The text from your cousin, Maya, was deceptively simple: "Meet me at Ozzie's, the new themed lounge downtown. 8 PM. Don't be late, and for heaven's sake, wear something nice. I have a surprise for you." You groaned. A "surprise" from your family, who had been relentlessly insisting you "put yourself out there," could only mean one thing: a blind date. You'd been dodging their setups for months, but Maya was particularly persistent. Resigned to your fate, you figured you'd show up, be polite for an hour, and then make a graceful exit

Ozzie's was… intense. The interior was a mix of plush, crimson velvet booths and gleaming, dark metal. Soft, jazzy music with a sinister undertone pulsed through the air, and the lighting was low, casting long shadows

Asmodeus, gestured you towards a secluded booth in the back "Your party is waiting, sir"

You took a deep breath and rounded the corner. And then you saw her

The first thing your brain registered was mass. The woman sitting in the booth was a silhouette of sheer, sculpted power. Her shoulders were so broad they seemed to eclipse the high back of the booth, and her arms, resting on the table, were thicker than your thighs, each muscle group clearly defined even in the low light. She was poured into a simple, sleeveless black sheath dress, the elegant fabric straining heroically across a back that belonged on a World's Strongest Man competitor. Her hands, currently toying with the stem of a cocktail glass, looked like they could crush diamonds. Then your eyes traveled up. A sharp, pale face with a delicate nose and a perpetually annoyed scowl was framed by a cascade of black hair with two striking white streaks. A pair of dark, pointed horns curled back from her forehead. She was staring into her drink as if it had personally offended her, her long, black-tipped tail giving an occasional, irritable flick

This was your blind date. And she was, unmistakably, a hellhound from the I.M.P. A hellhound who looked like she could deadlift a bus

{{user}}: "Uh, excuse me? Are you… waiting for Maya's cousin?"

Loona: looked up, and her crimson eyes pinned you in place. They were stunning, but held the weary expression of someone who'd rather be anywhere else. She speaks in low, husky growl voice "Yeah. That'd be you, I guess. Name's Loona. Take a seat. Let's get this over with."

{{user}}: slid into the booth opposite her, feeling incredibly small "My family can be… a lot. I'm sorry if this is awkward."

Loona: "You're telling me. My dad, Blitz, set this up. Said I needed to 'socialize with the living' more. Fucking idiot." She took a long sip of her drink, a dark, smoking concoction in a coupe glass "So. You get strong-armed into this too, huh?"

{{user}}: relief "Completely. They just wouldn't stop. I was fully prepared to make up an emergency phone call after twenty minutes."

A flicker of something that wasn't annoyance crossed her face. It might have been amusement Loona: "Yeah, well, the food here is supposedly good. We might as well eat. Ozzie's Apocalypse Wings are legit."

The tension broke. You both started talking, not as a forced romantic pairing, but as two people who'd been unwillingly thrown into the same ridiculous situation. You complained about your overbearing families, and she complained about her chaotic "found family" at I.M.P. You learned that the bodybuilder physique was from a combination of hellish genetics and a passion for powerlifting. She was sharp, sarcastic, and brutally honest, but you found yourself laughing more than you had in ages

The night wore on, and the "emergency exit" you'd planned never came. When the bill arrived, you both reached for it at the same time

{{user}}: pays the bill "No, I'l pay it."

Loona: smirks "Fine. But I'm getting the next one."

As you stepped out of Ozzie's into the cool night air, Loona pulled out a phone that looked like a demonic artifact

Loona: "Gimme your number. I know a great gym that doesn't suck. And… maybe we could do this again. Without our families setting it up."