda arrived, I've come to the conclusion that Miranda is most likely in the untitled Jonah Hill Project, with the added evidence that when her move was announced, the journalists specifically said that she moving back to LA for an "untitled film project."

Now, full disclosure, it is possible that Julia Louis-Dreyfus is the one actually playing the role of the mother... so maybe Miranda Otto is playing an aunt or a cousin in the movie, and not the Katherine Hepburn part? idk. But Miranda loves working with Julia, so I'm sure it was a good time all around if they got to work together again.

TL;DR: Miranda Otto is most likely in a new miniseries-version of Guess Who's Coming to Dinner (1967).

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Chained to you (Part 1)

How far can people go for power? How far can you go for love? kthxreader

drabble: You tried to snuck away from your marriage by making a scandal on your own. Have you photographed with someone outside a bar that will cause enough humiliation for your parents. Not knowing the man you chose for your ploy was your fiancé himself. You thought you’ve seen enough of the real world, but being with Taehyung only unraveled so much more. genre: angst, romance, unconventional love warning: eventual smut

A/N: cross-posted from wattpad; updates are uploaded in wattpad first

Part 1 word count: 6.4k

You were having another dinner night with your parents. Silence reigns on your table and only the occasional clink of silverware against the porcelain can be heard. You were used to it. The rectangular table is too enormous for a family of three, the cold marbled floor, the empty hallways. Sometimes you wished for a smaller house because you find the generous space exhausting to stride from and to, but at suffocating times, it provides room to breathe. Like at times like this.

"Mr. Kim's son will arrive in three days. We'll have brunch with the Kims on Sunday," your father informed nonchalantly. You held in a breath as your grip tightened around your spoon. It has been a month since your parents informed you about the marriage they arranged for you.

As a conglomerate heiress, you thought you'll be exposed to a lot of choices for your partner, but as you grew older, your status only narrowed it down. And now, you're left with no choice at all.

At that, your mom started planning for the occasion while you just went on with your meal.

The idea of them meddling with such personal matters like your relationship does not sit well with you. Not that you've been into anything serious for the past two years, but heck, despite your serious disposition, you did not want to tie down yourself in a loveless marriage.

It worked for your parents, but you're not sure if it could work for you. Besides, you barely know the man. You can't even remember his face.

"Mom, dad, I think it's too early to get married. Don't you think?" you uttered. This is your nth time having your dislike laid on the table. Although compared to your past fierce protests, this one's a tamed one, hoping that they'll reconsider your feelings about it now.

Your mom dramatically said, "22 is not young, darling! I was 18 when I was engaged to your father and 19 when we got married."

Your jaw tensed, "I have a lot of things I want to do. Besides, am I not your daughter? Why do I feel like a collateral security?"

"Y/n!" your mom shouted, offended. It's true. You don't know the whole thing but you're sure there's a business partnership behind this arrangement.

Then your father spoke, "You'll end up married anyway, why not do it now? Why waste your time dating around when there's already a man matched for you?"

You've been in this conversation before and it ended up running in circles. A diplomatic approach looked hopeless.

"Love can be learned. What you need to look for in your partner are the benefits he would bring to you," your father smugly said. Turning to your mom at his statement, your mom just gave you a smile.

"Taehyung is a good man, Y/n. You'll love him," she said. You did not respond. Taehyung was a childhood friend, but now he's a stranger. Your family is close with the Kims but you barely see each other, then when college came, you heard that he went abroad for his studies.

Your mom stood up from her seat to go beside you. Placing her hand on your back, she sweetly said, "And do this for us, okay? We've been working hard for your father's presidential campaign for years. This is your chance to help. We're not asking for you to be with us on campaigns."

You wished it was just that.

#

The news of your engagement soon circulated. No articles were written about it yet, maybe it was your mom's doing. She has a strong connection with the press given that she's a famous socialite.

Regardless, the buzzing news was enough for you to receive more stares than usual in your building. You also noticed some paparazzis lingering around when you dine out or shop in your favorite designer store. The increasing attention you've gathered was enough to send you over the edge for the whole week.

To make things worse, tomorrow's the dreaded day. You'll get to meet your fiancé. An estranged childhood friend.

One shot,

then another,

and another.

"Yeah!" your friend, Sunmi, cheered. You got to escape for the night. Your parents thought you'll be sleeping over at your friend, but little did they know, you'll have your share of fun for the longest time you've jailed yourself within the four corners of your office.

"Cheers!" you smirked at Sunmi who's smiling from ear to ear as she bottomed out her shot glass. Then she hugged you, "I missed you! The last time we hung out like this was in college!" she shouted over the loud music. You're in a booth good for ten people. You were hesitant at first to join her and her friends on a night out, but you need to get out of your head for now.

"What's up with you these days?!" she asked.

You took another shot and leaned to her, realizing that she hadn't caught the news yet. "I'm getting married," you said, but it was drowned out by the new music that started to play, making the crowd in the club cheer.

"What?!" she asked, leaning to you.

"I'm getting married!"

"What the fuck?!" her eyes were wide like a bunny caught in a red light. You laughed at her reaction. Then she squealed, making you lean away from her and cover your ears. Her friends didn't mind though and went on with their own thing. "To who?! Oh my god?! Why? How?! You don't have a boyfriend!" she spluttered.

It was actually your first time to find the situation funny. All the time when you think about it, it only stresses you out, but now the whole thing sounded so silly. "I don't know! All I know is that he does not look that good," you complained, making a silly face. You're not sure about his looks but whatever. Your distaste grew towards him the moment your father forced you to marry him.

Sunmi laughed, "An arranged marriage?! Oh god. That's still a thing?!"

You let out a disappointed expression as you held in your smile.

She downed another shot and shook her head, "I won't get rich people like you. So old school."

With a deep frown, you drank another glass that she filled. Sunmi's parents work in one of your mom's companies, you met her in the university as you were in the same classes during your freshman year. Months into your friendship, that's when she knew about your family.

"I really don't like to get married yet but my parents... you know them." you complained, loud enough for her to hear. You did not notice that the two of you already created a world of your own, shutting other people out who are in the same table. They were already playing drinking games, others were dancing, but you two just went on with your conversation.

Sunmi smiled naughtily and poured you another drink, you accepted it, laughing.

"If there's a will, there's a way!"

Raising a brow at her, you crossed your leg over the other and looked up. Feeling the alcohol seep into your system. The buzzing feeling felt good.

Flailing your hand dramatically, you asked, "Great Sunmi, let's hear your advice. Help thy stupid friend."

The cheshire smile that creeped on her lips sent you giggling. "You're not drunk enough. I'll tell you later."

After accepting another shot from her, she took your hand and led you to the dance floor. You were both laughing over nothing while you just swayed your hips to the music.

"Eyyy!!!" you howled at the drop of the familiar song playing. Not minding the bodies brushing against you, you enjoyed your time with your friend. At the end of the song, she dragged you back to the booth and grabbed a tequila bottle from one of her friends. They all cheered when she hoisted it up to you.

"Open your mouth!" she commanded.

You don't drink well straight from the bottle, so you shook your head no. But they egged on. Sunmi laughed, "Come on," then she pushed your shoulder down, "Kneel, bitch!"

The lot roared. You hated it but since your group is starting to get attention, you followed Sunmi to get it over with. With knees on the dirty floor, you opened your mouth as she poured the tequila down your throat.

"One!" they started counting.

"Two!"

"Three!'' That's when you tapped out. Closing your eyes, you gulped it down. You know you're out of it because the alcohol tastes good without the chaser.

This is going to be a good night, you thought.

You're now dancing with Sunmi and her friends. They all said their names as they made small talks, but you were too high to remember them. You twirled as you danced with the music, then at the corner of your eyes, you saw a familiar man. One of the paparazzis who's been following you nonstop. You recognized him because he's not one of those who hides behind the bush. He would casually be in the place where you're in and take pictures.

You felt disgusted. Your whole mood dampened. Your mom can do something about it if ever articles would be released, but you did not want to be scolded over simple stuff like this.

Sunmi noticed the shift in your mood, so she asked, "Hey! What's wrong?"

You stood up straight, getting ready to leave when she stopped you. "Y/n! What's up?"

You sighed, then with a frown, you said, "Saw a paparazzi, he's watching me. I gotta go."

Her mouth formed an "o" before a bright stupid idea popped in her mind. She dragged you back to your booth, urging you to sit down.

"I'm not in the mood anymore, Sunmi!" you whined, you became a bit emotional as you felt tears springing up in your eyes.

"Hey, hey, don't be upset. This is a good thing," she cooed.

"How is that a good thing?! Do you know how the news of my engagement has been buzzing around for days now? People are following me, watching my every move as if... the point is, I didn't sign up for this! I didn't ask for this!"

She patted your back as you rant, then she said, "You can break up your engagement, you know?"

You glared at her for making it sound so simple, "It's not that easy, Sunmi!" you felt hurt. Didn't she realize how pliant you are to your parents' command when they started insisting things on you? Especially when they're mad?

"It is! You're an adult now, you're a lady boss! You can do anything you want."

You huffed. This is going nowhere, your thoughts are fuzzy, the glaring lights and the loud music are not helping.

She tsk-ed when you lied down the couch. You're truly wasted. "I know a way to stop everything. And your chance is that paparazzi," she said as she pulled you up. Scrunching your eyebrows, you asked, "What do you mean?"

She smiled, a naughty one, before letting you in on her plan.

You both surveyed the bar and the dancefloor from where you're sitting at, but no one seems to be the right man for your ploy. In your sober state, you wouldn't agree with your devil of a friend, but you're lost as fuck and besides you like the idea.

"There." Sunmi pointed out a guy who's drinking alone at the bar. You took a swig of a drink you didn't know before strutting heads on to the man she pointed out. He does not look so bad.

Halfway through your stride, you ran your fingers through your hair. You smirked when you realized that you're really doing this.

His doe eyes are adorable, he has a small face and he's tall. He looks serious as he stares at his drink. Then as if he saw you on the corner of his eyes, he looked up and met your gaze.

You look sultry at that moment. You did not let go of his gaze as you approached him. However, the admiration that flashed in his eyes almost sent you back. You averted your gaze, he saw you coming. So instead of going with your initial plan, you just sat two seats away from him and ordered a drink as an excuse.

That flicker of emotion was familiar to you. You see it in parties you rarely attend with your parents. Men who knew who you are and their intention of having a too personal business relationship with you.

Wrong man. You send Sunmi a look as you wait for your drink. She just rolled her eyes back at you.

It's not the time to be picky, but you want to be safe. You're looking for someone who you can invite to take you out then drop them once a picture of you were taken. This one looks difficult to brush off. Scanning the crowd, you eye for your next target. You looked up at the second floor but it's too dark to see faces.

"Hey," the man you were eyeing earlier moved to the seat beside yours. You sent him a disinterested smile, not uttering a reply. You sigh in your thoughts as you find no one good enough for your ploy.

Trying one more time, he licked his lips before saying, "Not having fun here?"

The bartender slid you your drink, you took a sip while thinking whether you should reply or not. Then your attention caught a man who emerged from a staircase. His hair was covering his eyes, but you could tell that he's hot. His aura is something. You watched him intently as he headed towards the bar. To you. You smiled at the coincidence.

Thoughts fogged with your friend, the flowing booze, the music, the blaring lights, different scents of sin, the hazy atmosphere that made you high, your stress, the fucking paparazzi, your traditional parents...

Fuck it.

His stance screams dominance.

He stopped for no one until he reached you. No words were spoken as he claimed your waist, pulling your body against him. You saw him smirk and with dazed eyes you glanced up at him.

Finally, a fuccboi who won't bat an eyelash as you asked him out. A perfect pawn for your plan but everything took a different turn when his lips met yours. "Sure, I'm yours for the night," he answered, his voice deep, before diving in for another kiss. His hands gripping your ass.

He held you tight by his side as you walked out of that damned place. He rained kisses on your collarbone and shoulder while you wait for his car, not giving a damn to those who were staring. You were in just for a picture but his touch and kisses sparks fire that you never felt before.

#

Throat-parched, you woke up in tangled sheets. Your head is pounding and your body's sore. Realizing that you're naked under the sheets, you jolted awake, making you clutch your head as you suffer from a hangover.

Well, fuck. What happened last night? you asked yourself. Crumpling the sheets to your naked chest while you lean on the headboard.

The man beside you stirred at the sudden movement. He's laying on his stomach as he turned his head to face you. Your eyes widened when his eyes met yours. He's beautiful, alright. Blush crept up your cheeks at his wicked smile and he did this weird thing moving his jaw as if chewing something before brushing up his tongue on his upper lip, taking in your presence. He let out a low chuckle at your expression while you're busy putting a name on the man's face. But fuck, you can't remember.

He dragged you down by your waist and nuzzled on your neck, watching his muscles flex in the process. "Thought you'll be gone by the morning," he muttered with his bedroom voice. Is that his way of asking you to leave? You wondered, irritated by his remark.

You were thinking of a smart comeback when your phone rang inside your purse. It was placed on the bedside table together with your last night's dress which was neatly folded along with your lace undies. Much to your surprise.

Dad calling...

Your breathing hitched as you glanced at the time. It says 8 am. You sent a knowing glance to the man beside you, but he just reciprocated your telepathy with a chuckle. You answered the call nonetheless.

"Dad," you started, your voice calculating as you steady your breathing.

"Are you on your way back? The Kims will be here at ten," he said straightforwardly. Your eyes widened in shock. You cleared your throat before replying in a rush, "Yes, yes. I'm on my way from Sunmi. Will be there in time."

You dropped the call right away, not waiting for your father to respond. Wincing, you swung your legs out of the bed and gathered your clothing and slipped in your underwear.

"Now, you're leaving?" the man asked as you clasp your bra back. His tone teasing. You looked back and saw him enjoying your frantic escape. Your forehead scrunched in annoyance before raising a brow at him, "I didn't know if I had fun last night. But regardless, this won't happen again," you retaliated.

His face turned sour at your statement. You hurriedly slipped in your dress and gathered your purse, not minding where the heck your jewelry was. Leaving his apartment in a haste, you failed to see his knowing smile.

#

Memories of last night started flooding back. It was just bit and pieces, but those memories made it clear that you had sex with him. You just wished your memories weren't trustworthy enough but the pain between your legs only confirmed it.

You feel hot all over. You bit your lip at the images that spilled in your mind.

The way he pinned you on the wall right after he opened his door. The way he nipped on your neck, your chest, stomach, and even the inside of your thighs. His feverish touch. Everything felt so sensual.

Your heart beat rapidly as the memories became more vivid. The way he looked at you, his eyes darkened with desire. His low moans and grunts. His silence as he rammed into you, intently watching the little changes in your expression as he thrust deeper.

Time flew fast that now you realized you're in front of the mirror, all dressed and freshened up for the first meeting with your in-laws and fiancé. You still feel like floating due to your hangover and your head aches like hell but that was not enough to bar you from feeling all these emotions. Of helplessness, loneliness, hatred. You browsed your phone to see any news from last night, but you found nothing.

Sunmi told you that she'll make sure you'll get photographed by the paparazzi. Maybe you were too drunk to follow through and were deeply engaged with your last night's companion. You sent a text to your friend,

Was I caught last night?

"Honey, are you ready?" your mom asked from the other side of the door. You didn't notice her knocking.

You sighed as you placed your phone on the charging pad. "Yeah, I'll be out in a bit," you said loud enough for her to hear.

"We'll be at the patio. Don't take too long, okay?"

Should I tell them I have a boyfriend? As you walk downstairs with heavy steps, you were formulating your escape plans but all of them required courage to put shame on your parents in front of the Kims. You're too much of a darling to do that in your sober state.

The least thing you could do is bail your time. However, you doubt if that will work.

The weather outside is nice. It's sunny but not too hot. You saw three house staffs lined outside as they served the elders of their brunch. There was another man sitting on the round table, his back facing yours, you assumed that's Taehyung, your fiancé. A cantilever umbrella was placed against the sun. You encountered some staff walking to and from your kitchen to bring more dishes outside.

When you approached the table, only one seat was left vacant, which was beside your fiancé, his back facing yours. You bowed and greeted everyone good morning, followed by an apology for being late. Mrs. Kim brushed it off, smiling at you, "We just arrived, Y/n. Don't fret."

You reciprocated her warm greeting with a smile. Your father cleared his throat as he told you to take your seat. You did not even bother to look at the man beside you as you felt your hate grow.

The awkward silence was broken when Mr. Kim's son spoke, "How are you feeling, Y/n?" The familiarity of his voice made you snap your gaze at him.

Shock is an understatement. If your eyes could bulge out of its sockets, it already did. The man that you had a one-night stand with is now sitting at an arm's length away from you with a smug smile on his face. You blinked twice. Thrice.

"F-fine. I'm fine. Thanks for asking," you stuttered. Taking a deep breath to regain your composure. You didn't know Taehyung looks this good. You barely remember him from your childhood. You didn't meet him during your teenage years since you weren't really fond of the parties that your parents attend. The time you went with them was only a handful and every time you'll go, Taehyung wasn't there, only his parents. Until you heard of the news that he moved overseas for his studies. You can only care less for you were never interested in him. Until now.

You wonder if you should pretend that you don't know him. Well you really don't. You know him by his name, yes. You weren't even able to recognize him last night. Were you that drunk to fail in putting two and two together? Did he even say his name?

Mr. Kim then said, "I see you haven't forgotten each other. That's a relief."

Your gaze turned to the old man, giving him an awkward smile, while your mother eyes you suspiciously.

The brunch started with a casual talk. Most of the time, it was your parents asking Taehyung about the time he spent abroad. It has been seven years. He would go back here for short vacations but most of his free time was spent for internships. You learned that he's a very career-oriented man. Or that's the picture he's painting. You'll never know.

You were just silent for the whole thing, barely touching your food because you don't have the appetite. You enjoyed the coffee though, as strange as it is. When the fruits arrived, that was the only time you were able to eat properly. The sweetness of the honeydew was refreshing to your system.

Unbeknownst to you, Taehyung smiled at your actions. You were indeed wasted last night, he realized.

"Y/n, I heard you started working for your airline company. How is it?" Mr. Kim asked, pulling you out of your headspace.

They looked at you expectantly, waiting for your answer, including Taehyung. "I'm having fun so far. It's only been six months, but I feel like I've learned a lot," you replied, "Yet, not quite everything," your tone even and casual.

"I actually worked with Y/n before when she was still in Waldorf. We handled their security systems," Mrs. Kim recalled fondly before adding, "Which one do you like more, Y/n?" she asked, making you choose between the airline company and the hotel line you've handled so far.

With a tight-lipped smile, you said, "I grew to be fond of both, Mrs. Kim."

She nodded knowingly, satisfied at your answer. Your hotels are situated near airports all over the world, it's not one of those who caters for tourists in the middle of the city. Though independent from the airline, the two businesses work together symbiotically. Then Mr. Kim asked, "Have you thought of studying abroad, Y/n? It might help with your work. You and Taehyung could have studied in the same university together."

"I had my MBA degree here, Mr. Kim. The curriculum is at par with others, so it was alright. I preferred to study here so I could also come to work."

Your mom then interjected, chuckling softly, "You know how workaholic she is. I'm thankful she's more interested in the corporate world than life in politics."

Her remark sent your dad laughing, "She'd be a darling to my constituents for sure. But I doubt she'll fit right in. You know how my world is." His statement earned a chuckle from the Kims except for Taehyung who just smiled.

Aside from the occasional charity work that you do with your mom for your dad's sake, he never actively made you involved with his activities. He was a city mayor during your childhood years then moved to the national assembly. You were more popular in his world as a cute girl who's tagging along and now, you're well known for being a socialite after your mother, given your family's status.

The chatter died down when phones buzzed. You left yours in your room so you couldn't check for yourself what's happening. The elders took their phones out and seemed to be browsing their phone down.

You and Taehyung just looked at each other out of curiosity.

"Y/n,"

"Son,"

Your fathers uttered at the same time. A stern look was plastered on your dad's face but he's not angry. However, that expression is familiar to you. That's when he tries to see what's beyond the person he's talking to.

Contrary to the reaction of your parents and Mr. Kim, Mrs. Kim gushed at the two of you. "You brats! You're seeing each other behind our back?" she squealed.

Your mom let out an uncomfortable laugh, "I'm sorry, I haven't seen this one coming. Should I have the article pulled out?" she said, turning to your father, her face etched with worry.

Taehyung's face is blank. You figured he also had no idea, but you caught on. Maybe it's your picture last night. Your hands gripped tightly onto your seat.

What have you gotten yourself into, Y/n? you scolded yourself. If you only knew who he was. Wait, does he know who you are when he approached you last night?

You sent him a glare at your realization. This jerk.

Your father turned to your mother and said, "It's alright, have their engagement announced as early as possible," then he turned to the Kims, "I hope that's alright with you."

The move infuriated you. The fact that your father did not even ask if it's alright with you, you were the one who's getting married, not them!

Finally, Taehyung spoke, "May I ask what this is all about, sir?" he asked. His tone is careful.

Your father sighed then answered, "It's a picture of the two of you last night, outside a club. Not a good publicity but the article was decent enough to declare that you're dating. Which reminds me..." he then turned to you and asked, "I thought you were at your friend's last night?"

Shit.

"Ah," Taehyung muttered. He looked at you as he answered for your sake and his, but the playful smile on his lips should have told you he meant nothing good. "I met Y/n the day I arrived in the country. I'm sorry if we hid it from you, we wanted to get to know each other on our own before the engagement. I fetched her last night from her friend's party. That's all."

Great. Almost good Taehyung. Fuck, you should've kept your mouth shut. You were murdering him with your glare when your father's eyebrows furrowed further that you couldn't count the wrinkles on his forehead.

The situation didn't help you from escaping your doomed marriage, if only, it tied you down more. Unfortunately, your father was too smart to not take advantage of the situation, uncaring what it might look like to the people on the table. With a raised brow, he declared, "Y/n just got home this morning, so you were with her the whole time?"

Your mother and Mrs. Kim's shocked faces made your face blush, while Mr. Kim just cleared his throat as he glanced at his son. You couldn't read his expression. So, before Taehyung denies it and turn the situation against you, you answered, "Yes, I was with him."

Days ago, you couldn't even imagine that you will be driving the nail deeper on the veil. Now, you totally screwed yourself over.

Taehyung didn't protest. Instead, he held your hand in his. A satisfied smirk plastered on his face as you force your hand out of his grip, "We can announce the engagement as soon as possible. That, I agree with, sir."

#

Articles were soon released about your rumored engagement. It was your mom's doing, she was the one who's been holding the news off for the week and she just had it released right after your dating scandal that she failed to monitor. Interestingly, people bought it.

"So, when are we having the wedding?" Mrs. Kim enthusiastically asked that day after everyone calmed down. She was looking at you expectantly, but you just returned her look not really knowing what to say. It's not that you have agreed to the arrangement.

Your mom answered for you, "With the situation at hand, I advise it's better if we skip the engagement party. Have their wedding by the end of the month."

"Mom," you called out, protest is evident in your voice at the sudden speed of things. Your heart's beating fast. You don't want this.

In all honesty, you have an idea that this is all for business purposes, but it also looks like a publicity stunt and show of power of your father given that he'll be running for presidency. Your father is famous alright, but the limited campaign period before elections is short that publicizing your wedding months before would help boost your father's image without it counting as a "campaign". Basically, your marriage would hit two stones for him, power and popularity.

You cried that night. Being married off to a man you barely spent time with, horrible images flashed in your head, picturing how miserable your life would be. You missed a lot of calls from Sunmi, but you were nursing your own pain that you didn't want to talk to anyone.

After sending her a text saying that you're fine, you turned your phone off. You've been receiving calls and messages the whole afternoon. Some were asking about the truth behind the scandal while some are sending their congratulations.

You woke up the next morning hearing that Taehyung is in your father's study. Angered at how you're being cornered and not even giving you time to think over it, you hated them for treating you like a thing. You stormed into your father's office downstairs, still in your silk pajamas.

They seemed to be in a deep conversation at that moment. Both heads turned towards your sudden arrival.

"I'm not getting married," you declared without further ado.

Taehyung witnessed your banter with your father so early in the morning. You tried so hard not to shed a single tear, but the gravity of the situation stressed you out more than anything. All the while he just looked out the window and averted his gaze when your emotions started getting the better of you.

"Stop controlling my life for once! I did everything you asked and expected me to do! I can handle your empire without a man!" you argued after a heated exchange with your father.

But that just went through his ears. Then he ended up saying things he didn't truly mean. Hurting you.

"You can't secure your power alone, Y/n. Still, you're a woman."

Your mouth fell agape. You never heard of that word before as an insult but the way your father said it started a wildfire within you.

"Your excuses are bullshit. You need me, a woman, to secure your own power. You know that," you spat. Heaving with rage, you drew your last straw as you said with fire in your eyes, "You're not using this woman. She's leaving."

"Y/n!" your father's voice boomed 'til the empty hallways, startling everyone except you.

You walked back to your room and quickly got dressed. You gathered some clothes and some important things, stuffing everything in your leather duffle bag. This was your last resort, but you have no choice but to drive down this path.

Slamming your bedroom door open to get out of your own hell, your brows furrowed at the sight of three bodyguards blocking your way. They didn't utter a single word.

When you ignored them and tried to push your way out, they stood like steel, holding out their arms to stop you from leaving.

"Get your hands off me!" you shouted.

But they didn't listen.

"Hands off," Taehyung ordered.

The men backed down then you went on your way only for Taehyung to block you.

"Don't touch me," you spat under your breath. Taehyung sighed, "Your father won't allow you to leave."

Snapping, you told him, "I can leave anytime I want."

He wet his lips before looking at you sincerely, "I'll help you."

You didn't believe him. For all you know, he's into this thing witnessing how he just stayed silent while you were arguing your way out earlier.

However, four more men filed in your hallway.

"Y/n's leaving with me, there's no need to stop her." Taehyung said out loud, still holding your gaze.

They obediently cleared a path for you. Taehyung walked off first with you and your leather duffle bag in tow.

He did not throw you a glance to see whether you are complying or not. He walked straight out of the mansion then you saw a Benz parked right in the driveway. He opened the door for you to get in.

You watched him walk to the driver side, still contemplating whether you should go with him. Not that you have much of a choice as the guards were watching your every move. They're all held by the main door. You couldn't remember the last time when you saw this much of security. It's a sudden change in the mansion. It's affirmative they're from the Kims.

After both of you were settled in, Taehyung silently drove off, smoothly passing through the gate.

Down the winding hill, he asked, "Where do you want to go?"

"You can drop me off anywhere. I can handle myself," you coldly said, eyes planted on the road ahead. Taehyung didn't respond and continued to drive.

Several minutes after, you saw a bus stop. "That bus stop will do," you told him.

There's a good chance that he won't truly be of help to your escape. You know that, but still you tried.

And you were right. He drove past the stop you pointed and sped up the highway.

You turned to him, scowling, your faint hope was put in vain though you did not expect any better from him.

"There's a cabin out of the city. You can stay there," he muttered, not minding the dislike shown on your face.

He made some calls after a while. Something about getting a place ready for use. From the conversation, you made out that the place he offered belongs to his family.

A lot of things were running in your mind but then you realized that there's no use to be torn between wanting to compromise with your parents versus running away from it all. You turned to Taehyung when he pulled off. He set the car into a park by the side of the road with fields after your sight. You failed to realize that you were out of the city or maybe he's just a fast driver.

"Y/n," Taehyung started.

"We can have divorce after your father's term," he said.

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Five years is a long time, Taehyung. Forgive me but I'm really curious as to what you will get out of this. What did he promise you?"

"Merger of few companies, an exclusive contract in my tech company, your hand," he told you with full honesty. It's flattering that you are part of a negotiation which involves millions of dollars and maybe displacement of hundreds if not thousands of employees. Not.

"Five years is not a long time, Y/n. Think of it as getting another degree in college," he followed through.

"I accomplished three degrees in five years. Another degree won't take that long," you retorted.

Then you asked, out of curiosity, "And what will happen to the merger after we divorce?"

"I'll give you your shares, enough to have controlling interest. If you want more, we can negotiate that."

You laughed at the insanity, "You think that's easy? You believe our parents will allow that? And having a divorce is a disgrace, Taehyung. Once we get into this, there's no turning back. You know that." Because that's how it works in your world. And you hated it.

He smirked at you, then smugly said, "You underestimate me too much, Y/n. I'm not pliant to my parents' commands."

Good for him.

God, his arrogance is starting to get into my nerves, you thought.

"And if you want, let's not get divorced at all. I'll be that generous to allow you to keep your honor."

"Hah!" you let out in disbelief. Is the air different in the States for it to send his head in such disarray? Your jaw twitched in irritation.

"You see, Taehyung-" your speech was cut off when he started driving back to the road. "Hey!" you shouted, offended at his rudeness. He glanced at you and said, "It's not safe. I just had to talk down your wild thoughts a bit before you jump off the car out of desperation. You may continue. As you were saying?"

If looks could kill, this car already spun off the road.

"Go on," he egged on. You rolled your eyes at him even though he couldn't see.

"I'm not getting anything out of this. Do you think I care about the money?" you calmly said, getting into your corporate demeanor as you see that this is more of a professional relationship for him.

"Aren't you a businesswoman, Y/n?" he retaliated.

With your head held high, you replied smugly, "I don't chase money, Taehyung. I make money chase me."

"And I don't give a damn about power. I highly value respect," you added.

Your head snapped at him when you heard him scoff. He was shaking his head in amusement, but you took it as a sign of ridicule.

"I understand, but being with me will not only solidify your power, Y/n. You can have everything you want. Money will chase you and respect will be given accordingly if we do this right," he simply said.

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Some and Others, 3/?

Earth’s mightiest heroes save the city again, but that’s never the end of the story.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Word Count: 4,301

Content: canon typical violence, death, destruction, swearing

Bucky was going to call. He just didn’t. He was surprised you hadn’t and overwhelmingly disappointed that it meant if he was going to apologize, it was a conversation he’d have to initiate himself. It could wait though. Just a little longer while he figured out what he wanted to say.

A week later, the Post ran a story about the same gossip site that had leaked your photo of him being shut down after many of their stories and photos were found to be fake. A rarity for the world of journalism these days, Sam noted casually as they stopped at a newspaper cart. Bucky bought a couple candy bars and watched the man with the thick black mustache and the gold chain slip copies of the article in front of a few of his worst sellers. Could he actually be that lucky? It was an easy out after a week of dodging questions and trying to remind the world to stay out of his business.

“So that photo of you? The secret girlfriend?” Sam waited for Bucky to respond, but when the centenarian opted to buy a Pay Day instead, he watched closer. Bucky hated that. Sam said he had a staring problem, but Sam was the one with x-Ray vision. He could read people, read a room, read Steve’s body language from across a battlefield and adjust his position without being told. As annoyed as Bucky acted when paired up with Sam Wilson, he was one of the few people in this century that Bucky Barnes respected. Truly. Except for that moment on a street corner when brown eyes were scanning his complete lack of guts and deciding what was worth commenting on.

“Yeah,” Bucky ripped open the wrapper a little too aggressively and responded with peanuts between his teeth. “It wasn’t real.”

Sam nodded and stuffed his hands in his pockets while Bucky stuffed his face. “I don’t know how you land the fake girlfriend story, when I’m right here,” they started walking away from the stand while Sam jabbered on. “And lookin’ as fine as I do? Come on, man,” he danced ahead of Bucky a few steps, forcing him to look up. “You know this would make a better story.”

Before Bucky could say anything, a loud crash echoed between the buildings. Nothing was visible from their block, but both men, trained for combat, were instantly on alert.

“That for us?” Sam asked, eyeing the busy intersection.

“No,” said Bucky, a clipped tone in his voice as he shook his head and started walking again.

Another crash, this time accompanied by the faint human noises that usually follow tragedy.

“You sure about that?” Sam’s eyebrow shot up.

Sirens from every kind emergency response vehicle blared in the distance, growing louder then quieter again as they wove their way through the streets, changing directions to avoid traffic.

Bucky pointed at a passing fire truck, waiting until it had turned down another street before speaking. “See? They got it.”

Then Sam’s phone rang and Bucky swore, planting his hands on his hips while whoever was on the other line confirmed that the emergency growing in the distance was in fact for them. Sam placed the call on speaker and gave their current location. Stark’s voice was muffled and metallic, the way it usually was while calling from inside his fancy helmet, but he told them to stay put as he did a fly by with Sam’s equipment.

“Tell the Tin Man he’s got a special delivery,” Tony informed them from somewhere overhead.

“They're your wings,” Bucky grumbled, looking up from the ground as the familiar glare of Iron Man’s thrusters came into view. “And your robot.”

“First of all,” Sam informed him. “Red Wing isn’t a robot. He’s a drone.”

“It,” Bucky corrected, “is a robot.”

“I’m gonna tell him you said that,” said Sam before pointing up to where Iron Man had doubled back to get a better angle. “And… unlike some of us present, my body is exactly as God created it, flesh and bone.”

“Pop up, deep center,” Tony’s voice rang out obnoxiously through Sam’s phone once more.

Bucky watched a black bundle falling from the sky, trying to position himself under it and pushing more than one pedestrian out of his way to do so. “Actually, I was a catcher back in ‘32.”

“THEN CATCH!” Sam hollered just before the EXO Falcon gear landed square in Bucky’s chest, forcing him off his feet and onto his ass, skidding to a stop on a sidewalk while the people around them scattered, gasping and grabbing at their phones to take pictures of the two Avengers. Bucky laid flat on his back, both arms still wrapped around the bundle, and took a deep breath when Sam stood over his head, arms shooting out to his sides as he yelled “SAFE!”

Bucky groaned and tossed the black bag up into Sam’s arms, hard enough to make him stumble but not enough to knock him down. “Should have said ‘out.’” Bucky grumbled and Sam chuckled as he dug through the bag for his equipment. “Safe makes it sound like I-”

“You really wanna argue about baseball right now,” Sam laughed, securing his wings over his torso and releasing them both with a flash as if stretching before a fight. “Or are we gonna go save the world?” Bucky didn’t answer, just took off running in the direction of the screams. “That’s what I’m talking about,” said Sam to himself, shooting up into the air.

…

Robots. Drones. Whatever they, Bucky Barnes has decided that he hates them.

Fighting Nazis was easy. Not physically. Not when your gun isn’t really yours and the food sucks and you’re almost as worried about losing your toes as you are losing your team. But it made sense. These men in their wool coats wanted innocent deaths. Something in Bucky that had been there all along was born anew in the war. He was a protector. Of his sisters, of Steve, of his country. It made sense.

Nothing about Hydra made sense and the therapist he stopped seeing told him it was okay to think about those years differently than the rest. So he did.

When T’challa presented him with a black vibranium canon for his left side, the enemy was otherworldly. Literally. They didn’t bleed like men. They made horrible screeching noises when they died, but even that was different from me. They rode disgusting creatures with teeth that could have scratched his arm if he’d let them get close enough. They were invaders, their leader sought destruction on an even greater scale than the War. Bucky was a protector again, protector of Earth, of life in the universe. An unimaginable title for the boy he’d been, sitting in front of the radio with his family and marveling at the president's voice. It’s not like he was eager to do it again, but space invaders whose goal was universal genocide would be met with the business end of Bucky’s favorite rifle.

Fighting robots, however, was fucked up.

Bucky was still processing his new life, still getting used to the idea that people carried plastic cards in their wallets and could pull money out of the walls with just a few buttons. There were movie theaters with screens two stories high. Cars plugged into the sides of hotels. The cell phone in his pocket was overwhelming as is. In a few minutes, he could buy all the clothes he’d ever need, pay for dinner, and talk to people across the country. It was baffling.

All this technology, all this progress, and of course there were people who weaponized it. Bucky hated that. He remembered science fairs, remembered Howard Stark’s big promises. There was so much hope in him as a young man. He’d live to drive a flying car, his children would learn about the world through a holograms in their livingroom, his grandchildren would live on the moon. The possibilities were endless. So much so that people with horrible intentions for the world also believed that the possibilities were endless, forcing Bucky into his current position.

His thighs were wrapped around the base of a machine, arms wound near the top. He threw his shoulders back with all of his might, squeezing his legs in the process, and didn’t stop until the metal gave way. Bucky fell onto the pavement with his own momentum, the enemy in two pieces with wires exposed and frizzling as they died. He dropped the robot and rolled to his side, observing the scene around him. Steve used a cleaner approach and sent his shield flying through the air. Three more bots’ were sliced in two, the last of which was pinned by the shield into the side of a brick building. Sam circled above, with Redwing swooping below to draw laser fire away from bystanders while Wanda tried her best to herd them away, spinning to throw angry red energy at anything that came their direction.

“Sergeant Barnes!” The familiar and overly excited voice of the kid in blue and red spider gear startled Bucky. The kid swung in unexpectedly, decked out and ready to help. Bucky didn’t care that he was probably skipping school to do so and swung his vibranium arm behind him, the metal of another droid crunching under his elbow. “How can I help?”

Bucky squinted, a little dumbfounded at the question. There was a six block radius being overrun with droids, drones, robots- whatever- and people were terrified. “Pick something,” he grunted, taking the robot's head… top part, between his hands and twisting until it gave way and the bottom half dropped powerless to the ground.

Just then the sound of metal screeching pulled both their eyes to a city bus being thrown around like it was weightless, crunching the vehicles nearby, and sending more people into a frenzy as buildings were still evacuating onto the street. “That! Pick that!” Bucky commanded and the kid flew away, attached to a white string like a kite. Two more robots were approaching from the sidewalk, red eyes glowing and ready to fire. Bucky looked around the street for something, anything that he could use before deciding on a minivan. The windows looked clear, driver and passengers already scampering away at the first sign of trouble, so Bucky planted his boot into the back door and kicked. The door caved in and the vehicle flipped onto its side before skidding to a halt on the sidewalk and crushing the robots beneath it.

“Uh! MISTER BARNES, SIR, SARGE-!”

Bucky turned back to look at Peter, propped up on a light pole and leaning so far back his body was almost parallel to the ground. The only thing keeping him upright was the two thick white webs attached to the bus, one at the front and one at the back. It was tipping over dangerously low, trapping a small group of people between the bus and two buildings, one that had smoke billowing out the windows. This was a mess.

Bucky ran through the street, jumping onto the hoods of abandoned cars to avoid weaving between them before leaping off an SUV and rolling back into a run on the sidewalk. A laser struc Peter, knocking him clean off his perch, and the webs supporting the bus went dangerously slack as it started tipping toward the trapped people again. Bucky jumped, wedging himself between the building and the collapsing bus with great effort. His shoulders dug into the brick behind him and his thighs burned as he shoved the bus away from the wall, gritting his teeth as he felt it slowly start to tip away from the ground. The kid was now on the ground somewhere out of sight and Bucky had to hold back from sending the vehicle flying, lest he squash Stark’s favorite spider in the process. The tension in his legs grew as he held it steady, adjusting his feet and shoulders until he felt it wasn’t going anywhere.

“Hey!” He called out to the people below him. “Get out of here, go!”

There were rushed thank yous and lots of tears as the crowd dispersed from their trapped position. But one voice stood out among them and it made Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Bucky?! Oh my god, BUCKY!”

Bucky’s eyes were closed under the strain, but he’d know your voice anywhere. He opened them just in time to see Peter recover and zip off in a new direction. Bucky released his breath and shoved his feet out hard, tipping the bus back. He dropped from the wall and grabbed you as the bus wobbled precariously in both directions before finally falling into traffic and directly onto the roof of an empty red sports car.

Bucky hadn’t realized how tight he was holding you until you said his name again and the word was broken. His arms relaxed a bit, but you made no move to run away… or let go of his jacket. The two of you just stared at each other, breathing heavily, before screaming drew your eyes away. The small crowd of people you’d been stuck with were running away from where you stood, but the two in the back collapsed, their bodies charred and heavy as they hit the ground. You screamed then and Bucky pulled your back into his chest, hugging your stomach as you keeled over. He’d seen so much death in his hundred odd years, it was hard to witness it with these fresh eyes. You weren’t prepared to watch two innocent people’s skin melting under lasers. Hell, neither was Bucky and while you cried in his arms, the smell of burning flesh stung his eyes. He’d never get over that smell, no matter how many world wars he participated in. His face was buried in the back of your head, shushing you as he lifted you up. He took careful backwards steps until you were both hidden in the same alley you’d just been trapped in. Bucky looked up at the burning building and decided he had a minute before you were both in danger here.

“Hey,” he said softly when you went limp against his chest. “Hey now,” he repeated, spinning and almost dropping you when he realized you hadn’t just relaxed… you were unconscious. “Shit,” Bucky dropped to his knees and let your body lean up against his chest, slapping at your cheeks and calling your name to try and wake you up. Half of your face was red with blood from a wound he couldn’t see somewhere in your hair. Break up or no break up, he couldn’t leave you like this. Any other person, he’d run them to safety and double back to continue clearing the streets. But this wasn’t any person. It was the girl he dumped in the middle of a restaurant and had continuously put off calling to explain himself. He hadn’t gotten the chance to clear the air and leaving you to wake up in a few hours in the middle of a destroyed midtown was just too cruel. He did like you and now it felt like he owed you.

Bucky picked you up like a doll and slung you around to his back, crossing your arms over his chest as your legs dangled behind his knees. That wasn’t going to work, he decided after only a few steps. “Can you hold on a little-“ Bucky drifted off as he turned his face to see your face hidden behind him, your forehead limply resting against his shoulder. “Of course not,” he berated himself and stopped to adjust again. This time he stooped, grabbing one of your arms and one of your legs with his hands. You were slung over his shoulders like a backpack, the same way he carried goats in Wakanda, only much easier since you weren’t kicking or screaming and he had two hands with which to wrangle you.

His steady march out of the fray was interrupted once by Wanda. After directing pockets of people to safety, she’d sought out the source of the invasion. Bucky looked around for a safe place to stow your body and found an SUV that was abandoned but still running with the doors unlocked to lay you out across the backseat, carefully tucking your feet in before slamming the door behind him. He liked Wanda, despite not knowing what exactly she was capable of, but liked her a lot less when he found himself immersed in a glowing red forcefield and being lifted into the sky. When he was forced through the large glass window of another building only to look up and find her floating gently through the hole his body had created, she shrugged.

“This way was faster,” she said, Sokovian accent much softer than their first meeting.

“Right,” Bucky groaned, making a mental note of how many Avengers could zip through the air with ease and the odds of being the one she found on the ground.

They raced up the final set of stairs and Bucky ripped the maintenance door to the roof off its hinges. It was unlucky that Bucky and Wanda had been the ones to find the bastard responsible. If it had been Steve, he’d been bound and handed over to the authorities. Tony might have thrown him in armored vehicle and shook him around a bit before demanding answers. Bruce… depending on the day wouldn’t have been much better. Nat would have gotten answers easier than either of them and Sam was easily the most noble of the bunch, so Bucky had no idea what he’d do. The right thing, whatever that was. But Wanda wasn’t particularly fond of people who harmed innocent people. The motivation didn’t much matter to her when the sounds of children crying could be heard in the streets. Bucky didn’t have much grace for people who were smart enough to help, but broken enough to hurt. Like the bastards in Hydra, who healed him, kept him alive, gave him extraordinary strength then weaponized him. Anyone who had this level of technological advancement and chose to bring destruction with it was a waste of air. Wanda hoisted the man up into one of her angry red orbs while Bucky broke the control panel into as many pieces as he could, destroying anyone else’s opportunity to learn from this guy. Neither of them had anticipated this guy to be so well armed. It looked like a pistol, but whatever it fired managed to get through Wanda’s energy field and pierce her shoulder, breaking her focus just enough for him to drop back onto the roof. He took off running to the edge and leapt, but Wanda recovered faster, using her powers to yank him back. Bucky caught him in the air and squeezed, locking the man in a painful hold until he noticed glowing red numbers counting down behind the man’s neck. Shit.

“Bucky!” Wanda pointed at the man’s hands, wrapped threateningly around a plunger that could only mean one thing.

Without a better option, Bucky turned back to edge. He released the man and as he tried to stumble forward, Bucky’s boot landed square against his sacrum, launching the man through the air and into a neighboring building in a ball of fire. Both Avengers watched the corner offices go up in flames, disgust and horror in both their eyes.

“The whole block was evacuated,” Wanda said softly and Bucky nodded. There was a distinct lack of screaming coming from the direction of the building and sirens soon flooded the streets below as first responders made their way into critical areas. From the ledge, both of them watched as the remaining bots dropped to the ground before their team, disengaging en masse. Steve looked up from atop a bodega and saluted the sky in their general direction, lifting the shield as a second acknowledgment before jumping down to the street to start… whatever Captain America does once the threat has been neutralized. The PR and clean up stuff wasn’t Bucky’s scene and he turned away, making it all the way across the roof, still observing the scene below, before remembering that you were somewhere, either still unconscious or just waking up, deeply confused in the back of a stranger’s car.

“You okay?” Bucky asked, wanting to make sure before asking Wanda for any favors.

She pulled her hand away from her shoulder, black nail polish and red blood looking menacing and downright witchy against her pale fingers. “I’ll be alright,” she assured him, eyes already glowing red as she prepared to offer more aid.

Bucky stopped her and nodded over the side of the building. “Gimme a lift?”

She snorted and waved her fingers without looking at him and soon enough, Bucky found himself falling on his ass once again. He needed to work on his dismount if this was going to become a regular pairing. Thankfully or maybe not, you were trying to wake up as Bucky slipped into the driver’s seat and commandeered the vehicle. He turned back to watch you whine in pain as you tried to sit up, before slipping back into sleep when he told you to stay down. You were in and out for most of the drive, which helped Bucky weave up and over curbs to avoid stagnant areas where everyone had abandoned their cars out of fear.

…

You woke up with a headache, exasperated by the bright lights of the emergency room. Bucky could see the moment you came to by the hard squinting that melted into a grimace. You’d had a couple false starts, but when your eyes opened and locked on his, Bucky knew it was the real deal this time. He stood to pull back the curtain and immediately a nurse was shimmying her way into your space, brushing her chest against Bucky’s in the process. He nodded and gave her a tight smile. It had been like that since he walked into the ER with you. Avengers carrying blacked out civilians get a lot of attention, but they also get speedy service. Which is what Bucky told himself when he stuck around once you’d been admitted. You’d get better care if he stayed with you, so he did. Feet propped up on the end of your bed and dropping whenever someone came to run another test. He wasn’t family and didn’t claim to be, so they told him nothing, but nurses managed to smile flirtatiously in between doing their job. In another life, Bucky would have… done something. Anything. He smiled. He was a hundred, not dead, but there was something off putting about receiving these looks when you were asleep right there between hanging curtains in an overrun hospital as ambulances and families started to arrive from the mess he’d just left.

You answered their questions slowly, but correctly. Your name, where you were, what year it is, who the president is. The doctor would be in soon and Bucky took the minute of alone time to scoot the chair they’d brought in for him. You were watching him expectantly as the legs scraped across the floor, just a few inches before he could reach a hand out to yours. You looked down curiously at your hand in Bucky’s.

“They spelled my name wrong,” you murmured and Bucky’s eyes fluttered shut as you lifted your joined hands to observe the little plastic bracelet closer. He shook his head, wanting to apologize, but also hoping you wouldn’t connect the dots that he’d given them your information incorrectly. “Bucky?” He looked up to find your eyes wider than usual, a little more vulnerable than he was used to seeing you and wanted to do something to make you feel better. But like the entirety of your relationship, he had no idea how to do that.

“You’re okay,” he nodded, telling himself as much as he was telling you.

“Thank you,” you squeezed his fingers as your voice shook.

Just then a man in a white coat, pushed back the curtain and Bucky stood reflexively, dropping your hand in the process. He turned back and saw your face fall before crossing your arms over your chest and looking away from him.

“Sergeant Barnes,” the doctor addressed him first.

“Bucky,” he corrected without thinking and turned his body, opening up the room a bit and directing attention back to what mattered. The patient. You.

“Thank you for bringing her in,” the doctor continued, then looked back and forth between the two of you. “We’ve got it from here, if you need to-”

“He can stay,” you piped up. The doctor asked if you were sure, but you were. The doctor nodded, turning fully toward the bed and while that was Bucky’s goal, he now felt completely out of place in the tiny space.

“First things first,” the doctor started. “You and the baby are just fine, so I don’t want you worrying about that at all. Do you have a OB or a-”

Bucky stopped listening at that moment and focused on the roaring ocean in his ears. He looked to the bed where you were listening intently to what the doctor was saying, nodding and shaking your head mechanically. While he stared, you stole a glance in his direction. Your face was blank and he didn’t spend much time trying to read it.

“This sounds personal,” he said, voice flat and vibranium hand already reaching for the curtain at the end of your bed. “Take care.” Without sparing another look, Bucky walked through the busy emergency room with his left hand tucked into his front pocket, making him invisible to anyone who didn’t know he was there.

A/N: Here we go! It’s happening. I’m not sold on the way this ended but it was getting long as is and don’t worry, Bucky will have his chance to make it up to you.

Tags: @fangirl-swagg @learisa

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- Shawmila and the PR narrative

Shawmila is a couple created to generate gossip, in fact, the various mistakes in the script aren’t acidental and i think everyone has already noticed it by now.

However we’re not gonna waste your time showing you all the reasons why shawmila is a PR. We’re just gonna show you the narrative created for the couple and how it will possibly end.

You don’t need to be na expert in marketing to understand how it works. It’s the classic friends to lovers. A boy in love with his best friend for years that didn’t have a chance, until he had.

The narrative starts in 2014 when they met. Apparently there was some interest back then but no one was willing to invest in it. They even vehement denied it on an interview for Late Late Show hosted by James Corden.

Some years went by untill they admitted their true feelings and got together. Now pay attention to what Shawn said on an interview (it’ll be important ahead).

After the relationship was officially confirmed, it was pretty normal to see several pictures of them together in absolutely everywhere or just talking about each other in enterviews all the time reaffirming their relationship.

And so the pandemic came leaving things even more adrift. The script seemed dull and worn out. Not so many things in the relationship were causing a buzz. The pictures decreased and so did the times they were seen together.

There was even a moment when TMZ released an article speculating about the possible PR right after Camila posted this loving text on her insta. (https://www.instagram.com/p/CIJq5tBpYqf/)

And here is the TMZ article:https://twitter.com/TMZ/status/1333375233030578176?s=20

Now lets focus on the narrative. For those who pay attention to the world of images the media builts, it’s pretty clear that a diferente and maybe really problematic one has been being built for Shawn.

Like interviews where he says that he insisted enough for Camila to finally give in and accept to be with him. Besides his song ‘Piece Of You’ where he says he’s reckless obssessive and possessive. Nothing like the sweet shy boy that writtes love songs, right?

There's a vídeo of Camila where you can hear someone screaming ‘I hate you’ in the background. Since then the possibility of it being Shawn has been discussed by the fandom. Around the middle of april a fan posted on Twitter that he heard Shawn saying ‘Fuck you’ to Camila.

And the latest event: a podcast for the show ‘The Man Enough’. Shawn talks about how he yelled at his girlfriend over an yogurt which created some controversy bringing serious sensitive topics to the conversation.

Do you realize how the image of a sweet harmless boy has been changed? Every episode happening in isolation may not cause as much impact or be that much importante but when you put it all together it becomes obvious that a pattern has been followed.

But how can all that influence the breakup?

Let’s put all these problematic things together. The lyrics in ‘Piece Of You’, what he said in the podcast… If you still didn’t get it we will explain our theory based on those events.

A relationship that started cute and romantic and that seems to be flawless. Shawn, a gentleman becoming problematic and showing that maybe everything is not as perfect as it seems. One of the possibilities is that he leaves this as a toxic person and camila as the big victim.

What seemed to be a ‘goal’ will become a nightmare. There’s the possibility of it involving cheating (there are already some rumors going around).Suspicious pictures and vídeos may appear that entails the end of the couple.

There may be another big event before this whole hurricane, perhaps an engagement? We’ve seen that happening before, an engagement that lasted two months and was broken off right away.

The breakup itself has been already being built for a while, Puerto Rico may be their last “good” time together. The podcast marked the beginning of a possible series of problematic events even though they were already giving clues in past interviews and songs.

Obviously all this personality change won’t resume to a breakup. It will be like a new ‘era’ for him that will bring a new album and a diferente music style. The breakup will only be the kickstart.

These supposed evidence of a toxic relationship may be slowly released so that the gossip lasts and it creates different sides to be taken. Songs with possible shade will be released making them the center of the attention for a little longer.

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“E” as in Eurus, Enola and Estate

In June this year the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd filed a lawsuit against an impending Holmes adaptation movie on Netflix (article from RadioTimes here:X).

Sherlock, Mycroft and Enola, starringHenry Cavill, Sam Claflin and Millie Bobby Brown.

This post about it by @tendergingergirl(X) seems to have gone largely unnoticed, but I think it deserves far more attention. In fact, it got me thinking “What’s all this actually about?” and looking a few things up.

My curiosity about the doings of this Estate began in December last year, before the release of BBC Dracula in January, when an interesting discussion initiated after an excellent meta by @yeah-oh-shit (X), who had made some investigations into previous copyright and public domain issues and lawsuits, which I had never known about before.

And now it turns out that the Conan Doyle Estate Ltd (from here on I’ll call them‘ACD Estate’)is suing the film makers, along with Nancy Springer, author of a book series based on characters from the Holmes universe called The Enola Holmes Mysteries (2006-2010), for copyright infringement.

But I thought most of ACD’s Sherlock Holmes stories are now in public domain, including the Illustrious Client, the Sussex Vampire and the Three Garridebs, whose copyright under US law expired last year (2019)?Well, yes, but that’s still not all of them, and according to ACD Estate “for those of the stories whose copyright terms have ended, this action is brought within the three-year limitations period for infringement.”

More under the cut.

So, the ACD Estate’s copyright, they claim, still includes the following ten stories collected in The Casebook of Sherlock Holmes:

The Creeping Man (1923)

The Illustrious Client (1924)

The Three Garridebs (1924)

The Sussex Vampire (1924)

The Retired Colourman (1926)

The Lion’s Mane (1926)

The Three Gables (1926)

The Blanched Soldier (1926)

Shoscombe Old Place (1927)

The Veiled Lodger (1927)

The whole lawsuit can be downloaded as a PDF file from this news article (X), and it’s quite an interesting read.

Claims about Sherlock Holmes’emotions

So, since this is not the first lawsuit from the ACD Estate about adaptations, what’s their beef with the film makers this time? As far as I can see from their claims, this is about Sherlock Holmes’ emotions.

This is how the ACD Estate reads Holmes’ character development in the lawsuit: “Conan Doyle made the surprising artistic decision to have his most famous character—known around the world as a brain without a heart—develop into a character with a heart. Holmes became warmer. He became capable of friendship. He could express emotion. He began to respect women. His relationship to Watson changed from that of a master and assistant to one of genuine friendship. Watson became more than just a tool for Holmes to use. He became a partner.”

They even quote the famous passage in The Three Garridebs (3GAR, 1924) where Watson says:“It was worth a wound—it was worth many wounds—to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask.”

But all this progress, they claim, specifically happened within these ten still (allegedly) copyrighted stories, which Conan Doyle wrote after World War One, where he had the traumatic experience of losing both his son and his brother.

They claim that Holmes’ emotional development is still under their copyright (which I believe in practise means their power to decide whether to allow a film adaptation or not) and apart from the emotions issue, they also provide thefollowing other examplesof developments that are (supposedly) unique to these ten still copyrighted stories:

Holmes employs a knowledge of medicine in Watson’s absence

Holmes and Watson use modern technologies in detective work for the first time

Watson marries a second time during his association with Holmes (BLAN)

Holmes changes into someone who has great interest in dogs

Sherlock’s “secret sister”

The Enola Holmes Mysteries got me interested, and now I’ve read the two first of six instalments in total. The series is about Sherlock’s and Mycroft’syounger sisterEnola, a clever teenager whom the brothers – in particular Mycroft - want tosend awayto a boarding school after theirmother has disappeared and abandoned her. But Enola hates the idea of being confined to a place where she will be forced to wear a corset and restricted to a certain (‘female’) behaviour at all times.She escapes to London, where she starts a secret private detective career specialising in investigations of missing persons. Enola must keep ahead ofher brothers who are determined to capture and force herto conform to Victorian society’s expectations for young women. She skilfully uses differentdisguises, just like Sherlock, and she meets John Watson pretending to be someone else. With her cleverness she manages tooutwit even Sherlock. She is good at drawing and uses her sketches in her work. She manages to communicate with her mother (and eventually also with Sherlock) by usingciphers.

All of this does seem to have certain similarities with how Eurus Holmes is described in S4, doesn’t it?

Eurus is, likeEnola, the secret Holmes sister whom we never have heard of before.

In TFP Mycroft claims Eurus’ intellect was superior to both Sherlock’s and his own; she was “incandescent”.

We see little Eurus draw sketches of her family members (not very pleasant sketches when it comes to Sherlock, though).

Mycroft made sure Eurus was sent away to an isolated prison/institution (Sherrinford) at an early age.

Their parents seemed absent and not particularly interested in the whereabouts of their own daughter (they didn’t even know she was alive); they let Mycroft and ‘Uncle Rudy’ take care of things, soone could easily suspect she was abandoned.

Eurus seems to have escaped to London at her own leisure, while Mycroft thought she was incarcerated.

Eurus appears in London under three different disguises: “E” (flirting and texting with John),

“Faith” (walking the streets of London with Sherlock)

and John’s new therapist.

Eurus makes riddles with codes for Sherlock to decipher (“The cipher was the song”).

So, one might wonder if the Eurus plot is – at least to some degree – inspired by Enola Holmes? On the other hand, while Eurus appears cold and calculating, Enola is compassionate and sensitive and makes mistakes because of emotional bias. Enola seems more similar to Eurus’ disguised personas than to the supposedly‘real’ Eurus - the one who burned the family estate down and killed Victor Trevor.

I still believe that Eurus only exists inside Sherlock’s head in BBC Sherlock, being a part of himself, but that’s for another discussion.

As for the Holmes siblings, it’s also interesting that on the ACD Estate’s website, where they have a collection of ’facts’ about ACD’s characters, they seem to have included BBC Sherlock’s Eurus as a valid sibling of Sherlock and Mycroft(scroll down to “Holmes facts” on this page:X), even though this character is nowhere to be found in canon. Please correct me if I’m wrong about this, but the only reference I can find to ”the East Wind” in ACD’s stories is in His Last Bow (LAST, 1917), where Holmes says that ”There’s an east wind coming, Watson”, and goes on to talk about a cold, bitter wind that is threatening England; most probably a reference to WWI, which was raging at the time of publication. No one with the name Eurus is ever mentioned, though. If Eurus had already been part of canon, why would Mofftiss have claimed her to be the big ”rug-pull” in TFP?

I haven’t read the final part in the Enola Holmes series (X) yet, where allegedly Enola reconciles with her brothers (Sherlock in particular) and they end up respecting her independence and skills. But according to several reviews Sherlock softens up a bit in the end. In the parts I have read, the two adult brothers appear rather conservative, patronising and sexist towards their younger sister – indeed more condescending than I think Holmes view of women actually is described in ACD’s original stories (allegedly – we never see himtreat women badly in practice, do we?). At any rate, I haven’t this far been able to find a single specific plot element from the ten (supposedly) still copyrighted stories in Springer’s work.

In their lawsuit, the ACD Estate claims that “The Springer novels make extensive infringing use of Conan Doyle’s transformation of Holmes from cold and critical to warm, respectful, and kind in his relationships. Springer places Enola Holmes at the center of the novels and has Holmes initially treat her coolly, then change to respond to her with warmth and kindness.”

So what they’re doing here is the same thing they’ve done before (and lost): they’re claiming they still own some intrinsic characteristics of Sherlock Holmes, even though most of the stories are already in public domain.

Other lawsuits

A similar lawsuit towardsMiramax(X)was made in 2015 for the filmMr Holmes, which had Ian McKellen as protagonist. But itended in settlementbefore the defendants had responded to the accusations, which were similar to those regarding Enola Holmes about Holmes’ emotional life, but also had to do with the details of Holmes’ life as a retired man.

So, this is not the first time the copyright owners are interfering with content in Holmes adaptations. To complicate things furtherthere seems to be two different estates claiming copyright for Doyle’s work.In 2010 there was some reporting that another estate had threatened Guy Richie’s Sherlock Holmes movies with disapproval after Robert Downey Junior had discussed Holmes possibly being gay on a TV show (X). According to Digital Spy, Andrea Plunket, who then represented the ‘Arthur Conan Doyle LiteraryEstate’, said: "I hope this is just an example of Mr Downey's black sense of humour. It would be drastic, but I would withdraw permission for more films to be made if they feel that is a theme they wish to bring out in the future. I am not hostile to homosexuals, but I am to anyone who is not true to the spirit of the books."

It’s very unclear which legal rights Andrea Plunket’s family (Andrea apparently died in 2016) actually has to represent ACD’s work, though. Andrea had been married to one of the copyright owners, and her family’smoney had paid for the purchase of those rights, but after her divorce Andrea seems to have lost her part in the copyright, according to @mallamun on tumblr: (X). There’s also a lot of interesting things to read about these copyright issues in an article by Mattias Bodström from 2015: (X). However, there’s still a website from ‘Arthur Conan Doyle Literary Estate’claiming ownership of the stories: X, and they have published a detailed account of their version of the matter (X).

The current case

I have no idea what the court will think about these new accusations against Netflix et al, but to me, if this isn’t farfetched, I don’t know what is. I think a good case could be made for most of these ‘unique’ elements listed above being expressed already before the Case Book. For example, in His Last Bow (LAST, 1917) they use a car, in The Dying Detective (DYIN, 1913) Holmes manages to fool Dr Watson that he’s very sick. When Watson declares his intent to marry for the first time already in The Sign of Four (SIGN, 1890), Holmes resorts to drugs. The dogs are all over the place since day one, and Holmes seems to appreciate them very much, not least Toby in SIGN.

And don’t get me started on the contradictions in Watson’s various discussions of whether Holmes has a heart. Holmes’ actions of helping people often contradicts the image of a cold, emotionless person. The Yellow Face (YELL, 1893) ends with Holmes being deeply repentant for being over-confident in his suspicion of a woman for adultery or maybe worse offences, when she was actually only trying to protect her little daughter from society’s racism.

In the Devil’s Foot (DEVI, 1910) there’s the following conversation (my bolding): “Upon my word, Watson!” said Holmes at last with an unsteady voice, “I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable experiment even for one’s self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very sorry.” “You know,” I answered with some emotion, for I had never seen so much of Holmes’s heart before, “that it is my greatest joy and privilege to help you.”

Why on earth would it be a “surprising artistic decision” from ACD to develop Holmes into a little more caring and openly compassionate person as he grew older? Isn’t that the very classical character development of any literary hero’s journey and also a logical personal development for many people in the real world? It’s called ‘learning’ and ‘maturing’, as far as I know. To claim this is infringement of some unique idea is frankly ridiculous.

In short: They make a very literal, textual interpretation of the Holmes character, cherry-picking the parts that suit their interests, they claim there’s a clear story arc with very separate characteristics before and after WWI, and that they own the end of it. Thus, no adaptation with a progressive story arc regarding Holmes’ character would be permitted without their consent. Since apparently BBC Sherlock have ACD’s Estate’s license for their own franchise, this just makes me wonder how much trouble Mofftiss et al had with including things like Sherlock’s and John’shug in TLD, or his emotional breakdown with the coffin after Eurus’ experiments on him in TFP.

Possible satirical meaning and small hints

Allow me to speculate a bit about the possible implications of BBC Sherlock in relation to the Estate. In a recent excellent meta by @raggedyblue, the ACD Estate as ‘Doyle’s bank’is discussed, regarding the significance of the banker Sebastian Wilkes in The Blind Banker (X). Many interesting ideas are presented in this meta, I really recommend a read. This topic also initiated an interesting discussion about Doyle himself mirroring John in this post by @devoursjohnlock​ (X).

In an addition to that meta @shylockgnomes brings up John’s blog post about Tilly Briggsas another possible reference to the Estate (X). I totally agree with this; some time around the release of BBC Dracula this year, and our discussions about legal issues connected to both shows, I stumbled uponthis particular ‘aborted’blog post andcame to realise its possible significance. It gave me the idea to change the title of my own blog to “Tilly Briggs Ship with Johnlock on it”, since I suspect that the blog post might be a clue about legal obstacles to a certain relationship. And that title is staying, at least until we know the true story (if ever).

Canon contains some info about Matilda Briggs is in The Sussex Vampire, one of the late ACD stories that should be in public domain by now, since the copyright supposedly expired in December 2019. But, as shown above, the Estate now claims there’s a three-year lapse when they can still sue for infringement. Here’s the quote from SUSS (my bolding): “Matilda Briggs was not the name of a young woman, Watson,” said Holmes in a reminiscent voice. “It was a ship which is associated with the giant rat of Sumatra, a story for which the world is not yet prepared.” Sumatra, by the way, was Sherlock’s preferred destination in the TST tale of the merchant who met Death in Samarra. In Sherlock’s version, according to Mycroft, the merchant survived and became a pirate... ;-)

John’s aborted blog post (X) is titled “Tilly Briggs Cruise of Terror”, which just might be yet another little jibe at the Estate. John says that “Ihad to take this post down for a while as the ship's owners are launching an appeal”. According to Jacob Sowersby (a Sherlock fan on the blog) and Mike Stamford, this was “mind-blowing stuff”:

So I can’t help thinking this sounds like a hint to us about the Estate and a certain ‘ship’ which is still partly in their (legal) power and control. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise me if the whole show - on the meta level - is partly meant as a satirical commentary on how Holmes’ and Watson’s characters,and therefore also their relationship,have been treated the last 100+ years by their‘owners’. A treatment where I believe the hetero norm has always ruled, and where Andrea Plunket’s quote above indicates that homophobia regarding Holmes and Watson is still tied to legal obstacles.

Charles Augustus Magnussen also talks about ownership at the beginning of HLV (thanks for the quotes, Ariane DeVere):“Of course it isn’t blackmail. This is... ownership”. And later in the episode:“It’s all about knowledge. Everything is. Knowing is owning”. In fact, quite a bit of emphasis in HLVis put on Magnussen’s ‘ownership’ of characters people:“I’m a businessman, acquiring assets. You happen to be one of them!” Apparently - as this new lawsuit shows - it’s even possible to make money out of Holmes’ emotions.

@catwillowtree also pointed out, in another additional thread to@raggedyblue​’s meta, that Eurus’ burning down Musgrave Hall – the family estate - in TFP also seems like a reference to the ACD Estate. I would add to this, saying that the bomb that didn’t go off in TEH and the“patience grenade” that did go off in TFP might have to do with the same issue. What would happen if the‘bomb’ of Johnlock would go off before the relevant stories are legally in public domain? Most probably another lawsuit from the Estate, which might become very expensive.

Come to think of it, in TGG Greg Lestrade mentions an estate agent, when Sherlock receives a text message and a phone call on the pink phone from Moriarty:“What the hell are we supposed to make of that? An estate agent’s photo and the bloody Greenwich pips!” Well, if theEstate agentis somehow connected to the five pips, that fandom theory of the pips representing five series in the show comes to mind... For every pip in TGG there’s a victim covered in explosives; a huge bomb threatening to go off. (The third bomb did go off in TGG, but in S3 Sherlock found the ‘off-switch’ in time).If the fifth bomb is to explode in S5, I bet it won’t be until the relevant stories are safely in public domain. 2023?

More wild speculation while I’m at it: Maybe Sherlock and Ajay’s smashing of Thatcher busts in TST also ties in metaphorically to the same topic? The Thatcher era was not easy for LGBTQ people. There are several ownersin TST whose Thatcher bustsneed to be smashed in order for Ajay’s lost memory stick to be recovered. AGRA is referred to as Ajay’s and Mary’s“family”. The memory stick contains personal information,‘who you really are’. Could be read as if the info of who Sherlock Holmes really is can only be released once certain obstacles are overcome...

In another interesting meta from last year by @yeah-oh-shit​ (X), they mention the secret underground station at Sumatra road in TEH, where Howard Shilcott tells Sherlock and John that “They built the platforms, even the staircases, but it all got tied up in legal disputes, so they never built the station on the surface.” So maybe S5 is basically already written? It would make sense to me if the long hiatus we’re facing right now has a far more logical reason than the excuses Mofftiss have presented in interviews - the risk of legal disputes with the copyright owners.

Tagging some more people who might be interested:@gosherlocked​ @ebaeschnbliah​ @sarahthecoat​ @sagestreet​ @thepersianslipper​

ETA: I have corrected some details about the copyright owners in this post; thanks @devoursjohnlock​ for pointing them out!

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THE FREEDOM OF EXPRESSION #39 15th NOVEMBER (TRANSLATION)

Appearance:

Kaoru (DIR EN GREY direngrey.co.jp/)

Joe Yokomizo (Writer / DJ)

Tasai Reporter (Tokyo Sports)

God ?

Notes before reading: This is a translation/summary of The Freedom of Expression #39 about Sanna Marin (Filand’s Prime Minister) receiving backlash for posing in a fashion magazine in a low-cut blazer showing cleavage.

Please don’t forget to subscribe to their channel and watch their actual video to support the program.

Feel free to correct me if you spot any mistake or any confusing parts.

——– You can watch the program here Kaoru: Hello, this is Kaoru from Dir en grey…The Freedom of Expression is starting today too! Joe-san…. Tasai-san…. Thank you for being here today…. Joe: Thank you. Tasai: Thank you. Kaoru: Well……*points at Joe’s Tokyo Sports hoodie* It suits you well! Joe: Thank you! I’m already loving it…..*pointing at the sleeve’s wrist* it has Tokyo Sports logo here too….so when I’m wearing a jacket, I can put the logo out…. Tasai: Thank you… Joe: Well, let’s come back to the program, thank you for this! Tasai: Thank you for your words, let’s start… Joe: Let’s start (laughs) Kaoru: Well Joe….this week’s news…. Joe: Yes, I’m going to read the news… “Female Prime Minister’s suit that shows bare skin, Vulgar or discrimination?” ”“The appearance in the magazine of the Finnish Prime Minister Sanna Marin (34) in a jacket with a faintly chest cleavage in the is spreading unexpected criticism. While criticized by some social media as “vulgar” and “inappropriate” Some politicians have pointed out that it is “discrimination against women” because the same criticism does not happen even if male politicians were half naked. Ms Marin, who took office at the end of last year, was referred as the youngest prime minister in the country’s history. She was featured in an interview this month as “a role model” in a fashion magazine released in the country and appeared in a black suit. It seems that she wore a jacket that showed bare skin, and under the elaborately designed necklace, the cleavage of the chest can be seen faintly. On social media, some people referred to her as “cheap,” “distrustful, “and "attention-seeking”.Those who opposed to this criticism, posted a photo of themselves dressed like Mr. Marin on Instagram with the hashtag “#Sanna”.” Joe: That was the news. I think it was a picture in a magazine. Personally, when I took a quick look of the picture, I didn’t see any of that “vulgarity” that some people are saying…. Kaoru and Tasai nods. Joe: What do you think, Kaoru? Kaoru: Well…. I felt that there will be people who say that and there will be people who don’t…. Joe: I see. That women…..something that that can be said in her defence is….for example…the president of Russia, Putin, he has pictures of himself half naked….and people took it as something light or even in a joking way when those pictures were uploaded….Why is it ok that a men take pics like that but when a women takes a pic where you can see a bit of bare skin, things like that are said? Regarding that, it seems it’s about what women are allowed or not… “Is the exposure of men’s bare skin OK but women’s is considered NG?” * (on screen) *NG: Abbreviation of No Good. It’s a Japanese term used for the censorship of contents. Joe: It’s a difficult issue….A cleavage with that V shape is a possibility or not, what do you think,Tasai? Kaoru laughs. Tasai: Well, I think…. Kaoru: Are you an expert in this topic? “Is Tasai an expert?” (on screen) Tasai: I have talked about this before…. it’s quite that…. recently, standards regarding men and women…..how could I say it?.... Isn't it discrimination against women when you are asking about gender?.....on the contrary, there were articles that made me think…. is it sexism against men?... a lot of these kinds of articles are done…. “Are this kind of articles increasing in Tokyo Sports?” (on screen) Tasai: Recently, it makes me think about what means to be a man or a woman….for example….men…..things can be said about women and men, but being myself a man, I can’t help but think in a certain way (having a certain perspective), what makes me wonder if it is ok… Joe: I see. Like you could say something problematic…. Tasai: I have been thinking about it recently… Joe: I see…. God: Well…. Joe: Oh, God is here… God: Aren’t people with tiny breast-cleavage just jealous? Joe: Ah, do you think that’s the reason? God: In my opinion…..In my opinion it’s ok if there is no cleavage….if anything, I would say that small breasts are better…. Joe: God likes small breasts… God: I think they are better….but, about this photo…..I think it's a good photo no matter how you look at it…. Joe: It’s a pretty photo, isn’t it? God: Yes. That’s why I’m jealous of people who don’t have a cleavage…. I feel like having a discussion about it, it’s somehow old fashioned…. They mumble about if God refers to men or women, or if he thinks both are ok. Joe: God is not concerned about the size of a cleavage, you are like “Either option is ok!”…. God: That’s it… Joe: Like….you don’t have to be strict about it…. God: It’s a question about the inside….it doesn’t matter what it is…. Joe: Indeed Kaoru: But it’s a fashion publication, right? “Isn’t it posted in a fashion magazine?” (on screen) Joe: Isn’t it? This is not something that the Prime Minister Marin is wearing for public affairs, as she is a woman of excellence she was able to be part of something like this….I’m sure this isn’t just her…..it’s a fashion magazine, the director and the stylist worked in this as well….and they told the Prime Minister to pose in this way or another, I think it’s a way to express in fashion that’s why it hit us like this….I feel it’s like that…the people who is against it…..what is vulgar about it? Kaoru: Well, now no matter what you do, you are going to get positive and negative opinions, right? Joe: Indeed! God: As there are people who bash others (online), it’s the people with tiny breast bashing her this time! The three bursts into laugh. Kaoru: That’s it… Joe: I get that… God: That’s the truth without any doubt! Joe: It’s like…...don’t brag about your boobs! God: That’s it! Because people’s bragging talks are something that pisses you off! There is no doubt! Joe: I understand what you mean with “there is no doubt” but…. God: There is no doubt! There is no doubt about this! Tasai: Among the opinions who found the picture bad, some came from women…. Kaoru: I see… Joe: God is mad at you! Tasai: But isn’t God the one who understands their true feelings as man? But I would bet that for the time being, a man wouldn’t say “it looks cheap”. Kaoru: But that this picture was published it’s a good thing, right? Joe: Actually, with this picture you raise attention and when it comes to politics….it makes people being interested in politicians…. It’s like a promotion…. Kaoru: That it looks cheap or distrustful…its like “it’s not of your business” …. Joe: Isn’t it? It doesn’t look cheap at all! God: God just realized something! Joe: What was it? God: The previous theory I did I said “there is no doubt” ….but there might be! Joe: Ah, you are going to say…. God: She is a politician, right? Probably she is being criticized by politicians….Probably by the opposition party people with small breasts! Joe: That’s it! God: That’s it…. It’s the opposition party…. Joe: I see… Tasai: That’s a good idea… Joe: Is the opposition doing this? Like the criticism comes from the political powers…. God: That’s right… (….) Joe: I wish politicians would appear in fashion magazines in Japan…. Kaoru: More than wishing that they come out (in fashion magazines) it’s the editorial department on the other side…. Joe: The ones who have to want to pick them up right? Kaoru: Yes. Tasai: I think it’s more like there isn’t someone who wants to pick up this person (a politician) Joe: So the conclusion is that Prime Minister Marin is a woman of excellence…. Kaoru: That’s it, right? Tasai: Yes, yes… Joe: There is no doubt… Kaoru: Well…..former Haishin Tiger and Nihon-Ham (figthers) player…Tsuyoshi Shinjo*….somehow came back to Japan and will be in a magazine cover soon. *Tsuyoshi Shinjo (48) is a former Japanese professional baseball outfielder. Shinjo is now a television celebrity in Japan as well as a model for his own line of clothing. Tasai: Surely… Kaoru: It’s amazing, isn’t it? Joe: It is… Kaoru: Well….I think it’s time to finish the program this week…. Joe: Before God says something else… Kaoru: Thank you for watching…. Joe: Thank you for watching…. Kaoru: Please subscribe to the channel…. Tasai: Please subscribe….

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I Thought Rhododendron was a Warning (Midoriya Izuku x reader) [Hanahaki Au]

A/n: This fic originally was meant to be posted July 26th for @birds-have-teeth's Izumonth Server Collab! Hope you enjoy this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it, even though it’s a little late ^^’

Warnings: Angst; Hanahaki Au; Barfing of flowers, descriptions of throwing up; descriptions of choking and being unable to breath; descriptions of blood; descriptions of coughing up blood; descriptions of various forms of pain (namely chest and throat pains); mentions of the word toilet and it’s various synonyms

“People always say to be cautious of what flowers you cough up when you choke up, but how are you to know which ones are a warning sign and which ones are in dire need of check up? Sure, colors and shape could give it away if you know your botany, but what if you’re completely clueless? That’s where this guide to flowers and their symbolism comes in, to help you overcome your Hanahaki and your feelings without having to immediately get the surgery-” Midoriya vividly remembers each time that commercial or one similar would appear on the television and they were always followed by his mother’s quick response of changing the channel or turning it off altogether. Her statements that would follow were always disapproving of such products, saying they would probably kill a person off faster rather than actually help them with living longer.

That was really his only exposure to any forms of Hanahaki discussion at home. His mother never really felt the need to elaborate on the disease other than giving the basic fact that you normally caught it under unfortunate, romantic situations. What these situations were, he had no idea, and the only clue he really had on that matter were things he’d hear in passing conversations at school. There’d been rumors of other kids in his middle school catching cases, yet they never really seemed to be enough to actually draw his attention to the illness.

He had assumed he would continue to live in that naive, blissful unawareness he’d developed over his juvenile years, but his years at Yuuei forcefully and uncomfortably opened his eyes without his consent. The first month consisted of their Pro teachers reminding them of just how much more important their lives were than a small crush and that they should keep their attention on their studies rather than trying to confess their feelings. Aizawa was especially vocal about this, to the point he set aside a day to tell the class stories of students and Pro Heroes that had to let go of their dreams when they died of the disease and how the percentage that did receive the surgery were never the same. And those words of advice followed him through his Yuuei days, echoing each time there’d be an announcement of one of his many schoolmates lost to the disease. It especially hit different when one of his classmates caught a cold case and, many times, no one had even known about it. He remembers watching Kaminari choke to death in front of everyone on the sports field one day and another time it caught Hagakure before the premature intermission of their second Sports Festival.

Midoriya believed he’d heeded enough warning not to find himself in the situation he currently found himself in. Even now, each mention and memory of Hanahaki is being thrown back at him as he tries to find where to go next with the blood covered, grassy vomit he recently regurgitated into his toilet.

“Midoriya?”

The flowers. Always take notice of what flowers you spit up. Even just an attribute of a vine of stem could help determine your current state- The sight of the flowers makes him wonder how he didn’t choke on the individual flowers, each a small flower in a bundle to make up a cone-shape. There were mainly two of the cone-shaped put togethers, a few smaller flowers and their petals also hanging around and floating in the water with small twinges of stem.

“Midoriya, are you okay in there?”

He knows a set of lilacs when he sees them, even with the accompanying splotches of blood. It’s a common starter flower during most first attacks that has killed just as many as it has warned. They were usually associated with innocence and purity, the beginning of a budding annoyance that Midoriya wouldn’t easily be able to just overlook-

“Midoriya? Are you feeling well? You seemed a little faint in color before running off to the powder room-” It’s too late when he hears the bathroom door open, his body lurching forward in surprise at the sudden interruption, “Hanahaki…”

It’s too late for him to hide the evidence and he can’t just immediately make up an excuse for why there’s a nice sight of bloody lilacs chilling in his toilet. The frightened, paling appearance of the sudden guest’s face doesn’t help in the slightest, their feet seemingly glued in place as their eyes dart between the obvious mess of the floral bile and his completely frazzled form.They were pretty sure he was still shaking, but whether it was from fear or him fighting to get the choking feeling of flowers out of his throat had been beyond them.

“I… It’s not what it looks like! A-At least, I hope it’s not what it looks like! I’m fine, though! It came up easy-” Midoriya rambles on nervously, his hand coming up to tug at his white tee while his green eyes glance around the room for various explanations. His hands whimsically move about and around him, coming together to hold and clench themselves before releasing to move on to picking and playing with each other, “A-Anyway, I’ll get myself cleaned up and we can finish the- (Y/n)?”

His rambling stops once they fall to their knees before him, their hands gripping his shoulders tightly. Their eyes glance him over, an extra emotion swirling through their (e/c) irises before they pull him into a tight hug, messy shirt and all. He’s taken aback by the sudden action, his own limbs slowly coming up to wrap around their form. Their hand comes up and pats his back softly, those pats turning into reassuring back rubs as he continues to toss up flowers into the commode.

“I’ll help however I can, Izuku...”

“Blaaagh”

“Like getting you a breath mint. Immediately getting you that breath mint” They state as they quickly rise to their feet, heading out the bathroom door and closing it behind them.

~~~

He originally believed everything would be fine after that one incident. He planned to get it under control, use home remedy after home remedy to prevent it from affecting him any further. He confidently felt he was making strides to recovery without needing to get a surgery to remove feelings he still couldn’t even place. He could survive having one mild attack in his life and live the rest pretending he never had hanahaki.

He knew it wasn’t that simple, but to have the hope peacefully tug at his chest in comfort with each ad he passed seemed as though the force of his life was taunting him once more by waving a seemingly unattainable dream in his face. The idea of constantly drinking weed killer was still very concerning with how often it’d been recommended (he decides to set it as his last ditch effort when the weeds become too much for him) and he’s pretty convinced he should close this article (Y/n) sent him out of fear of something infecting his device. Well, that was the plan up until something peaked his interest.

Lo and behold, surrounded by the most erotic and scam ridden ads Midoriya’s seen on the internet, sat a flower alignment chart. His curiosity is piqued at the sight of the familiarly unfamiliar diagram and his fingers are quick to hover over the image before downloading and sending it to his partner in deciphering where he currently stood on the danger scale.

Dummy Thiccy 🧜: It’s a flower chart. Tells you your danger zone

Well, yeah. He figured that much given the sight he’d found it in the first place. He sighs in exasperation as he lays back against his pillow. He closes out of his messaging app, going to google for a more broad and direct response to said chart.

He hovers over his keyboard as he thinks of where to start in terms of keywords. He wasn’t too concerned with the flowers he’d spit out yesterday, in terms of how at risk he was of having thorns pierce his lungs. He starts with similar charts, lifting himself from the comfort of his sheets to grab one of his many empty journals stored under his bed.

He maps out his own diagram, taking only the results many of them had in common and noting the rare differences between them on another sheet. He decides to check the other things out in the morning when he catches just how late it is, his eyes skimming over his finished project before setting it over to the side. His eyes linger on his home-screen a moment after, the sight of him and friends smiling back at him so happily reminding him of why he needed to get rid of it.

The memory of the white flowers fill his mind again at that, some of the lilacs speckled with a red he’s seen out in the field too many times. It reminds him of how congested he felt, the tightness of his chest and how he struggled to even get any of it passed his throat, let alone ignore the piercing feeling he felt as the weeds also made their way out of his system. He had to keep himself from panicking to hold up the front for his friends while they were in the other room and hold back the fear he felt when (L/n) caught him bent over the toilet.

His cheeks flush from the awkward aftermath of that encounter. There was already some distance between them prior (why had been completely unknown on his end), but the sudden tense feeling after the whole bathroom situation with the complete opposite of the comforting feeling they gave when they found him there. Even now, their responses and questions just didn’t click the same way they did a week ago. While he, of course, wanted to approach the situation and figure out what was up, he just couldn’t. He had no way to go about it.

And now he’s literally puffing up daisies, possibly on the verge of death. If they’re in a bad place now, he can’t imagine how much worse it’ll be when he does die.

The thought has his heart pounding in a different way than the adrenaline he’s used to feeling, aching in a way only they could cause. He finds himself blankly gazing at their smiling face, seemingly on the brink of laughing at something one of them said. All the while, the reminder of his hours ticking down if he doesn’t handle this soon hollowly echoes through his mind.

His breathing begins hallowing as the heavy feeling in his chest returns in a seemingly swift attack, the stems digging at various parts of his body in an almost threatening manner. He feels himself lose his breath a moment, his head spinning and eyesight dotting before he manages to break out of his flinched stance enough to rush himself to his bathroom. He doesn’t have time to really process too much aside for him throwing the toilet seat up. The pointy stems force their way out of his mouth, reinforcing just how painful the whole thing is. His eyes tear up and he’s there long enough for paresthesia to kick in on his legs from the cut off of proper oxygen flow.

His body trembles when he finally finishes hacking up the fauna. More blood covers the flowers than he last remembered, white corona surrounded by bright yellow perianth with both covered in unsymmetrical red splotches. His chest heaves as he desperately inhales as much air as he can. His back presses against the cold wall tiles of his bathroom after he manages to catch enough breath for his mind to begin functioning properly. It’s the first thing to alert him of his senses coming back, the blur of his eyes slowly coming to after.

With the little energy he has left, he climbs over to his toilet once again out of curious desperation. Proudly standing on end are numerous daffodils, taunting him and reminding of just what he’s going through. He’s suddenly hit tier 2. No warning and immediately after him worrying over the well-being of his friends.

He uses the wall to get to his feet, pushing off of it and steadying himself on the toilet tank. The lid makes a loud clank against it, causing him to jump a bit and fall back against his sink counter. He winces slightly from the pain, his hand gripping the area and rubbing it soothingly. His hand grips the counter, using it to hold himself up as he reaches over and flushes the toilet.

He’s exhausted when he finally gets back to his bed, ready to let sleep drown him into a healing rest, yet his phone’s notification light continues to flash in the corner of his eye. He groans as he leans over, the light practically blinding him as soon as his screen flashes on. He flinches, eyes remaining squinched as he swipes away social media alerts.

Dummy Thiccy 🧜: Please be careful tonight. I’ll be there in a heartbeat if you need me

His face heats up a bit as he reads it over, coming to a revelation he wished he’d come to sooner. His body seemingly sits up on it’s own as he feels his chest tighten a moment.

His breathing grows labored once more, his hand gripping his chest in some weak attempt to ground himself. His hand reaches for his phone as calmly as he frantically could, managing to dial (Y/n)’s number, a shade of red blooming over most of his face. It wakes him up a bit, his emerald eyes widening in a sudden realization that he

“Hey, Izuku? Something up-”

“I-I need some help. C-Could you- Agh!” He falls back in pain, his grip tightening as he continues to scream out in agony. His throat feels lodged up, something feeling as though it’s forcefully crawling up. He painfully swallows it back, a faded voice echoing through his ears as he feels his eyesight fade to black.

~~~~~

Midoriya blinks away the sleep in his eyes, the blaring lights from the ceiling making it a little hard to truly open his eyes. The overwhelming smell of insulin and antiseptic fill his nose. He struggles to make out his surroundings beyond that due to the feeling of an extra weight holding his body down. He shakes around a bit to shrug the figure off of him, sitting up enough to see just a little more of the white room. He’s sure he’s in a hospital room after further assessment, more than likely thanks to (Y/n) after he called them in the midst of panic (and it makes him pretty glad he let them take one of his keys when he first moved in unless he somehow forgot to lock his door again).

He lays his head back against the pillow provided for him in exhaustion, yet he’s unable to just close them and rest. His mind is practically racing with so many thoughts, thoughts he wished he had his newly formed chart for. He couldn’t have just jumped danger levels like that, especially not after just finding out the person of his affection had been his current lifeline just a few hours ago (or what he assumed had been a few hours. Kinda hard to tell when you’re passed out from loss of air for a majority of that time). It wasn’t off the table, and he knew that fact, but it was too soon for the both of them. They were already at an awkward place before and he doesn’t just want to force his feelings onto them, especially if they’re going through something he didn’t know about. It felt wrong.

There’s a shift as (Y/n) sits up from laying over him. They take a moment to stretch, a couple of their bones popping and cracking before they relax to sit back against their seat. Their face makes it obvious that they had fallen asleep and their arm is quick to wipe away the bit of drool on their cheeks. Midoriya feels his face warm at that, his eyes quickly averting when he notices their attention drift to him.

“Hey, sleepy broccoli. They had to pump a LOT of pain medicine in you” He perks up as they begin speaking to him, an almost prideful smile on their face as they continue, “They say you’re lucky that a sudden attack like that didn’t kill you. I, of course, was rooting for you! You’ve come back from worst”

Yet, he can see the painful look being held back in their expression. He stares a moment, taking it in and trying to figure out why they even had that hesitation on their face. He sighs out, weakly smiling up at them and attempting to sit up on his own, “S-Sorry to call you so late in the night. Your number was already there and I guess my fingers acted on instinct”

“Yeah… Instinct” They murmur, their thumbs rubbing over one another out of nervousness. They stare at him a moment, an awkward silence filling the room and causing Midoriya to wonder if he’d responded the wrong way.

He goes to fix up his statement, enforce how grateful he is for their assistance through all of this. They get caught in his throat before he can mutter a word, another choked up feeling coming and going.

“They did say your symptoms have been escalating a little faster than what they’re used to, considering you’ve begun developing vines along different parts of your chest and torso. They plan on putting you on watch for when things become too much and they have to… t-they have to do the procedure to… remove them… Seems this person’s really running their circles around your feelings, Izuku” They let out one of their worried ‘hehs’, sending him a pitiful smile of the same calibur. They pull their phone from the pocket, opening their dial-up before turning to him with a solemn smile, “So let’s get them called up, yeah?”

He feels the feeling crawl back up his throat, this one a little harder and scratchy; A hurtful kind of scratchy that makes him feel like something’s tearing at the inner skin. Another lump comes to his throat when he notices the tears in their eyes. He’s unable to tell if it's the weeds or something else entirely, “(Y/n)...”

“Don’t pull a (Y/n) and give up on them, please. My biggest regret was giving up on my feelings for you, but now I know for sure they’re not in vain” A few stray tears run down their cheeks only for their hand to quickly come up and wipe them away, “So please, Izuku… Tell them how you feel before you feel nothing at all-”

He’s unable to hold back as he feels himself cough, his hand quickly going to cover his mouth and catching the dark red petals that fall. (Y/n) is to his side, gripping his shoulder with one hand. One of their fingers holds the call button to request for assistance. Their (e/c) eyes widen in fear at the color of the petals in his hand, more of their tears coming and dripping down their face.

“Everything’s going to be okay, Izuku-”

“No! I-It’s not!” His arms cross over his chest, hands holding at opposite shoulders as he rocks himself. His chest heaves before he releases another sickly, airy cough. He manages out a dark crimson rose, his hold on himself tightening as more vines etch their indents onto his skin before taking a familiar, healthy shade of green. The shade contrasts with the growing paleness of his skin and the growing red bruises from the thorns pricking at his it. He coughs up another rose and the shades of red are almost indistinguishable as the shade of his own blood gets darker and comes out more clumped than before.

“Izuku, we have to go get you a doctor-”

“No! N-Not until…” he struggles to get the words out as it gets harder to breathe. He tries to ignore the feelings of needing to throw up, swallowing down the thick brushle in his chest. He’s unable to do so, coughing up another and another until his arms are completely decorated in the thorny vines. He takes a deep breath, slowly sitting up enough for his emerald eyes to meet their (e/c) ones. He fights down the nauseous feeling, his face twisting into a grimace as he pushes the small phrase, “I-It’s you-”

A sharp pain catches him before he can finish, various doctors and nurses rushing to his side as he screeches out from the unrivaled pain in his chest. They’re forced to watch as the color in Midoriya’s eyes begin to fade before his body fully goes limp in their hold.

They’re chest seemingly begins to contort, their heart squeezing with emotions they shouldn’t be feeling, that they couldn’t be feeling. The feelings all collide at once as they stand to the side, watching the futile attempts of the medical team to save Midoriya Izuku. They stand there until the team leaves, a dullness to their stare as the staff wheel him out of the room.

And once they’re gone, (Y/n) finally breaks down again...

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Writing In Eternian

Hey! I made a post about a little season 5 easter egg yesterday (not linking it here because for some reason it blocks the post from showing in the tags)and while I was poking through the tags, I noticed that a lot of people want to learn how to use First Ones writing! Writing and orthography are actually things I'm really interested in, so I decided to make this guide for people. It's a bit more in-depth than the official press release, so if you just want to use that, feel free!

Here’s the original tweet from the She-Ra Twitter account, which has more examples: twitter. com /dreamworksshera/status/1055474341553623040

Here we go! Putting it under a break so it doesn't eat up your whole screen.

THE SOUNDS OF ENGLISH & THE IPA

So first of all, we need to start with a brief introduction to the IPA. (If you’re already familiar, you can skip to the next big heading.) Lots of languages use a lot of different letters or other characters to represent certain sounds, but when you're working with linguistics, you need to be able to say exactly what you mean. So, we made the International Phonetic Alphabet. This is a long list of individual letters and markings that represent very specific sounds, and you use them by placing them between slashes, like /d/, and sometimes to distinguish, you place the actual writing between corner brackets, like <d>. So for instance, /t/ and /h/ make the same sounds that <t> and <h> make in English, but <th> (usually) makes either the /θ/ or /ð/ sounds. These change based on where you live, but in general the consonants are the same for all English speakers.

Knowing this is important, because something I love about the First Ones alphabet is that it isn't just a letter substitution! Many "secret language" alphabets I've seen in kid's series (like Artemis Fowl, for instance) are just simple one-to-one substitutions for the Latin alphabet we use. But First Ones writing is actually very different! It uses the actual sounds made in the word. So if you wrote "cat" in the First Ones script (which I'm gonna call Eternian, after Eternia from He-Man, which flows better than "First Ones script"), it would actually look like "kat", because the letter c can be used for the sounds k or s, so it doesn't translate.

The alphabet we're using right now was created for the Latin language, derived from the Greek alphabet, which itself has a very long history behind it. English is NOT descended from Latin - it's a Germanic language, and the Germanic family is only kind of related to the Romantic family that developed out of Latin. However, a lot of our vocabulary has a Latin infusion because of mixing with Old French in the 1000s-1100s, and even before that, we used the Latin alphabet because it was the most common. This means that in order to express all the sounds we have, English speakers writing English had to combine different letters together; this, plus over a thousand years of different spellings and dialects, means that our orthography - our way of writing the sounds we say - is FUCKED. The Eternian alphabet is actually a much more efficient way of writing these sounds!

This is the total list of English consonants:

A few notes here:

To make sure you're not lost, /ŋ/ is <ng>, /j/ is <y>, /θ/ and /ð/ are <th>, /ʃ/ and /ʒ/ are <sh> and <zh> (the French <j>, not usually distinguished in English writing) respectively, and /tʃ/ and /dʒ/ are <ch> and the English <j> respectively.

Most consonants can come in voiced and unvoiced versions (although, because English is weird, these are called "fortis" and "lensis" because we pronounce them with different amounts of energy). /b/ is /p/, but pronounced using the vocal chords. Only the nasal sounds, the "approximants", and /h/ don't have pairs in English, although /h/ DOES actually have a common voiced pair, and you can technically pronounce the others voiceless in some languages although it's very rare.

The /x/ sound, famously the end of the Scottish word "loch", is only found in Celtic accents (Scottish, Irish, Welsh) and in the South African accent (because of influence from Dutch). Other English speakers realize it as /k/.

The /r/ sound is weird. What /r/ technically represents is a trill, like in the Spanish <rr>. However, in English, that trill is very rare; what we use <r> for is called a "postalveolar approximant", [ɹ̠]. However, it is usually easier just to write the letter r, so that's how we transcribe it for English's IPA.

English also sometimes has what are called "syllabic consonants", which are consonants that can act as the center of a syllable in the place of a vowel. In English, these are mostly /l/, /m/, and /n/. For instance, the word "bottle" is technically pronounced [ˈbɑɾl̩] in General American English, and the same goes for words like "rhythm" and "button"; however, because this would complicate things a lot, phonologists consider it to include a very small vowel, so with the example of "bottle", it would be /ˈbɑtəl/ instead.

The vowels are a bit more weird than the consonants. Our alphabet was originally created for Latin, which only has ten vowel sounds, long and short a, e, i, o, and u (although technically the short vowels are /a ɛ ɪ ɔ ʊ/ instead of /a e i o u/, because fuck it I guess). However, we have a MUCH different vowel "inventory" in English - instead of the uniform 10 paired Latin vowels, in General American English we have anywhere from 11-13 vowels depending on your interpretation along with three diphthongs (combinations of two vowels used as a single vowel):

If you look at the British (Received Pronunciation) chart it's much different from that, which is why the accents are so distinct; however, Eternian is made with GA English in mind, so I'm just going to focus on that.

More notes:

/ə/ (a schwa, like in "uh"), /ɜ/ (very similar and hard to distinguish in writing), and /ʌ/ (something between an "uh" and an "ah"), are all very close to each other and sometimes interchangeable, especially between the first two.

/oʊ/ is usually simplified to /o/, and /eɪ/ is sometimes simplified to /e/, since the normal versions of those sounds don't show up so we don't have to make the difference clear.

A lot of accents in North America make /ɔ/ sounds (similar to "aw" or "au", like in "caught") into /ɑ/ sounds (the o in "hot").

Now, let's move on to the alphabet!

ETERNIAN GLYPHS & SIGILS

The "letters" of the Eternian alphabet, in my opinion, are better described using the more general term "glyph". This is because, while they are distinct shapes that mean specific sounds, they are used kind of artistically and variably within one large interconnected word-shape called a "sigil", much different than we would consider letters in the English alphabet. These glyphs are organized in words by lines starting at the basic shape of the sigil and stringing them together in order.

Eternian glyphs are split into two major categories that differ by shape: consonants and vowels.

CONSONANTS

The system of glyphs for Eternian consonants is actually very easy to remember, once you get the shapes down! Let's go back to the voiced/voiceless pairs. English has eight pairs of these, four plosives (made by quickly starting and stopping air with your mouth) and four fricatives (made by constantly moving air through your mouth). These eight pairs - along with another pair for /r/ and /l/ even though they aren't voiced/voiceless, because they're also closely related - make up most of the sounds in English and most of the consonant glyphs in Eternian. In each of these pairs, the voiceless (and /l/) have a basic, empty polygon shape; the voiced pair (and /r/) use the exact same shape, but with a dot in the middle. Like so:

Outside of this, English has four more vowels - /m/, /n/, /ŋ/, and /h/ - and two "semivowels", which can be used either as a vowel or a consonant. One of these semivowels, /j/ (the English y), is used as a vowel in Eternian, while the other, /w/, is treated as a consonant. Except for /w/, these remaining consonants are all marked by the fact that they’re solid color; they also all use the same basic shapes as many of the others, but aren’t related to the sounds which share their shape:

Pretty simple once you get the hang of it! Excuse the messiness; if you want a more precise rendering, you can reference the original release at the top.

I'm pretty sure this is all accurate, but there's one thing that seems weird to me. In English, <th> can be used to express either voiceless /θ/ or voiced /ð/. However, in Eternian, they gave us a "dh" glyph. I assume that this is meant to represent /ð/. However, in Wrong Hordak's "Smooch The Chef" apron, "the" is spelled with the glyph used for /θ/. But honestly I'm just assuming human error on that one, especially because /ð/ is very rare at the beginning of words except for articles or pronouns like the and these, most cases of <th> at the beginning of a word are /θ/ like in "thorn".

Now, for vowels!

VOWELS

Like I said earlier, this bit is much more complicated to get than the consonants, but luckily, this is actually much better for English than Latin letters!

Eternian vowel glyphs are divided, seemingly at random, into two subsets with a single exception. First are line-glyphs, which are formed by altering the connective line between two geometric glyphs. The others are circle-glyphs, the ones used for /ɛ/, /i/, /u/, and /o/. These function in the exact same way as the consonant glyphs, except that they are all circles where none of the consonants (except /n/) are.

There's a few issues here with transcribing words, but they mostly come out of simplifying English's horrible vowel fluidity. For instance, there's no distinct letter for writing the schwa /ə/, but it can be folded into the letter for /ʌ/. That, and combining /ɔ/ with /ɑ/, simplify 16 sounds into 13 letters. The last letter, /j/, is the other semivowel I mentioned above; <y> in English can be used for either /j/ or /aɪ/ and /ɪ/, but this letter specifically represents the /j/ sound like in "yes" or "yak".

BRINGING IT TOGETHER

This is where things get very interesting. Let's start with the basics, walking through how to write the word "Adora".

Eternian, as a writing system, is much more artistic by design than Latin, and words and sentences can be constructed in many ways which are all read the same way. Eternian words - better called "sigils" - are read right-to-left, like Hebrew, Arabic, or traditional Japanese and Chinese. We form the sigils starting with a line sloping down in that direction book-ended with dots.The exact angle and length doesn't matter, but the right side is always noticeably higher than the left, like this:

We then add two additional decorative lines built off of that base, which end in dots:

These flourishes can be curved, geometric, or a mix of both, and often inform a lot about the "personality" of both a sigil and its writer, and can distinguish one sigil from another. They're like the sigil's signature. They can be any shape or length, but never overlap with themselves or other lines.

The next step is to begin adding the sounds. Much like the flourishes, these are constructed differently for every sigil, although again they are all read from right-to-left and the symbols are placed with that in mind. These are strung down from the sigil's base, connecting with straight lines. Let's start by placing the a-sound in "Adora" near the right-side edge of the line (this is the /ʌ/ line-glyph, like the u in "fun"):

Because the /ʌ/ glyph is a line, it replaces the normal connecting line. Let's finish this syllable line with the /d/ glyph:

...and then add another line with the glyphs for /orʌ/:

Generally, when a cluster ends with a line-glyph, it connects back to the base line. Clusters not at the end cannot end on a line-glyph (though I'm not sure about what to do for line-glyph-only words like "I" or "a" - perhaps the base line is changed, the line curves in an arc, or it ends at the changed portion?). Additionally, line-glyphs are always turned in the direction they're going - the beginning and ending /ʌ/ glyphs are flipped from each other, because the ending glyph is turned upwards going towards the base line while the beginning is stemming from it.

The important thing to remember is that sigils can be formed in a variety of ways - the flourishes, line angles, how you structure the syllables, all of these are dependent on the writer, so long as they follow those general rules. I constructed that sigil “AD.ORA”, but it could just as easily be “ADO.RA”, and in larger words there’s much more potential for structural changes.

Sigils in a sentence are connected through lines which meet the word next to each of the flourishes, and which bend to fit the shape of the sentence. Sentences are not read in any specific direction, but words are clustered in aesthetically pleasing ways and sentence order is shown by these connecting lines. However, The initial word in a sentence only has a line connecting on its left side, the final word only has a line on its right side, and words in between connect to the previous word on their right and the next word on their left.

Let's try extending this to a simple sentence - "Adora is She-Ra." We already have the She-Ra sigil from canon, so we just need to connect them with the word "is".

First, let's write the next word, below and to the left:

And connect the two with a line:

And then repeat with the "She-Ra" sigil.

...and finally...

There we go! You've officially written a sentence using Eternian glyphs! I hope you have fun with it! If you have any questions feel free to shoot me an ask. Thanks for reading!

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The Heart Holiday | Act 2 (2/2) | 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 Staff!myg x PA!reader), enemies to lovers, fake dating Genre:fluff, angst, comedy (the triple t(h)reat) Wordcount: 24.5k Warnings:None (PG-15 Rating). There’s a mention of drunken sex but it’s just one sentence. There’s also less cursing now.

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DAY 4 – January 29; Wednesday

If yesterday had Yoongi weirdly avoiding her like she’s got a highly contagious virus, today’s Yoongi is a hell of a nutcase. This is even far from an understatement. Ever since Y/N set foot in the office, Yoongi is already on her face. “You got my message last night, sweetheart?” He winks as he walks by her side towards the Creatives’ office. When Y/N plops down on her seat, Yoongi’s eyes are already set dead onto her. He’s not sending her his usual ‘I will end you and you know I can’ look. He’s cupping his face and stares at her with wide, big eyes, lips pulled into a small smile. He even goes as far as to wink at her and send her a fucking finger heart. As if it’s not enough, he has spammed her phone with weird shit.

Mean Yoongi >:( : Good morning, pretty girl. (8:19 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Did I call you pretty? Oops, I mean little girl AHAHAHHAHAH (9:11 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Don’t ignore me now. I know you’re staring at me 😉 (9:31 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Who wouldn’t when I’m so handsome? (9:32 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : You don’t have to tell me. I already know 😉😉😉 (9:35 A.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Y/Niiiiiiieeeeeeeee (10:16 A.M.)

It seems like a virus has gotten into Yoongi’s head and tampered with his brain.

Y/N’s thoughts halt when Dana passes by her cubicle at 11 A.M. She retrieves the folder she gave her yesterday and glosses over the paper where Y/N typed her final picks. “Endmatter, Extreme Cut, Malachite Adventure? And you want to make a hybrid out of them?” Dana glances up at her.

Y/N nervously clasps her hands together, “Well, I know these templates are usually used for feature articles. So I thought, why not make them appropriate for profile pages, too? No one di-dictated them to be just for features, right? Endmatter has a wonderful layout for pictures. Extreme Cut is good for setting focus on the text blocks. Malachite Adventure has a space-efficient layout for sequencing. If we can combine these three, we could provide something new,” Y/N bites her lip. “Nancy likes new and clean for generic pages like the profiles. So…I guess, why not combine these three templates known for having a clean-cut design?”

Dana stares at her. Y/N gnaws on her lips. The blonde breaks into a grin. “My, you do research well.”

Y/N shyly looks down onto the notebook on her desk. She doesn’t do much work other than gathering reports anyway. It’s only logical she spent five hours learning about templates yesterday than not doing anything. She mutters, “I just really put my all when I’m given a job.”

“And you did,” Dana smiles, “I think this is even brilliant. I’ll make sure to tweak these three to what you suggested.”

“Y-you will?” Y/N’s eyes grow big. She could feel her heart hammering loud in her ears.

“Yeah, why not?” Dana shrugs, “This is new so I’m excited, myself, to try this. And because you know what Nancy likes from all the time you spent with her probably overhearing her roast us all to hell and back, I can at least be assured she won’t be too disappointed with this as our previous submission.”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles. Heat spreads onto her ears and warmth settles on her chest. The feeling feels too foreign and surreal but she guesses it’s probably just because It’s been a while since she’s been praised for doing a good job.

“Guess you and Yoongi made up, huh?”

The spreading warmth freezes cold. Y/N looks up at Dana in surprise.

“I saw you two earlier being chummy with each other. It even looked like you two have fucking heart eyes,” Dana smiles expectantly.

“N-no, we’re—” Y/N cuts herself. Right, we’re supposed to be a couple. We should have already started convincing everyone we’re dating each other the moment we agreed on the deal. Y/N gulps, “Umm, uh, yeah?”

Dana giggles, “You don’t have to be so nervous, you know? I know you two have a thing. For a long time now.” Y/N’s brows meet together. Dana doesn’t dwell on it, gathering the folder back onto her arms, “Thank you for this again, Y/N. See ya later.”

Dana leaves for the break room and Y/N’s left staring at her back. Her stupor is broken when Yoongi enters her field of vision again, hands occupied with papers. When he passes by her cubicle, he makes sure to flash her another mischievous wink.

Y/N groans and slumps her head onto her desk.

“He’s got my number now, Mina, and to make matters worse, he’s being a winking machine ever since this day started!”

Mina nods. However, Y/N could tell something is up. Her bestfriend’s eyes are switching from her face and onto her radio and her hands were shaking in her clasp. It’s as if she’s restaining herself.

Y/N pauses. She pulls her seat closer to her friend, “Did something happen, Mina?”

Biting her lips, Mina pins her with a look, “Y/N, promise me you won’t be too surprised.”

“Why?” Y/N’s eyes grow bigger, “So something really happened? Tell me, Mina.”

No,” Mina shakes her head. She closes her eyes, “Just promise me you won’t overreact.”

Y/N’s lips twitch. “Okay.”

Mina sighs. She turns to her computer and scrolls through her Facebook account. “So yesterday, I’ve been talking with our high school batchmates. They were planning a reunion next month. A big one. They said they’re trying to get ahold of the whole batch. And something caught my eye.” Mina zooms a post on the screen.

It was a post of Suho Lee, the former Student Council President of their batch in National East Science High School. He took a picture of him and his former members of the council, announcing they’re indeed planning a huge reunion since it’s been a while they’ve seen each other. The post has over a thousand likes by now because Suho made sure to tag almost everyone in the batch. Of course, he’s Suho. Suho knows everybody. Y/N could even see Mina’s name among the tags. But what made her jaw drop is one aberrant name she never expected to be there.

Min Yoongi.

Y/N turns to Mina, eyes blown wide, “Mina, what the hell is this?”

Mina nods, “I’m also shocked, Y/N. I didn’t know he studied in the same high school as us. He’s even our fucking batchmate. I didn’t know—wait, Y/N, where are you going?!”

Y/N exits the Accounting Department and scrolls through her own Facebook account. She walks in fast strides and heads to where she only knows Min Yoongi will be during lunch: the break room. When she swings open the door, she’s right in her speculation.

Y/N walks toward the man who’s washing his utensils in the sink.

“Min.”

Yoongi pauses and looks to his side, “Oh, sweetheart, you’re here.”

“Don’t call me sweetheart,” Y/N spits. She flashes her phone to Yoongi. “What’s the meaning of this?”

Yoongi squints. “It’s a reunion announcement.”

“Obviously,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I know how to read, Min. And because of that, I know you’ve been tagged here. So, tell me, why is your name here?”

Yoongi places his washed utensils in the dishrack. “Obviously, I’ll be tagged because I studied at NES High,” He looks at Y/N, leaning his hips against the counter, “Why are you making such a big deal out of a reunion announcement?”

“Because I studied here too!”

It’s time for Yoongi to have his eyes bulge out, “Y-you did?”

“Of course, I did! This is where Mina and I first met!”

“But I thought you two were just college buddies?”

“We are! But we belong in the same friend circle in high school first before we got closer in college—this is not the point,” Y/N exasperates, “Why did you not tell me you studied in the same high school?!”

Yoongi opens his mouth but Y/N cuts him short, “Oh, I know. This is probably the reason why you’re tormenting me ever since you got into Travel Loca.”

“What?”

Y/N crosses her arms. “You’re out here to take your revenge on me.”

The furrows on Yoongi’s forehead deepen.

“Hello?” Y/N deadpans, waving her hands as if it can shake up Yoongi’s memory, “You’re probably one of the names I removed on some group work we had because you’re a freeloader. No wonder you’re so lazy and such a slack-off when you used to co-P.A. with me.” Y/N holds her head high, “And now, you’re here to take revenge.”

Yoongi releases a half-scoff, half-laugh, “What?”

Y/N frustratedly blows a sigh, “In case you did not know, I’m well-known in the batch for removing names of freeloaders in group works. I haven’t kept track of how many names I’ve already removed because they’re that many. And now, you’re here taking your revenge. You don’t have to be petty, Yoongi, you know? If you had unresolved feelings—which I think you don’t have any right to have in the first place because it’s your fault for being lazy and you dug out your own grave—you could have just talked with me like a goddamn adult instead of doing all the shit you did—”

Yoongi’s guffaw cuts you short.

Y/N scowls, “Why are you laughing, Yoongi? This is not funny.”

“Oh, it is!” Yoongi lets out, in-between breaths, “This is hilarious! Revenge? What will I avenge against you when I don’t even know you studied in the same high school?”

Y/N stops. “Y-you don’t know me? But I’m the valedictorian of our batch!”

“Not everyone cares to know that, you know?”

Y/N’s scowl deepens, “Just because you didn’t get any awards in your whole life doesn’t mean you get to demean and undervalue other’s people achievements.”

“I’m not undervaluing it,” Yoongi takes a step closer to her, “I’m just saying no one spends too much time remembering their batch’s valedictorian. I don’t even remember the summa cum laude of my own batch in college.” Yoongi takes a step closer to Y/N, trapping her back on the counter. He leans forward, closing the space between their faces so small only a hair’s breadth separates their noses from brushing against each other. Y/N lets out an inaudible gasp. Yoongi smirks, “What makes you so different, sweetheart?”

Y/N places her hands on his shoulders, “Don’t get too proud of yourself, Yoongi.” But before she can push him away, the door swings loudly against the wall and a woman exclaims.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry for interrupting!”

Ms. Teddy. Y/N’s mouth falls open. She weakly hits Yoongi’s chest to back away and pay respect to their temporary boss but Yoongi only holds her fists and gives her a sickening, sweet smile. He turns around to face Ms. Teddy, but not enough to let out Y/N from her position. Yoongi smiles at the general supervisor, “Oh don’t worry Ms. Teddy, you’re not interrupting anything.”

“Are you sure?” the 45-year-old woman asks. Her wary tone doesn’t match the small blush forming on her cheeks though.

“I’m sure,” Yoongi replies, facing Y/N, “I’m just trying to ask my sweetheart for a date.” Yoongi turns back to Ms. Teddy, smiling, “Nothing biggie. She just said ‘yes.’”

Y/N gapes “What—"

“Oh!” Ms. Teddy perks up, “You two are so sweet! I didn’t know you’re actually a couple! I mean, who would have known? You two always fight with each other. But I guess the movies are right. ‘The more you hate, the more you love.’”

Y/N tries not to cringe too hard.

Ms. Teddy chuckles, “What Y/N said before must be true then. Calling you a ‘mean, inconsiderate, self-absorbed jerk’ must be her own unique term of endearment—”

Y/N raises her brows. How did Ms. Teddy know? Only Steven knows about the mug-chipping incident—”

“—I mean, I even used to call my ex-boyfriend ‘stupid asshole,’” Ms. Teddy chuckles. She suddenly releases a frustrated sigh, “God, I still hate him so much.”

Y/N doesn’t know how to react to that. And so seems Yoongi.

“Anyway, don’t mind me,” Ms. Teddy waves, a sweet smile plastered on her face again. She walks towards the ref to retrieve a green Tupperware. “I’m just here to grab my cheesecake.” The way her eyes refuse to tear away from the “couple” seems to say otherwise.

“O-okay,” Y/N says as she looks at Yoongi. It’s a good thing Yoongi is blocking her body from Ms. Teddy. ‘What do we do?’ she mouths at the man.

Yoongi thinks for a millisecond, then mouths at her, ‘Just follow my lead.’

Before Y/N can mouth ‘okay,’ Yoongi has closed the gap between them and pressed a quick peck on her forehead. He smiles at her, tucking a stray strand behind her ear, “All right, I’ll see you later then, sweetheart.”

“A-alright,” Y/N stutters. Yoongi steps away and she quickly makes her way to the door.

Y/N only notices her hands were tingling when she reaches her P.A. station. And that searing warmth has settled itself on her chest. She plops down on her seat and lets out a tired breath. When she glances at her small mirror, she realizes her face is as red as a strawberry.

What the hell just happened there?

Y/N doesn’t get much time to think about it because her phone vibrates next to her leg.

Mean Yoongi >:( : Let’s meet at The Café Bistro after work. Let’s talk about everything. (1:11 P.M.)

Y/N doesn’t see much of Yoongi for the rest of the day. He’s probably holed up in the meeting room again just like yesterday. The Creatives were much in a rush since yesterday, probably after receiving the work Yoongi has disseminated. Everyone is hunched over their computers. Some have buried their heads in previous issues and design brochures. While a few were chattering about what design is better for their chosen template than the other.

And there is one who’s on Y/N’s tail.

“Oh, Myungsoo, I didn’t see you there,” Y/N glances up from the pile of papers on her desk.

Myungsoo doesn’t return the greetings. He leans over her desk and picks one paper to inspect it. “Why do you have this?”

“Umm,” Y/N looks around the papers strewn around, refusing to look at the frowning man, “Ms. Park gave them to me. She wanted to, uh, have me check them and give some inputs about it.” A smile plays on Y/N’s lips. Dana Lee must have told Yoona about her recent arrangement that’s why Yoona came to her after lunch to ask for advice and critique on what she and her concept team have prepared. It’s quite overwhelming as Ms. Park is one of the respected team leaders in the Creatives.

“Ms. Yoona gave you this?” Myungsoo scoffs. Y/N’s smile immediately falls. “Why would she give you this? You don’t know anything about the work we do. You’re just Nancy’s P.A.”

Y/N internally sighs. Myungsoo has always been wary of her ever since she got in the Creatives but she never knew he will be this hostile. Still, she doesn’t want to cause any unnecessary tension so Y/N tries to placate him. She pulls a polite smile on her face, “That’s why Ms. Yoona came to me. She said since I’m with Nancy for almost 24/7, I must probably know a thing or two about what she likes to see.”

“But do you?” Myungsoo raises an eyebrow.

Y/N looks down on the papers, “Y-yeah. Somehow.”

Myungsoo sighs and drops the paper back onto the pile. “Anyway, I’m here to tell you I’m rejecting your letter of permission to get access to our cover page drafts.”

Y/N’s head shoots up, “W-what? But Yoongi—”

“I know what Mr. Min told us this week,” Myungsoo informs. “Yes, we’re tasked to walk you through the activities of our department. However, there are still protocols in our authoritative freedom and I, as a team leader, cannot just give you the drafts of our cover page. We still need more time to work on it and I cannot embarrass myself in front of Ms. Nancy about a work that has not fully taken shape yet.”

“But didn’t you hear what Yoongi said?” Y/N reasons, “I’m here to help you and I need to give updates to Nancy about everything at every end of the week. Especially now when the department is in full motion.” Y/N cannot give Nancy nothing especially now that Nancy has just emailed her that their issue’s deadline has been moved to February 17. It’s just around the corner. In fact, it’s only a matter of weeks!

“Well that’s your problem,” Myungsoo retorts, “I’m not the P.A. What I can only give you for your update reports are our initial proposed ideas.”

But they’re not enough. Y/N closes her eyes, “Look, Myungsoo. I understand that you may be feeling I’m intruding on a space I’m not supposed to. But remember, we’re working together for one company, not for ourselves.” Myungsoo looks like he’s about to bite back but Y/N cuts him to it, “I understand you may feel wary about submitting your concepts for the cover page when they’re still raw. Especially to someone like me who may not completely understand the value you place in your work. However, I cannot just give Nancy undeveloped ideas. So, how about we make a compromise? I’m not gonna push you to walk me through your cover page processing. Or argue more about your raw concepts you’re drafting as of now. But, can you give me at least the plans you made for the undeveloped ideas you’ve chosen your working concept from? So I can still, in a way, report to Nancy the plan your team is trying to execute?”

Myungsoo stares daggers into her before he mutters a clipped, “Fine. Expect to receive them by the end of the week.”

“But I have to report them at the end of the week—”

“End of the week or nothing at all?” Myungsoo sneers, “I can’t rush my artists to finish their concept-making just to take the load off your own job.”

But I’m not demanding you to make my job easier, can’t you just cooperate like an adult?!—Y/N closes her eyes and sighs, “Okay, understood, Mr. Kim.” Fighting with him won’t help anything in the pressure the department is facing.

Myungsoo turns around and wordlessly walks away. YN releases a tired sigh as she goes back onto Yoona’s papers.

Hours pass with Y/N finishing her inputs in a document file. Mina has popped by to tell her she’s leaving early to go on a date with Mark. She said she’d probably be home late so they’ll have to continue their conversation earlier tomorrow. However, that was two hours ago and now, it’s already five and almost everyone in the staff has already left the office. She only gets to realize this when a shadow peers over her cubicle.

“Hey, work’s already over now.”

Y/N looks up and sees Yoongi smiling at her. His hair was messy as always, probably from pushing them back and carding through them throughout the day. His tie is askew and his button-down is folded messily to his forearms. And his smile felt so gentle. She doesn’t know why but she lets out a relieved sigh.

“Let’s go to the Café Bistro now, yeah?”

“Okay,” Y/N smiles back.

“So…you’re the most hated person in your class for removing names of slackers off group works?”

Y/N rolls her eyes, “Didn’t you hear what I told you earlier?”

“Of course, I heard,” Yoongi chortles, scooping a spoonful of his rice bowl, “I just didn’t expect you’ll go for info-dumping in two minutes straight. You really do love to ramble a lot, no?”

Y/N looks away and stuffs her mouth with a spoonful of her own rice bowl. When she swallows down, she pins Yoongi with a glare, “You can say shit all about how I talk but just so you know, that skill got me so far to where I used to be. I wouldn’t graduate cum laude if I didn’t ace all my speech classes.”

“I’m not shitting on it. I’m admiring it.” Y/N freezes in her seat to look at the man. Yoongi chuckles. “I’m serious. You don’t have to be constantly on your guard around me, you know? Aren’t we already friends?”

“F-friends?” Y/N scoffs, “Where the hell did you get that?”

Yoongi tilts his head, “But I already got your number.”

“You forced your way to get my number.”

“I did not force you. You willingly told me your number in a game of 20 Questions.”

“You covertly formatted your questions to get me to spill my number. I did not willingly tell you my number. You coerced me.”

“I didn’t. I got your number fair and square,” Yoongi waves his phone.

“But that doesn’t—”

“And you already put a name on my number in your contacts,” Yoongi grins, “You even have an emoji next to it.”

“How did you know?”

“You opened your phone earlier on the train. And in case you don’t know, the train isn’t one of the most spacious places in the world. We’re practically side by side, look” Yoongi points to the damp patch on his shoulder, “You slept on my shoulder and even got drool on it.” Y/N looks away and stuffs her mouth with another spoon. Yoongi continues, “And with you leaving your phone open for the world to see your messaging app, it doesn’t take two years to see that someone has named you with some obnoxious contact name.” Yoongi opens his phone, “It’s okay though because I also named you this,” he flashes the phone to Y/N.

>:( Evil Peachy Pie Y/N >:(

Y/N squints at him. “Fine, a name for a name.”

“See? That’s why we’re now friends.”

Y/N scoffs, “How come?”

“Because you got me a nickname. And I got you one, sweetheart,” Yoongi winks.

Y/N’s jaw drops, “What the—you know what, go do you and go off to whatever your delusion is feeding you.”

“Yay! Y/N and I are friends!”

Y/N gawks at him. Yoongi shrugs with a smile and digs into his food.

Chatters fill the bistro. Y/N thinks it’s absurd to combine “café” and “bistro” for the name of an establishment. “It’s as if it can’t choose what type of business it really wants,” she argued earlier to Yoongi on the train. But now that she’s inside, she finally understands why. The interior design of the restaurant is covered in warm orange. The walls and the floor were in mahogany wood. The tables and chairs were metal black with curvilinear gildings, making them look like they’re supposed to be garden furniture in the first place. The plates and bowls were faux wood as well, save for the metal utensils and their glasses that came as mason jars. And the overhead lights are gorgeous. The faux candles hung up in circular mini chandeliers above the wooden ceiling give off the aesthetic of a gothic palace. Meanwhile, the bar on the center of the shop was of high-quality polished wood. A lot of people are dining like them on the tables but there are also numerous patrons who were in stools, holding different kinds of liquors in their glasses. There’s a free space in front of the bar where Y/N could see couples slow-dancing to the live jazz band playing in the corner. And with the separate menu for alcoholic drinks the waiter had given them earlier, Y/N could finally see why this cafe is also a bistro.

“So, whose names did you slash off from your group works?”

Y/N whips her head back to Yoongi, “Why are you so insistent about this?”

Yoongi pushes his empty bowl to the side. “You said everyone knows you for that. I’m just curious about the slackers who free-rode on you back then. I might even know them since I studied in the same school.” He leans back and places his arms behind his head, “You could totally help me avoid some leeches in life.”

“First of all,” Y/N points her spoon at him, “You’re the first leech you should know. You slacked off when you were my co-P.A. You slept, you didn’t take calls. You even served me raw for Nancy to roast.”

“I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s brows shoot up. “W-what?”

Yoongi leans forward and clasps his hands together. He looks at the woman in the eye, “I’m sorry about that, Y/N. Sincerely. I admit I was too much of an asshole back then. I tried to justify it by thinking you’re annoying so you deserve some annoyance in life, too. But in the end, I know I’m still wrong. You being annoying or not, what I did was still wrong. I’m sorry.”

Y/N’s jaw drops as she leans slowly back in her seat. Did Yoongi just apologize to her? Again? And for three consecutive times tonight? What is up with him?

“You don’t have to forgive me, you know? Nor am I telling you these just to get the guilt off my back. I’m sincerely sorry. I want to apologize to you.”

“W-what are you suddenly on about?” Y/N tries to laugh but the sound is weird in her ears. “You got so serious, I thought I’m suddenly talking with a stranger.” Y/N tries out a chuckle again. It sounds more convincing to her this time. She waves her hand dismissively, “Anyway, I didn’t actually answer your question. You’re talking about high school so here it goes.” She looks up at the ceiling, “Well, I’ve got Johnny Lee, Byun Baekhyun, Park Mirae, Lee Jieun, Mark Peters” Y/N cups her jaw, “What’s more? Oh! How could I forget—Jennie Kim, Im Nayeon, Daewon Lee—”

“Wait, Daewon Lee?” Yoongi sits up, “You mean Daewon the quarterback? And Jennie Kim and Im Nayeon, the cheerleaders?”

“Why?” Y/N leans forward, “You know them personally?”

“God, yes,” Yoongi laughs, “They’re awful.”

“Tell me about it,” Y/N’s eyes sparkle in interest.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, “we had this class project where we have to recreate a scene from a well-known play or movie. Our class was assigned to do Hairspray. And Jennie Kim was our class president so of course, she was horrible. She re-proved this fact when she decided to go dictator and exercise penalties on anyone who would be late for the rehearsals. She freaking imposed that we have to pay $2 for every minute we were late. All is fine if she didn’t assign her own home as the practice place and there’s a lot in the class who lives a good two miles away. And it didn’t help almost everyone just agreed with it because no one decided to contest it in fear of turning the majority against them. It was horrible. All the late fees were put in our class fund. It accumulated to about $100 at the end of the day and that’s very unfitting when NES High is a fucking public school.

“$100?” Y/N gawks.

“Yeah. Moreover, it’s unfair, because we all know at the end of the school year, the class fund will be divided among each student. With the late fees being implemented, it looks like people who are Jennie and those who live near her will benefit for free from these late fees. Luckily, someone was brave enough to stand up and talked it out with them. And of course, with Jennie being Jennie, she flipped out so the whistleblower eventually had to go to the headteacher of the event to settle the issue. I’m kinda ashamed about this incident. I’m one of the many who just went with the majority because,” Yoongi frustratedly cards through his hair, “I was a bit of a pushover back then.”

Y/N gapes, “Y-you? A pushover? Oh my god, you’re like the stereotypical nerd in movies who does a 180 to seek revenge!”

Yoongi squints at her, “Will you stop with the revenge plot you’ve been pushing since this morning?”

“Okay,” Y/N says but her face looks otherwise with her trying hard to hold in her chuckles.

Yoongi breaks into a chuckle as well, “God, you look ridiculous.”

“So are you,” Y/N laughs. When the snickers die down, she waves at Yoongi, “Go on with the story.”

“Okay,” Yoongi breathes out, “So that was the first strike for this dumb shit squad. The second was worse for it affected the whole batch. It was when the school coordinators tasked each class with a specific dance genre to perform. And Jennie, being the unnecessarily extra bitch that she was, decided to fuck up the arrangement by forcing another class to exchange their assigned piece with ours. Of course, this sparked chaos because when other classes have heard about this, they wanted to exchange, too. And soon, everyone was arguing how they want to exchange or keep their assigned pieces. It’s so messy that the teachers had to hold a batch-wide meeting with all the class officers to settle things out. Luckily, there was someone who stood up and outright pointed out it was Jennie who started it all because she did not ask for the other classes’ consent in the first place—”

“Wait, are you talking about me?” Y/N cuts him, eyes wide. “I’m the one who first called out Jennie in the meeting!” Y/N exclaims, “I can’t hold myself back that day because I’m so sick of everyone just willingly and silently enduring her bullshits! All of this wouldn’t happen in the first place if she wasn’t such a shitty, entitled person. I even remember Jennie staring daggers at me as if doing so can reverse what happened when the teacher told her off in front of the whole batch.” Y/N’s brows meet together, “How did you know about this though? Even if it was supposed to be a batch-wide meeting, not everyone was present. The teachers didn’t make the meeting compulsory especially for the students who feel uncomfortable going against another student.”

“Everyone kind of knows. News about Jennie being roasted by the teacher after a student doused her with the realest true as fuck accusation is enough of a big deal to go around the school.” Yoongi tilts his head, “I just didn’t catch wind it was you.”

“Yeah, but,” Y/N self-consciously rubs her nape, “I just did what I felt was right. I don’t like it when people just stay silent when wrongdoings are deliberately happening in their faces.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi smiles, “and because of that, I’m thinking I’m starting to admire you.” Y/N immediately freezes the heat on her chest back again. She feels it starting to spread up onto her face.

Yoongi, either unaware of her reaction or plainly indifferent about it, just smirks and continues. “Now, that I finished my story with these terrible fucks, it’s your turn. What did they do that you striked these three names off?”

Y/N lets a small smile grow on her lips as she crosses her arms. “It was Daewon who I striked first. As early as 7th grade, mind that. We were groupmates for our Bio experimental case study and he didn’t do a SINGLE thing. Very first year in high school and he’s already letting everyone know he’s a shitty groupmate. So end result? A slashed-off name and an immature ‘pity me’ cryfest in front of the professor.”

“Who’s the professor, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Y/N grins, “Mr. Ascott.”

“Oh shit, Mr. Ascott?!” Yoongi chokes a laugh, “Oh my god, and he dared to cry and ask for pity! Of all people, to the prof who detests freeloading the most?!”

“Yeah,” Y/N snickers, “That’s why it’s so hilarious! Imagine the what-the-fuck face Mr. Ascott has when this spoiled boy tried to cry his way out of his mistake. He looked like he’s about to blast harder than Mauna Kea!”

Yoongi laughs, waving a hand over. “Who’s next?”

Y/N blows out a sigh to die down her giggles, “The next one was Nayeon. 11th grade. We’re a pair this time and we’re tasked to make a research about the communication systems of a business. Whenever I tell her we need to meet up, write the paper, or even talk online for the planning at least, Nayeon kept on coming up with ridiculous excuses like how she’s come down with a fever because she ate a lot of rice or she can’t walk because of a motherfucking aching toenail. She even stood me up in the café I told her to go to, to finally get things done. Talking normally with her is impossible. So yeah, I passed the research with just my name on it.”

Y/N tilts her head, “And last but not the least, Jennie Kim. 12th grade. We had to make a lab report for Chemistry as a group. She said she’s sorry she won’t be able to contribute anything because she needs to be home soon as her mother is deeply sick in the hospital. We understood and told her it’s okay. Only for us to see in her Snapchat later she’s partying hard in a bar,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “But what irritates me most were ironically, not these.”

“Did something more happen?”

“Yes! These three didn’t see any of these as their faults! They saw it as me just being a bitch and picking on them! And because they have such loud mouths, news about me as a ‘name-remover bossy bitch’ traveled fast. Every first day in class per year, a lot of students are already looking at me funny. Throughout the school year, they go as far as ignoring and avoiding me.” YN crosses her arms and directs her eyes onto her empty bowl. “But I’m alright. I don’t care shit about what others have to say about me when I know I’m in the right. I don’t need lots of friends in the first place anyway.”

“But it must have been hard to be alone.”

Y/N’s head shoots up, “What do you mean?”

“To be hated by almost everyone in the class,” Yoongi pulls a sad smile. “It must have been painful in a way. To be treated as an outcast when you didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“I-I wouldn’t call myself an outcast during that time, you know?” Y/N picks up her glass to drink, looking away.

“Well, if you say so. I just thought it would have been…difficult to be alone most of the time. To feel as if everyone hates you. Personally, I don’t care when people talk shit about me. But this feeling that everyone just…doesn’t want to be with you hits me quite hard. I don’t know if you’ve felt this. I just know I will feel like this if I was in your position.”

Y/N, with eyes still trained away from Yoongi, just hums, “…Yeah.”

An awkward silence was starting to settle again until Yoongi breaks it with a sigh, “From all of this, I’m realizing our high school didn’t do a great job in giving us a wonderful experience.”

Y/N turns back to him. She pours water in her glass and mutters, “You’re right. High school is shit.” She leans back in her chair, glass in her hand as she looks at him. “Do you have more bitter stories to tell?”

Yoongi fiddles with his fingers. “Well, there’s one. I mean, there’s a lot because high school wasn’t that kind to people like me back then. But this one really stuck with me. I’ve been…friends with a lot of toxic people throughout high school. At first, I didn’t notice it. How they lowkey downgrade me whenever we hangout. How they always make me the butt of their jokes. How they always leave me out in any of their fun plans for getaways. I even tried justifying their actions, telling myself it’s probably I’m not yet too cool for them. That I still need to fit more with them. And when I finally realized the wrongness in this during one summer, I cut them all out in my life. Only to end up in another friend circle that turned out to be also toxic. Though it’s less toxic than my first one, it’s still toxic. They made me feel bad for doing my best in school, calling me such a conformist to the education system as if it’s so wrong. They made me feel horrible for just studying and preparing too much for quizzes and exams, telling me I’m just investing a lot of time on something I wouldn’t even use when I work. And for the second time, I justified my ‘friends.’ I thought maybe they’re right. I have to listen to them because maybe they’ll leave me and I will have no one else who’d be willing to be friends with me. I only got the wake-up call when my grades all fell down and I had to repeat 10th grade.”

Y/N’s eyes grow large, “B-but, you said it was because of Thesis Writing?”

“Yeah. Thesis Writing was the one that maimed me bad. But what led me to fail it so terribly was because of these second group of friends…Rina, Johnson, and Fei—

Y/N immediately holds up her hands, “Wait, I-I-you don’t have to tell me their names if you don’t want to, Yoongi. You—I don’t know, maybe the memories come back and trigger you—I-I’m not that eager to know their names, you know? I just want to listen to you.”

Yoongi chuckles and Y/N’s eyes only grow more. “I’m telling you their names because I already got over it, Y/N,” Yoongi informs. “I already feel comfortable telling this to you, sweetheart. Though I have to admit I’m loving what you said a little too much.”

Y/N frowns, “Wh-why do you have to say stupid shit like this? Can’t you just continue your story?”

“I have to say these because you’re being cute.” Y/N only frowns more. Yoongi chuckles, “Okay, okay, I’ll go back to my story.” He heaves out a sigh, “So, these Rina, Johnson, and Fei—well, they made me feel the efforts I put into studying will be pointless. That the dreams I have will be unattainable anyway because the world will never let them come true for people like me—not rich, not talented, not smart enough. And because of this mentality discouraging me whenever I try too hard, coupled with the messed-up confidence I had because of my first friendship circle, I turned out to be a…horrible speaker. But I think I shouldn’t blame them for this. I also have faults in this because after all, this is my life. Maybe I’m too easily swayed, easily discouraged, and too dependent on other’s company back then.”

“You’re right on that,” Y/N says, “but I think the people who have affected you to be what you were back then are rightfully justified to be blamed for. Or even deserve the greater blame. We’re teenagers and we do stupid things. And during our teenage years where we feel so confused about just everything, what mattered the most was the feeling of belongingness. The feeling of belonging to someone or something. This feeling gives us a way to identify ourselves and our purpose. Erik Erikson’s Stages of Psychosocial Development even say so. Yeah, we also have faults in ourselves that are worth blaming for and working on, but people are social beings. And most of the time, we become who we are because of other’s words, actions, and influence,” Y/N pulls her lips in an attempt to send him a comforting smile, “You don’t have to beat up yourself too much.”

“Whoa,” Yoongi gapes, “Just…wow.” He shakes his head, “I don’t even know what to say…And this is weird because I always know what to say,” Yoongi chuckles and Y/N follows suit. “I mean,” Yoongi tongues his cheek, “How did you come up with these?”

“Because I also experienced having friends like you had.”

You did?” It’s Yoongi’s turn to gawk at her.

“Yeah,” Y/N purses her lips. “It was in high school too. Even if I was lucky I skipped 8th and 9th grade, I wasn’t immune to toxic people. The friends I had in my first year, honestly…scar me until now. They downed me too many times, too, telling me I’m not that good, or I’m too intimidating for people would like to be with. They even called me annoying,” Y/N cackles. But her laugh soon dies down when she looks at Yoongi’s unamused look. “U-um,” She ducks her head down and fiddles with the seams of her blazer, “That’s not really funny, I’m sorry.”

“They’re not,” Yoongi deadpans, “Especially when it’s deprecating the person you should first and foremost care: You.”

Y/N’s head shoots up.

Yoongi lets a small smile grace over his face. “Go on with your story.”

“U-uh, yeah,” Y/N opts to play with her fingers this time, “So yeah, I ended up…downing myself, too. Berating and insulting myself even worse than those toxic people did. I even discouraged myself from even trying. I stopped myself before I even get to start at something that induces passion within me—dance, art, singing, whatever. I halt myself first before anyone can. Other’s words against me hurt me more than my own words. The only silver lining I had was when I got to 10th grade and met Mina,” Y/N grins. “Even if I still get reminded of the scars I got from my ex-friends, I’m grateful I also learned what’s it really like to have a friend for the first time.” Y/N turns to Yoongi, “What about you? Did you find at least��one friend before high school ended?”

“More than one actually,” Yoongi smiles. “I met three in 11th grade. Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jimin. Even if Namjoon graduated earlier, we three eventually met each other again in college. God, ever since I befriended those three, I never knew again what it’s like to be a loner. I know it’s kinda late that I get to enjoy high school but I had the most fun I could ever have in those last two years. Though college is still god-tier. That’s when I was really the happiest” Yoongi chuckles. He leans back in his chair and sighs, “Even if the majority of the memories our high school gave us were shit, I think it still tried its best to give everyone a memorable experience.” Yoongi smiles, “What’s a memorable experience you could thank the school for?”

Y/N opens her mouth but Yoongi quickly cuts her short, “And no, don’t say it’s meeting real friends. Other than that, any memorable experiences you had?”

Y/N looks to her right, brows scrunched, “Hmm…it had to be…Oh! The science expo held in our gym in our last year!”

“The expo? The one they held as our ‘field trip’—in our very last year of high school at that—because they ‘lack’ funds for an actual one?”

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles wide, “I actually enjoyed it a lot. There’s a large model of the Megalodon jaws wide open that you have to step into to enter the expo. Its teeth are so big and gosh, I love sharks. I love the documentaries about them. And oh, there’s also a bus that’s remodeled to have lab tables instead of seats. We get to look at microscopes magnifying different microorganisms and micro-things. It’s like a running test in chem but fun! And my favorite one had to be the astronomy tent-dome. I call it that because it’s a humongous black sheet of a tent that’s shaped to look like a dome. We had to crawl inside to get in. It reminded me of how I loved to play pillow forts in my room when I was a kid. And then inside, there’s someone there who actually works at NASA that plays the videos of constellations on the dome above us. And he’s amazing because he knows all the stars in the Milky Way! He even broke the myth concerning your birth month and Zodiac sign. The constellations of your Zodiac sign don’t usually appear during your ‘zodiac month’!”

“They don’t?”

“Yeah! I’m an Aries and yet the constellation most apparent in the sky during my month is Libra instead. I’ve never seen the Aries constellation before on my birthday. It’s always Libra. Okay, don’t look at me like I’m a hoe for Astrology—I’m not. I just fell in love with Astronomy after that expo and I ended up memorizing a lot of constellations and trying to point them out in the sky and—

“I’m not looking at you like you’re a ‘hoe for Astrology,’” Yoongi quotes, chuckling. “I’m looking at you because honestly, I’m amazed by you. Really. I never enjoyed that expo, because honestly, I like learning the actual stuff in real-time. But to have you spouting such mindblowing trivia and how you just talk so animatedly about it makes me want to time travel to that day and re-experience it. Really, you amaze me.

Y/N coughs into her hand, an attempt to out-volume the thrumming tinnitus she feels between her lungs. She pulls a tight smile and looks up at Yoongi, “What about you? What memorable experience did you have to thank high school for?”

“The prom,” Yoongi grins. “It’s my first time to be in such a glamorous setting that I instantly thought it would be my last time I could ever experience such pizzaz. Everyone looked so regal. There are ball gowns, luxurious suits, glittering decors, and lush carpeting I could spend years standing on just because it feels so pillowy soft beneath my feet. The venue had gothic pillars and renaissance paintings and rose-gold gilded chandeliers that hang above, looking like it hooked all the stars in the galaxy beneath its dangling diamonds. The food was great, too. I honestly couldn’t believe a public high school could afford this—well, there’s actually a lot of upper-middle-class families who pitched in some money but I only found out about this two weeks after the prom. Although we had a grad ball, it still couldn’t top 10th-grade prom. Sure, there’s a lot of people mingling and I’m too much of an introvert to enjoy socializing. But when I just sat and watch the party go, the picture in front of me looked so similar to the Yule Ball shown in the Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire movie and it’s just so fascinating. And—wait, why are you looking like that?”

“N-nothing,” Y/N shakes her head. She also hopes to shake away the utter wonder that must be obvious in her face. Mina always said she shows excitement so easily on her face.

And too bad Yoongi pushes her buttons so well that he could easily read her. “What ‘nothing’? You look so amazed as if you’ve never been to a prom—wait, you’ve never been to prom, haven’t you?”

There’s no point to lie otherwise. Y/N looks down at her lap and admits, “You’re right. I’ve never been to prom. Or even the grad ball.”

“Why?”

“Because I find them a waste of money. Hundreds of money for a dress you’ll never wear again and spend a couple more for the admission when you’re just gonna sit at the table for the whole time. The grad ball was an inconvenience because it’s set on the day before my birthday and of course, my birthday is worth celebrating more than the grad ball.” Yoongi chuckles at that and a small smile forms on Y/N’s lips. However, it quickly dissolves into a straight line as she continues, “And I didn’t go to prom because it’s stupid. The admission fee you have to pay is honestly over-priced. Of course, all of the payment won’t go to the rented place because the school is still gonna get a percentage from it. Then everyone is just gonna dance around and get wasted and you’ll just have to seat throughout the whole meltdown because you’re responsible and aside from that,” Y/N heaves out a huge sigh, “there’s a high probability you’ll bump into a horrible boy.”

“Oh!” Yoongi claps loudly, “A boy problem—!”

“I’m not gonna tell you his name,” Y/N points a finger at him. “It’s all in the past and, I’m just,” Y/N sighs, “well, over it.”

“What did he do?” Yoongi asks, tone soft, a lot less bombastic as his previous exclamation. “What did he do to—I don’t know, give up prom to avoid him?” He sits up straight and holds up his hands, “If you don’t mind me asking and if you feel okay to answer it, of course. If not, it’s also totally okay, and—”

“He gave me false hope,” Y/N deadpans, swirling the water in her glass. “I thought there’s something developing between us because he does an awful lot of sweet things for me like letting me lay my head on his shoulder whenever I need to catch on some sleep in our school service. He even helps me carry my things and walk me to class. Only for me to find out he actually likes another girl in our school service. I felt used. Like a ploy to get the girl he likes to be jealous of us.” Y/N sets her jaw on her palm. “And so, I didn’t go to prom. Because I know that girl will reject him when he asked for her first dance ‘cus she already got a mutual thing going on with her classmate. And I don’t want to be a second choice, a back-up plan someone will opt for when their first choice didn’t work out. I’m not going to be a reserve part for something someone built with a different part in mind.” Y/N takes a sip on her glass. She places it back on the table, “I still feel aggravation for him so I don’t want to hear his name again. But I’m over him now, so you don’t have to look at me like that.”

“L-like what?” Yoongi asks, pulling on the collar of his gray button-down.

“Like you’re angry for me. We’re not yet close to be feeling this way.”

“But we’re friends.”

“You’re the only one who decided on that label.”

“We are friends.”

“Whatever satisfies you of your delusions—”

“And because we’re friends, I could tell you wished you experienced prom.”

“W-what?” Y/N’s jaw drops.

Yoongi smiles at her, “You don’t have to hide it Y/N. I know you.” He stands up from his seat and offers a hand to her, “Now, let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Y/N asks, still seated.

“We’ll dance.” Yoongi’s smile widens. “The Café Bistro has a wonderful live band playing and as you can see, there’s also a lot of people dancing to the lovely songs they’re playing…This is the closest setting we can have to a prom.”

Y/N gulps down a nervous breath as she looks up at Yoongi’s eyes. She takes his hand.

Yoongi leads her to the center of the slow-dancing throng of people. The live band plays in front of them, a group of wonderful men and women wearing elegant black gowns and suits, playing classical instruments to the music of popular love songs. Everything looks pleasant even if nothing about this set-up is grand. The couples are just in casual clothes but watching them have fun slow-dancing to the music feels like they’re actually in a ball. And the faux candles that hung above the Café Bistro doesn’t look like chandeliers in a Gothic palace anymore. They’re bright and glittering as if the café fished all the stars from the night sky to hang onto their own makeshift sky. Yoongi’s right. This indeed looks like a prom.

“Hmm, am I right now?”

Y/N turns to him and playfully pokes his shoulder, “Shut up.” A second no longer need to pass by when a huge smile makes its way onto Y/N’s face.

Y/N and Yoongi had their hands interlocked as they move to the rhythm. Yoongi initially proposed to have their hands and feet positioned for waltz only for Y/N to bump her head on his shoulder to get him to shut up. Yoongi only ends up cackling obnoxiously.

Stepping side to side, arms swaying by their sides, they look like two adult penguins waddling towards each other. When Y/N pointed this out, Yoongi bursts into another set of cackles.

However, when the song changes and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri starts to play, Yoongi’s chuckles instantly die down and a mindboggling statement escapes from his lips.

“Put your hands around my neck.”

“What? Are you fucking crazy?”

“Hey, the song is romantic.”

“So?” Y/N raises a brow, “What does it logically have to do with putting my arms around your neck? And also, this song is one hell of a cliché. A love song bulldozered and abused over and over again in every debut, wedding, and prom—”

“It’s played over and over again because a lot of people relate to it. Who wouldn’t? It talks about love.”

“Well, I wouldn’t.”

Yoongi sighs, “Look, all the couples here are slow dancing to this song and since we’re already posing as one, might as well copy them.”

“Well, I don’t wanna.”

“If you’re thinking this will be a revolutionary moment between us, I’m already informing you it won’t be. It’s just slow dancing,” Yoongi shrugs, “We did this in prom. It’s not that special, to be honest. I’m tryna offer you the prom experience, remember?”

Y/N focuses her eyes on the seams of her blazer, a petty frown on her face. “I’m positively sure we’ll look stupid if we slow dance so I’d rather not. In case you don’t know, I hate embarrassing myself.”

“Hey, you don’t get to sound so sure with your prediction when you haven’t tried it out yet. I’m just asking you if you would feel okay to slow dance with me. But if not, I will totally understand—”

Y/N loops her arms around Yoongi’s neck. “There,” she hisses, “Satisfied?”

“Very,” Yoongi grins, looping his arms around her frame, gently placing his hands on the back of her waist.

“Now shut up,” Y/N turns her face away from him. She could feel Yoongi so close. She could feel the breath he lets out comb past her hair. She could feel the warmth from his neck seemingly transfer onto her hands. His chest is just an inch apart from hers for him to discover the rapid beating reverberating there ever since this day started. Y/N closes her eyes and sighs. She doesn’t understand why she’s feeling this way. She chucks it down to the theory that it’s just been a long day. She’s astounded to learn Yoongi was her high school batchmate, then Myungsoo turned up and made her frustrated, and now she’s practically having fun because Yoongi offered an entire 180 from her previous emotional state.

But maybe it’s also because it’s been so long since Y/N received physical intimacy. It’s been ages she felt a warmth from another person’s touch. She couldn’t even remember being so enthralled just because someone platonically wanted to dance with her. But then, it could just be her desire to get over these ten dates required by DRM speaking for her body. The sooner the better they say and as of now, she’s nailing down their third date document.

Y/N knows this must be the answer when the night deepens and the band plays the last song for the night. After receiving a pale pink envelope from the sweet manager, the night dwindles fast to where she is now: walking home, side by side with Yoongi. She thought there was a reason Yoongi picked a date site that would require them to take a train first. She just didn’t expect she will get the answer to this when Yoongi offered to walk her home. ‘It just a ten-minute walk from here,’ Yoongi insisted. And right now, it looks like he’s right because it’s only a matter of time until they reach the entrance of the Village Estates.

“So, we’re here now,” Yoongi says, sliding his hands into his coat pockets.

“Yeah,” Y/N smiles back. Then she perks up, suddenly remembering something, “By the way, how come did you know about Café Bistro?”

Yoongi leans toward her, face leveling hers. “We work for a travel magazine, Y/N. Of course, we should know about this stuff. Our Writing Department even did a feature about it.” Y/N’s brows shoot up. Yoongi leans back, putting space between them again, “I’ve been wondering ever since we got in as to why you looked so amazed at the Bistro as if it’s your first time seeing something like that. And now I know why. It is indeed your first time. You’ve never been to a lot of tourist spots before, much less even those near you.”

“No. I’ve been to a lot, actually,” Y/N lies through her mouth.

“I don’t think so,” Yoongi quips. Y/N frowns. Yoongi’s smile widens, “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll take you to places you’ve never been before.”

His gaze on her was not teasing, nor was it mischievous. And Y/N decides she doesn’t like it when she can’t tell the look in his eyes. She takes a step back and clears her throat. “Goodnight, Yoongi,” she bids, and then she starts for the entrance.

Just when the peace of the night is about to settle on her, Yoongi, of course, decides to break it one last time.

“I had fun tonight, girlfriend! Or should I say girl-friend?”

Y/N continues with her steps, raising a middle finger in his direction. Yoongi laughs and that’s the last sound Y/N hears for the night as she enters her empty flat.

A text from Mina says she’s going home in an hour. After preparing her bestfriend a midnight snack just in case she’s still hungry, Y/N turns on the lights on their hallway and resigns herself in her room. Picking the date document from her bag and the other two on her counter, Y/N plops onto her bed, holding up the pale pink envelopes above her face. It’s been a while since she had fun collecting these pretty envelopes. When she first encountered these date documents five years ago, she thought they were silly. But as she twirls them under the light of her room, she thinks they’re actually genius. After all, attention and quality time spent together are good measures to see if a couple is really dating.

“We just need seven more,” Y/N whispers, closing her eyes. As the starless night grows darker outside her window, the coffee-stained scent of today’s pale pink envelope lulls Y/N to sleep with a smile on her face.

DAY 5 — January 30; Thursday

Y/N is at her wit’s end. It’s already 12 in the noon and nothing terrible has happened yet. It’s Thursday. Thursdays are supposed to already have it bad for her the moment the day starts. But Y/N woke up feeling nice from a good night’s sleep. It was early so she had a fun breakfast with her bestfriend where they spent an extra half-hour talking about each other’s dates. Though it sounded more like Mina’s the only one who went to an actual date because Y/N spent the majority of her turn to speak ranting about Yoongi’s smugness and whatnot. The train wasn’t crowded when she commuted to work. She and Mina even managed to get seats at seven. And in the office, nothing unwanted has happened yet. Well, of course, there’s Yoongi who still won’t stop sending her weird texts and occasional winks. Everything is okay and normal as usual until—

“Hey, Y/N, wanna have lunch with us?”

Y/N turns in her swivel chair and there standing by the Accounting’s glass door were three people. Dana Lee, Jeff Anderson, and Ahn Seojoon.

Dana continues, smiling at her, “If you didn’t have lunch yet, of course.”

Y/N whirls to face Mina before turning around back to Dana, forehead furrowed, “I’m sorry, Dana, Mina and I already have—”

“No, Y/N hasn’t lunched yet!”

Y/N whips her head to her bestfriend. Mina smiles at her, “Y/N, you should go ahead.”

Y/N sighs, “But Mina, you would be alone today. We always eat lunch together. And aren’t you supposed to tell me more of what happened in the show you’re watching?”

Mina claps her friend’s shoulder, “Y/N, it’s alright. We see each other in and outside the office every day. We can just talk later when you get home. Or tomorrow if you end up having another date tonight with Yoongi. After all, you told me before you want to have more friends in the office. Well, here is the chance!”

“What chance are you talking about? And when the hell did I say I want more friends—”

“Dana,” Mina hollers, “Y/N said she’ll go!”

This chance, however, was not what Y/N expected it to be. Because now, Y/N finds herself in some Mexican restaurant with three pairs of curious eyes focused on her and an unexpected guest sitting beside her.

Y/N crosses her arms. “You didn’t tell me Yoongi would be here.” “Well, surprise?” Jeff shrugs.

“We figured since you and Mr. Min are…really close, why not invite him?” Seojoon explains.

“So,” Dana twirls her straw around her smoothie, “what’s the thing between you and Yoongi?”

Y/N perks up in her seat. Jeff gawks at Dana. “Why did you have to be so straightforward about it?”

“So we can finally get the answers we’ve all been waiting for,” Dana says matter-of-factly. “For one year these two are like oil and water. And then this week they’ve become chummy-chummy. I always knew there’s something going on between you two but I can never point it out. And now that you two decided to come out in the open, I guess I can also finally get my answers.” She turns back to Y/N, “So, what are you two really?”

“Yoongi’s my, um, special friend—”

“Y/N’s my girlfriend—”

Dana’s brows twitch. Yoongi quickly reaches over to pinch Y/N’s cheeks, “Oh sweetheart, you don’t need to feel so shy anymore. We’re no longer special friends so start feeling comfy to call yourself my girlfriend.”

Seojoon coughs into his hand. Dana and Jeff slowly nod. Jeff leans forward, “So…how did you two meet?”

“In high school. We’re kinda friends—”

“In the office. It’s love at first sight—”

Y/N eyes Yoongi. Yoongi grins. Y/N looks back at Jeff, but not without pinching Yoongi’s leg to stop him from spouting any more bullshit. Y/N smiles, “Yoongi and I met back in high school. We were batchmates.”

“Oh, high school sweethearts!” Seojoon claps, grinning.

“Not necessarily,” Y/N says, “We just kinda knew each other back then. And then we met each other again in Travel Loca.”

“I see,” Dana holds her chin, as if in thought, “You two sure looked like you’ve known each other for so long…You know each other so well that you get to hit each other’s flaws so accurately whenever you bicker. Right?” Dana looks at Y/N.

“Right,” Y/N grins. She unconsciously gulps down a nervous chuckle. “I-it wouldn’t make sense if we insult each other so well when we don’t know each other for a long time right? More even, fall in love?”

From the corner of her eye, Y/N could see Yoongi’s head tilt, lips pursed together. It’s his face when he’s about to voice disagreement. She pinches his leg again to get him back to his senses.

“Ye-yeah,” Yoongi stutters, “You must know a person for a long time before you can insult them well. Or love them.”

Dana and Jeff nod their heads slowly, looking convinced. Except for Seojoon. The intern shakes his head, “I think not. You don’t need to know a person for a long time to fall in love. Or to even insult them. Hate or love—it just happens.”

“Yeah,” Jeff agrees. “I think this felt more right. It doesn’t really require you long to hate another person for some unexplainable reason. Or fall in love with them.”

“How did you know about this?” Y/N asks, clicking her tongue.

Jeff looks unbothered by the questioning look on Y/N’s face. He leans back in his seat with a smile, “Because that’s how my girlfriend and I got together. We only knew each other for three weeks and it didn’t take me a day longer to know I’m whipped for her. In those three weeks, we even spent the first week really hating each other bad,” Jeff chuckles, “We used to scream at each other for hours across the windows of our apartments.”

The furrows in Y/N’s forehead deepen, “B-but, how did you love her when you just hated her a week ago?”

“Because love and hate have a lot of similarities,” Jeff says. “I think there’s a fine line between such differing emotions. People say it’s an end-to-end spectrum but I think that spectrum may not be as long as people make it out to be. I think they’re just two ends that sit opposite to each other. Anyone can cross from one to another and vice versa so easily. Kinda explains why you can love someone while also hating them a bit. And why you can hate or love something for so long and not consider changing your stance. Even if love is just a bridge away, its whole argument opposes the argument of hate. That’s why it feels the spectrum of love is a very long road to take—a wall too high to reach, making it hard for transitioning from one end to another. But, I don’t know,” Jeff shrugs, grinning. “Life is complex. Sometimes love and hate…just happens.”

Seojoon and Dana nod slowly. However, Y/N feels otherwise. ‘Easy and hard to cross’? ‘It just happens’? What kind of nonsense is this—Y/N opens her mouth to argue—If not for Yoongi clasping a hand around her shoulders and urging her to stand up from her seat, “I’ll think we’ll order more tacos for us. My treat. We’ll be real quick.”

Yoongi drags Y/N to the line forming in front of the cashier. When they’re a couple of steps away from the group, Y/N shrugs his arms away from her shoulders. She glares at him, “What do you think are you doing?”

Yoongi tongues his cheek, “I should be the one asking you that! What do you think are you doing there? Trying to argue with my friends about something so trivial like Jeff’s perception of love? It’s his views, let him be!”

Y/N crosses her arms, “Jeff is spouting nonsense. I just felt the need to correct him.”

“How would you know Jeff is spouting nonsense? You’re not the one who fell in love with his neighbor he used to scream at across his flat.”

Y/N looks down at her shoes, “Okay…I’m sorry. I know, I know, I’m being a bitch again.”

Yoongi gapes at her, “W-wait, are you apologizing? You? The great Y/N L/N?”

Y/N whips her head to him, pinning him with a glare, “Why? You think I’m incapable of apologizing?”

“Nope,” Yoongi quips, smiling, “I’m just thinking how fast you grew. It was just two days ago you’re struggling so hard to apologize. Now, you just easily admitted to your mistake. I’m proud of you.”

Y/N’s jaw goes slack. “Are you saying I’m an unapologetic bastard to everyone before?”

“To me actually,” Yoongi corrects. “But that was back then. You’re quite…more okay now.”

Y/N gawks at him in disbelief. But before she could utter another counter-statement, Yoongi’s already in front of the cashier, ordering for another platter of tacos. When they got back to their seats, the past conversation seems to have already dissipated. Yoongi starts the conversation this time about what they used to do in high school and college and soon enough, their table is erupting with giggles and high-pitched ‘Oh no you didn’t!” Y/N learned Jeff used to study in an art school. Seojoon used to join competitive pep squad rallies in college. And, Dana chose Travel Loca from a lot of tempting job offers because like Y/N, Dana likes Nancy’s vision for travel journalism as a travel-enthusiast like herself. Likewise, the three were enthusiastic in knowing Y/N—how she managed to skip two years of high school, her one-sided love for music because she cannot, for the life of her, play even a single instrument, and how she has so many random facts about the flower language, color theories, cooking techniques—hell even some trivia about the praying mantis—all because of reading a lot of books. Yoongi even chipped in of how great she can turn scenarios in a completely different one just because of her creative way of seeing things, to which Y/N blushes. The memory of their fast food drive-in date oddly makes her insides queasy.

It’s been a while since Y/N felt she belonged to a group that values her skills and preferences. Moreover, to have Yoongi be so generous in hyping her up whenever it’s her turn to speak makes her feel a blanket of warmth is surrounding her. A warmth much heart-fluttering than the one provided by his arm embracing her shoulder and his occasional hand-holding. When she first felt his pinky reaching for hers, Y/N’s first instinct was to move away. But the tingling heat creeping onto her cheeks oddly makes her not want to let go. Moreso when Yoongi finally envelops her whole hand with his larger one.

Y/N doesn’t know how long they last like that but when Yoongi moves to disentangle himself from her, Y/N feels the warmth in her chest fade too fast than she liked. She turns to him curious, before her eyes glance at the wall clock of the restaurant in the corner. It’s already one forty-five. She didn’t know the time has passed so fast. Yoongi gets up from his seat, “You can go ahead outside. I’ll just get something from the cashier.”

Y/N looks at him with a questioning gaze. Nevertheless, she turns back to her seat and wordlessly follows Dana, Jeff, and Seojoon as they exit the restaurant. Once outside, Dana suddenly turns toward her.

“You and Mr. Min look like you’re still newbies in dating.”

Y/N’s eyes widen, “U-uh, how did you say so?”

“Because you two look like you’re still tiptoeing around each other whenever one initiates some skinship,” Dana shrugs. “Don’t worry. It’s always like that at the start of a relationship.”

“Yeah. You two might want to start transferring the intensity in your eyes to some physical touchy-touching,” Seojoon suggests, only to get playfully hit on the head by Jeff. Seojoon rubs the sore spot, “What? I’m just saying the truth! It’s normal to crave physical intimacy. Touching and being near someone you love is an inherent need!”

“Yeah, but they’re just starting, Seojoon,” Jeff reiterates. He turns to Y/N, “Why don’t you try going to a bar?”

“A bar?” Y/N asks, eyes wide.

“Yeah, a bar. There’s a nice one along 11th Avenue. Neo-Cloud 9. Great place and drinks, cheap price. Oh, and amazing music. Their DJs don’t play the typical LSD-inducing club music. You two need to loosen up, you know? It’s not good to always hole yourselves at work. And also,” a Cheshire smile grows on Jeff’s lips, “Yoongi loves to drink alcohol after a long day. He just seems like the bar-type of a guy.”

Before Y/N can ask what he means, the door of the restaurant swings open. Yoongi grins at them, “Let’s get going now.” The three nod and walk ahead, Jeff and Seojoon laughing about something again with Dana playfully hitting them to tell them to shut up.

Yoongi walks ahead of Y/N to turn around and walk backward on the pavement, facing the girl. Y/N raises a brow at him.

Yoongi grins and pulls out a pale pink envelope before falling back into step with her. “I thought of asking for a date document since we’re quite being handsy in there. Good thing the cashier saw it, too. Even said we’re cute for being shy in holding each other’s hands.” Yoongi wiggles his brows, smirking. “Didn’t know we’re being cute, sweetheart.”

“…Yeah,” Y/N looks away, lips pursed.

“Are you sure you want to date here?”

The street is bustling alive. Neon signs hang from all walls and awnings. Street arts bask in matte or glow-in-the-dark spray paint. The smell of alcohol, cigarette stench, and the delicious smell of sizzling plates compound together and yet it isn’t acrid to the nose; it’s oddly alluring. All the stars in the sky seem to have fallen down on the streets because all sorts of lights try to illuminate every inch of the pavement. It’s 11th Avenue. The place with different people from all sorts of places. Foreigners and locals piling in different corners. There are people who look newly-legal, celebrating their privilege in reaching 21. And there are some dressed over-the-top, ready to spend the whole night getting wasted. Bands of friends also jump into the mix, hoping to have fun clubbing and drinking and maybe meeting someone new. And there are also people who look like they’ve just gotten off from work. Like them.

Y/N turns to Yoongi, unbuckling her seat belt. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

The interior of Neo-Cloud 9 is far from its name. Y/N expected to have all sorts of pleasure-in-bottles lined up like the perfect temptation, a pit filled with heavenly decors and people, a place you wouldn’t want to get out of. But what she only gets is a classic bar and club, walls painted in grey softened by the bright moving lights. A marble-black bar stands in the right corner containing all sorts of imaginable liquor. The floor is carpeted in starry black, and the seats and booths are covered in lush-looking leather. There are people in dressy suits seated comfy in their faux silver tables in one corner, and there are some moving to the beat on the dance floor. But the bar doesn’t look wild or something that could scream fantastical luxury, much less ‘Cloud 9.’ Jeff must be right. This looks like a good place with good drinks, all for a cheap price.

It doesn’t take long for Y/N to find themselves seated in a booth, a footed pilsner of mojito in front of her a shot glass and a bottle of tequila in front of Yoongi.

Y/N takes small sips of her drink. Yoongi downs a shot. He picks up the lime on the plate and chews on it. When he’s finished a piece of his chaser, he looks at Y/N. “Why did you want to go here?”

“Well…I’ve never been to a bar before.”

“You’ve never been to a bar?” Yoongi gawks, placing his glass down on the table. “Like, ever?”

“Nope.” Y/N places her glass on the table and looks at Yoongi, “And I’ve never drunk any alcohol before.”

“This is your first time?”

“Yup. My parents told me not to drink while I’m studying. And coincidentally, I’ve never liked the concept of drinking so…good for them. I’ve never liked parties and places like this.”

“Then why did we go here?”

“Because Jeff told me you like to drink.”

“I do like drinking,” Yoongi nods, “but I wouldn’t insist to go here if you never liked places like this.”

“Yeah, I don’t like places like this. But it doesn’t hurt to get at least experience from it, right?” Y/N raises her brows and sips on her glass.

Silence fills the space between them. Y/N orders another glass of mojito. And another. Yoongi warns her she might get drunk too fast. /N disagrees and the stable tone in her voice supports her argument. Meanwhile, Yoongi had already tried raising a conversation topic about five times now. “Another person to rant about in high school?” “Any memories of childhood?” “What got you into loving writing?”—hell, he even tried to pick a fight by bringing up Y/N’s predicament under Nancy, but all of them ended in conversational dead-ends. Either Y/N answers in replies designed for the finality of a conversation, or she switches the topic to a trivial one, such as what he thinks of Kylie Jenner’s plastic surgeries. What only seems to pass through were shallow one-worded answer questions.

“Uno or Monopoly?”

“Uno.”

It’s even fortunate if Yoongi could get Y/N to expand her answer.

“Would you rather be a…book or a car?”

“What does that even mean?” Y/N cackles.

“Just answer!”

“Okay, a book!”

But it’s fine for him. It’s better than having nothing.

“Okay, do you dislike…being sweaty?”

“Nope. You?”

“Also no,” Yoongi chuckles. He crosses his arms on the table, “Do you like to play crane games in arcades?”

“Hmm, yes…But only if someone will win it for me. I suck at it. And it’s a waste of money, too,” Y/N bites on a chip. “What about you? Do you like playing it?”

“Not if I’m alone. If I had somebody with me, I sure like it. I love feeling somebody getting thrilled with me.”

Y/N looks down at her glass. She traces its rim with a finger, “We’ve already got four date documents.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi brings up his glass to his mouth. “But why are you suddenly bringing it up?”

“Just clarifying what we’re here for.”

Yoongi’s hand stills.

Y/N sighs, “We have to keep our eyes on the goal, okay? After all, we’re just doing this stuff to get approved for the PRS-change.” Y/N focuses her eyes on her hands, “We’re doing okay with the date documents. But we need to worry about the accounts of our relationship witnesses. I’ve only got Mina and of course, Ms. Teddy. But that’s only two. We need eight more—”

“We only need five more,” Yoongi places down his glass on the table, “We’ve already got Dana, Jeff, and Seojoon roped in, too. Actually, four more, because Ms. Yoona already believes we’re into each other the day I re-introduced you. We already have six.”

“How are you sure about that?”

“Didn’t Ms. Yoona bid you good luck with me?”

Y/N’s jaw falls slack. “H-how did you know that? I-I thought you only heard Jeff and Seojoon that night?”

“I was already standing near the door. Of course, I heard everything. That’s why I know you’re denying we’re into each other. Put us up to fail,” Yoongi meets her eyes, “Again.”

Y/N stares at him.

“We’ve already got Dana, Seojoon, and Jeff for sure. Dana was asking me earlier about the intimacy in the break room yesterday. Seojoon and Jeff eat up any gossip Dana feeds them. Plus, those three are my friends. So if we’ll need to be desperate, I can put up an act and request them to write for us.” Yoongi looks away and downs a shot, “But I think what we did in the restaurant was already enough. I don’t know what other act could be more convincing than that.”

Y/N hums. After that, silence again. It doesn’t last long though, not until her 5th order of mojito is placed on their table. But instead of uttering a word, Y/N makes a move to snatch the shot glass of tequila in front of Yoongi.

“What are you doing?” Yoongi raises a brow, placing his glass farther away from her reach.

Y/N only continues to make grabby hands at him. “I’ve only been drinking cocktails this whole night. Wanna taste some hard liquor, too, y’know?”

“Y/N,” Yoongi sighs, “You’re gonna get drunk. Your house is far from here.”

“So?” Y/N tilts her head. “You borrowed Steven’s car tonight. You’re gonna drive me home anyway. Drunk or not.”

“Yeah, but you told me earlier Mina is gonna sleep over at Mark’s. And I cannot carry you up to your apartment—should you get drunk— because if you’re wasted, you cannot confirm to your security you actually know me if I were to help you get in your flat. And that won’t ever happen because not in a million years will I carry your fat ass in any possible chance—”

“Yaddah, yaddah, blah, blah, blah,” Y/N leans forward on the table. “You always have something to say, no, Yoongi?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “As if you’re not also like that.”

“You don’t need to worry,” Y/N waves off. “Surprisingly, I’m not yet drunk. See?”

Yoongi gulps. It’s hard to argue otherwise if Y/N knows she indeed looks and sounds very sober.

“So,” Y/N reaches for his shot glass again, “why can’t you just let me have a taste of tequila? It’s my first time after all. I just wanna experience what I’ve missed on during high school and college.”

That’s all it takes for Yoongi to sigh and finally relent. Soon enough, Y/N is almost bouncing on her seat as she triumphantly places the tequila-filled shot glass in front of her. With a grin, Y/N picks a lime on the saucer and hovers it above her drink and—

Yoongi catches her elbow. “That’s not how you do it.” He scoots across the booth to sit next to her. He gets the lime from her hands, “You don’t drop the lime in your drink like you’re trying to make lime water. You dip your hand in salt first and suck it.” He pushes the plate of salt towards her.

Y/N looks at him funny. Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You said this is your first time drinking. I’m just trying to teach you how it’s supposed to go so it would taste better. Look,” Yoongi points to her shot glass, “the tequila is distilled so it has a high percentage of alcohol. It’s a hard liquor and will definitely make a different burn in your throat than your mojitos. The salt is gonna lessen that burn. Now, just dip a finger in the salt and suck it.”

Y/N gives him one more suspicious look but follows nevertheless.

“Now, take a shot of your tequila.”

Y/N smiles, placing the rim of the glass on her lips. She closes her eyes and tilts her head back, downing the drink in one go. When she looks back at Yoongi, indeed, a different burn is lining down her throat. It felt like someone lit a match inside her esophagus and let the flame lick the muscles and nerves of her neck.

Before Y/N could let her jaw drop and ask Yoongi what the fuck did she just take in, Yoongi places the slice of lime next to her lips. “Bite on the lime.” She looks at him. Yoongi’s shoulder is brushing next to hers. He’s leaning close to her, face hovering hers. Just an inch more and her nose will graze the tip of his nose. He’s also got his hand close on her face. She could feel his thumb almost brush her lips as he holds the lime in front of her. And his eyes—Y/N tears her gaze from him. She snatches the lime from his hand and bites on it.

Yoongi pulls away, chuckling, “See? It tasted much better now. The sourness of lime balances and enhances the flavor of tequila.”

Y/N only nods.

They spend the rest of the night with Yoongi teaching her different terms in drinking, and her trying out sips of the drinks Yoongi orders for himself. It was all okay. Y/N’s having fun, learning and enjoying the drinks. It’s a wonder she’s still sober considering it’s her first time drinking and she’s already got a couple of drinks down her system. Her eyes are still steady, her posture stable. Heck, her voice even sounds as if it a minute has only passed since they entered Neo-Cloud 9.

“C’mon, Yoongi, let’s dance.”

Yoongi should have not been over-confident in his perceptions. The moment Y/N steps out from her side, she stumbles toward him, almost completely faceplanting on his chest.

“Y/N,” Yoongi pushes her up, “You’re drunk. Fuck, I told you you’re gonna get drunk. I think we should head home now—”

“No! Wanna dance, Min Yoongi!” Y/N suddenly stands upright, almost tripping on her shoes. She grins, “Let’s just do one song and after that Imma go home. Please, Yoongi?”

“Y/N—”

“Please, Yoongiiiii?” Y/N clasps her hands together, “Pleassseee?”

“Y/N—”

“Just one song! Or else I would call you mean Yoongi from now on,” she crosses her arms, “Just one is all I’m asking. Wanna experience that party feel for the very first time. We don’t even have to do a rave dance. We can just slow dance if you like!”

This is the reason why Yoongi finds himself dancing something akin to waltz to a song about partying as if it’s 2012. It’s not that bad, though. Not when he’s not alone dancing un-synced to the song with Y/N almost completely hanging on his limbs like a sloth. Some occasional seconds, she even gets the audacity to place her head on his chest. Yoongi cannot help but pull a small smile on his lips.

The lights above the dance floor are in the colors of sunset and dawn and they move and merge like cells undergoing mitosis. It feels simultaneously alienating and comforting and Y/N isn’t really sure if she likes it or not. She just feels warm all over. Warm in her toes. Warm in her belly. Warm in her throat. Warm in her hands. Warm in her chest. Just…warm. Too comfortingly warm and she doesn’t know if it’s all just thanks to the alcohol.

“Hey, Y/N, the song is about to end now.”

“Just one more,” Y/N mutters. She places her head against his shoulder.

Yoongi hums. The song finally changes. A few beats in and Y/N stops in her tracks. It’s The Louvre by Lorde.

But lover, you’re the one to blame, all that you’re doing

Can you hear the violence?

Megaphone to my chest.

Y/N looks up. Yoongi’s face is above her, almost hovering hers. The warm sunset-colored lights pass over his features, highlighting the seeming stylishness of his unkempt hair, the small existent ridges on his plump cheeks, and the soft-looking curve of his lips that’s more often than not pulled to the side to tease her. But tonight, he’s just smiling, and his lips look so soft under the pink light. His hand covering hers felt so big and yet unnervingly un-foreign. It’s only calming. His eyes are soft, gentle, dare she say warm even.

And for one second, it didn’t seem the calming warmth she was feeling was because of the alcohol. Because the warmth she feels is akin to the soothing radiance of early mornings. Warm like the heat between hand-held mugs shared over a small table with knees bumping next to each other. Warm like the tepid comfort a thick blanket provides to counter the thunderstorm incessantly knocking on the window panes. Warm like the lukewarm water of a hot tub one prepares after coming home from a long day at work. It’s hot, but not too hot to immediately withdraw a finger from.

It wasn’t the alcohol anymore because the warmth she feels comes from Yoongi. She knows for sure because when her hand withdraws from his skin, the calming warmth that has surrounded her immediately dissipates.

The realization dawns on her and suddenly, Y/N feels her throat is being laced up close. A choked out sob, and Y/N is hunching over, form minimizing on the floor as she tries to wheeze out a sharp breath.

“Y/N! What’s wrong? Are you okay?!” Yoongi panics. He holds her close to him, arms looping around her figure to keep her upright next to him. But Y/N shakily pushes him away.

Arms-width away from him, hands clutching tightly on his shoulders, Y/N looks up at him. “Yoongi, you have to stop being like this.”

“L-like what? Holding you to not let you fall over?”

“No,” Y/N shakes her head. “You have to stop trying to get so close to me.”

Yoongi stops.

Y/N lets out a staggered breath. “Just, please don’t, Yoongi.”

“Y/N—”

A tear slips from her eyes. “I can’t fall one more time, Yoongi. I’ve had enough already. I can’t…I can’t take another one. So please…don’t cross anymore of the space I put between us. Or even let me do the same. You can insult me whatever you want, just,” Y/N lets out a broken sigh, “don’t do this to me. Please.”

No words are exchanged after that. Y/N lets herself in the car. Yoongi follows suit. The night goes on devoid of any sound save for the revving of the engine. When they pull out from the colorful streets of 11th Avenue, the distant pink lights of Neo-Cloud 9 become Y/N’s last memory as she slumps her head against the car window. Soon enough, the world goes black. Her breaths finally even out.

DAY 6 – January 31; Friday

When Y/N peels her eyes open, a rounded moon-looking light fixture set on a powder blue ceiling is the first thing she sees. The second thing that enters her vision is the white bedside table on her left. She’s never seen these things before. Y/N sits up in a jolt. White wooden cabinets, a metal gray desk, black office swivel chair, light grey faux wooden tiles—these are definitely not in her room. She instantly looks down on her body. A white and blue striped pajama. Panic starts to rise in her stomach. Where the fuck am I—

The door bursts open and a head of a male she’s never seen before pops up. He smiles at her. “Oh, you’re finally awake. You can take a shower now. Yoongi’s just finished showering. Your clothes are already on the hangers in the bathroom. Mom’s got them washed and pressed already.” The man walks away only to come back as if he’s forgotten something. “Oh yeah, we’re also having breakfast so…come join us when you’re done?” The furrows on Y/N’s forehead deepen. The man beams, “O-oh, and I’m Yoongi’s brother, Jeongguk.”

Yoongi? Jeongguk? Why is Yoongi’s brother inviting her for breakfast when she hasn’t even heard of him before—Y/N freezes. The answer finally dawns upon her and Y/N could only internally pull all the hair off her head. Oh my god, what the hell am I doing in Yoongi’s home?!

Twenty minutes later and Y/N finds herself in a circular table with the very question in her head the first thing uttered out when she sits on her chair.

“So Y/N,” Yoongi’s father smiles at her, “How did you end up here?”

“Um—”

“Dad, I thought already told you yesterday?” Yoongi interrupts. Y/N looks at the man across her. He looks like he didn’t dry himself well. The ends of his hair are still wet. There’s also a damp spot on the chest area of the white crew-neck shirt he’s wearing under his navy blazer. Y/N gulps. She should not let her eyes linger on that damp spot for too long.

“Yeah, son, I know,” Yoongi’s father chuckles as he slices into his scrambled eggs. He turns to Y/N. “I’m just messing with you, dear.”

“Y-yeah. I totally understand, Mr. Min,” Y/N tries to chuckle.

“Oh, don’t call me that. Just call me ‘dad.’ We’re gonna get close anyway.”

Yoongi’s eyes bulge out. “What the hell—Dad!”

Mr. Min laughs. “I’m just joking! Call me Yoonhyuk.”

Y/N smiles politely, “Okay…Yoonhyuk.”

“My, Yoongi,” Yoongi’s mother claps a hand on her son’s shoulder, “You seem really tense. You’re reverting back into your old high school self.”

“Mom!”

“Excuse my son,” Yoongi’s mother smiles at Y/N. “He used to be really tense and timid all over. Habits do really die hard. Anyway, just call me Ji-an, too. Oh, and I’m the one who changed your clothes last night so no need to worry. I just thought letting you sleep in your work clothes may be too uncomfortable. You looked like you really needed a good rest last night.”

“It’s alright. Thank you so much, Ms. Mi—Ji-an,” Y/N smiles. Ms. Min returns a bigger charming smile. Y/N figures Yoongi’s smile must have taken after his mother’s.

Breakfast continues on as if it was just another breakfast in the Min family. Having Yoongi’s past already brought up, Mr. Min continues on with a story of an awkward fourteen-year-old Yoongi sweating over just practicing how to give their plate of chow mien to their neighbor. Jeongguk even pitched in of how his older brother was such a wimp way back when they were kids. He said it was a wonder how Yoongi always manages to win every game when he’s always the one running like a ‘waddling duck.’ Until a year later they found out it was all thanks to the cheats Yoongi has collected. Everyone erupts into laughter. Even Yoongi who’s sulking the whole time finally breaks into cackles.

Y/N can’t remember the last time she had breakfast this lively. Well, she and Mina do share fun breakfasts too. But with the two of them rarely having enough time to cook meals in the morning, table breakfasts are reserved for special days. Their breakfasts usually come through sandwiches they munch on quickly at a small, cheap café near the office. Now, she’s having breakfast with people she’s never met before, and yet, a comfortable warmth settles over her, making her feel las if she’s meeting people she had long been friends with. The feeling is strange, but Y/N decides she’s more than welcome to entertain it.

The breakfast ends sooner than Y/N would like to admit and it isn’t by long she bids her goodbyes to the Min family after she finishes helping Ms. Min clean up. She expresses her gratitude once more to Mr. and Mrs. Min before following Yoongi to the car.

When they pull away from the driveway, Yoongi finally says his first words of the day to her. “I’m sorry you may have been shocked this morning. I drove you to your apartment but I wasn’t able to get you into your flat because you don’t have your keys. The security stationed doesn’t know alternative access and the admin’s office was long closed. So, I have no other option but to drive you home with me. Well, you were actually the one who insisted to drive you to my home, so yeah, here we are.”

“I…insisted to go to your home?”

Yoongi looks at her, “You don’t remember?”

“Yah, Y/N, stop messing with my hair,” Yoongi huffs as he tries to balance the girl latched onto his back while rummaging through her bag for her keys.

“I’m not messing it up. I’m styling it!” Y/N grabs two handfuls of hair. Yoongi nearly topples onto the floor from the hard tug on his scalp. Y/N only squeals, “See? You look like Garu now! Not Pucca. You only smile when you’re smug!”

“Y/N, stop messing with me,” Yoongi grits, hands frantically turning all the items in the woman’s bag over and over again. “Fuck, there’s no keys. Y/N, where the hell did you put your keys?”

“I don’t knoooow.”

Y/N starts to slip on his back. Before he could hoist her up though, the girl locks her elbows around his neck, knocking the wind out of his windpipe. Yoongi didn’t know what getting strangled really feels like until now. Y/N giggles, “Oh, I know now! I slipped it in in my pouch! The one with my ballpens. I think I must have left it in the office because I’m not yet done with my report when we went off…”

Yoongi drags a hand over his face, “Fuck. What the hell will I do with you now?”

Y/N props her head on his shoulder and grins, “Take me home to your home?”

Yoongi gapes at Y/N. “You seriously don’t remember?”

Y/N slowly shakes her head, “I don’t.”

Yoongi plops Y/N back onto the passenger’s seat before he sits himself back into the driver’s seat. The moment Yoongi drives away from the 27th street, Y/N decides it’s a brilliant idea to latch herself onto the man’s arm.

“Y/N, what the hell are you doing?” Yoongi tries to gently pull his arm away from her. Y/N only keeps her grip on him and decides to put her head on his shoulder. Yoongi sighs in defeat.

“I’m being happy!” Y/N grins, “You and I are gonna have a sleepover!”

“This is not a sleepover,” Yoongi gives her a pointed look, “You’re drunk and I’m just being a Good Samaritan letting you stay over in my house because your poor ass got nowhere to go.”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s still a sleepover because we’ll sleep in your room.”

“I am NOT letting you sleep in my room. You’re gonna sleep on the couch.”

Y/N’s eyes grow wide, “No! We’re gonna sleep in your room! Friends sleep in one room during sleepovers.”

“So now, you’re finally admitting we’re friends?” Yoongi smirks. He doesn’t know why he’s letting this pointless conversation go on when the person he’s speaking to is just running on autopilot. But when Y/N looks at him in complete focus and opens her mouth, Yoongi can’t help but anticipate for what she has to say.

“Why?” Y/N tilts her head, “Aren’t we already friends? Weren’t you the one who kept bugging me about it?”

Yoongi looks away and keeps his eyes ahead, “Well…yeah.”

“Then why won’t you let me sleep in your room?”

Yoongi clicks his tongue, “Just because.”

“Is it because you hate me?”

“No, it’s not because of that.”

“Then, is it because I annoyed you today?”

“Well, you did annoy me. A lot.” Yoongi sighs, “Okay, a bit. A teeny, tiny bit. But, it’s also not because of that.”

“Then what is it?” Y/N whines.

Yoongi doesn’t answer.

“Is it because I’m supposed to actually rat on any mistake of your team to Nancy?”

Still silence.

“Then…is it because I’m ugly?”

Yoongi whips his head toward her, “What?”

Y/N looks down at her lap, “People say no one wants to be with me because no one likes my face. They say it’s too intimidating. That I’m too intimidating and no one wants to be with someone like that.” Y/N glances at the side mirror, “Didn’t help that everyone practically hates me because of how firm I stand with my values. High school was enough proof of that.”

“Well, it’s not everyone. You got Mina—”

“Of course, I got Mina. She’s always by my side. So, she’s out of the question.”

“I’m not yet done,” Yoongi chuckles, “You do love getting ahead of everybody, no?”

Y/N pouts and faces straight ahead, crossing her arms.

“As I was saying, you got Mina and me.”

It’s Y/N’s turn to snap back towards him, eyes wide. “What do you mean?”

“You said before I’m not just anybody,” Yoongi shrugs. “Might as well live up to that.”

The quiet air settles over again. Only the sounds of the city zooming past them and Y/N’s occasional snores fill the gaps of silence. But it doesn’t last long as they finally reached 12th street, West Drive—Yoongi’s home—because Y/N wakes up again and starts blabbering if she could tie up his hair Garu-style. Yoongi thinks the utter shock in his mother’s face when she opened the door for him and the utterly inebriated girl on his back is something he will never forget. And probably Y/N’s face, too, which brightened up when Yoongi told her she can have his room.

“Are you serious?” Y/N squeals, already on her knees on his mattress, ready to jump around. She looks like a five-year-old and it doesn’t help that his striped blue and white pajamas make her look, dare he say, cute.

“Yes, I am,” Yoongi replies. He closes the door for a second to see his mother in the hallway.

Ji-an places Y/N’s clothes on their hamper before addressing him. “Been a while since you brought a friend over.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi nervously smiles as he rubs his nape. “Sorry this was unannounced, mom. I drove her to her place but she forgot her keys at work and her flatmate’s also gone for the night. I don’t know what to do so I just brought her here.”

“Hey, it’s okay. I don’t mind,” Ji-an smiles. “I was just surprised. I didn’t know Thursday nights are now a drinking night.”

“Mom!” Yoongi playfully claps his mother’s shoulder. Ji-an only laughs. When her chuckles die down, she fondly looks at her son, “I was just curious what made you drink out on a Thursday night. I thought friend’s night-outs are for Fridays.”

“Today was just a special case. Y/N wanted to try drinking for the first time. She dragged me to teach her what she’s missed out on college and high school.” Yoongi looks at his closed door, a warm smile forming on his face. “I didn’t know someone at 25 has not yet been to a bar before.”

“Then, I’m glad you’ve accompanied her.”

Yoongi looks at his mother, brows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“It’s also been a while since I’ve seen you smile like that,” Ji-an pulls her lips into a knowing smile. “You smile a lot with us. But it’s been ages since I saw that smile again. It makes me happy it’s back.”

“What…smile, mom?”

“Oh, you know it already,” Ji-an pats his shoulder. “By the way, where are you gonna sleep?”

“I’ll make camp in the living room. I have your fluffy pillows and blanket with me…Thanks, mom.” Yoongi gives her an appreciative smile.

“Okay then,” Ji-an returns his smile, “Goodnight, son.” Yoongi kisses her cheek goodnight and then she resigns back into their room.

Yoongi plops himself on the floor beside his bed. Y/N rolls over to poke at his shoulder, “What took you so long outside? I thought this is a sleepover. Also, what are you doing with that?” she points to the binder the man is holding.

Yoongi continues flipping through the pages. It’s an album of his days back in high school. He always pulls it out whenever he gets the sudden urge to feel nostalgic. Most often than not, the fuzzy feeling after drinking gives that urge. Yoongi mutters, “I’m looking through it so you’ll get bored of messing with me and finally sleep.”

“You know, Yoongi…if I didn’t hate you, I would love to kiss you.”

Yoongi freezes in his position, “W-what?”

But it seems the alcohol took its final toll on Y/N when she rolls over to her side and bids him with a yawn, “Goodnight, Yoongi.”

Yoongi makes sure he hears her snore before he returns, “…Goodnight, too, sweetheart.”

“You really don’t remember anything?”

“No…?”

Yoongi focuses back on the road. “What’s your last memory yesterday?”

“Well, we took shots. Then after that, we danced, and—nothing. Well, you drove me here and let me sleepover so yeah,” Y/N looks down on her interlocked hands. “Thank you for that, Yoongi.”

“You’re welcome. But do you really not remember anything? As in, anything at all?”

“I told you I do not, okay?” Y/N throws up her hands, “How many times do I have to tell you that?!”

Yoongi glances at her, “Not even what you said while we’re dancing at the bar?”

“No,” Y/N sighs. “Look, I don’t remember anything from the night before, save for what I already told you. What did I even say while we’re dancing at the bar?”

“Nothing,” Yoongi looks back at the road. “You just said you wanna stuff your nose full with mojito because you love it so much.”

Y/N massages her temple, “Okay, that’s embarrassing. But dismissible. It’s just a stupid statement. Did something else happen?”

“Something,” Yoongi scoffs, “Oh hell yeah, something definitely happened.”

Y/N’s brows shot up and she screeches, “Did something happen between us?!” Yoongi almost drives the car out of their lane.

“Jesus Christ, Y/N, do you plan on busting my ears off?” Yoongi holds a hand over his ears. “And for God’s sake, how did you even come up to that? What do you think of me? Someone who takes advantage of a drunk woman?!”

“I didn’t say that! Okay,” Y/N reels back and sighs, “I’m sorry I implied it and for possibly offending you. I just thought maybe you got drunk, too, yesterday and we got handsy-handsy on each other. Maybe. The movies show it’s possible. And they already run a good enough forecast system for drunken mistakes.”

“Are you seriously using movies now as a reliable reference?”

Y/N looks away. “It wouldn’t hurt, okay. Movies reflect real life.”

“Look, Y/N,” Yoongi looks at her with a serious face, “nothing sexual happened between us. If something actually happened between us, I wouldn’t be here in the first place. I’d probably be at a church tryna convince the priest if I could take a bath using their holy water.”

Y/N scowls at him, “You say that as if I’m the most horrible person in the world. Well, if you’d been a different person, you’d know I’m not so bad.”

“Are you implying you want to have sex with me?”

“Oh my god—NO! How the fuck did you even think about such abomination?!”

Yoongi wiggles his brows at her. Y/N resists the urge to slap his face. They’re currently driving. She cannot risk her life no matter how much she wants to end the man beside her.

“But seriously speaking,” Yoongi rounds a street, “something else did happen.”

“What is it?”

“You actually insisted to go to my house because you wanna have a sleepover. You reasoned it’s because we’re friends.” Yoongi glances at her, “And you told me you wanted to kiss me.”

Y/N’s jaw falls wide open, “Oh my god, your imagination cannot be any weirder than it already is, huh? ‘Friends’? ‘Kiss you’? Never in a million years would I want that!” Y/N scoffs, “Even if I’m drunk, I know I wouldn’t say that! Your delusions are getting worse, Yoongi.”

“Say all that you want. Still doesn’t negate what transpired yesterday,” Yoongi sing-songs.

“Look,” Y/N shifts in her seat to turn to Yoongi, “I’m grateful you had me in your home and welcomed me so warmly. And I know I’m enjoying a lot of favors right now. But one more wouldn’t hurt, okay?” Y/N sighs and closes her eyes, “Can we just forget whatever happened yesterday?”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean ‘nope’?!”

“Nope, as in, we cannot forget what we know happened. It’s impossible, biologically and realistically speaking. Our brains are not designed with an undo button. Unless we already have early onset of Alzheimer’s. Though I think I wouldn’t worry about that because I’m young and happy. You’re the one who should actually worry because you look old and that’s because you didn’t enjoy life—”

“Okay, I get you! It’s impossible to forget! But can we just never speak about what happened yesterday?!”

Yoongi shrugs, “Depends.”

Y/N’s brows scrunch together, “What do you mean ‘depends’?”

“If it would be non-advantageous for me, sure, I won’t speak about it. But right now, it’s definitely advantageous for me because I can use it as blackmail material to finally convince you you wanted to be friends, and that in fact, we are indeed already friends.”

“Min Yoongi—!”

A ringtone bursts loud in the car. It’s a Japanese song. And it sounds very much like an opening OST for a shounen action anime.

“Are you fricking serious—”

“Ssh!” Y/N holds up an index to Yoongi’s lips. She breaks into a smile, “Oh hello, Ms. Nancy. I-I mean,” Y/N glances at her watch and does quick math, “good afternoon!” Fuck time differences.

The person on the other end of the line doesn’t sound too pleased with the greeting though. “Where the hell are you now, Y/N?”

“Oh, I’m at,” Y/N looks outside of the window in search of the nearest post with a street name, “uh, 1st Avenue. We’re just a couple of blocks from Rockfort now.”

“Don’t come into the office today. I have a list of errands for you to do instead.”

“O-okay—”

“They’re a lot so I’m gonna e-mail them to you now. When you receive it, I hope you start on it ASAP.”

“Of course, ma’am,” Y/N smiles. A beep at the other end serves as her reply. A ‘ding’ soon sounds in her phone and Y/N immediately checks on her notifications.

Ms. Nancy Kim (7:45 A.M.)

Go to my house on 27th Avenue. I left some legal papers I need by 8:20 and I want you to scan them and email them to me. Use my personal computer.

Head to the VanTae Main Office by 8:45 A.M. They’re hosting a meeting with the businesses they’ve partnered with for an interactive fashion event they’re hosting. I forgot to inform them beforehand that I’ve gone abroad but I’ve already e-mailed the CEO today that our spokesperson, Mr. Junhyung Choi, will stand for me. Help out Mr. Choi with whatever he needs, especially his presentation.

Go to RTW Advertising’s Headquarters by 11 A.M with Mr. Choi. They need to discuss something about their future project with us. I’m gonna send you the references you’ll need to help Mr. Choi—

Y/N immediately tucks her phone into her pocket. She’ll just read the rest on the train. She turns to the man beside her, “Yoongi park on the sidewalk.”

“Why? But we’re going to the office—”

“Just go to the nearest parking spot and drop me off.” Y/N smiles, “Please?”

Yoongi sighs but nevertheless, he follows her directions and pulls up the car in front of a bicycle stand.

Y/N gathers her bag, “Sorry this is a rush. I’m not going to the office. I need to catch the 8 A.M. train.” Y/N turns to her side to tug free her seatbelt but it won’t budge. She hears a sigh and then suddenly, there’s a hand hovering above hers, pulling more of the seatbelt from her shoulder to lessen the tension of the belt on the lock. When Y/N looks up, Yoongi’s face is so near hers that one simple movement could let her nose brush the side of his cheek. She could practically feel Yoongi’s breath sweep over her lips as he releases a sigh.

Then Yoongi looks straight into her eyes. “Is it Nancy?”

The lock clicks and it releases the belt. Y/N presses herself still into the corner of the car. She doesn’t know she’s holding her breath as she nods, “Y-yeah.”

Yoongi leans back in his seat. “You sure you want to take the train? I can drive you to where you need to go. I can just hit up Ms. Yoona and tell her to take my place for the day.”

“N-no. This is my work. I don’t want to bother you. I’ve got a list of things to do and it will keep you away from what you really needed to do.” Y/N pushes the handle and opens the door to let herself hop out. “Thanks for offering though.”

Yoongi tilts his head and smiles. “Date you later, then?”

Y/N’s brows meet together.

Yoongi shrugs, “Well, we’ll see each other later and hopefully date y’know? We still need a few date documents to get. For the Heart Holiday. So yeah, date you later?”

“Okay…date you later, too.” Y/N smiles back and then she closes the door. When she turns around, she tries to convince herself the heat on her cheeks was because of the pollution outside. Not because of Yoongi’s warm smile as she sent him off.

Y/N wishes she’s never said anything too early.

The future is a concept that can hardly be determined no matter how open and flexible the patterns people have made to make sense of it. Y/N knows this and yet she still chooses to defy it. It‘s human nature anyway to try and figure out life and see how long you could last with a blueprint belief. If it turns out to be wrong, improve the belief or let it go and find a better one. But this is always easier said than done. It’s an inherent quality of dealing with things and concepts no one has complete control over. And Y/N has completely no control even on her unfortunate scenarios she has pre-determined in her head.

All of her Thursdays have been cursed ever since her first goddamn story proposal was foiled by Min Yoongi one year ago. And suddenly, yesterday was spot-free of any unfortunate events Y/N was sober enough to fully experience. And by some unexpected discrepancy in a long-established, working pattern, everything that has to go wrong in Thursday, happened today—Friday.

When Y/N entered the train station, a mechanical error occurred on the 8 A.M. train that caused a thirty-minute delay before a working cart could come and accommodate commuters. This fucked up Y/N’s schedule big time because she had to sprint to Nancy’s house and speed-scan the legal documents she needed in just five minutes to reach the 8:20 deadline. Of course, it didn’t work according to her plan because computers do their thing when you needed something to be rushed, they pick that exact time to not cooperate with you. Nevertheless, Y/N manages to finish the task. But all the tinge of achievement written on her face from accomplishing something was immediately slashed off when she realizes she sent the documents five minutes past the deadline. Nancy made sure she knew this when she rings her to berate her of her noncompliance with set deadlines.

Y/N thought she could make up for her mistake by doing her best in her presentation with Mr. Choi at VanTae. But that, too, proves to be a long shot to make because before she could even try, life shuts her down. Nancy forgot to inform her VanTae was expecting themed cohesive presentations from their partners. It is with great shame she sat behind the podium where Mr. Choi is standing, flipping through each slide that was obviously embarrassingly sub-par to the other business partners in the room. And, Mr. Choi didn’t let go of the opportunity to befall the blame of today’s unimpressive performance completely on Y/N. Who wouldn’t when she’s the one in charge of making the entire presentation?

But that wasn’t the end of it. At RTW, Mr. Choi just asked for Y/N to bring him and the manager cups of coffee. She doesn’t have to stand by his side anymore. But the heavens seem to hate her because when she enters the conference room and nears the manager, the secretary who’s placing the folders suddenly turned, bumping into Y/N. It would have been okay if the coffee spilled all over on her shirt. But No. Y/N trips on her foot and the hot, newly brewed coffee had to spill on the shirt of RTW’s manager.

When Nancy caught wind of what happened through Mr. Choi, she immediately slashed off Y/N’s tasks that actually involved Travel Loca and reduced it to personal, trivial errands. It’s easy and fool-proof. They’re just errands like bring Nancy’s daughter’s hardcopy of her paper to her school and write up an apology for Nancy for the parties and events she got invited to but will be unable to attend. And by some undecipherable stretch of bad luck, doing these tasks, too, has also proven to be hard. Either the transportation system will delay her for half an hour, an electronic gadget will malfunction on her, or a person in the other end of the line will find something offending in her words and turn it all against her. Y/N barely made it on time to submit the hardcopy to the school. She wasn’t able to finish encoding Nancy’s personal expenses in the tax declaration software. And two of Nancy’s friends were not satisfied with her apologies and even insulted her. When Y/N calls for the nth time about finishing a task that ended not-so-well in her favor, she knows Nancy has already busted her patience of the day for her because she just sighs and started to give her cold one-worded replies.

And before Y/N knew it, it’s already seven. Long past working hours. Y/N’s eyes widen. Yoongi. She pulls up her phone and types a message.

Y/N : Hey, I think I’m gonna do a raincheck on our uh date. Sorry for the late notice. I just finished my job and I don’t think I have any energy left. (7:05 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Why? What happened? (7:06 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : If you don’t mind me asking, I mean? (7:06 P.M.)

Y/N: Nothing happened. Just tired (7:06 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Okay, that’s fine. Take a rest. Health is always the priority (7:07 P.M.)

Y/N: Okay. Thank you :) (7:07 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Date you tomorrow then? (7:07 P.M.)

Y/N purses her lips and shrugs.

Y/N : Sure. Date you tomorrow (7:07 P.M.)

Mean Yoongi >:( : Sweet. Goodnight, sweetheart 😉 (7:07 P.M.)

A small smile traces its way on Y/N’s face.

Y/N: Goodnight, too, Yoongi (7:07 P.M.)

However, Y/N shouldn’t have thought about finally having a good night too early. Because the cherry on top of her day is yet to happen.

Y/N heads to Rockfort to retrieve her keys and finally end the day. It’s already nine in the evening and she just wants to go home, plop down on her bed, and maybe cry. Out of shame or anger or both, she isn’t sure. Probably anger to Mr. Choi and a bit to Nancy because they didn’t have to belittle her in front of her face the way they did. And most probably anger to herself because she wouldn’t receive such backlash from her superiors if she didn’t fuck up. The rational part of her believes Mr. Choi and Nancy didn’t have time to consider her feelings because they were doing damage control. But still, Y/N can’t help but feel she’s been ruthlessly disregarded. She tried her best but she knows she can’t force anyone to notice it. No one really cares much about the progress. Outcomes are what only matter. It is always the end that determines whether something is worth all the effort or it was all just for naught.

When Y/N starts on the steps on the complex, her phone rings.

It’s Nancy. Y/N takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. “He-hello?”

“Y/N, what’s the progress of the Creatives for this week?”

“O-oh, um—”

“You forgot to send it to me earlier this day when I clearly told you before I went overseas to make sure you keep me up-to-date by the evening. Does it look like it’s still evening, now? It’s already midnight here.” Nancy sighs, “I’m the boss and yet I have to call my employee to ask her to simply do her job. Do you see how wrong that sounds?”

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Nancy—”

“Stop with the apologies. I’ve had enough of that this day. Just tell me what I’m asking from you.”

“O-okay,” Y/N rushes to the nearest bench. It’s the one sitting under the central mango tree and Y/N hopes if it could give her at least an ounce of luck just like it always does. With hands trembling, Y/N manages to get all the pages of her report from her bag in one piece. She flips through the papers, “U-um, well, Steven and Yoongi came up with a unique design for our feature articles. It’s inspired by the DRM’s goals and the Heart Holiday because Valentines’ week is just around the corner. A-and then the concept team is collaborating well with our artists in doing the overall theme of our issue. I could send you an email later of the samples they’ve given me—”

“Okay, but do you have any updates on our cover page?”

“The-the cover page?”

“Yes, the cover page. Did you not hear what I said?”

Y/N feels her throat dry up. The cover page. Kim Myungsoo. Y/N has reminded him of it yesterday and he said he’s going to see if he can email it by Friday. It’s already Friday and she still hasn’t received any email. She even texted Yoongi earlier while she’s at RTW’s meeting to personally check on Myungsoo and his team. What she only received is a dejected sigh from Yoongi as he told her the team leader has taken a leave and the team members are unable to give them the proposal she needs. Y/N remembers how flawed the bureaucratic system of Travel Loca is as Yoongi informs her company rules dictate access to the reports and documents are only granted by team leaders to ensure their legibility. And since Nancy didn’t give out a statement to override this rule today, Yoongi, himself, cannot do anything. Y/N now remembers why she actually dreaded this call to come.

“U-um, yes, Ma’am, I heard what you said. But, the thing is, uh,” Y/N taps her foot, “I wasn’t…able to make a report because Myungsoo has taken a leave and he wasn’t able to send their report of progress to me. I-I’m sorry.”

Silence greets her. For a second, Y/N thinks the line went dead. She realizes it was wrong to speak beforehand because, after a beat, she feels her heart drop into her stomach.

“You never run out of excuses, do you?”

“W-what?”

Nancy laughs. “Oh my god, I thought I wouldn’t be any more disappointed in you today. Guess I was wrong because you have a knack for breaking my expectations, Y/N. And right now, I’m not disappointed. I’m upset.”

“Nancy, I’m sorry—”

“All I’ve asked from you was to give me updates on the Creatives team. And yeah, you did but you left out the most important element we really need from them—the cover page. Give me a creatives team from a magazine company that doesn’t put the central focus on the fucking cover page? Of course, you’ll get none!”

Y/N bites her lip.

“What are you even doing this week in the office, then, Y/N?”

Silence.

“Answer me, Y/N.”

Y/N bites back a sniffle. “I-I check on each team a-and I also helped with choosing the layouts and templates they use and—”

“Why the hell are you helping them with that? You don’t know their work. What made you think you could actually help?” Nancy scoffs, “So instead of actually doing your job, you’ve been busying yourself with pointless things.”

Y/N could only look down on her feet.

“You know what, Y/N. When I hired you, I thought you were different. I thought you’re someone who could shine and finally get promoted to the team you wanted to be in. Because you know I’m picky with my P.A’s. Only those who I think have the potential to deserve a promotion into a nice position in my company, or at least deserve to get my recommendation that could get them access to many reputable magazines or news companies, get hired to be my P.A.’s. And when I met you, I thought you were like that. Strong, determined, intelligent, and hard-working. But now, you’re far from that, Y/N. You’ve become so far from what I’ve known you to be. You’ve become sloppy. You’ve become someone that makes excuses instead of really working. And you didn’t improve, Y/N. Not one bit. Because your work these days is far behind from what I expect from a well-educated person. And now, you’re making me think I made a mistake I even hired you.”

Y/N presses a hand over her mouth. It’s only then she realizes a tear has already slipped from her eyes.

Nancy sighs, “Thank you for…whatever you did today. I just hope you’ll make up for your mistakes when I come back. I don’t want to further regret I’ve taken you to my company. Goodbye.”

The line goes dead. The hand that holds up her phone limply falls by her side. Her legs are shaking and so are her fingers. It’s cold but it doesn’t compare to the block of frigidness that has dropped on her chest when Nancy…said those words to her. Sure, Nancy’s always been a bit harsh and strict. She’s scolded Y/N for all the times she’s failed in her job before but they were all necessary reminders that have molded her to become more professional at work. She even told her once how proud she was of how Y/N grew in her company. But tonight, her words are far from that. Nancy was brutal and Y/N could only blame herself.

Whenever Y/N makes a mistake, she always tries to look at them objectively and never let them get to her. She’s always been able to do this all throughout high school and until she’s started working. Until tonight, because Nancy’s words are vicious and they’re too heavy to shake off. People say wondering about the ‘what if’s’ is absurd as mulling over what may have happened won’t bring anything to anyone but torment. They are reminders of a now-unattainable future and dwelling on them won’t change anything. But right now, Y/N cannot help but wonder what if she’s sent the legal papers on time? What if she made a noteworthy presentation at the meeting? What if she didn’t spill coffee on the manager? What if she’s been more aggressive in convincing Myungsoo to give her the proposal? Would anything change then?

Y/N raises a hand to wipe off the wetness that has trailed on her cheek. It immediately turns futile because the moment she presses a hand over her eyes, she lets out a sob and tear after tear slips through her fingers. Her mother has told her she’s always had shallow tears. Y/N has worked so long to prove her wrong. That she’s not weak. That she’s not easy to fall over when someone comes too close to knock her down. That she’s strong, that she could get by on her own and she could be someone no one could even attempt to hurt. But now, she’s reduced to this: a crying mess of a girl sitting on some bench for everyone to see. She doesn’t know what to do anymore and—

“Hey, what are you still doing here?”

Y/N looks up. Tears only seem to accumulate more on her eyes when she sees it’s—

“Wait, why are you crying?”

“Yoongi.” Y/N breaks into a sob and before another second passes, Yoongi’s already by her side, looping his arms around her shaking frame, her face pressed close to his chest. He cards his fingers through her hair as he coos at her, but that only seems to spur more sobs to fall from her lips.

“I’m so-sorry I’m crying like this—”

“Let it out.” Yoongi hugs her closer to him, “Just let it out. It’s okay.”

That’s all it took for Y/N to let everything out. She cries against Yoongi’s chest, hands clutching tightly on his coat. Sobs rock upon her frame but Yoongi only holds her tight, swaying a bit as if to lull her from the suffocating toll of her cries. He doesn’t ask anything. He just stays by her side, whispering by her ear, “it’s alright,” “I’m here,” and “You’re not alone.” For the first time that day, all thoughts of ‘what ifs’ halt in her head.

The night outside is getting colder by each second. Y/N could make out fogged up spots on the car window. When her finger meets the glass, she doesn’t jolt from the cold. The heater of the car is on. She draws a star. She thinks she’s lucky. She remembers she is when her eyes glance at the back, upon the paper bag containing empty, reusable take-out containers.

“So…what happened today?”

Y/N turns back to the front. Yoongi’s arms are firm on the wheel. He spares her a glance before focusing his eyes back on the road, “Of course, if you feel…more okay now to answer it.”

Y/N bites her lip. It’s been an hour ago since they silently sat on the bench. And a half-hour after that, she and Yoongi shared dinner over something as trivial as listing the most annoying movies they’ve ever watched. And now, a couple of minutes have already passed in the car with them back in complete silence. Yoongi hasn’t said anything about what happened by the mango tree until now and so did Y/N. But she knows it’s an elephant weighing too big in the car not to address it.

Y/N sighs. “W-well, Nancy has given me a lot of errands to do. And…everything just didn’t go according to plan and I guess, it was just…the last straw for me.”

“I see,” Yoongi hums, glancing at her before directing his eyes back on the road.

Y/N wrings her hands together. She closes her eyes. “Okay, I got…scolded today by Nancy because I messed up with the things she asked me to do. Of course, she has every right to—”

“What did she say to you?”

Y/N looks up at him then she quickly returns her gaze on her hands. “N-nothing. She just…expressed her disappointment about me especially when she learned I cannot give her any updates about the cover page.”

“So you got lashed out on for Myungsoo’s uncooperating ass?”

Y/N whips her head to him, “No, I-I didn’t get lashed out—”

“Y/N, stop lying to me.” Yoongi looks at her. “I know Nancy. I’ve been her P.A., too. And when she’s upset, she lashes out. And when she does, she goes way all over the line.” He looks back onto the street. “Why are you even trying to defend her when she obviously stepped over the line again? This is what I don’t like about—” Yoongi stops and sighs, “What are you going to do about Myungsoo?”

“I’ll…e-mail him tomorrow and convince him to send the proposal to me.”

“So you’re not even going to reprimand him for letting you unjustly receive backlash because of him?

“N-no,” Y/N looks at him, brows scrunched. “I don’t want to make unnecessary enemies here and let my temper get the better of me—”

“So you just don’t stand up against them? What does that make me, then? I’m your free estate for that pent-up anger?”

Silence.

Yoongi sighs, “Fuck, I’m sorry. That’s out of the line.”

“It’s okay…I’m sorry, too. I’ve also been unfair to you.”

“I’m just—I’m so frustrated why you can’t stand up for yourself around these people just like you do to me. You can’t always let them have their way, Y/N. Superior or not.”

Y/N remains unmoving in her seat. Yoongi looks at her slumped figure in the seat and he decides to drop the subject. Silence takes hold of their car again. Yoongi tries to elevate the mood by talking about how he’s already on the 30th episode of Naruto. He said he didn’t expect he’ll find it to be that great “since the popular animes are usually overrated.” He even chipped in how he can’t find Sakura annoying even if a lot of fans hated her. Y/N didn’t say anything but a small smile starts to form on her lips. It’s more than enough for Yoongi to thank the heavens he didn’t totally ruin the night.

When they round the 20th street, Y/N finally decides to speak.

“S-sorry I wasn’t able to say thank you for earlier so—thank you, Yoongi. For the dinner and for the…thing you did on the bench.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi pulls a small smile. “It’s what friends do.”

Y/N’s eyes shoot up to him and Yoongi only lets his smile grow. It’s that smile. That same smile he gave her when he’s offering to watch Naruto for her to watch Slam Dunk. That same smile he flashed her when he told her to put her arms around his neck as he let her experience her first dance she never had. That same smile that sent warmth spreading all over her chest and tingles running down to her toes. Just like right now. Y/N swallows the nervousness building in her throat.

She turns around in her seat and takes it everything in herself to make her voice sound as beaming as it can be. “Hey, how about we go to that fast food and get one date document before the night ends? It looks so nice and I-I feel bad we didn’t do anything today and—”

“No. I’m driving you to your home.”

Y/N gapes at the man. “B-but you said we’ll date later—”

“We could always get a date document any other time. You’re tired. You need to rest.”

“But—”

“Y/N, you should stop turning your back to things you should actually be facing,” Yoongi looks at her. “Right now, you should let yourself rest.”

The rest of the ride was silent. As Y/N fiddles with the cuffs of her button-down, she cannot help but mull over what Nancy has said earlier. Should she give up her plan for the Heart Holiday to make up for her mistakes today? Of course, when Nancy hears about her absence at work when she goes back to the office, she’ll definitely be disappointed. She could even fire her. Y/N cannot bear to have that. She’s invested two years of her life in Travel Loca. She knows she’s having a hard time living in her current place—doing something she doesn’t love in the field she’s desired for how many years. But she will rather have it than start all over again, most likely work somewhere more comfortable but far from the thing she loves—writing. It’s already hard to start on your desired field. Of course, it would be more heart-wrenching if you had to start from scratch again.

Y/N knows it’s sensible and rational to drop her plan now. She knows she’s leaning to this answer by the time Yoongi pulls in front of her apartment. But when she looks at him and bids him goodbye, his eyes crinkling as he tells her to “drink something warm” and “sleep well, sweetheart,” Y/N cannot figure out why the thought of giving up their ruse felt so…wrong.

DAY 7 – February 1; Saturday

Y/N is awakened by the eye-burning late morning light streaming through her curtains. Her sleep never exceeds the eight-hour mark. It’s a wonder that for the first time, today she did. Y/N thinks it’s probably because Mina spoiled her with homemade post-dinner yesterday after flopping next to her on the couch and telling her everything that happened that day. Her bestfriend has lined up all her favorite comfort foods and even stayed up late watching movies with her, successfully distracting her from replaying whatever Nancy has said.

However, it could also be probably because she slept with her coat draped over her shoulders. Y/N doesn’t know why but her coat smelled so good last night and she just has to keep it beside her for the whole night. She only learns the answer to this when she wakes up to Yoongi’s scent filling her senses first thing in the morning. But even with this knowledge, Y/N can’t find it in herself to regret she ever did that. She hates to admit there’s something about that man that makes her feel safe even if he also makes her run constantly on her toes.

Mina’s out to visit her parents and said she will be back for dinner. Y/N’s seated cross-legged on the couch, chomping on the brunch her bestfriend prepared while she watches Slam Dunk. It’s been two hours since she clicked on her USB containing the downloaded episodes of the anime and yet it feels only fifteen minutes have passed. She doesn’t want to say it aloud, but clearly, Yoongi has some good taste. She wouldn’t mind getting more recommendations from him.

Just right then, her phone rings. Without tearing her eyes from the TV, she wipes on the screen and holds the phone next to her ear. Whoever decided it was a good time to interrupt her just when Sakuragi gets a moment with Haruko is as good as dead meat. She grits over the phone, “What do you want?”

“What the—So early in the morning and you’re already so grumpy.”

Y/N stops. She pulls her phone away from her face.

Mean Yoongi >:(

Y/N sighs and rolls her eyes. However, she cannot resist the smile that immediately grows on her face. “It’s not ‘early in the morning’ anymore, mister. It’s already eleven. Now, what do you want?”

“‘What do I want?’ Do I seriously type the opportunistic guy who only calls just because he wants something?” Yoongi scoffs but the sound of it tells Y/N the man was doing his weird laughing face again.

Y/N chuckles. Yoongi immediately follows suit. “But seriously,” Y/N manages in between giggles, “Why did you call?”

“Just checkin’ up on you. How are you? Do you feel…better, now?”

Y/N hums. She purses her lips, “A bit better now. So far, this day has been good to me. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m good,” Yoongi quips, “Better actually. I cooked my family some breakfast and now I’m just chillin’ in my room. What are you doing?”

“…watching Slam Dunk.”

“No way!”

Y/N could hear the clatter of things in the speaker. Yoongi must have sat up and knocked things over. What a clumsy idiot. She chuckles, “Oh yes way, Min. Now, you won’t be able to fight me on this because I’m in the 10th episode now. How about you? How’s the other end of the deal doing over there?”

“Just you wait, woman, I’m gonna watch Naruto now.” There’s a faint click in the speaker and then—

“Please enter your disk.”

“Oh my god, Yoongi, you bought a fucking CD of Naruto?!”

“Why? This is me showing my respect for art by not ripping it off—wait, do you not buy CDs?”

“…No.”

“Do you not have Netflix?”

“Do you have Netflix?” Y/N counters, “That’s rich coming from you considering you still buy Blu-ray Discs. We’re just both broke, struggling adults here who can’t afford additional bills to pay. No need to pull up your chair so high, mister.”

“Answer my question, Y/N. Do you not have Netflix?”

Y/N sighs, “No.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m dating a pirate!”

Y/N could feel her cheeks start to burn, “What the—! I’m not a pirate! I’m just—being practical, yeah! In case you don’t know, things stay free on the Internet for a reason and that is to accommodate broke people like me.”

“Still doesn’t negate that you, mate, are in fact committing piracy.”

“Hey, I’m not the one who created the pirated versions of Slam Dunk! I’m just downloading torrents. I’m just utilizing available means practically laid in front of me!”

Laughter resounds on the other end of the line. It sounds weird—like a grandpa wheezing in front of an electric fan. But it also sounds endearingly cute. It doesn’t make sense why it even sounds cute. It’s not even cute! Y/N unknowingly smiles. One thing’s for sure. She wants to hear more of Yoongi’s laugh.

“Jesus Christ, woman, I’m just messing with you!” Yoongi cackles. “You think I don’t watch pirated things, too? Most of the movies I claimed I’ve already watched are all thanks to torrent. I’m too broke to go to cinemas!”

“But if you entertain pirated stuff,” Y/N shifts in her seat, “why did you even buy a CD of Naruto?”

“I buy CDs only when I think they are worth it.”

“You…already think Naruto is worth it?”

“Yeah. You like it. So, it’s worth it. You said it’s great, so I trust you.”

Y/N gulps. It’s weird. Her chest feels so warm and so do her cheeks. She’s just talking with someone over the phone.

“You still there?”

“Y-yeah,” Y/N fixes her clothes. Why the hell is she even fixing herself? It’s not as if Yoongi can see her.

“Okay. I thought of something.”

“Yeah?”

“How ‘bout we watch our respective animes together through Discord Music Party so we can hear each other’s reactions live?”

Y/N tilts her head, “How will I be able to watch properly then if I’m calling you at the same time?”

“You can turn down my volume from time to time there, duh. It’s 2020 now, sweetheart.”

Y/N flushes. “O-okay, we can do that. But I still don’t get why we have to check our reactions live.”

“Did you ever feel you want so badly to gush out your annoyance or excitement about something you’re watching to someone? Because I do. And I want you to be on the other line to hear me lash and gush on something because you made me enter this battlefield. This is 500+ episodes, woman.”

“Well, that’s not my fault. Who in the first place proposed this anime-watching exchange? You.”

“Touche,” Yoongi chuckles. “Yeah, it’s me. I told you I’d watch Naruto just to get you to watch Slam Dunk for my sake. But actually, I’m just curious why you love that anime so much. So here’s me learning the heck out of it.”

Naruto’s Season 1 opening OST starts to play in the background.

Y/N clucks her tongue, “I thought we’d go to Discord first before we do our live reactions?”

“Just give me five more minutes. I don’t want to end our call yet.”

Five minutes easily turn into twenty and it takes one more of Yoongi’s ‘Just five more minutes’ to annoy Y/N and yell at him he’s wasting his mobile load. It takes Y/N three minutes to download the app, and after ten minutes of fumbling around it, they hear each other’s voices again and continue where they left off.

“Oh, you’re here again, captain!”

“Shut up, Yoongi.”

“How’s the loot?”

Y/N sends an angry emoji in the chat. Yoongi’s laughter immediately booms through the speakers.

The rest of the day just goes like this. Episode upon episode pass. There are occasional quick calls for a bathroom break. Of course, another argument happens, especially when Yoongi suddenly declared at episode 77 he ships Sakura with Naruto which Y/N cannot accept because “canon is canon for a reason.” Meanwhile, Yoongi was initially pleased to learn Y/N ships Haruko with Sakuragi and not with “Awful Kaede.” But that immediately changes when he learns Y/N only ships the two because she ships Kaede with herself.

“I love me an ambitious, dream-driven man.”

“You’re the one who’s getting too ambitious, missy.”

Sometimes, inquiries of “You wanna pause and rant about Kaede?” or “What are you eating?” come across. But most of the time, what transpires in between are laughs, expressions like “that’s so cool,” and “whoa, I didn’t expect that,” and promises to keep watching together whenever they’re free. Y/N never knew watching a show could be this fun. Of course, it’s already fun watching an amazing show with great characters and conflicts. But watching together with another person, even if they’re not necessarily the same show, definitely amps up the experience. Y/N doesn’t want to admit it but Yoongi’s right. Having someone by your side, even virtually, to gush or lash out with on something definitely feels good.

Everything just felt so right and enjoyable that Y/N didn’t even notice the whole day passed with just her and Yoongi accompanying each other watching shows. Time has passed too quickly and now it’s five forty-five. Mina has already come home and she definitely sends Y/N a questioning look when she sees her chuckling on her phone. Y/N only flashes her a grin and mouths ‘just a bit more.’ Meanwhile, Yoongi has yet again started his “just five more minutes” hoax. Though that unexpectedly gets ended soon when Y/N hears Jeongguk’s voice pops up and asks Yoongi to come out and start preparing dinner. But just before Y/N could say goodbye and tell him one last time to “go hurry up and cook,” Yoongi interrupts her.

“You know, this is my kinda type of a date.”

“Thi-this is a date?”

“Yeah. You’re spending time with me. I’m spending time with you. And we’re having a good time. So yeah, this is a date.”

Y/N tries not to focus too much on what he said. “But how is this your type of a date? I thought you like bar dates?”

Yoongi guffaws. “Where the hell did you get that?”

“Jeff. He said you’re a bar-type guy.”

“Oooohhhh. So that’s why you suddenly wanted to have a date at Neo-Cloud 9 that day.”

Y/N shyly looks down at her hands.

“As much as I love alcohol, I don’t actually prefer drinking them in bars. They’re too noisy. Messy. And there’s a lot of people bumping into you.”

“Then why did you agree to go to Neo-Cloud 9 when you also don’t like bars?”

“Because you’re with me. You said it was your first time going in one, too, and I figured why not help you enjoy the experience.” Yoongi chuckles, “It’s not like I didn’t have fun with you anyway. In fact, I had so much fun. Especially at the part where you said you wanted to kiss me.”

“Oh my god, Min.”

“Don’t deny it anymore, sweetheart, I’ll—”

Y/N ends the call though. But that seems pointless when her chat pops up with another message from the man.

Min Yoongi >;) (5:50 P.M.)

“—make sure you’d remember it ‘til the die you die. I’ll live for as long as I can just to remind you of that.”

Y/N (5:51 P.M.)

“Sure. Whatever, Min.”

Y/N closes her phone with a chuckle. When she turns around to finally gather her used utensils, she’s greeted by Mina’s curious stare.

“You seem to be having fun with Yoongi these days.”

Y/N opens her mouth but Mina immediately interrupts her, “Oh don’t you deny it. I’ve seen you smiling a lot these days. Even when you still rant about him, I could see you’re actually having fun.”

Y/N raises her hands, “Okay, I admit, I’m actually having fun. But I think it has to do with us agreeing to compromise for this 14-day deal. Not because of…him.”

“But isn’t that good, though?” Mina asks, “This deal didn’t turn out as disastrous as I expected it to be. At least you’re trying to make the best out of it instead of busting each other’s heads off. Plus, a week has already passed. You only have seven days more. Everything will soon go back to normal.” Mina smiles, “Just a little more and you’ll soon get that benefit, Y/N.”

Mina excuses herself and heads to the kitchen to start dinner. As Y/N plops back down on the sofa, she realizes she’s got her answer. It’s just seven more days. Just seven more days to fully enjoy this deal. After that, it will all go back to the way it used to and she’ll have her work all to herself again. It wouldn’t hurt much if she chooses to turn down work for the first time and indulge in the last days of this ruse, right? The deal is bound to end soon anyway. It’s useless backing out now. She just has to make the best out of it.

But why can’t Y/N find it in herself to be fully happy about this?

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A/N| Hi hons! First of all, happy birthday to @wii-wii! I hope this post is not too late.I hope you had a wonderful day/night and may you always stay well and safe 💕

Thank you, hons, for waiting for the 2nd part of Act 2! Unfortunately, I don’t know when I’ll upload Act 3 as I’ll be prioritizing my fic first for @btswritingcafe​’s Map of The Soul Workshop. And after that, I’m going to write a short story I’ll have to submit for my university’s journal. After then will I be able to go back to my schedule for THH. Don’t worry though, I already prepared a detailed outline for the rest of the Acts of THH so I think I wouldn’t take too long fumbling what scenes to write. Anyway, if you wish to get updated when Act 3 finally drops, just PM me or send me an ask and I’ll add you to the taglist!

Update: Comment down below instead if you want to get added to the taglist! I think it will help me to track all of you hons once I post the update!

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