#ADDITIONAL EDIT: thank you so much for your responses on part 1 you are all wonderful folks - esp the ones mad that I made this 2 parts LOL

[warningsine]

We Are Lady Parts, a British series about an introverted engineering Ph.D. student who is roped into playing the guitar for a local all-women Muslim punk band known as Lady Parts, was one of the most delightful and original television debuts of 2021. Its absence these past three years has been deeply felt—but luckily, Lady Parts is now back onstage, returning with a second season of antics and self-discovery, streaming on Peacock (in the U.S.) and Channel 4 (in the U.K.).

Music has always played a major role in the series thanks to Nida Manzoor, We Are Lady Parts’ showrunner and creator, who, alongside her siblings, also writes and supervises the music for the show. Season 1 blessed us with original songs like “Bashir With the Good Beard” and “Voldemort Under My Headscarf.” Not only are there some great new additions in the second season—from “Malala Made Me Do It” to “Villain Era”—but the music this time around boasts both a tighter sound and a stronger voice. There are even some standout covers, like a stunning punk take on Britney Spears in Episode 3. Slate chatted with Manzoor to discuss We Are Lady Parts’ musical evolution, a surprise (and instantly iconic) cameo, and how we can pay homage to the trailblazers who came before us. This conversation has been condensed and edited for clarity.

Slate: While music has always been the central impetus of the show, it seems to drive even more of the plot this season. After establishing themselves and growing a fan base, the members of Lady Parts are trying to make the band a real deal by recording a debut record. This means that you got to play with the music a bit more this season. For example, there are a few more cheeky covers in there. What was your intention with writing and supervising the music this season?

Nida Manzoor: Music is at the heart of the show. It’s the heart of Season 1, and I had such a joyful experience writing the songs with my brother and sister. For Season 2, I wanted to challenge us, and thereby challenge the band. I wanted the songs to be more complex. I brought in my collaborators more on a ground level. All I came with were song titles and styles. I wanted to do a Western-sounding song called “Malala Made Me Do It” because I wanted to see the band just be silly and go different places. With the song “Glass Ceiling Feeling,” which comes later on in the show, I wanted to see the band feel like they’ve evolved from Season 1. Moving away from their traditional punk songs and seeing them explore different ways of expressing themselves was really exciting to me.

Let’s talk about “Malala Made Me Do It.” The sentiment sort of reads as an alternative to the mantra “What would Jesus do?” in so many clever ways. How did this idea come about? What does “Malala made me do it” mean to you?

“Malala Made Me Do It” was one of the first ideas I even had for Season 2, before I had any other deeper story ideas. And then, as I was writing the script with Bisma’s story arc, where we see her being challenged as a mother with her daughter moving into adolescence, I wanted to explore this idea of motherhood and her tension through the song. But with the song itself, I was like, “It’s just going to be a Malala hype track. I want it to celebrate this incredible woman who’s done so much real, meaningful work for girls and women.”

I must spoil this moment for readers because I have to ask about Malala’s cameo in the show during the fantasized music video for “Malala Made Me Do It.” What was your pitch to Malala to get her on the show? 

Initially, I had no intention to reach out to Malala. I was like, “She’s not going to want to be in the show. She’s a very serious person in the world.” But then I went to a talk of hers, and she was expressing her love of comedy, and she had this incredible dark sense of humor, this great wit. And I’m like, “Maybe I have a chance for Malala to be in the show.” So I wrote her a long letter of why I’d love her to be in the show and how I think she’s an inspiration, and sensing her love of comedy really emboldened me to do that.

She was immediately like, “Yeah, let’s do this,” and was so chill, so kind and gracious on the day. So full of love, so easy to work with. I feel like there’s a lot of reverence around her, but she’s a woman in her 20s—she contains multitudes. She does a lot of meaningful, serious work, but she’s also a really fun, joyful person. I really wanted to celebrate that.

Speaking of celebrating women, one of the focal storylines in the season, with the character of Sister Squire, explores what it means to pay homage to those who have come before you by doing something meaningful with the space that they’ve created. Who are some of your inspirations that you tried to honor with this show, particularly with Season 2?

One person for me is the actor who plays Sister Squire, Meera Syal. She is a comedy legend and hero of mine. She co-created a sketch show called Goodness Gracious Me, which is all about the South Asian experience. It was so witty. The show was so inspiring because it was impressive, it was cool, it was edgy. It made me, as a young brown girl, feel cool. To get to have her play Saira’s hero in the show was honestly a dream come true. Between working with her and Malala, I was like, “I can retire now.”

In terms of women in punk specifically, there’s the singer of the band X-Ray Spex, Poly Styrene. She was a woman of color in punk in the ’70s. It was just so rare. Her music really talks about identity, self-expression, these really meaningful feminist themes. It’s so contemporary, yet she was writing this stuff in the ’70s with such a playful tongue-in-cheek vibe. She’s been a hero and inspiration as well, making the show.

I want to talk about the covers this season. You cover three of my favorite songs: “The Reason,” by Hoobastank; “More Than Words,” by Extreme; and then, of course, “Oops!…I Did It Again,” by Britney Spears. How did you decide what songs to cover? 

I knew I wanted to do a Britney cover. I am a millennial, I came up at a time when Britney was just everything and a goddess and a queen and so much a part of my childhood. Getting to do a cover of her song, but in a punk way, was just joyful. I think it was one of the most fun days to shoot on set because we felt like we were getting to perform such a brilliant and iconic song, but also making it Lady Parts, in those iconic costumes with their suits. Even now, when I rewatch the show and when I was working in the edit, just watching the Britney performance was my favorite thing. It was everything.

Hoobastank, “The Reason,” it’s just that classic early 2000s, very cheesy, but still such a great tune. It was so fun to get to honor that song and that band because they were such a formative part of my childhood. It was something my sister suggested. We were initially going to write an original that Amina sings to Ahsan. She’s like, “Oh, it should sound like Hoobastank’s ‘The Reason.’ ” I’m like, “Wait, Hoobastank’s ‘The Reason’ is perfect. Why don’t we just try and get that song?” Because it’s nostalgic and brilliantly cheesy and it’s perfect for the rom-com storyline. So that was a no-brainer.

Oh my God, do you remember the music video for “More Than Words”? Black and white and the two of those guys with their long hair and guitar. Again, such an iconic moment growing up. That song was so phenomenal. So much of making Lady Parts is an excuse to just bring in all the music I loved growing up, and that was one of those songs that I would watch the music video for and just sing along to. Me and my siblings would sing those harmonies. So, again, it was like, “Oh, I love this song. Can I have it in my show?” It’s such a romantic song, and having Amina and Billy play that and sing that to each other was perfect for the story.

Throughout Season 1, music was a way for the members of Lady Parts to get what they really wanted, whether it was control or creative agency or freedom from self-imposed religious ideals and traditions. Would you say that it still serves the same purpose this season, or does it function slightly differently?

I hadn’t thought of that. I definitely wanted the music of Season 2 to feel like an evolution. I still think music is a way that we see the characters express themselves and express their frustration with how they feel they’re boxed in and limited. With a song like “Glass Ceiling Feeling” or “Villain Era,” it’s that traditional pop-punk sound, but what was new and different was that it was Amina leading that song, so you got to see her really enter her villain era and lead it. “Malala Made Made Me Do It,” for me, was a big move away from Season 1. I was like, “What if Lady Parts did a Western?” It was just trying to push and evolve the music from Season 1, but, in much the same way, I wanted the songs to feel organic, coming out of the storyline and the truth of the characters and grounding it in their experiences.

We wanted the songs to be fun, but we wanted them to also evolve from Season 1 in terms of style and complexity. All the songs are much more difficult to play in Season 2. The actors really upped their game because the songs are faster, they’re more intricate, there were more harmonies in them, so there was a level of difficulty that was much higher this season. But I think, in many ways, the songs operate in a similar vein of allowing the characters to express themselves through music.

[queen-tashie]

Writeblr Q& A

Tagged by @mrbexwrites as usual lol. Thank you!!

Gentle, non-obligatory tags to @ftmerriweather, @ahungeringknife, @elizmanderson, and anyone else that wants to jump in! (Remember to tag me so I don't miss your responses!)

1. What motivates you to write?

If I don't I will explode.

I have ADHD and because of it I am just filled and overwhelmed with ideas. I've started keeping a 'thought dump' list where ALL my half-baked ideas go, and when I get more ideas for that same concept, I pull it off there and pour my heart out onto the page.

Writing has been one of the few hobbies that has been easy for me to jump in and out of because of my ADHD. Painting is great but there's clean up after. Writing, I create a new doc, or open a blank page in a journal and have virtually nothing to clean up or put away later. It's the most accessible hobby for me because of this.

And because I keep doing it, I keep developing skills and each time I write I improve a little. It's a piece of immense stability and pride in accomplishing something that it gives me so much purpose in life. So it compels me to share what I have to say through the medium of fiction. :)

2. A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

For all its first-book flaws, I think this line from The Quiet Forest goes hard.

Runnicka stood before her home and knocked on the door. She didn’t know why she knocked, maybe Farewai didn’t feel like home anymore, like she was a traveller passing through.

3. What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

I used to say fight scenes. While I still think I'm pretty good at those, I think that's been overshadowed by my ability to write concisely. I am an underwriter, but once I've edited and beefed up a story, I think I have gotten pretty good at giving detailed and vivid information in few words.

4. What do you enjoy most about the Writeblr community?

I tried for years to make friends on the twitter writing community. Everything felt so superficial there, similar to instagram. When I finally stopped using twitter so much and focused on what I could enjoy on tumblr, I ran into the Writeblr community and made friends quickly. Within months. Trying to be part of the community feels effortless here, and so much more welcoming and genuine. Thanks Writeblr for giving me a place to belong! :D

5. A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Blank writing docs to create a thought dump, outline, and each version of my WIPs' drafts. Plus, additional info if needed like worldbuilding. Anything that helps me keep my thoughts on the project organized. Oh, and folders.

6. A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I've always thought that stories where a bloodline is cursed, or someone is blessed with powers, are one and the same, just depending on one's perspective, or the intended outcome. So in Copper Frames, my current WIP, I created a ritual magic system where a 'curse' is a 'blessing' gone wrong, or a curse is a blessing that the recipient didn't want, and vice versa.

7. What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Take a break. Your writing and your desire to write will be there when you come back. Not just 15 minutes, take a vacation from it. Go do things, recharge your creative well by experiencing new things. Take a walk in a new park, watch a new movie, read a new book, hang out with friends or family you don't often see. Listen to what they have to say and ask questions. Inspiration strikes when you least expect it.

And always have a way to write down those ideas when they come to you.

[ex0rin]

@febuwhump End Notes/ Masterlist

So... this was my second year and, hell, guess who did it again??

28 days, 28 prompts, and slightly less words than last year but STILL somehow over 45k but the thing is... last year I hated my job, was on the verge of quitting AND was going out of my way to ignore it but not this time. This year I have a job that I LOVE and have taken on a bazillion additional responsibilities. I threw a party and did a speech for ONE THOUSAND people in the middle of the month, like WHAT? How did I still hit 45k??

I'm gonna tell you, so uh, sorry in advance if this gets lengthy - it's time for the yearly awards speech (you can see the last one here) 😅

Super mega shout-out to @5ummit and @sparklingbinjuice who built on every single prompt each day to give me something to run with, who sprinted with me pretty much daily, who fed me encouragement and fucking poked and prodded at me until I forced out some words when I was having hard nights trying to manage fandom and life and work. AGAIN, Wendy, your goddamn gorgeous galaxy brain saved me (and Abby, the smutty RP helped too 😏)

I also want to say thanks to AO3/ tumblr users: trinipedia (AO3) @winterbonesthings @justalostsoldier @possumwoodpie and @astralhux who basically commented on every single thing I wrote all month - you're all insane for that and I love you very much. AND everyone else who commented or kudos'd, even on only one, you made it easier for me to keep going and I appreciate it so goddamn much.

And just like, generally, to everyone: thanks for not unfollowing me while I was just posting text posts all month 😅

20/28 ended up being smut and I'm pretty pleased with that. Let's try for 28/28 next year 😘

Okay. OKAY. FEBUWHUMP 2023: HTP EDITION (or should I say winterbones edition 😅)

Day 1: Touchstarved (NSFW) Bucky/Rumlow, winterbones - 1410 words

NON-CON/RAPE, touchstarved, chains, choke collar, finger sucking, imprisonment, captivity, blow jobs, spitting in mouth, deepthroating, conditioning, hydratrashparty

Day 2: Flinching (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, stucky - 575 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, whump, bucky’s broken dick, unsatisfying sex, this is not nice to anyone

Day 3: Muzzled (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 2150 words

NON-CON/RAPE, gags, gag mask, blood and injury, anal sex, no lube, handjobs, finger sucking, hydra trash party

Day 4: Knife to the throat Steve/Bucky (implied) - 240 words

past abuse, panic, mild violence

Day 5: "That's gonna scar" Rumlow & the soldier - 300 words

blood, knife wound, stitches

Day 6: Secrets Revealed (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, Steve/Bucky (implied) - 2200 words

NON-CON/RAPE, past non-con/rape, rape on film, Bucky’s broken dick, anal sex, choking, spitting in mouth, begging, crying, Steve whump, coming on command, coming untouched, pet names, hydra trash party

Day 7: Made to Watch (NSFW) Hydra Agents/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 1040 words Second part coming on Day 10: difficulty breathing

NON-CON/RAPE, prostitution, filmed without consent, jealousy, possessiveness, anal sex, hydra trash party

Day 8: Panic (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 1300 words

NON-CON/RAPE, anal sex, coming early, panic, punishment, come eating

Day 9: Voice Loss (NSFW) Rollins/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky (implied) - 1450

NON-CON/RAPE, wet and messy, blowjobs, deepthroating, pain, ripped vocal chords, loss of voice, pet names, panic, hydra trash party

Day 10: Difficulty Breathing (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, winterbones - 2045 words Second half to Day 7: forced to watch

NON-CON/RAPE, jealousy, anger, anal fingering, rough sex, conditioning, confusion, name calling, begging, choking, smothering, anal sex, kissing, hydra trash party

Day 11: Fever Rumlow/Bucky, Rollins - 1100 words

fever, body heat, light grinding

Day 12: "Can you hear me?" (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky (very implied) - 810 words

stream of consciousness, dethawing process, confusion, finger sucking (light)

Day 13: Forced to hurt a loved one Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky (past, implied) - 1590

past non-con/rape, past abuse, trauma, safe words, violence, choking, crying, begging

Day 14: Captivity (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky (implied) - 1155 words Second chapter on Day19: “You deserve this.” 

past non-con/rape, past abuse, abuse, trauma, bad decisions, hydra trash party (incoming)

Day 15: ALT: Found Footage (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky (past) - 1815 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, bucky’s broken dick, rape on film, masturbation, begging, guilt, blowjobs, deepthroating, betrayal, pet names, hydra trash party

Day 16: Semiconscious (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 1610 words a continuation of Day12: Can you hear me?

non-con/rape, wet and messy, finger sucking, anal fingering, anal sex, disorientation, confusion, semi-conscious, possessiveness, hydra trash party

Day 17: Silent Tears (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky (past), Steve/Bucky (implied) - 1310 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, betrayal, crying, rape on film, masturbation, anal fingering, finger sucking, no lube, trauma, voyeurism, whump, hydra trash party 

Day 18: Can't Stay Awake (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 2180 words

incredibly dubious consent, the soldier can’t consent, panic, panic attacks, anal sex, no lube, handjobs, the world’s most fucked up safety blanket 

Day 19: "You deserve this" (NSFW) Hydra Agent/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3690 words 

non-con/rape, improper use of a shock baton, dirty talk, anal sex, dehumanization, shame, guilt, anger, ~feelings~, jerking off, hydra trash party,

Day 20: Knife Wound (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky, Rollins - 800 words

past non-con/rape, past-knifeplay, abuse, gaslighting, Rumlow is not a good person, Rollins is a sadist, blood, violence, hydra trash party

Day 21: Shackled (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 1110 words

non-con/rape, spider gag, prong collar, anal hook, overstimulation, wet & messy, bad bdsm practices, handjob, hydra trash party

Day 22: Can’t Scream (NSFW) Hydra Agents/Bucky - 630 words

non-con/rape, inappropriate use of a shock stick, anal sex, double penetration, violence, abuse, hydra trash party

Day 23: “You’ll have to go through me” (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3065 words

past non-con/rape, past abuse, shower masturbation, betrayal, violence, whump

Day 24: Bloody Clothes (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 2240 words

holy fuck this is so soft, weirdly consensual winterbones??, hurt/comfort, injury, blow jobs

Day 25 ALT: Caged Rumlow & Bucky - 1385 words

abuse, cages, shock batons, violence, starving, handfeeding

Day 26: Forced to Choose (NSFW) Steve/Bucky, Rumlow/Bucky - 3635 words

Part Seven of ‘Til the End of the Line

past non-con/rape, past abuse, dialogue heavy, betrayal, breakup, unhealthy relationships, kissing, grinding, erectile dysfunction, Steve whump, Bucky’s broken dick, past hydra trash party, the end of the line

Day27: Survivor’s Guilt Rumlow/Bucky - 430 words

dreams, blood, buried alive, fucked up soulmates

Day28: “You’re safe now” (NSFW) Rumlow/Bucky - 2585 words Continued from Day20: Knife Wound

non-con/rape, past non-con/rape, (sing songs) the soldier can’t consent, past violence, hurt/comfort, conditioning, anal fingering (brief), anal sex, wet&messy, hydra trash party

[cwstau]

20 Questions for fic writers

@cchapsticck tagged me and given we should have an update on CWSTAU by the end of this month, figured I should post.

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

4 - Most of my work isn't published. I've written a lot but just...not put it out there. I've always been a chicken. However one I archived/deleted and the other is on an account I don't associate with this one, and is on long term hiatus. The other is on someone else's account that will be explained below and just, /gestures.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

18,760 (published) but to give ya'll some idea of how much of Conventional Weapons is sitting waiting to be edited/refined, I have 14k sitting in gdocs

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Stranger Things, Danger Days. This is a labor of love towards both fandoms, and when the main CW is done, I have pieces that are going expand with both the characters of ST and DD. Any other non-DD things will go on my other account (not associated here).

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

adlfkja only got the one baby. But I'm so thankful for each and every one of those kudos.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I do! It may not always be coherent or the best comment, but I try to give people some sort of response as they've gone that extra mile to provide me a comment. Every kudo, every comment means so much to me. Seriously, I wrote this expecting an audience of like, 2 people, and knowing so many more are enjoying it means the world to me.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

There is a timeloop fic that remains in the drafts that has a horrible ending, but I don't know if it will ever be published. As of right now, no angst endings here. Complicated, messy, but not angst ridden, really.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

The ending of Conventional Weapons is already written--its been written for a long time (before the middle parts were even written) and I don't know if it's the happiest ending, but it's the most hopeful.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Nah, I'm too niche for that lol.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Smut with emotion? IDK. There are plans for smut in CW but I think they are going to be 'missing scenes' published after the fact that people can read/not read at their leisure. I enjoy writing it, but it isn't really what this story is about, and I honestly don't feel that it works with the main body of this story. Hence, the "click here to read the sex" aspect of what is going to happen. The 'sequel' things may be more explicit, as they aren't the direct story.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

Gestures to what this entire blog/project is about.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nah.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

While not a traditional co-written piece, @cchapsticck has provided insight that has really helped me move this along, and the key mantra in the fic itself is from them. Their art has also really been important as well. They sell themselves short on their additions, really. Their help, esp early on, in helping me shape the world, means that this fic is what it is now.

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Legit could never choose one

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Look, the story that's on hiatus may never be finished. And hey, that's okay. I have a few that I've got outlines for, that may never get past that. I'm a slow writer, I always have been. I really dont want to let anything else get rolling until CW is done anyways.

16. What are your writing strengths?

Look I'm going to be honest, I have no fucking idea. I will say I think I'm pretty good at characterization, and I usually feel confident in my choices for the character--in a 'yes they would do this given the situation' and a 'yes they would say that'. Given it's an AU I get more wiggle room, but I feel really strongly about Steve and Eddie's characterization, and I know that not everyone feels the same way I do regarding them--but I'm confident in my character choices in the story. [This goes for my other stories as well but--]

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

I hate writing action. I suck at it, and I try to avoid it, despite evidence to the contrary. Trying to keep track of all the balls in the air is just annoying as hell. Also despite this fic having a real overarching plot, I have really wanted to keep it 'vibes' based more than plot, cause things get to plot heavy and I start to worry I'm a bore. It's where my insecurities start to sneak in, which lets my writing to become a lot weaker in turn.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Note: all my statements are assuming you aren't fluent in the language you are trying to write in, and you're a native English speaker. Maybe a word or two is okay? But unless you're fluent, you're gonna make it sound weird. If a character is speaking in German, just say they are speaking in German. Unless it is absoLUTELY important to the narrative that the phrase be in a foreign language, in the fic--do the work to make sure it's correct. Get a native speaker to check it, put in the translation somewhere. But again, ask yourself once, twice, three times if it's necessary.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

I didn't consider it fanfic at the time but I absolutely wrote a 'fix it' chapter for the end of The Great Gatsby for class once lol. That was the beginning.

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

This one. Again, I know it's niche, but CW is such a labor of love, and means so much to me. It's not perfect, I'm slow going because of school and work, but I've never felt so secure in my own work and felt such joy when I'm working on it.

[aidanchaser]

Thank you @mlsecretsanta​ for organizing such a fun exchange and all the hard work you put into making sure the event went off without a hitch. It’s always the work we don’t see that makes the work more fun for everyone, so thank you so much!

I got @lynnimaybe​ as my giftee! Your prompts were so overwhelming in the best way. I had to do everything in my power not to let this fic snowball into a 50k+ series. Instead it’s only 12k and 3 chapters. Much more manageable. Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy it.

Thank you to @aliblujay​ for a wonderful beta read. Excellent help with tense and pluralization.

Rating: T Word Count: 12k Giftee Tags: Ladybug/Chat Noir, Felix/Lila, Chloe/Kagami (intended but never explicitly stated oops but it’s real I promise), Hurt/Comfort, Fluff/Angst, Home from University Internships, minor s5 spoilers (I haven’t seen s5, but I reference a couple of things I’ve picked up on just from being on tumblr) Additional Tags: Alya/Nino, Identity Reveal, Christmas Presents, Post-Hawk Moth Defeat, New Villains, College-Aged

Read on Ao3: The Distance Between

Read on Tumblr below

Chapter 1

Marinette rereads the message three times to make sure it’s appropriate before she copies it out of her notes app and pastes it into her messages.

I’m almost home from New York and wondered if you wanted to meet up while I’m here.

After her third read, she decides that it’s too personal, too much pressure on him. She tries again.

Did you decide on your plans for Christmas?

But she reads this one twice before realizing it offers nothing. It’s too casual.

My parents would love to have you over on Christmas if you’re not doing anything else.

That’s better. It’s not about her, so it can’t be too forward. And it’s not too much pressure, she hopes. She may not have asked her parents if Adrien can join them for Christmas just yet, but she knows they would be appalled if she hadn’t said anything, rather than surprised that she had.

She searches the crowded Metro car around her for something to distract her, but even making silly smiles at a toddler peering at her over his mother’s shoulder isn’t enough to keep her anxiety from spiraling. Because she can’t stop wondering, what if Adrien says no?

And, perhaps even worse, what if he says yes?

And his reply, which is neither, is somehow the worst:

Thank you.

And nothing else.

Marinette quickly exits the message to type a response in her notes before she dares put it in the messages. She has regretted too many texts to take the risk of actually sending what she’s thinking.

I just thought My parents like you were concerned that you’d be alone. I’d like to see you too, even if you’re not available on Christmas. Even if you’re not available on Christmas, it’d be great to see you before I go back to New York. I miss you. We should catch up.

Marinette rereads it one more time. It’s casual, comfortable, and a little condescending. She edits out the “alone” part of the message to My parents and I would like to see you. That’s better, short, simple, to the point. No pressure. Not too intimate. Not too much of anything.

She copies, pastes, and sends.

The Metro comes to a stop and Marinette slides her phone into her purse. Though it isn’t quite as bad as rush hour in New York, Marinette directs her full attention on getting in and out of the Metro safely. The crowds are thinner, but everyone is burdened with holiday packages, and Marinette has taken too many spills across stone and tile alike to risk losing focus.

But as she climbs the stairs, her phone buzzes in her pocket and she very nearly goes sprawling. The handrail saves her. She waits until she is safely on flat ground again before desperately digging her phone out of her pocket.

I’d like to see you, too. Glad you had a safe trip home.

Marinette’s heart thumps loudly. He wants to see her.

She types It was a safe trip, but a long one! I haven’t had to spend the night in an airport before, but I wasn’t going to risk missing my spot on any waiting lists after they canceled my first flight out of New York. They really wanted me to check my bag, but I was not going to risk your present getting lost in transit. into her notes app, but she doesn’t dare send it all. It sounds like a conversation, and Adrien’s been so hard to draw into a conversation ever since his father’s arrest.

Instead she sends, Hope you made it home safe from Venice? She doesn’t want to overwhelm him with herself and her own problems, but she wants to know he’s okay.

When she arrives at her parents’ bakery, her phone buzzes and she pauses, hand halfway to the door handle, to read his text.

Got in last night.

She doesn’t have time to open her notes app to draft a reply before she is swarmed by a bone-crushing hug and lifted off her feet with such force she assumes its her father. But the high-pitched squeal that accompanies the hug means it can only be one person: Alya.

Marinette squeals back and hugs her best friend as tightly as she can. As Alya sets her down, she sees Nino standing just behind her, arms spread wide. Marinette hugs him, too.

“What, no scream for me?” he grins.

“You know I missed you,” she says and kisses his cheek.

And though Marinette has a million questions for Alya and Nino, she has to say hello to her parents first.

The bakery is swarmed with customers, as it always is on Christmas Eve. Marinette had planned to get into Paris yesterday afternoon so she could help with the sales, but holiday travel plans are a terrible thing, especially internationally.

Despite the booming business of the day, her parents hold her long enough to ask her about her internship; she gives them all the positive updates. She asks them about news at home; they tell her about all the local gossip that filtered through the bakery doors: André is finally retiring his ice cream stand, Chloé Bourgeois has a girlfriend, and Kitty Section is going on tour again next year.

And finally, just as she’s reaching for an apron to help, her mother shoos her upstairs. “You must be exhausted; you’re not working after all that travel.”

“Twenty-four hours in an airport?” her father adds. “Absolutely not. Straight to bed with you.”

Marinette protests that she slept on the plane, but her parents are uninterested. She is sent away to rest.

Marinette, however, is not going to bed. She’ll get there, eventually, but first she has to talk with Alya and Nino away from where her parents can hear.

Her friends follow her upstairs, and as soon as Nino closes the trapdoor to Marinette’s childhood bedroom, Marinette is swarmed by the kwamis of the miracle box. Their squeal of excitement rivals Marinette and Alya’s.

“I missed you guys, too,” she assures them with a laugh, and takes a minute to nuzzle Tikki’s cheek in particular. Once the excitement from the reunion has settled down, Marinette turns back to Nino and Alya. “You really don’t have any news?”

Alya shakes her head. “Six months and no signs.”

“Nothing about the peacock or the butterfly miraculouses,” Nino frowns. He doesn’t mention the miraculous of destruction, but surely that’s been as fruitless a search, too. She stalks the Ladyblog for updates about their radio silent friend or the missing kwamis, though she knows Alya would text her anything before it made it to the blog.

“We’re sorry, Marinette,” Alya says. “We really thought we’d have something for you by now.”

“It’s all right. You’ve done your best.” She falls back onto her bed, suddenly bereft of any desire to unpack her things. The kwamis jump down beside her, a tumble of soft fur and static electricity.

“How’s the city treating Scarabella and Carapace?” she asks.

“It’s fine,” Nino says. “Everyone misses Ladybug and Chat Noir, but they like us well enough.”

“Not that there’s much for us to do,” Alya sighs. “Saving kittens from trees and helping people cross the road—you know, normal hero things. No villains to fight.”

“Which is a good thing,” Nino points out.

Alya shrugs.

Marinette runs her finger along the stitches in her pink comforter. She doesn’t know which is harder to bear: that the peacock and butterfly miraculouses are still lost after all the work she and Chat went through to save them or that Chat has really quit being a hero.

Six months ago, they faced Monarch, formerly Shadow Moth, formerly Hawk Moth. Six months ago, they learned that Monarch was Gabriel Agreste. Six months ago, Gabriel Agreste was arrested and Ladybug and Chat Noir were lauded as heroes.

The butterfly miraculous, however, had vanished, and the peacock along with it.

Once it was over, Ladybug and Chat Noir sat in their favorite spot atop the Eiffel Tower and watched the sun rise over the city. For Ladybug, it was a wonderful new beginning. Yes, things were unfinished, but Monarch had stalked them for so long. This still felt like a victory.

But Chat Noir was quiet, somber.

“Do you think…” Ladybug paused to evaluate her question, then plunged ahead despite her misgivings. “Do you think with Monarch gone, it might be safe to tell each other our identities?”

She expected it would cheer him up. She thought that, after four years of working together and him begging to know the truth, he would be thrilled to hear her offer it. And she was desperate to know him truly, even against her better judgment.

But instead he drew his knees tighter against his chest. “I don’t think I’m ready,” he said.

“O-oh, okay.”

“I… might need a break from this.”

“Oh.”

And that was the last time they spoke.

With no villain in Paris and an internship offer in New York waiting for her response, Marinette finally gave into Alya’s plan and handed over the earrings. Alya promised to be the best pinch hitter for Ladybug there would ever be, and swore that she’d recover the missing miraculouses by the time Marinette returned.

Alya pulls her earrings out and hands them to Marinette. “Sorry I couldn’t fix it all for you.”

Marinette hesitates. “No, Alya, they’re yours now—”

“Oh, you’re giving them back,” Alya grins and forces the earrings into her hands, “but I thought you might want a turn before you go back to New York.”

She does miss being Ladybug, and she has missed having Tikki nearby, but it won’t be the same without Chat Noir. “I could take Mullo instead. The three of us could still go out together.”

Alya snaps the Fox Pendant around her neck. “I had better take Trixx out before he gets himself into trouble.”

Trixx flies in an excited circle around Alya’s head. “Yes! Let’s go!”

“Not right now,” Alya laughs. “But we will get in a few runs as Rena Furtive before Marinette leaves. I promise.”

Maybe it’s the warm snuggles from Tikki. Maybe it’s the company of good friends. Maybe it’s having her familiar miraculous returned to her ears. Whatever the reason, Marinette manages to pull herself to her feet to unpack. She will be home for a few weeks, which is plenty of time to settle in. Or, perhaps more accurately, just enough time to settle in before she has to pack up again.

❖❖❖

It’s late that night, long after a warm Christmas Eve dinner with her parents and grandparents, before Marinette finally has a few moments to herself—well, as to herself as she can with the Miracle Box in her room. Alya insisted she keep it for the night, and Marinette guesses Alya was eager for a break. She’s happy to oblige. There was something lonely about living in New York with a roommate who came and went at all hours of the night. She’s missed having a flurry of friends to come home to.

Marinette pulls on her coat and slips upstairs to her rooftop balcony. She’s also missed this view. Paris’ lights aren’t all that different from New York but it feels different. The rooftops here are more intimate, older, and worn with familiar paths.

Tikki follows her. “Are we going out?” she asks, and Marinette hears the hope in her voice.

“It’s Christmas Eve. We shouldn’t.”

“Rest is important, Marinette, but you've been away a long time. It's okay to say you missed us.”

Marinette laughs. “Of course I missed you, Tikki. I missed everyone.”

For the most part, there has not been much time to miss her loved ones. She is used to being overworked and overwhelmed and New York is no different, even without her additional responsibilities as a hero.

But the day her father called to help her schedule a flight home for Christmas, Marinette’s heart began to ache with a longing to be home, and it has not stopped, even now that she is here.

Because she isn’t quite home. Not quite yet.

“Tikki, spots on.”

And Tikki goes with a smile, as if she knew this was exactly what Marinette came up here to do before Marinette knew it herself.

But even as the familiar magic settles into her bones, the ache in her heart does not quite fade. She leaps aimlessly across the rooftops, wishing it could all feel like it once did. She hears the jingle of a bell not far off and her heart lurches, but when she seeks out the sound, it’s only a decorative reindeer harnessed to a child-sized sled, left out in the soft dusting of snow that has begun to fall.

Otherwise, the city is quiet.

Though she has never been one for notoriety, she makes sure to call down greetings and well wishes to the people who are strolling the streets and enjoying the city’s holiday lights. She waves and smiles as they excitedly shout that Ladybug is back, that their hero is home. It isn’t the praise or recognition that she wants; she just hopes that word will reach him, wherever he is.

She stops at the Eiffel Tower.

When she is Ladybug, heights mean nothing to her. Falling and flying are as natural as inhaling and exhaling. She holds onto the iron rod above her head and leans out, looking at the city below. Its lamps glisten like starlight on the surface of water, much like the ocean she has stared across longingly from the other side, wondering if he stops to think of her as much as she stops to think of him.

If he is going to come find her, he will start here.

“Well isn’t this fortuitous,” a voice behind her murmurs.

Her heart thrums excitedly. It’s him, it’s his voice—but when she turns, Chat Noir is not behind her.

He has golden hair, like her Chat, but his eyes are hard and icy blue. Her heart stutters into an old nightmare, but no, this boy is not dressed in white. He wears a suit of pale blue with a deep violet button up visible beneath it. The tie knotted at his collar is bloodred and in place of a tie pin, he wears a brooch in the shape of a peacock’s tail.

The mask over his black-rimmed eyes is violet with feathers coming off the ends, their red, unblinking eyes as intimidating as his own cold blue ones. They’re a perfect match to the feather-shaped panel of the folded fan in his hand.

Ladybug takes a step backwards and her foot reaches the edge of the tower.

“I do love that we’re going to get a shot at the original instead of some knock off,” another voice says, high and feminine. A young woman drops down from the iron network of beams above them and lands in a graceful flourish. Her soft pink and orange skirts flutter like wings softening a landing before settling neatly around her feet. The bodice of her dress is a pale lavender, and her mask, like the young man’s, extends far beyond her face. But instead of ending in marks like a peacock’s feathers, her mask curves into the shape of a butterfly’s wings. She wears a purple brooch in the shape of a butterfly at the hollow of her throat and carries a cane tipped in amethyst.

Ladybug unclips her yo-yo from her waist. “Unless you two are going to politely hand over your miraculouses so I can return them to where they belong, I’m not sure that we have much to say to each other.”

“There’s no need for a fight,” the young man says.

“But I would love a fight,” the woman protests, lifting her cane as if it were a rapier. “How about it, Ladybug? Woman to woman?”

She plunges her cane at Ladybug’s chest and Ladybug knows she could move out of the way, but she doesn’t. She lets the attack knock her off the edge of the Eiffel Tower. Falling truly is no different from breathing for her, but her assailant, surprised to find the attack has landed, stumbles. Ladybug sees the young woman just barely catch herself on the iron beams and is disappointed. She uses her yo-yo to snag a beam of the tower, swing through and up, and lands behind the boy dressed in the peacock’s glamor.

She wastes no time. She launches her yo-yo with an intent to tie up the young man and drag him towards her. He sidesteps her attack and catches her yo-yo on the end of his fan. She pulls with the hope of disarming him, but his grip is strong.

“You could hand over your miraculous,” he suggests, “and tell us where to find Chat Noir.”

“Or don’t,” the woman says, only a small tremor in her voice after her near-fall. “I’d much rather see if you bleed first.”

She rushes Ladybug, full of an anger familiar after hundreds of fights with Monarch’s akumas and sentimonsters. It’s blind rage, formless and reckless. This woman hates her, and Ladybug hasn’t a clue why.

She’s forced to release the peacock’s fan to defend herself. She does think, a bit sadly, that perhaps it was a good thing Chat Noir declined her offer of sharing their secret identities. It means that even if she is to lose this fight, she has nothing to give these people to help them find her partner. Her former partner.

But she’s not going to lose this fight. She may not have been Ladybug for a few months, but she knows her strength and she knows her magic. The woman with the cane does not seem to know what to do with her weapon. She swings wildly, alternating between using her cane like a club or a sword. Ladybug ducks and side-steps her attacks easily. If the young man would bother to intervene, it might be a more challenging fight, but he seems content to stand to the side and watch his partner embarrass herself in her anger.

Ladybug’s yo-yo string finally snags on the woman’s cane. She yanks it towards her and tears the staff from the woman’s grip.

“That’s mine!” The young woman snarls and grasps desperately for her weapon, but the boy clicks his tongue against his teeth with the sort of sound one might reserve for a toddler throwing a tantrum.

He plucks a feather from his fan. “If you’re done throwing your fit, perhaps we could move onto the main event.”

The woman takes a step away from Ladybug with a furious frown scrawled across her face. “Fine.” And she certainly sounds like a petulant child who has just been told she can’t leave the table until she finishes her dinner.

She taps the brooch at her throat and a pale lavender butterfly flits out from her chest. The boy blows on his feather and the two magical creations swoop off the edge of the Eiffel Tower. Ladybug does her best to snare them in her yo-yo, but the boy throws his fan in an expert arc, striking her yo-yo from its path. His fan falls from the tower and the feather and the butterfly disappear into the night.

“What do you even want? Who are you?” Ladybug asks.

“I did ask politely for your miraculous,” he says, “and Chat Noir’s, but you’re right. It was quite rude of us not to introduce ourselves. This is Bella Moth, and you can call me Flourish.”

There’s a crash from the street below and Ladybug knows she needs to investigate, but if her years facing Hawk Moth and his subsequent forms taught her anything, it’s that an opportunity to meet her enemies in person is rare and she should not waste it.

“Go on, Ladybug,” Flourish says. “We’ll see you again—after our creations defeat you, and we take your miraculous.”

She thinks he ought to take a lesson from his predecessor as she is trying to do, and recognize that this strategy has ended in nothing but stalemates for the heroes and villains alike, but there’s a scream from below and Ladybug cannot ignore people in danger. She leaps from the ledge and plunges to the street below. She takes Bella Moth’s cane with her.

As she lands, she finds where Flourish’s fan has fallen. She grabs that, too and turns it over, examining it even as she runs towards the sounds of a monster tearing apart the streets of Paris. The fan looks identical to the one Mayura once wielded, but it’s clear that neither of these miraculous users are her.

She and Chat Noir never found proof that Mayura was Nathalie Sancouer, but it was not hard to put together once Gabriel Agreste’s identity was revealed. Nathalie was tight-lipped about Gabriel’s secrets, but Ladybug wonders if it might be time for another chat with the woman.

She finds the battle easily. A boy astride a senti-reindeer, whose red nose is glowing so brightly, is using his new powers and the help of his creature to fire deadly lasers at shop windows. Ladybug tries, first, to talk the boy down from his anger. She learns that he has decided to call himself Reign-deer, and he plans to destroy Christmas because his mother had to work, so he’ll be alone for the night. If he can’t enjoy the day, no one can.

It’s been a long time since she’s had to fight an akuma, and longer still since she’s had to fight one alone, but she still remembers how to use her Lucky Charm. Though it takes her a while to figure out what the red, black-spotted banana peel is for.

She notices the teddy bear dressed like a nurse that the akumatized boy clings to like a life preserver. In his other hand is a jingle bell, which he shakes each time the reindeer fires a laser. It’s not hard to guess that the powers of the miraculouses are stored in these objects, but it is hard for her to get close to the boy without getting hit by the reindeer’s shiny red nose.

But when she sees the senti-reindeer stumble on a frozen patch of road, she knows exactly how to put her Lucky Charm to use. She does have a single moment where she considers how much easier this would be if she had the help of Cataclysm, but the self-pity is brief. She can’t afford it for very long.

She uses Bella Moth’s cane—specifically the crystal on top—to deflect the reindeer’s laser. The redirected beam strikes the teddy bear right through its scrubs, and a lavender butterfly flits out of the stuffing. The reindeer rears back and its rider tumbles into the snow. The reindeer’s hoof comes down on the banana peel, slick with fresh snow, and it splays out in the street like a newborn fawn. The jingle bell goes flying into the air and Ladybug uses Flourish’s fan to catch it. It lands on the edges of the feathers and rolls into her hand where she snaps it in two and frees the blue feather.

She catches the feather and butterfly in her yo-yo and bleeds the color from them until they are pure white. Once they’re no longer a danger, she releases them, and uses her Lucky Charm to repair the damage done by the red-nosed reindeer and his rider.

The crowd has questions and concerns and she does her best to assure them that she has it under control, that she and Scarabella and Carapace are all working together to keep them safe. She promises that she and her friends will catch Bella Moth and Flourish just as they stopped Monarch.

She doesn’t answer their questions about Chat Noir. Instead, she escapes as quickly as she can. They do not complain, used to Ladybug and her hasty exits, but they don’t seem to notice that her earrings are not counting down the minutes of her transformation, not yet.

Ladybug can feel the loss where she has spent some of her magic, but she does not feel any warning signs that her power is fading. She’d waited so long for this strength, to be old enough and strong enough to no longer be bound by a single use of her miraculous’ power, but she had given it up by the time she was strong enough to hold it. At least this means she still has time to face Bella Moth and Flourish.

But when she finally reaches the Eiffel Tower, the new villains are gone. Then the cane and the fan she carries vanish suddenly and she knows there’s no hope of finding the villains now.

Something lands behind her with a thud, and Ladybug turns, fists closed in anticipation of a fight—but it is not the return of Bella Moth and Flourish. It’s only Carapace.

Rena Furtive melts out of the shadows just behind him and, without warning, pulls Ladybug into her arms.

“We got here as quickly as we could,” Carapace says.

“We’re sorry it wasn’t quickly enough,” Rena Furtive apologizes. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just my luck that two new villains decide to announce themselves the day I get back,” Ladybug says, and tries to make it funny, but her laugh sounds a bit more like a sob. She doesn’t even realize how overwhelming tonight has been until she hears it in her own voice.

Rena Furtive squeezes her shoulders tightly. “It’s not your fault.”

“It’s got to be a coincidence,” Carapace says confidently. “Maybe they’re also in town for the holiday.”

“But who are they?” Rena Furtive asks. “And what do they want?”

Ladybug tells them what she knows. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to make Rena Furtive’s brows furrow beneath her fox-like mask.

“Blonde?” Rena asks.

Carapace frowns. “No.”

“Why not?”

“We’ve talked about it before, and the answer is no.”

“That’s not a why.”

“I’ve told you why.”

Ladybug listens to this back and forth, feeling a bit like a ball at a tennis match. She has no idea what this argument is about, and she can’t manage to get a word in to interrupt.

“He got home yesterday,” Rena Furtive says, “and a new villain shows up today? Is that a coincidence?”

“Yes,” Carapace snaps. “It’s completely a coincidence.”

“Is what a coincidence?” Ladybug finally manages to ask.

“Adrien Agreste,” Rena Furtive says. “Who else would have ended up with Gabriel’s missing miraculous?”

Chapter 2

Adrien ignores the first alert on his phone. He has his tongue between his lips and his hands tangled up in a golden, sparkly ribbon. He has been fighting with this bow for fifteen minutes, and he is not going to give in now.

But when his phone beeps a third time, he picks it up.

At first, he’s disappointed it isn’t Marinette texting him back. Then his heart leaps into his throat as he realizes it’s a Ladyblog alert.

Ladybug is home.

Adrien very nearly bolts for his dresser to dig out the small black jewelry box he has abandoned in his sock drawer. He’s stopped by the news alert that appears at the top of his screen—not from the Ladyblog, but because he has his phone set up to alert him of any news articles that use the word “akuma” or “sentimonster.”

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reign-deer Rampage Reined in by Red-Spotted Hero blips at the top of his phone screen and he has hardly clicked on the notification before a new one appears: Ladybug Warns Citizens of Paris About New Villains in Town. Adrien quickly opens that one instead.

His stomach turns as he reads what little details Ladybug was able to give. It isn’t much for anyone else to chew on—Bella Moth and Flourish, the new wielders of the butterfly and peacock miraculouses—but for Adrien, it's nauseating.

His desire to see Ladybug is lost in that nausea, in that toxic pool of guilt that boils over in his stomach. He can’t face her, not after how dramatically he failed her. And now, to know that the lost miraculouses have ended up in the hands of two new villains?

There’s a reason he gave Plagg up and disappeared to Venice for two months.

He’s so caught up in his own agony, he doesn’t hear the click of heels on tile harmonized with the creak of mechanical joints announcing Nathalie’s arrival. He’s startled by the sharp staccato knocks on his bedroom door and hastily shoves the collection of half-wrapped presents under his couch as she opens his bedroom door.

The bottle of wine he bought for Nathalie rolls right on through his couch and stops at her feet. She glances down at it briefly, nudges it aside, and crosses the room to him.

Nathalie has known him too long to be put off by messes, and too long to be surprised that he’s bought her a bottle of wine for Christmas. He hopes she’ll at least be surprised by the dinner reservation in Shanghai.

“Good. You’re here,” she says by way of greeting, and sits down on his couch. She hands him a leather-bound folder, the sort she keeps memos in, but it’s Christmas, and there shouldn’t be any reason for memos.

“Where else would I be?” he asks. He takes the folder from her but he does not open it. He was very clear with her that he was not going to do any work during Christmas. He also remembers telling her to take the time off.

Since he is being stubborn, she opens the folder up for him. “I’ve prepared a statement for the press about Paris’s new villains. It only needs your signature.”

Adrien stares at her in surprise. Nathalie has managed to get a statement together before he’s hardly begun to process the idea of new villains in Paris. Prepared for everything is sort of Nathalie’s job, but he can’t help but wonder if she knew about these new villains before they had made their appearance.

Though it feels like putting his hand in a tiger’s mouth, or dropping his heart into a vat of acid, he has dared, a few times, to ask Nathalie if she knew the truth about Hawk Moth, or if she had ever helped Gabriel with any of his villainy as she had helped him with everything else.

“I only ever helped your father manage his business,” is as much as she has ever said. Except once, she added, “Do you really think if I had known what he was doing to himself, I would have said nothing?”

Adrien doesn’t really believe her, but he has no one else to turn to, not really.

Shortly after Gabriel’s arrest and formal charges were filed, his father lapsed into a coma. The doctors have no explanation, but Adrien managed to find a second opinion in a friend with a bit more knowledge of what happens when someone uses too many miraculouses.

Plagg could not say he had ever seen someone collapse from using too many miraculouses at once, but he was aware that there are side effects from overuse of a miraculous or combining too many powers of the miraculouses at once. He also mentioned that using a damaged miraculous could put the user in a similar comatose state, though Adrien still doesn't understand why Plagg included that detail in his diagnosis.

It’s hard to know which would be the worse way to spend the holiday: his father languishing in a hospital, all but brain dead, or having to face his father in a cell somewhere with the unasked “why” as impenetrable as the iron bars and glass barrier between them.

So Adrien lets Nathalie stay—after all, who else has the knowledge to keep the Agreste brand running after such a scandal—but he has kept his eyes and ears open for signs that she might be hiding the lost butterfly and peacock miraculouses.

The saying is “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,” though Adrien wishes he’d minded the first part a bit more closely.

His gaze lingers on Ladybug’s name in Nathalie’s press statement. I am glad to know that Paris’ hero is home again, and I wish Ladybug the best of luck in hunting out these new villains, though I know that she does not need it. Guilt bubbles up from his stomach to his throat, burning him from the inside out.

He’s always known that it’s his fault that Ladybug left Paris last fall. He had pushed her so far away that she’d passed her legacy onto Scarabella, and he’d let Carapace step into his place without protest. They’ve done a lot of good for the city, even without a villain to face. He’s dreamed of joining them a few times. He watches them work to save a kid or a cat and he twists the space around his finger that used to hold a silver ring.

He’s accepted his fate as a sort of penance for missing all the signs of his father’s villainous secrets. He was a hero; he should have seen it sooner. Instead he and Ladybug took years to realize that Gabriel and Hawk Moth were one and the same.

Adrien signs the statement, and though he knows it's a grievous sin to work on Christmas, he says, “Maybe change it to Ladybug and Scarabella instead of just Ladybug. And we ought to use a picture of the Ladybug statue for the socials.”

“Noted. I’ve already picked one out.” She takes the folder back from him, but she does not leave. She hesitates in the middle of his room.

Adrien can’t imagine what she’s waiting for. If she dares to say anything related to work or managing his father’s company—his company—he considers what it would cost him to fire her then and there.

“Do you have anything you want to tell me, Adrien?” she finally says.

He thinks of the black and red jewelry box tucked away in his sock drawer and the silver ring inside. “No.”

She still waits. When he does not offer anything more, she asks, “Is there anything you want to ask me?”

He has a dozen questions, a hundred, a million things to ask. He keeps his voice as even as he can as he says, “Nothing I haven’t asked you before.”

She still waits. He still says nothing.

“I was many things for your father,” she finally says, “but for you, all I have done is to look out for you.”

It is hard to forget that Nathalie is the one who enabled his escape to school all those years ago, an action that changed the course of his life irrevocably, and brought him some of the greatest joy he has ever known.

“If you need a confidant,” she adds, “I am an expert at non-disclosures.”

“No, thank you.”

She waits another moment before, in a turn that Adrien finds uncharacteristically blunt, she says, “If you are Flourish, you do not have to tell me, but I cannot cover for you if I do not know what you are doing.”

Adrien considers the possibility that Nathalie could be Bella Moth. Who else would have ended up with his father’s miraculouses? But if that’s the case, wouldn’t she know who Flourish is? Or is it possible that Bella Moth and Flourish as unaware of the other outside of their personas as he and Ladybug are?

Instead of denying her accusation, Adrien asks, “Like you covered for my father?”

She does not respond to this. She only waits, and Adrien wonders if this is what she did with his father. If she waited and waited for Gabriel to tell her the truth. If she suspected—she must have suspected; no one spent as much time with Gabriel as she did—and if he is wrong for leaping at the chance to blame her.

It is not as if she did anything less to stop Gabriel than Adrien did.

Adrien’s shoulders drop in defeat and the cool exterior he’s been trying to hold onto melts. “I’m not Flourish,” he says. “If you’re asking me, though, does this mean you’re not Bella Moth?”

“I cannot imagine how I would have the time,” she says, which isn’t a “no” exactly, but Adrien considers how close he and Nathalie have become in these last six months. She knows his schedule down to the minutes written in for bathroom breaks. It would be hard for her to slip away to be a villain just as it had always been hard for him to slip away to be a hero. Hard, but not quite impossible.

Adrien searches for a pin at Nathalie’s throat and wonders if it is hidden under the cuff of her turtle neck or tucked beneath the lapel of her blazer. He sees no sign of it.

“I’m leaving, then,” she moves on breezily, as if interrogating him was just one of the many tasks on her todo list, squeezed in between the press release and her Christmas vacation. “I’d encourage you not to leave the house without a guard. There’s no telling what people will think of you after tonight.”

Adrien knows there will be people who put together the timing of his return home and Flourish’s arrival in Paris, but he won’t ask the Gorilla to work on Christmas, and Nathalie is right to tell him that he shouldn’t go alone. He could send his friends their presents via courier, instead of delivering them in person like he planned, but that defeats the purpose of his gifts. He wants to see his friends. He owes them after how he has treated them over the last six months.

Because after Gabriel’s arrest, he didn’t just push away Chat Noir’s friends; he pushed Adrien’s friends away too.

It was just so easy to be busy. The press wanted him. The lawyers wanted him. The doctors wanted him. And he didn’t want to think.

His friends were kind and comforting, even when he smiled and promised them that he was okay. He saw them when he had to and avoided them when he had an excuse. His text history is full of broken engagements and broken promises.

He didn’t even go to Marinette’s going away party last August. Nino showed up to drag him away from a dining room of thick fountain pens, thicker stacks of paper, and an even thicker crowd of lawyers, but Adrien simply couldn’t get away. He promised to catch Marinette before she left, but he didn’t manage that either. He didn’t even tell Nino he was going to Venice for a photography project until he was already across the border.

He does want to be with his friends. His texts aren’t a lie—he wants to see them. He wants to know how they’re doing, what changes are going on in their lives, but he’s afraid of the questions being returned back to him. He’s afraid they might ask him all those questions he can’t answer, all those questions he’s afraid to know the answers to.

Questions he thinks he might be able to answer if he thinks long enough and hard enough, but he’s not ready to do that.

And maybe if he can prove that Nathalie is Bella Moth, he won’t have to.

He doesn’t know why she’s waited six months to reveal herself, and he hasn’t the faintest idea who Flourish is, but he doesn’t need to know the details. He just needs to get the butterfly back and beg for Ladybug’s forgiveness.

“I’ll keep it in mind,” Adrien says. He, too, has become an expert at P.R.-level vagueness after working so closely with Nathalie. “Do you have plans for your time off?”

“I thought I might take a trip to Shanghai.”

Adrien manages a straight face for a moment, but he can’t even bring himself to feign an interested, nonchalant question. He fumbles under the couch for the card he’d put together for Nathalie, complete with all the information about the restaurant and her accommodations for her trip. “Someday I’ll surprise you.” He hands the card over.

“Someday you’ll remember that I’m the one who approves every dollar you spend.”

“Next time I’ll remember to ask Nino to put it on his credit card.”

There’s a hint of a smile on the edge of Nathalie’s mouth. “If Nino Lahiffe has a credit card maximum high enough for how much you like to lavish me, his career as a film director must have really taken off.”

“Not yet, but it will.”

“Then I await the day,” she says, but with all her usual enthusiasm, which is to say, hardly any at all. She picks up the bottle of wine that had rolled to her feet. “This is mine, too, isn’t it?”

“Enjoy,” Adrien says, and leans back on his hands.

She tucks it and the press release under her arm. “Thank you. Merry Christmas, Adrien.”

His heart lurches at her tone. It’s as close to affectionate as Nathalie ever comes. He wonders if she really meant it when she said that all she had ever done was look out for him.

“Merry Christmas, Nathalie,” he says.

As soon as she is gone, he pulls his presents out from under the couch. There’s a new pair of designer shoes for Chloe, an original Degas sketch for Kagami, a new hi-def camera for Nino with specs Adrien has tested himself, and a new tablet for Alya. Nino has always told him that he does too much when it comes to gifts, but Adrien doesn’t have an appropriate frame of reference. Even after six years of gift exchanges with Nino, Adrien still can only think about how much he wants to give to his friends and never considers how much it costs.

Comparatively, Marinette’s gift is nothing. It cost Adrien very little, particularly when held against the other gifts, and yet this gift is more than he has ever given to anyone. He decides to finish wrapping the others before he gets back into a fight with the glittery bow that he has picked out especially for her.

There’s a soft creak behind him as he’s taping the wrapping paper around the frame he’d purchased for Kagami’s gift, and he shivers as a chill slips into his room.

Adrien turns to see that one of the panels of his large bedroom window has slipped open. He knows the catch is weak from years of sneaking out as Chat Noir, but he can’t remember it ever opening on its own. He gets up to close it and has to pull over a table and stretch to reach the fastener. He’s used to having a bit more height in his jump when he is Chat Noir.

It closes easily, and though the latch is certainly not as snug as it once was, it seems secure enough. If the wind is pushing it open, though, the latch will need to be replaced. He makes a note to himself to fix it before Nathalie notices.

Once Adrien has finished wrapping Alya’s gift, he returns to the bow on Marinette’s present. The glitter has already transferred to each of the other gifts, and he’s fairly certain its embedded beneath the skin of his hands by now, but he refuses to be defeated.

He tries until he gets desperate enough to pull up a video online of how to tie a nice bow. The video is helpful, but there’s an odd squeaking noise in the background. It doesn’t bother him, exactly; it’s just a little distracting.

He manages to get the bow as neat as he can, and he thinks that while it isn’t up to Marinette’s standards, it’s really not bad. She’ll be nice about it, anyway. She always is. And as he sets it aside he hears a squeak again.

He can’t blame his phone for it this time. He surveys his room, wondering if it's possible that he has mice. It had been a concern when he had first started keeping cheese in his room, but Plagg was quite good at keeping them away. He hasn’t had cheese in his room for months, so why would they be here now?

Adrien follows a squeak to his desk, but he does not see anything. He does notice that the cabinet next to it is cracked open. Is it possible Plagg woke up without him, found out he was gone, and rebuilt his horde?

Adrien peers inside the cabinet, but he sees nothing unusual. The cabinet still smells, though, and Adrien thinks he’ll never be free of Plagg’s Camembert curse.

He hears a squeak again, this time from his dresser. He turns and trips over his desk chair that was definitely not right behind him a moment ago. He would swear it’s moved specifically to be in his way.

He pushes himself up, but not before he catches sight of something small and gray disappearing behind his wastebasket. It’s not a mouse, though. Mice don’t move on two legs.

“Ma—” he stops himself before he reveals anything that Adrien Agreste is not supposed to know. “Multimouse?” he asks.

The small gray figure peeks her head out from behind the wastebasket. Her dark hair is streaked pink and pulled back in a bun, and Adrien is positive that this is Multimouse, and he knows that Multimouse is Marinette, but why is she here and small and—

There are more of her suddenly, gathering back together, and before Adrien quite understands what is happening, Multimouse is sitting at his desk chair and he is still on the ground at her feet.

She presses her hand to her head, as if her mind is still gathering itself together, then her eyes flick directly to his dresser. Adrien follows her gaze and sees his sock drawer cracked open just enough for a small version of Multimouse to slip through.

Adrien glances guiltily at the pale white line across his ring finger, a scar of happier time, before he knew just how badly he had screwed up.

Multimouse says nothing to him. She stands and crosses to his dresser.

“Wait,” he tries, but she reaches into his sock drawer and pulls out the familiar black and red hexagonal box he had tucked away months ago.

Adrien kept Plagg around for a while before pushing him away, too, just like he’d done to all of his friends; having someone around at the end of the day, someone he didn't have to explain anything to, had been nice at first. He and Plagg didn't speak much then, but they were together, at least. Then Scarabella came on the scene and Adrien, with no preamble nor apology, formally returned his ring to its box. What was the point in being Chat Noir without Ladybug?

He bites his lip as Multimouse turns to face him.

“I defended you,” she says, and there’s something in her voice that’s utterly devastated.

Adrien uses his desk chair to help himself to his feet. “Mar—Multimouse, I’m sorry…”

She doesn’t look at him. Her eyes are solely on the box. “Why?” she asks.

“I thought…” He swallows down his guilt but it pushes its way back up regardless. “I didn’t know.”

Her gray-gloved hands grip the box as if she’s got her hands around his throat squeezing the life out of him. “I told Rena she had you all wrong. I told her it wasn’t like you to do this. I told her I’d look just to make her feel better, and now…”

Adrien thinks of the gift he’s just finished wrapping, and how it was intended to be all the vulnerable parts of him laid bare for Marinette in a way he hadn’t trusted with anyone else just yet. He trusted her because he knew that she would understand him. But he doesn’t see how she’ll be able to understand this.

“Does Ladybug know you’re here?” he asks. “Or did Scarabella send you?”

Multimouse hesitates. She chews on her lower lip with an indecision that is just so full of Marinette that Adrien’s heart finally manages to surface above his guilt and pain and he steps closer.

She misinterprets his approach and steps away, lifting the jewelry box out of his reach, or at least, as high as she can. She’s small; he is not. He could try to grab the box from her, but he doesn’t.

“I am sorry,” he says. “I just… can you tell Ladybug that?”

She doesn’t acknowledge his apology. She still won’t even look at him. “Where’s the other one?” she asks.

He doesn’t answer because he doesn’t know how. “The other what?”

“Your partner’s.” And now she looks at him, but there’s so much anger in her glare that he steps away from her.

He can only stare back at her, utterly bewildered by both her question and her anger. His only partner is Ladybug, and doesn’t she know that?

“Who are you talking about?” he asks.

“Bella Moth.”

And all of the guilt, all of the heartache, and even all of Adrien’s love for Marinette turns as cold as the ice in her voice. His shoulders tighten and his jaw clenches. His tone shifts to match hers.

“You think I’m Flourish?”

“Why else did I find a miraculous jewelry box in your room?”

He’s never felt so utterly betrayed. Not even when he discovered the truth about his father. It’s one thing for Nathalie to suspect him, Nathalie who knew his father and went through it all before.

But this is Marinette, and she mentioned Rena and surely Carapace was a part of this—and Adrien knows Rena Rouge and Carapace are Alya and Nino. He doesn’t know who Scarabella and Ladybug are, sure, but how could his best friends have ever suspected him of being a villain? He’s guilty of not catching his father sooner. He’s guilty of letting Ladybug down, but not of betraying her trust in this way, and he can’t believe Marinette and his friends think he would have.

Multimouse looks at him and he glimpses, just beyond her anger, the same heartbreak he feels.

He considers, briefly, asking her to flip the catch on the box, to look inside before she leaves. It’s a simple enough request, but his heartbreak is too great.

And, anyway, isn’t this his fault too? He pushed his friends away. Why wouldn’t they turn on him?

He sees movement in the corner of his eye as a violet butterfly squeezes through his loose window pane. He doesn’t know which of them its coming for, but he’s not going to let it take Marinette, certainly.

He lunges for the box in her hand, and they both tumble to the ground. The catch on the jewelry box unlatches as it hits the ground and Adrien yanks the ring from it.

“Plagg,” he says, even though his kwami has hardly begun to form, “claws out!”

He has not even fully adjusted to Plagg’s magic as the violence of chaos settles into his bones before he calls on that power.

“Cataclysm!” he shouts as his hand closes over the butterfly. It crumbles to dust in his hand.

Multimouse covers her mouth in horror as she looks up at Chat Noir, but he does not know which part of this revelation is the most horrifying for her. Is it knowing that Chat Noir is Hawk Moth’s son? Is it knowing that her best friend, who she’s just accused of being a villain, is one of Paris’s heroes? Is it knowing that he knows who she is under that mask?

He looks out the window for Flourish’s feather to follow Bella’s butterfly, but he sees no blue feather flitting near his bedroom window. He flexes his hand, surprised by the strength of the magic left in him. He does not feel his power draining, and wonders if he could call on another Cataclysm, should the villains show themselves.

“Chat…” Multimouse says, but he’s not ready for her apology.

He is careful to keep his voice even, because it so desperately wants to break—everything in him wants to break. “Ladybug can find me if she wants.”

Chat Noir leaves through the loose window, wishing he felt better about his return to this freedom he had denied himself for so long. He uses a search for Bella Moth to distract from his heartbreak, but it’s hard to say how close she was when she sent off her akuma. His father managed to curse half of Paris without leaving the house. Bella Moth might be miles away, sensing the pulse of heartbreak and anger throughout the city with the power of her miraculous.

Whoever she is, he thinks she’s very rude to try for two akuma attacks on Christmas Eve. It’s just poor sportsmanship on her part. Maybe there’s no feather to go with it this time because Flourish has better manners.

His search is, as he expected, fruitless, but he doesn’t take himself home rightaway. As much as he wants to curl up in his bed, apologize to Plagg, and sleep his way through Christmas, he knows that it is past the time to explain himself to Ladybug. He’s been avoiding her since she offered the truth of her identity.

He’s been avoiding the truth about everything for so long.

He climbs his way up the Eiffel Tower and stares out at the city, glittering with its holiday lights.

The truth is, he knows why his father did what he did. It’s not hard to guess what his father wanted the miraculouses for, what his father’s wish would be. He also knows that his father must have suspected that he was Chat Noir at least once. But Gabriel never trusted Adrien enough to even ask, to even hint that maybe Hawk Moth’s wish would be good for them both. He knows that if he could ask his father why, Gabriel would say that he had been doing it for the both of them.

But Adrien doesn’t think he would believe him.

He sinks down onto the tower’s highest platform and draws his knees up to his chest. Ladybug will find him. And if she doesn’t… Well, then he supposes that will be answer enough for how she feels about who he is.

Chapter 3

He’s waiting on the very ledge she waited on when she first arrived in Paris, entirely unchanged from the last time she saw him. He’s seated with his knees drawn up to his chest, green eyes glittering in the evening light.

For a moment, Ladybug thinks this could be the very night they saw Gabriel arrested. The last six months could have been a terrible dream and she is about to step back and start over, as cleanly as if Fluff or Sass reset time to take her back to their last meeting.

But she knows that’s untrue. She knows that the last six months happened, just as much as the last six minutes happened, and she has to face the consequences for that, too.

She steps lightly, but loud enough that he knows she’s coming. She doesn’t want to startle him.

He doesn’t even turn around.

She sits down beside him. She sets the two Christmas presents she’s brought with her on the edge of the platform, careful not to knock them over the edge. She’s not certain that she’ll use them, but she wants them just in case this all goes well. She’s still unsure where to start.

He’s the one who breaks the silence. “Did Marinette tell you everything?”

She doesn’t answer, because anything she could say to that would be untrue. Instead, she says, “I understand a lot more now than I did before.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

Ladybug bites her lip. “Multimouse wasn’t lying when she said she defended you. She and Carapace were adamant that you couldn’t be Flourish. But you know Rena, she always wants to be thorough.”

“I thought I knew Rena.”

Ladybug tips her head at that, unsure what to make of the tone in his voice. He knows who Multimouse is, but she can’t think how he would know Rena and Carapace’s identities. He offers no further explanation, so she decides she might as well begin with her apology.

“A long time ago,” she says, “like, a few years ago long, not miraculous long, I faced an akumatized version of you.”

“I don’t remember that.”

“It was… another timeline. Bunnyx helped me. I don’t want to talk about the details—” She chews on her lower lip again, wading through the trauma of facing Chat Blanc to pick out the parts she wants to make sure Adrien understands. “—but the akuma attack was so bad that we had to reset time itself. The thing we had to change was that Adrien Agreste figured out who I was. I used to think it was just that Adrien—” she hesitates before amending, “—you told someone by accident and the secret got out. And then, after we caught Hawk Moth I wondered if that accident was telling your father. But I never, for even a moment, considered that you might have known that your father was Hawk Moth, that you might have intentionally told your father to help him. I’ve always trusted you, Adrien. And I’m sorry I doubted you tonight.”

She keeps her eyes on Chat Noir, wondering if he is going to accept her apology. She won’t blame him if he refuses.

He doesn’t look at her. Instead, he watches the city below.

“You said Rena insisted on being thorough,” he finally says, as if she had not just shared one of her most traumatic, vulnerable memories with him. “What was your opinion?”

She takes in a long, slow breath. She knew that she would have to do this. It’s not how she has imagined it after all these years, but there is no other way to be honest with him, and she is never going to repair the break between them without honesty.

For an answer, she tugs on one of the two wrapped Christmas presents she’s brought with her for this apology.

“This is for you,” she says.

He has to let his knees go to take the gift from her, and part of him seems to uncoil. Curiosity glints in his eyes alongside the heartbreak. She resists the urge to reach for his ears and see if she can elicit a purr from him. She’s going to have to let him be vulnerable on his terms, not on hers.

His claw-like gloves cut through the velvety green ribbon and tear the red wrapping paper. The box inside is about as big as his lap, flat, and plain white. He lifts the lid and pulls back the tissue inside to reveal a white silk blazer, and embroidered down the lapel on one side is a pattern of green and pink geometric shapes and flowers.

He stares at it for a long moment. She can tell by the way he runs his hands over the stitching he recognizes what it represents, but she had expected a stronger reaction from him.

“Marinette made this?” he says, and she waits for him to correct himself to ”You made this,” but he does not.

“Designed after the good luck charm.” Ladybug pulls the second gift into her lap. The gold glitter of the ribbon dusts her thighs. “Can I open your gift?” she asks.

He looks at the box in her lap, at the tag attached to the glittery ribbon that reads To: Marinette and From: Adrien. He glances down at the box in his lap. He looks back at her as she bites down on her lip, afraid she is being too subtle.

“Oh,” he says.

She waits for him to properly process it. It took her long enough to understand and she had watched him transform in front of her.

“But—wait, no,” he shakes his head, “I’ve seen Multimouse and Ladybug together. You can’t be both.”

“Trixx helped cover for me,” she said.

He sets her gift aside and stares at her, frowning like he’s trying to see through her mask. “You’ve been Marinette the whole time?”

“Yes.”

“So you… you quit because you went to New York? You didn’t quit being Ladybug because of me?”

She fidgets with the ribbon in her lap, ignoring the way the glitter coats her gloved fingers. “It was… lonely without you. It made the decision to pass my miraculous onto Scarabella easier. But no, I didn’t quit because of you.”

Chat Noir purses his lips in his own bit of indecision. Finally, he says, “You should open your gift.”

She tugs on the ribbon. It takes her a moment to figure out how to undo the complex knot, but she’s always enjoyed puzzles.

Once the package is free of its glittery trappings, she peels back the paper to reveal a photography book. The cover is a photo of a row of colorful houses on the waterfront. She opens the book and flips through photographs of Venice’s architecture and artwork.

“I liked the color there,” he says. “I thought you would, too. And…” He reaches over to her lap and flips towards the back of the book. The pictures in this end of the book are no longer of artwork and architecture. They’re of people—or rather, they’re of people’s clothing.

The photographs must have been of people posing in front of the water or a marble statue, and some still are that—full-body shots of models in motion—but some of them have been cropped down to just a sleeve or the lines on a bodice or the cut of a neckline. She knows Adrien must have an eye for fashion photography after all of his experience in the industry, but she can’t help but marvel at the way he’s captured the weight of fabric, the contrast of color, the structure of the ensemble, the complements of the patterns—it's the kind of things she would look for.

“I left because of you,” he says.

She tears her eyes away from the book to meet his and she has never wanted more desperately than she has in this moment to actually see him beneath his mask.

“You went to New York and I couldn’t help but feel like you were leaving me behind. Not like you abandoned me or anything, but that you were growing. You were pursuing your dream. And Nino got into film school and Alya sold her first article and I… I was still doing all the same things I was doing before. I wanted to do something new. I wanted to grow with all of you. So I left. I wanted to keep up with you.”

“And?” she asks. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He shrugs. “It was… lonely.”

“I was lonely, too,” she admits. “I kept busy to forget how lonely I was.”

“That sounds familiar,” he says. He kicks his legs against the iron beams holding them up. “I’m sorry,” he says.

She shakes her head. “No, you have nothing to apologize for—”

“I doubted you. I thought… I thought you would blame me for not catching Monarch sooner. Or that you’d think I was responsible somehow, and that wasn’t fair of me. I should have trusted you. I should have trusted us.”

She leans her head against his shoulder. “No more doubting each other. No more doubting ourselves.”

He stiffens at first, then he leans back against her, until they are exchanging each other’s weight as easily as they had exchanged gifts. Somewhere in the distance, a clock strikes midnight.

“Merry Christmas, chaton,” she murmurs.

“Merry Christmas, my Lady,” he replies.

He looks down and she looks up and then before she quite realizes what she’s doing, she presses her lips against his.

It isn’t her first kiss with Chat Noir by any stretch, but it is her first kiss with someone who knows she is both Marinette and Ladybug, and she knows that he is as fond of all of her as she is of all of him. He’s not just her partner, not just a boy she used to have a crush on, not just a dear friend she has been trying to keep afloat with casual, emotion-free text messages. She finally realizes the weight of all of those things put together and it leaves her a little dizzy.

He pulls away and there’s something mischievous in his grin. “You’re bright red.”

She’s warm, despite the cold night, and doesn’t even have the sense to be embarrassed. “I’m sorry, Adrien.”

He presses his lips against her cheek and keeps his face close against hers as he murmurs, “We finished the apology bit.”

“I was a bad friend,” she says.

“Marinette—”

“I was trying to be careful to give you space, but I should’ve trusted our friendship. You didn’t have to go to Venice alone. You could’ve come to New York with me. Or gone to school with Nino, or —”

He drops his head against her shoulder like her apology is wearing him out. “We were both distant. You did it because you wanted to look out for me. I pushed my friends away because I didn’t know how you could stay friends with someone who was so close to a villain. You had to think me an idiot for not noticing, or in on it because I had noticed—”

“We would never think that of you—”

“I know.” He presses his lips against her neck and a shiver runs up her spine.

She recalls her restraint when it came to scratching his ears, her withholding a desire to touch him so he could process his feelings. He wishes he would show her that same restraint, but his hand slides up the curve of her back, pressing her against him. He breathes in deep and lets it out slowly. His breath is hot and wet against her ear and it’s not just her face that’s warm. She’s warm all over. She decides she doesn’t need to talk through anything anymore, she just wants more of this.

She tightens her hand in his hair and his throat rumbles with something so close to a purr she cannot help but laugh. She feels his smile against her neck.

“I know I said we finished the apology bit,” he sighs, “but I’ve got one more to do.”

“What for?”

“Plagg. He’s going to be insufferable. I left him in a sock drawer for months.”

“You might deserve whatever he does to you for that.” She stifles a yawn and he pulls away.

“Sorry,” he says, despite their promise to be done apologizing. “You’ve had a long day—travel and an akuma fight—I should let you get some sleep.”

“I don’t want to sleep.” She knows once she drops Tikki’s magic, all the exhaustion of being human will settle in again, but right now she feels like she could stay awake all night. She wants to stay awake all night. She’s afraid to let him go and find out that this was all a dream.

He takes her hand in his, running the pads of his fingers against her palm like he’s committing the shape of her hand to memory. Though she just had the thought that she didn’t want to be human again, she is desperate for them to drop their magic and touch properly.

“I’ll come over tomorrow,” he promises.

“But there’s so much time between now and tomorrow,” she protests.

After six months apart, she can’t stand to face another six hours without him.

“You need to spend Christmas with your family.”

“And where am I going to spend the night?” she asks.

Now his face turns red beneath his mask and she grins mischievously at him. After years of him being the forward one, she’s happy to flip the script on him.

“Are you asking?” he says, like he can’t quite believe her.

“Are you inviting?” She bats her eyelashes in an attempt at flirtation, but it feels silly. She bites down on her lip to hold in a laugh.

“Well… I could. Nathalie is gone for a few days. We’d have the whole house to ourselves.”

She thinks of him going back to the house alone and her desire to go with him doubles. “So… are you?”

He stands and pulls her up with him. She drapes her arms over his shoulders and leans in until their noses are touching. She takes a deep breath in then pulls him into a kiss and pulls him off of the tower.

They’re falling. They’re kissing. They’re breathing.

❖❖❖

Christmas morning arrives faster than either of them would like. There are a few evening apologies dashed off once the masks drop. Adrien has to apologize to Plagg, who demands reparations in pounds of Camembert. There are also apologies made to Alya and Nino through the screen of Adrien’s phone. Adrien apologizes for pushing them away just as he had Marinette; Alya apologizes for ever suspecting him of being Flourish. Nino apologizes for failing to mention that he had once told Adrien about Carapace and Rena Rouge’s identities. Marinette and Alya forgive him, but it’s one of the more shocking reveals of the night.

And finally, Tikki and Plagg are asleep and Marinette and Adrien are truly alone and there is not much more to say to each other. They press themselves together, hands touching hands properly, her calloused fingertips brushing up his bare arm, his soft hands tugging her chin closer, lips crushed together in such a seamless union that they can’t help but wonder if they’ve been doing this forever, if this moment is the only moment of time that matters, like infinity stretched out into the past and future.

The sunrise doesn’t break it, but the sunrise is closely followed by Adrien’s phone buzzing on his nightstand.

He ignores it, but they call a second time.

Adrien, hands reluctantly daring to brave the cold beyond the blankets, fumbles for his phone long enough to catch the side button and dismiss the call. Marinette presses herself closer to him.

The phone buzzes again and they both groan loudly.

“It’s probably Alya checking on my honor,” Marinette grumbles.

“Or Nino trying to be a nuisance,” Adrien sighs and grabs the phone.

It’s neither Alya nor Nino. It’s his cousin.

Marinette dives under the covers as Adrien accepts the insistent call.

“Good morning, Félix,” Adrien says, in his best attempt at wakefulness. “Merry Christmas.”

Félix sounds plenty awake, voice crisp and cool as the winter outside, and he looks plenty awake in the video, sitting outside, wrapped in a scarf and coat with the lazy sun coming up over the park behind him. “Sorry to wake you,” he says without a hint of apology. “But I got into Paris last night and thought I ought to see you. Mother has a gift for you.”

Adrien stares up at his phone screen. “You’re in Paris?” but even as he says it, he knows it has to be true. If it’s only just sunrise here, Félix can’t be in dark, gloomy London at the moment.

“I came to visit my girlfriend, but I thought I ought to make time for you, too.”

“You have a girlfriend?”

Félix turns the camera and a young woman leans up against him. Her long, reddish-brown hair is tied in two loose tails on either side of her face. She’s wearing a pale pink scarf, pinned to an orange blouse, and Adrien stifles a gasp.

Lila Rossi slides her arm around Félix’s and smiles into the phone screen. “It’s been far too long, Adrien. How are you? We’d love to spend Christmas with you! Just tell us when you’re ready for us to come over.”

“I didn’t even know you were in the country,” Adrien finally stammers out. “I was going to spend Christmas with Marinette’s family.”

Félix and Lila’s polite smiles flicker in matching scowls, but Félix quickly smooths it over. “That’s alright. I’ll be in Paris for a while. I’ve got some business to take care of. We’ll see you another time, Adrien.”

“Merry Christmas!” Lila says effusively as Félix ends the call.

Adrien drops his phone on the nightstand and stares up at the ceiling.

“Lila?” he asks weakly.

Marinette crawls out from under the covers to join him. “Lila,” she confirms with a fair amount of acid in her voice.

“I suppose it makes sense in a Merteuil and Valmont sort of way.”

Marinette doesn’t get the reference, but Adrien’s head has always been full of an absurd amount of niche information, so she trusts it's an accurate comparison.

And suddenly Bella Moth and Flourish makes sense. Félix, who had stolen the miraculouses from Ladybug, surely could have squirreled the peacock away from Gabriel. And Lila, who had weasled her way into Gabriel’s company, must have slipped the butterfly away for herself. But how did they manage to find each other and what did they want with Chat Noir and Ladybug’s miraculouses?

Marinette slides her hand into Adrien’s. It doesn’t matter, not really. They’re stronger today than they were yesterday. They’ve become Chat Noir and Ladybug again, and they’re even more than that now.

“I think we’ll manage them easily, between the four of us,” she says. “We know who they are, but they haven’t any idea about us.”

“It’s a nice change,” he says, and smiles at her.

She kisses him again and even though they need to tell Alya and Nino about what they’ve learned, even though they need to freshen up before going to visit Marinette’s parents, even though there’s a new battlefield awaiting them in the fight against Bella Moth and Flourish, they let their kiss unwind into another moment of infinity.

All the worries will still be there on either end of this kiss, but at this moment they can set those worries aside. They’ve got time. And even when the kiss does reach its end—though they both feel as if it could not possibly come to an end—they’ll still have each other. And they’ll still have more moments like this.

[cupofteaguk]

switching my positions

summary: Fresh out of college, Min Yoongi makes a name for himself amongst his online fanbase as an artist who writes about the ins and outs of falling in love. But when he is signed to a record label, his producer insists that he reveal a public romantic relationship to weed off any potential scandals or dangerous assumptions about the source of his love songs. So who else should Yoongi turn to, but you: his manager—but more than that, his best friend and secret crush. 

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

genre: solo artist!yoongi, manager!y/n, fake dating au, friends to lovers au | fluff/angst 

warnings: yoongi starts off as a musician on youtube but it’s not really highlighted for most of the story, kim seokjin is a Hot Music Executive who’ll take good care of his favorite boy, jungkook gets promoted from a cameraman to a bodyguard and i love to see it <3, nayeon + hoseok cameo as radio show hosts BECAUSE THIS STORY HAS SO MANY CHARACTERS I’M SORRY, IU shows up as a ~superstar~ because i love her so much, it’s a slow burn fic what can i say, mutual pining, actually an idiots to lovers plot tbh ????,  recreational alcohol consumption, POV switches occasionally but i try to make it as obvious as possible as to what is going on, mentions of insecurity, there’s angst BUT IT’S A HAPPY ENDING !!! 

word count: 40.1k 

a/n: big big thank you to @gukyi​ for being my fic consultant for this story! she encouraged me and believed in this story more than I ever could (and contributed like 50% of the foundation that made this fic into what it is), and also reminded me that yes this is a fic so no it doesn’t require one hundred percent accuracy to the music industry despite every discord message i sent her falling somewhere along the lines of “how realistic is this scenario…” she was a very big support for this fic, and this story wouldn’t have existed without her!! 

and regarding the word count… my hand slipped. I’ve clowned this fic a lot over the past month but I am really happy that this is done and so so excited for you all to read it. Pls enjoy!!!!!!! Xx 

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CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY 

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You’re late. 

Yoongi lets you know that much as you have to shove your way through a rather large crowd of people to reach him. When he turns away from his keyboard to glance down at you, your chest is heaving and your knees are bent in order for your hands to rest upon your thighs. There’s a plastic bag curled on your arm, the hard plastic of CD cases reflecting off the street lamps. 

“Sorry, sorry!” You breathe out, giving yourself a few more seconds to catch your breath. Nothing more, nothing less, because there is a crowd of people around you, currently staring you down, counting down the seconds until the clock struck 8:00—but many people wondering just who were you to shove your way towards the front. “The printer wasn’t working, and do you realize how difficult it is to get your stupid picture into these cases?” 

Yoongi scoffs, walking towards you and holding both his hands out. “Don’t call them stupid, you took the picture,” He hisses, taking the plastic bag from you and rummaging through the many CDs you had to make for him last minute. After ensuring that everything he had asked for is in this very bag, he softens up. “But thanks for getting these done for me.” 

You finally are able to straighten up into a full standing position. “Not my fault you underestimated how many of your wonderful fans were going to show up.” 

Yoongi reaches over and presses his index finger straight into your forehead for that comment. The force knocks you back a few steps, and Yoongi takes your few seconds of distractions to pull a phone out of his pocket. “Just go off to the side, dummy, my show starts soon.” 

“Fine, fine,” You tease back, easy smile, but your hand goes up to take the phone from him. “Break a leg, Min Yoongi.” 

Yoongi gives you a playful glare but he turns away from you to line up his CDs along the now-table next to his set. As soon as he starts placing CDs atop the surface, a small line of people step from the crowd—pointing to the CDs and holding out a stack of cash. Yoongi nods, takes the money, and hands over the CD. This happens a few more times before the line of people have died down. Yoongi looks over at the significantly less amount of cases at his table, and looks over at you, where he flashes a thumbs up. 

As Yoongi steps up to his keyboard and microphone, the crowd around him starts to cheer. The claps echo through the gathering of people, enough to draw the attention of passersby who crane their heads to see who has attracted so many listeners. 

Yoongi’s fingers curl around the microphone. “Hey guys, thank you all for coming out today.” 

The crowd claps back in acknowledgement, a few of them giving their own shy nods and waves towards Yoongi—gestures that the boy responds with his own nods and gummy smiles. 

His attention returns back to the next set of words he’ll speak into the microphone. “I got a couple covers and original songs for tonight, all requested by you guys—so let’s have some fun today.” His voice is deep, raspy and gentle, croaks slightly along the edges, but a perfect reflection of the soothing nature he brings to his audience. 

And you are attune to every single second of it. Of course you are. You blend into the crowd but really your responsibilities for Yoongi lie far beyond just packaging CDs for him and dashing through hoards of people at the last fucking second to make your delivery. You further prove this further by logging into his phone and clicking into the first background music he’s produced for today’s show. Using the music as a guide, Yoongi starts to sing. His fingers dance across the keyboard to bring an extra sound to his performance—to give it that extra live element that his fans love. 

You know that Yoongi has added these additional things over the months because he adores his fanbase and would likely do anything and everything he could to give them the best experience he could offer. After all, they’ve propelled him to this very spot—his own little corner of the bustling city streets amongst all the bars, shops, universities, street food stalls, and cafes. 

As the music continues from one song to the next, and Yoongi shifts his focus from singing to rapping to the in betweens, you see his passion. You hear it in his voice, in the way his lines string together where it seems like the boy doesn’t require oxygen anymore. Months of these live shows, even longer years to get here—and the people around him only continue to watch him in awe. Just like he’s done since the beginning. 

Min Yoongi started off his music career on Youtube, where he uploaded music covers with his own special beat thrown into the mix. Yoongi enjoyed music arrangement (still does), and used his videos as an opportunity to explore that hobby and share it with people who could also enjoy it. And enjoy it people did, as viewers started pouring in and his fanbase grew in the form of positive comments and increasing subscribers. From some videos, Yoongi had always teased the idea of original songs he had written in various notebooks that expressed the wide range of his emotions—overall all the trials and tribulations of growing up: the notion of love in all its forms. Normally, there was always a fear of an audience losing interest at the prospect of original songs, especially coming from someone who previously arranged already popular #1 hits. 

But that never happened with Min Yoongi. His songwriting abilities became part of his brand—became his entire brand. Yoongi always wrote out love to be more than sappy pop songs or tragic heartbreak. He established himself as someone who seemed to speak from the mind of every single person he came into contact with. At least, that’s what his comment section claims. 

In the beginning of his Youtube career, you found Yoongi’s online persona unusual and amusing to say the least, but it was always clouded with an air of sweetness and sensibility. After all, you had known him about a year before Youtube was even an option for him to pursue. The pair of you met in a general ed college class—big lecture halls and voices getting lost in the background as the professors’ voice boomed through speaker systems. Yoongi had asked to borrow a pencil, and the pair of you spent the rest of the class making side-handed comments about the lecture material. You sat next to each other for the rest of the semester and have been friends ever since.

So it’s not like Yoongi’s core characteristics have ever been anything other than caring, thoughtful, or loyal—he’s just never been outwardly expressive about those emotions. But Youtube changed everything: it’s made him a more vocal person, more open about his feelings as well as his need to share those feelings with the world. 

The world responded positively—wrote in the comments that they would love to hear some of his original songs, that he had already provided just a small taste of his talent and left them an insatiable desire for more. 

As soon as you and Yoongi graduated, his commitment to Youtube increased tenfold. With the previous obligations of assignments, papers, and research internships out of the way, it left more time for writing, for filming, for editing, for sharing. As his work levels increased, so did his subscribers. And so did the attention. 

You’ll never forget the day his followers suggested live street performances in one of Yoongi’s neighboring cities—a city street more specifically that was famous for taking in street performances of all origins and talents, a place for him to show off his freestyling on a keyboard and finally meet his fans firsthand. The idea caught on so quickly and vividly that Yoongi was immediately attracted to the idea. He held his first performance just a few months ago, as a thank you present for reaching one million subscribers. If you had trouble materializing Yoongi’s musical success before, the first live performance and meet and greet Yoongi hosted did well to eradicate all those thoughts. 

Hundreds of people showed up—standing alongside the shops, restaurants, food vendors, and cafes that already lined the streets, everyone intersecting to meet the artist who made them feel heard. 

You still remember that day very vividly. Yoongi had been so nervous that day, had worked so hard to put together the perfect set for his fans. Obviously, though, he had nothing to worry about. Soon, one show turned into two, and just like the request for live performances and meet and greets, the question of monetary compensation became a topic of discussion amongst Yoongi’s fans. That’s where the question of albums came into play: a singular place for Yoongi to put his covers and original place—and charge money for it as well! 

As per the request, eventually you and Yoongi decided that exclusive covers and original songs would be part of his album as a way to open up different modes of access rather than take away an individual’s general (free of charge) chance to view Yoongi’s content and just simply support without having to spend money. The introduction of his albums has been a very recent development, something added into Yoongi’s live performances after the tenth show and usually always sold out by the end of any aforementioned show. From what you’ve been able to see as of now, the albums have been a good addition. 

In terms of Yoongi’s current career, you acknowledge that it has always been you and Yoongi—him staying up late for last minute song-writing sessions or recording or arranging a specific set of chords he had been holding off for weeks, or you arranging the time and date of his live shows and fulfilling requests to put songs on CDs and figure out how to market those in an era of streaming services. And if there’s anyone who knows that he has what it takes to get big—it’s you. After all, you would do anything for him. As you would have done from the moment you met him. 

An hour later—after twenty songs and a swaying crowd around him singing along—the last song fades out and Yoongi pulls back from the microphone to catch his breath. Everyone else around him seems to hold onto their own, before Yoongi pulls himself back towards the mic to utter his last words for the night: “Thanks for coming out you guys. I really, really appreciate it.” 

In the midst of the claps and cheers, Yoongi smiles towards the audience, turns around to address the circle of crowd that has formed around him. 

As some of the crowd begins to disperse and some begin to linger for a potential meet and greet, Yoongi hastily remembers to return back to his mic for one last word to his audience. “And thank you guys so much for one million subs!” 

You smile to yourself as members of the crowd acknowledge his thanks with thanks of their own. As you watch Yoongi start disassembling his equipment for the night, you simply stand where you’ve stood for the past hour, allowing the crowd to simmer past you towards their next destination for the time. You pocket Yoongi’s phone into your coat, waiting for a few minutes, before you slip around towards the front of the crowd. There, a boy stands in front of a tripod, and his fingers dance around to unclip his camera from the standee. 

“You get the whole thing, Jungkook?” You ask with the tilt of your head. 

Jungkook whirls towards you, bright eyes full of excitement as he holds the camera with both his hands now. He utters your name. “Oh shit, yeah I did. We’ll get to see how Yoongi’s mic set up works.” He taps to the cord that connects the mic on Yoongi’s clothes and on his piano into the camera. 

You perk up at the sight of new technology. “Oooh, going fancy with us, I see JK. Very future.” 

Jungkook’s grin widens, as it always does when talking about cameras and filmography. “Yes. Future…” He stretches out the word with the exact dips, curls, and croaks the way Squidward does in that one Spongebob episode, which makes you laugh. Jungkook clicks through the video of Yoongi’s set that he’s just recorded, before he clicks the screen off and lowers the camera. “It’ll probably be better if I wait until we get back to look through the footage. I’m sure Yoongi is anxious to get back too…” He looks up towards where Yoongi is supposed to be standing a few feet away, but the younger boy trails off. “Hey, look over there.” He jerks his chin towards Yoongi. “Some guy is talking to him. Do you know him?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion—none of your college friends had texted saying they were going to come by and listen in on Yoongi’s set—you crane your own neck towards the direction Jungkook is gesturing to. Up ahead, Yoongi is indeed talking to some guy that you don’t recognize so of course it would peak your curiosity. 

It’s a feeling that increases tenfold when Yoongi looks up, seems to find you from his search, and points across the space right at you. There’s even something in his eyes that beg you to walk over to him. This makes your frown deepen, because what the hell is this about? 

. 

Min Yoongi doesn’t allow for too much vocal expression that doesn’t involve the assistance of a keyboard or a music arrangement, but he speaks into the microphone without thinking. “And thank you guys so much for one million subs!” His smile widens as the crowd responds with the claps and cheers of their own—all responding to him and communicating with him. This is it, this is what makes coming out to do these shows all worth it. Obviously there’s a thrill he gets from being in front of a camera and another thrill from uploading a video that people can access from all over the world. But to see the faces of the people who have left positive comments underneath those aforementioned videos… now that’s a completely different kind of feeling he didn’t think he would enjoy so much. 

So Yoongi steps away from the mic to put away his equipment for the day. He only gets so far as to open the case for his microphone and mic holder before he’s hearing his name behind him. Turning around, he is faced with a few unfamiliar and a few familiar fans that are asking him for pictures and a short conversation. He indulges them, of course he does, and he signs a few albums while he’s at it. 

It’s like you always teased him about: he really is a softie for his fans. 

The fan interactions only last for a few minutes, before another voice comes in—it’s a deeper voice and radiates so much confidence and presence that it actually halts the next fan from trying to finish a conversation with Yoongi. All gazes turn towards the source of the voice: it’s a tall man with broad shoulders, pointy boots and a long coat that drapes down, hands stuffed into the pocket of that very coat. He looks like a model. 

The man gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry for interrupting, but I need to request a chat with Mr. Min and am in a bit of a hurry. Do you mind if I cut in for a moment?” 

The fan gives a weak smile. “N-No problem.” 

Yoongi gives his own small smile. “Sorry about that. Oh, here.” He quickly makes a grab for the CD in her hesitant hands, signing his name across the sleek surface. “Thanks for coming by. Have a good rest of the night.” 

Her smile brightens. “Thank you so much!” With a quick little bow, she runs off towards her friends. 

This leaves Yoongi alone with the stranger. “What can I help you with?” 

The stranger extends his arm. “Mr. Min, I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m a music executive. Nice to meet you.” 

Music executive. These two words pique Yoongi’s interest. Just enough. “Wow, uh, nice to meet you sir.” Yoongi can’t help but lower his head slightly in a small bow as he returns Kim Seokjin’s handshake. 

Seokjin waves him off. “Oh, no need to be so formal Mr. Min. I just thought that I should finally come by to introduce myself. I’ve been following your Youtube channel for awhile and think that you’re extremely talented, very capable to be a recording artist, in fact.” 

Yoongi blinks in surprise, completely taken aback by the direction of this conversation. When he came out for his show today, having a conversation with a whole ass music executive hadn’t been on the list of things he was expecting. Of course, it was always a dream of his to be a recording artist. But he thought something like that would always just remain a dream.  “T-Thank you.” 

Seokjin continues. “Honestly, this is the third live performance of yours that I attended. Artists like you who radiate lots of passion and dedication both through the screen and on a stage are pretty rare. But your confidence and presence is quite admirable.” 

At that, Yoongi can’t help but laugh a little. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t call this a stage, Mr. Kim, it’s just a small street corner.” 

Seokjin laughs. “Fair enough—but you treat this little street corner like a stage and I find that cool. It appears that that’s what a lot of your fans think as well.” He pauses. “Mr. Min,” He starts up again after a moment. “Have you ever considered becoming a recording artist? Signing with a music label, releasing music and being able to reach millions of people? Having concerts in venues all over the world?” 

At the question, Yoongi utters a scoff of disbelief. “I have,” He acknowledges after a few minutes. “Having this youtube channel and these street performances is amazing…” 

“Of course,” Seokjin replies with a nod. 

“But sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to do more than that. So, to answer your question, I have thought about it before. Many times, in fact.” 

Seokjin nods again. “What if I told you that I was interested in signing you, Mr. Min?” 

Yoongi stares at that, stares and stares with unblinking eyes, one hundred percent of his attention on the man standing in front of him—waiting for the signs, waiting to see the laugh or the glint that gives away his prankster tendencies. But none of those things come. Seokjin just stares right back, challenging him to question him and agree to his claim. 

But Yoongi is younger, more naive, so of course he falls for it. “Why would you want to sign me?” 

Seokjin grins. “Mr. Min, I like to think I’m pretty good at spotting talented people who have a fully fledged career ahead of them—which is something my gut is telling me that you can do. And don’t worry, it’s not just the gut feeling I have. Like I mentioned, I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a few months and I’ve seen the numbers and the turn out. You clearly have what it takes to bring fans in, keep them, and create events that’ll drive their attention—and I want to help you make an opportunity out of that.” 

Yoongi hears the words of the older man, he really does, but he still cannot help the feeling of his head spinning at all the positive things Kim Seokjin says to him. Not only that he believes Yoongi has what it takes to make it, but that Yoongi has the concrete numbers to back that up. He is offering Yoongi an opportunity—an opportunity that seemed much too big for his youtube channel to birth, an opportunity that he had always just written off as nothing more than a dream. Yet for Seokjin to say that it could be more than that? And for all of this to happen on a normal performance night? 

Was Yoongi about to faint right now or what. 

Seokjin takes in Yoongi’s stunned silence and smiles. “I understand that this could be a lot to take in. No worries. I have a card for you to take—so call me when you make up your mind, alright?” He rummages into the pocket of his coat before producing a business card. The name KSJ RECORDS is printed on the surface, shiny lettering in sleek font. 

Yoongi takes it wordlessly. 

“By the way, do you have a manager?” Seokjin asks. “You can have them reach out to me if that’ll make it easier.” 

Yoongi stays quiet for a moment. He doesn’t have a manager; he never really saw the need for one if his schedule was as simple as it was. After all, it was more than enough for him to handle with you—! 

His mind explodes, as if someone had just plugged it into an outlet. His gaze flickers to you, where he sees you now standing just a few feet away next to Jungkook. You’re already staring back at him, but your head tilts slightly as if you could read his internal struggle. Before Yoongi can even figure why he’s looking at you, his body seems to act on its own. His arm raises, finger pointing straight at you. “She’s over there.” 

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, seeming to read something in his gaze that even Yoongi couldn’t figure out. Still, you walk over to them. “What’s going on?” 

Seokjin acts first, turning towards you and giving you a nod in greeting. “Hi there, I’m Kim Seokjin. Yoongi says you’re his manager, is that correct?” 

You blink, caught off guard by the question because you definitely were not Yoongi’s manager. He knows that you know this. You give Yoongi another look, and his eyes widen at you, poorly attempting to transmit a singular message: please. 

You understand immediately, of course you do (you’re his best friend), as you turn back to look at Seokjin. “I am, it’s nice to meet you.” 

The pair of you shake hands. “I was just telling Mr. Min over there that I was interested in signing him to my company. I’m a music executive for KSJ records, and think that he would make a great addition to the team.” 

It takes you a second to process the news, but you do so quicker and much more graceful than Yoongi could ever hope to do. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” You turn to look at him, bright-eyed. “Yoongi, that’s amazing!” 

“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Seokjin continues to explain. “I don’t blame him, it’s a lot to process. I just told him that he could have you call me once he made up his mind. Then, contracts could be drawn up.” He pauses for a moment, then seems to scramble on something when you don’t say anything immediately. “Of course, you would remain his manager. I’m sure that he’s gotten as far as he has with your help. I would want you part of Mr. Min’s team regardless.” Seokjin composes himself quickly afterwards. “Like I said, take some time to come to a decision and let me know. Let me give you my card as well.” He mirrors his previous movement at Yoongi towards you now until you have his business card between your fingers. 

“W-Well,” You start, lowering the card and offering up your hand. “Thank you so much for coming by, Mr. Kim. We’ll be sure to send you a response soon.” 

Seokjin takes your hand carefully, giving it a firm shake. “I look forward to hearing from you.” He turns to Yoongi. “And I hope we’ll be able to work together, Mr. Min.” 

Yoongi blinks, but he snaps himself out long enough to return Seokjin’s handshake. “Y-Yes…” He replies, still feeling completely starstruck by what the fuck this encounter had just been. “T-Thank you for stopping by…” He trails off. He stays quiet as he watches Seokjin give one last departing word before he’s turning around and making his way down the street of the city. 

When he regains some of his attention back, he turns to find that you’re already staring at him with an unreadable expression across your face. “Let’s head back,” You say at least, holding up the business card. “We have a lot to talk about.” 

. 

“No way,” Jungkook utters, completely shocked as he practically throws himself onto the couch in the living room. His camera equipment has been set down near the door, too much exhaustion present in its owner for the trudge back into his room. “You got casted today? That’s incredible, hyung!” 

“I-I didn’t even realize what was going on,” Yoongi grumbles back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I still wonder if that moment even happened or if I conjured it up in a strange fever dream.” 

You raise your hand slightly. “I was there. Can confirm that it was real.” You dig the business card out of your pocket and stare down at it. 

Jungkook hikes himself deeper into the couch as he turns on his phone to start scrolling. “I gotta know who this guy is. Kim Seokjin you said? Of KSJ records?” 

“Yeah, KSJ records,” Yoongi replies, looking down at his own business card. “He seemed pretty legit.” 

A whistle from Jungkook confirms that. “Yeah, he’s definitely real. And look at that!” Jungkook turns the phone over to expose the photographs of Seokjin. “Used to be a singer as well. I bet he knows a lot about the industry.” 

Yoongi nods. “He did seem nice.” 

“So, does that mean you’re planning to meet up with him? Get signed and all that jazz?” 

“All that jazz?” Yoongi echoes, but he shakes his head before he could go off on that tangent. “But honestly? Yeah, I’m thinking about it. I really do love youtube and do want to continue that, but I just feel like there’s more for me to explore with the right connections.” 

Jungkook grins. “Wow, I can’t believe my roommate is gonna be famous.” He says the last word with a bite of curl in his tone, flashing a teasing smile when Yoongi merely glares in embarrassment. Jungkook’s eyes flicker further back towards where you are standing in the apartment, calling your name to get your attention. “What do you think of the idea, Miss. Manager?” 

You perk up at that. “Before I get into my answer—when did I suddenly become your manager? I don’t remember us ever having that conversation.” You’re situated in the kitchen, drumming one hand on the counter and using the other hand to stir some last night boxed mac and cheese. 

Yoongi coughs at your observation, sinking himself further down into the couch. “I didn’t want Seokjin to think I was an idiot or something for not having a manager. But when I do officially make up my mind…” He angles his head to stare over at you. “You’ll do it for me, right? You’ll actually be my manager?” 

You frown, hesitant. “You’re serious about asking me? I don’t know anything about being a manager though.” 

Yoongi almost pouts at that, sitting up so he can whirl around completely on the couch to face you. “But you know me and my music career almost better than anyone! And you graduated with a business degree, what do you mean you don’t know anything about being a manager?” 

You flush hotly at that. “It was just a general business degree, Yoongi, it seems like what you need to make it big is a legit artist manager! Someone who will actually know how to schedule your tour dates or keep up with your public image and know exactly how to market you to the general public. You really want me doing that for you?” 

Yoongi gaps at that. “Okay, but who’s the one who literally schedules my street performances and helps me with editing my videos?” 

“Jungkook does some of the editing too,” You grumble underneath your breath. 

“Yah! Stop selling yourself short!” Yoongi interjects, pointing at you accusingly. He does, however, lower his finger long enough to turn and address his roommate. “Not that you don’t help out with any of the editing, Jungkook…” 

Jungkook waves him off. “I know where my talents lie.” 

Yoongi turns back to you. “Besides, Seokjin acknowledged that you and I basically come as a packaged deal. He saw that you were working just as hard to get me my gigs.” 

You give him a one-shouldered shrug, the hesitation still laced in your tone. “I don’t know Yoongi. I just don’t want to fuck up and jeopardize your shot.” 

Yoongi’s attention is one hundred percent focused on you now, so much so that he has made his way into the kitchen and has come so close that he can switch off the stove that held the macaroni and cheese. “Hey, listen, the only reason I’ve even been given a shot was thanks to you. You work just as hard as me to keep my channel up and running—and you already have another job on the side, so you don’t have to do anything for me. But you do.” He plants both his hands on your shoulders and twists you around. “Would you be my manager? Please? I seriously don’t trust anyone else enough to do this for me.” 

You sigh, staring down Yoongi as tensely as he’s staring you down. He sees the flicker of continuing hesitation in your eyes, and responds with just tightening his grip on your shoulders—trying to convey as much pleading as he could to you. Honestly, if you rejected his request, he knows that he wouldn’t be able to do this without you. 

So when you seem to realize that he won’t give up, you sigh and look down for a moment. “Damn that I can never say no to you, Min Yoongi.” 

Hearing those words of confirmation, Yoongi’s gaze hyper focuses on you. Even when you look back over at him, you don’t look away and that merely confirms the unspoken question of your participation. 

When he realizes that you aren’t going to outright reject him, and that you’re actually on board for him, Yoongi’s face lights up as he immediately envelops you into a hug. “Thank you! Thank you—wow, that means a lot to me.” 

You suck in a breath at his words, tensing slightly at his words, but you eventually learn to relax long enough to pat him slowly on the back to return his hug. “Don’t thank me yet,” You grumble into his shoulder. “We haven’t even had a meeting. I may not be able to negotiate as well as you think I can.” 

Yoongi shakes his head at that, tightening his hold on you. From his close proximity to you, he doesn’t notice the way your breath seems to shake and your heart seems to quicken. “It doesn’t matter,” He reassures, finally backing off. “I don’t care if you don’t know how to do all those fancy manager things. Like I said, you’re the only one I could trust to do this.” 

You stare at Yoongi for a few more seconds before you sigh in defeat, knowing that you’ve just put all your thoughts and feelings on the table for him to react to. “Alright then,” You say, placing one of your hands across your chest and onto your shoulder—atop his hand still lingering. “I’ll make the call tomorrow then.” 

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.” 

There’s a brief silence that covers the pair of you, before a voice rings from the living room. “Do you mind bringing the mac and cheese over here?” 

.

.

CHAPTER 2: THE REQUEST 

.

One year later, and you learn that the crowds from Yoongi’s street performances are nothing in comparison to this. This—overwhelming and unmatched in all degrees, the screams and the cries and the shoves, all of it echoes around you just as it has for the past few months. Surprisingly, you’ve always been okay with being a little more firm if the situation called for such and today is absolutely no exception. 

“Off,” You say gently, tapping an outstretched hand trying to get past you and grab at the person behind you. 

The girl you’ve intercepted jerks her hand back as if you’ve burned her, her eyes wide and vaguely hurt as if you’ve singled her out specifically from this crowd. Rather, it’s more along the lines of keeping your client safe and trying to avoid the incident from last week. You block the memory out for the time being. 

You feel a hot breath at your ear. “If you make my fans cry, I swear—!” 

“Try to be less desirable then,” You bite back over your shoulder, holding up your hand when another fan tries to shove a sharpie past you. “Sorry, but we’re in a bit of a rush,” You say to the boy. “Come to the next concert—we’ll have a meet and greet then too.” 

The boy deflates, but that expression only lasts for a second before he seems to brighten slightly at whatever has just occurred behind you. Stealing a glance, you realize it’s because Min Yoongi has just thrown him an apologetic wink. 

The car appears in view a lot quicker than you had been anticipating, which is good as you muster all your energy to pull the handle that opens the car door. You step off to the side, further cutting off the fans who are trying to keep Yoongi from entering the vehicle. Soon enough, a taller and more dominating figure appears next to you as Yoongi manages to slide his way into the back seat. You and Jungkook exchange a nod—you had been in the front of Yoongi’s protection squad and he had been in the back, and the arrangement continues to work wonders. As long as Yoongi doesn’t lose a whole sleeve (like last time) then you would consider this departure a success. 

Jungkook tilts his head towards the still opened car door, allowing you to enter the car yourself. As soon as you’re settled, Jungkook leans forward to join you. He slides his way into the seat all the way in the back of the car. Closing the door behind him, you signal Taehyung to take off with a nod into the rearview mirror. 

The screams and calls of Yoongi’s name are loud, and pass through the metal structure of the car as if it is nothing. But you know that the boy doesn’t mind, and that he lives and breathes moments like these as he has for the past few months. 

It’s crazy to think how much a year could change, after you and Yoongi decided to meet up with Seokjin to discuss how Yoongi was going to be signed under KSJ records. Seokjin had talked about the big plans he had in pushing Yoongi towards the spotlight—and goals like an album, a concert, and meet-and-greets around the country had been promised for Yoongi’s first year. 

And of course, Yoongi was completely enchanted by the promises. Just one final ‘of course’ confirmation to have you as his manager, and Yoongi was signing on the dotted line. Truth be told, you didn’t know what KSJ records would have in store for Yoongi—how long that glimmer of passion would remain in the boy’s eyes. 

A year later, and you acknowledge that you might have underestimated Kim Seokjin. As a former performer, he knew all the ins and outs of the music industry and his well established connections as well as his good ear for good music meant that Yoongi was allowing his music to get the treatment it deserved. Pair that with Yoongi’s growing popularity on Youtube, and it all equates to an EP that debuts with tens of thousands of copies sold within the first week. The EP itself hadn’t been much—just six songs that contained a mix of old songs and new songs, but all written by Yoongi. His previous (although small) experience with producing and arrangement allowed him constant access into the various studios at KSJ records, where he learned from all the other producers on how to make good music.

The hands-on, personal touch Seokjin allowed Yoongi to deliver in his music had been a good call and a large contributor to the success of the EP. You recall fans praising the album and talking about how it matched Yoongi’s youtube aesthetic perfectly, but just with the higher quality element that top notch equipment could bring to music. 

In a way, the current atmosphere of concerts and meet-and-greets is just a way to celebrate the success of Yoongi’s music career launching off into the stratosphere. 

“Hey.” There’s a gentle tap against your head, and you jump before turning to face Yoongi in the seat next to you. “You good?” 

You blink, bringing your finger up to brush the hair out of your face. “Yeah, just spaced out.” 

“Cool. I thought you might have fallen asleep.” 

“If anyone should have fallen asleep by now, it’s you,” You point out. “I think that today’s meet-and-greet was the largest one you’ve had so far.” 

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi says. “I have every intention of following asleep as soon as I fall into bed. Plus, don’t let me hold a pen for the next week—I think my wrist almost fell off.” 

You laugh, angling yourself so you can face him. “But you love it, don’t you?” 

Yoongi’s gaze softens as he lets your question sink in. “Course I do. I never realized how cool it would be to have an audience sing my lyrics back to you. More than that, it was all lyrics I used to write in the apartment, or in between lectures back at college, or late into the night on my phone… back when the idea of all this was just a dream.” He pivots his body towards you, eyes bright as the passion for his current place in life seems to have gotten him hyped up again. “You know, during the meet and greet, this girl came up to me all confidently and told me that my album got her through a tough time. I think that’s when it really hit me that this was all happening.” 

The corner of your lips quirk up into a smile. “Oh yeah, I actually do remember you writing those songs and you showing me the lyrics. You speak from the heart, and your fans understand that. Helps that you’re pretty cute too. Anyone with eyes could see that.” As soon as those words escape your lips, you almost want to chide yourself and immediately throw yourself out of the car. Why would you say something like that—why would you openly admit to Yoongi’s cuteness? Your face grows warm at the realization, leaving you to hope that Yoongi won’t notice your flustered state. 

Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s too busy gawking at your observation, too busy tearing his gaze away from you to stare firmly out of the car window. 

Jungkook simply shifts his gaze between the two of you. 

In the midst of the silence, you fish out your phone and start scrolling through your social media pages. Due to the third party cookie ads that follow you around, you immediately notice news of Yoongi’s concert of the day has started hitting various news sites—most articles praising Yoongi on his song selections and live adaptations of his music to suit the concert style more. Reading these articles leave you unable to stop the grin, because Yoongi deserves this so fucking much that you could have sworn your heart sings a little as you continue reading. 

It’s a moment that lasts for only a couple of seconds, as recommended articles start coming up that do well in setting up the gray cloud. With the increased amount of attention that comes from being a newly top rated best selling album artist, so does the intrusion into personal life that follows—the dark side of the media, the side that just loves to stick its nose in places it does not belong. It’s something that you had been seeing since Yoongi’s youtube account hit five hundred thousand, but at the time these kinds of questions were more dark shadows or curious inquiries taken in the form of casual comments. 

Now, those questions have become much more normalized, as a common curiosity seems to have taken form from all these drama articles: was Min Yoongi dating anyone? And even better: who is Min Yoongi writing all his love songs for? 

As if love was limited to romantic relationships, and wasn’t a feeling one could recreate from other love songs or romantic comedies. Or just the feelings of growing up. 

“We’re here!” Taehyung calls from the front seat, as you jump up from your train of thought. Refocusing on your surroundings, you realize that you’ve made it into the parking lot of the hotel. 

You sigh, regathering your belongings that have moved around during the drive. “Thanks, Taehyung.” 

“Hey.” Taehyung utters for you to come closer to him as soon as the pair of you step out of the car. He jerks toward Yoongi, who is exiting from his side of the car before quickly side-stepping to let Jungkook come out as well. “Was that flirting back there?” 

You protest hotly at once, your hand raising up and wave side-to-side frantically in complete denial. “N-No, it wasn’t—!” 

“Okay, good,” Taehyung interrupts, leaning back to stuff his hands into his pants pockets. “Because if that was the case I think we would have had to re-evaluate your definition of flirting—!” 

“Will you stop?” You squeak. 

“Is everything okay?” Yoongi asks, having rounded around the car to stare over at you and Taehyung. 

You whirl around quickly, tightening up your expression once more to make sure that any remnants of your conversation with Taehyung would be undetected. “Yep!” You say immediately. “Everything is fine. Let’s get going, yeah?” You allow Jungkook to lead the four of you out of the parking lot and into the elevator that’ll take you to the main floor of the hotel room. Yoongi has to slip on a pair of glasses and a baseball cap, just on the off chance that a fan might be staying in the same room—it happened a few stops ago—before the four of you are making your way through the lobby. The four of you have reserved four separate rooms for your overnight stay in the city, rooms that you have already checked into earlier that day, so it feels nice to just make your way to the elevator and select the correct floor. 

Taehyung decides to check in first for the night, waving you all off and congratulating Yoongi on another well done performance. Jungkook lingers around as you make your way to Yoongi’s room next. 

“Thanks for walking me,” Yoongi says, sliding the key card into the slot and pulling out when he hears the beep of confirmation on his door. 

Jungkook flashes him a thumbs up. “Good show today. Now get some rest.” 

Yoongi nods, just about to close the door when you make a sudden noise from the back of your throat. “OH!” You call out suddenly, startling both boys as you reach your arm out suddenly to prevent Yoongi from closing the door. He had been so close too. “Sorry, I just realized. Seokjin sent me an email of some deadlines he wanted me to go over with you. Your sleep is gonna have to be put on hold.” 

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath. 

You turn to look at Jungkook. “We’ll be fine, Jungkook, go rest up—you deserve it.” 

Jungkook nods, grinning at Yoongi. “See you guys around.” 

“No fair…” Yoongi pouts as he watches Jungkook stroll down the hall to reach his hotel room. “Why do they get to rest and I don’t? I’m so tired…” 

“Well, this is the price of fame,” You retort with the shrug of your shoulders. “You have your face the paparazzi want to see, and the name that sells the albums. Naturally, it means you just have to put in more work than everyone else.” 

Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, still pouting but less so as he opens the door once more for the both of you to enter. “When you put it that way…” 

You giggle behind him. “For the fans, Min Yoongi.” 

You immediately task yourself with throwing yourself atop his bed, surprisingly put together despite the fact that you had checked everyone in earlier that day. You would have assumed he would have taken a nap. But the bed doesn’t look slept in at all. 

Yoongi notices your observation immediately. “I was too nervous to fall asleep earlier today,” He provides, taking a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. “So what was it that Seokjin needed you to go over with me?” 

“It’s short, I promise,” You reassure, pulling out the iPhone from your pocket. As soon as you unlock the device, you’re faced with the articles you had previously been looking up—the ones about Yoongi’s dating life. Without meaning to, you sigh heavily at the sight. 

Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. “What’s up?” 

You jerk up. “Oh, no, nothing sorry. I just…” You hold the phone up for Yoongi to see. “These articles about you and your dating life—it’s getting worse.” 

“Oh.” Yoongi’s fingers fiddle with each other. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few of those floating around too. Honestly, for someone who writes a lot of songs about love, these curiosities don’t really surprise me. I wish that they wouldn’t be so intrusive.” 

“Unfortunately, people always think it’s their right to know who these love songs are for.” You spare him a quick glance, only to realize that he’s already staring at you. Hastily, you look back down. “If the songs are even for anyone, that is.” 

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “Right.” 

“Anyways…” You exit your internet app, tapping through until Seokjin’s email comes up. “Seokjin just wants to know your progress on the new songs. He’s trying to gauge your progress so he can see whether or not to arrange studio time for you to start recording.” 

The new songs—it’s a reference to Seokjin’s next plan for Yoongi’s career. With the launch of the EP and the current success that it has been harboring, it makes sense that the next step would be to launch a full-length album. Technically it could be called a repackage, since the album would most likely feature a few songs from the EP and cover the rest of the spots with new music. 

But aforementioned new music takes time to write, not that Yoongi ever had a problem with writing music. That has always been second nature for him—and was something he could do anywhere so long as he had a functioning, conscious mind. It was all just a matter of whether or not he could create the required number of actual songs within the scheduled deadline. With those higher expectations, time definitely plays the biggest issue and it makes sense if Yoongi couldn’t write proper songs given the current circumstances. 

Nonetheless, Yoongi nods at the question. “I actually have rough drafts of most of the songs, if that was okay with Seokjin. We could probably schedule some meetings to polish up the writing, since a lot of them are still in the beginning stage.” 

You blink at his answer, surprised by his response. You had been expecting one, or maybe two songs to be written out but to have all eight songs written out? “W-Wow…” You utter. “You wrote so many songs so quickly.” 

Yoongi shrugs, but he does look a little prideful at your words. You don’t notice his lingering gaze. “I have a lot to reflect on, what can I say.” 

“I-I mean,” You stammer, not really hearing his response. “I could schedule the meeting with Seokjin, but if he knows that you have everything basically done, he’ll probably be okay with giving you a little more time to polish up your work yourself.” 

Yoongi ponders this, but he shakes his head. “No, go ahead and schedule the meeting. It’s actually nice having extra hands in the music.” 

You nod. “Alright then, I’ll go and do that. I think I should also just go over tomorrow’s schedule with you.” Quickly, you relay the time details of what tomorrow’s day will look like since you’re flying out for another show the next morning. You give him some details about the stage, how many people are going, and how many people he will be meeting afterwards. It’s a standard review conversation, one of the many that you’ve had with Yoongi over the year. “And… that should be it,” You wrap up as soon as you’ve reviewed the day. Looking over the schedule once more, you cannot help but sigh once more. 

“What is it this time?” Yoongi asks from the side. 

“Oh, no nothing!” You reassure with a promising smile. “Just another busy day.” 

Yoongi gives you a grin, but you can see the exhaustion clinging to the corner of his eyes. “There’s only a few more stops left of the concert—what happened to you being positive rock?” 

At that, you laugh nervously. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” You clench a fist in front of him and pump it up to showcase a display of energy. “Another day of excitement and one more day towards fulfilling your dreams!” You lower your fist and give him a slightly dryer look. “How was that?” 

“I could have done without the look at the end, but it’ll do, I guess.” Yoongi stands up from his place on the couch and throws himself atop his bed. His head ends up near you, his back on the mattress, and his feet dangling off the side. “There’s only a few stops left of the tour, and for some people this is their first time seeing me live. And for other people, maybe they saw me back when I would perform on the streets, so in that case it’s their first time seeing me perform on a stage and everything!” He lifts one of his hands up into his field of view. “Either way, I just want to do the best I can for the people that take time out to come see me and support me. Because I owe them everything—I owe them more than what I can give them.” 

You don’t say anything to that. What could you say, anyways? Instead, you reach over and run your fingers through his hair. After a second, you retract your hand. You shouldn’t let yourself linger for too long anyways. “It’s late,” You say, a tone of finality in your voice. “I should head to my room. I’ll make sure to let Seokjin know your update.” You slide off the bed into a standing position. “You should get some rest.” You turn to him. “You may not think you can pay back your fans, but you probably help them out every single day. The same way they help you out too.” 

Yoongi tilts his head back to see you. Upside down, but still look at you nonetheless. He grins. “There’s that positive energy I was looking for. Thanks.” 

You laugh, already making your way towards his hotel room door. “Thank me by giving me another kickass performance tomorrow. Makes my job a whole lot easier.” 

. 

The following weeks of concert tours pass by without a hitch. To Yoongi, any event now that doesn’t end up with a torn sleeve and nail scratches up and down his arm is a success. And you haven’t freaked out for the remaining dates as you had when security had been at its worst—so he’d consider that the icing on top of the cake. Although he’s glad to finally be be home and be anchored to his own bed and be in his own space for the first time in months, he knows that his first concert experience to celebrate his first EP had truly been a memorable undertaking. 

And it had been more successful than anyone at KSJ records could have predicted. At least, that’s what Seokjin tells him when Yoongi arrives at the studio the following day to start going through the process of polishing up his song lyrics. 

“It seems that you really enjoyed yourself throughout the tour,” Seokjin remarks as Yoongi steps into the former’s office. Seokjin is scrolling through some articles on his laptop. He closes it as Yoongi takes a seat and regards the younger boy with a look of curiosity and wonder. “How was it?” 

Yoongi brightens. “So much fun. I didn’t realize how cool it would feel to have audience members sing song lyrics right back at me, but that was probably my favorite moment.” 

“Ah, of course, first time for everything as they always say.” Seokjin folds his fingers atop one another. “And how was your team?” He says your name, given that you are Yoongi’s manager. “Along with Jungkook and Taehyung? I wish I could have given you more people, but we didn’t know how crazy moving you around was going to be.” 

Yoongi nods. “I mean… it was fine. Jungkook was really good.” He can’t help but think that Jungkook should have been good—after all, Yoongi is the reason why Jungkook has been getting safe with job security recently. “And Taehyung too. I think having the small team was good because we ended up all getting really connected and had this whole system in place after a few stops.” 

“I heard a fan tore your sleeve,” Seokjin points out, looking mildly concerned. “How did that go?” 

“Oh, it was just a one time thing,” Yoongi tries to brush off with the wave of his hand. He thinks of you, because of course he does. He mentions you. “She would tap the fans who were getting too close. It was reassuring, honestly.” 

“That’s good to hear,” Seokjin says. “And I’ve heard that you’ve been making a lot of headway with the upcoming album. So we’re definitely gonna set some time for us to go through the lyrics and structure what you’ve come up with already. But I did want to go over something with you first—the main reason I called you in, actually.” 

Yoongi tilts his head. “Okay, what’s up?” 

Seokjin re-opens his laptop, and clicks through a few links before he’s pivoting the laptop in a 180 degree motion so Yoongi can see the screen. At once, he’s faced with several articles, all centering around the topic that has been haunting him since the beginning of his concert journey. He gets a flashback to one of the nights you came into his hotel room to discuss scheduling, and how you had mentioned this particular topic showing up more and more.

Yoongi had known it was becoming a problem. He just didn’t think it was something that required urgent discussion. 

“As I’m sure you’re aware, your growing popularity means that people are developing a growing interest in your relationship. Since you are labeled specifically as a song-writer who writes songs about growing up, struggles, and love, this only heightens people’s curiosity.” 

Yoongi allows Seokjin to continue talking, as he moves forward in his chair to actually scroll through one of the articles Seokjin has pulled up. It’s entitled: UP AND COMING SINGER SONGWRITER MIN YOONGI IS DEFINITELY IN A RELATIONSHIP, BUT WITH WHO? As he scrolls down, there’s several people that are listed as potential girlfriends to Yoongi’s partnership—some people he does not know at all, some people he has only seen once. 

You’re on the list too, and Yoongi’s eyes widen when he identifies your picture amongst the lot. He zeroes in on the description underneath the simple title: Yoongi’s manager? Although most manager and artist relationships are platonic, we can’t leave this one out! Fans have tracked down Min Yoongi’s current manager as an old assistant from Min Yoongi’s youtube days, so there’s definitely some history between them! 

“This article has been blowing up. You may or may not know, but people making assumptions about your relationship status could be dangerous. Since you write songs about relationships, it leaves a lot of room for error and scandals, especially if news sites decide to publish something or someone else with bad intentions try to claim you wrote a song about them. Or something else of the sort.” 

Yoongi nods slowly at that, not entirely understanding what direction Seokjin is going with his build up. It makes sense though. Leaving Yoongi out in the open like this could be dangerous for his career. “S-So, what ideas do you have to combat that?” 

“I’ve been thinking about this in the recent weeks you’ve been on tour,” Seokjin says quietly, pressing his hands together. “I think that we should push your relationship status into the public—get you a girlfriend to maintain your ‘pure romantic heart’ reputation so it looks like you’re writing love songs solely for your girlfriend.” 

It takes a second for the words to sink in. “Aaaaah,” Yoongi finally says, but his voice sounds far away all of a sudden, the further time seems to creep on. Sure, he’s seen this concept of surface relationships between in film and television—and the idea of it makes some sense. For someone whose best songs were related to moments of being in love, surely most people would suspect that the inspiration for those songs had to come from somewhere. If Yoongi came out to admit his lack of relationship experience, would people approve of that? Or would they think he was lying? 

In that regard then, it makes sense that Seokjin would come up with the idea. But faking a relationship for the sake of faking a relationship has never been something Yoongi thought he would ever have to go through. 

Mainly because first of all—who would play Yoongi’s girlfriend? 

Now, Yoongi isn’t the worst actor in the world. But he can be stiff at times, and if Seokjin wants to push a relationship status into the public eye then Yoongi imagines that this girlfriend would be someone Yoongi felt the most natural around. Someone he wouldn’t mind pretending to be in a relationship with. 

Would Yoongi even get a say in the matter? Or would Yoongi’s approval be the only requirement before Seokjin went off to find a girlfriend for Yoongi himself?

“D-Did you have someone in mind?” Yoongi finds himself asking instead. 

Seokjin hums, tapping his chin with his finger. “Not at the moment. I just wanted to bring it up with you in case you had an idea for someone.” Mindlessly, he reaches to take back the laptop and flip it back towards him. This exposes him to the article Yoongi had been previously scrolling through—one where pictures of you are plastered over the current screen. 

At the sight, Seokjin wavers slightly, staring down your pictures and furrowing his eyebrows. Yoongi looks over, noticing immediately that the laptop (and the pictures of you from that article) is no longer right in front of him but rather in front of Seokjin instead. When he glances over at Seokjin, he finds the older man lost in thought, running the side of his finger across his lip. Back and forth, clearly pondering something. 

“Yes…” Seokjin says after a moment. “That could work, actually.” He looks across the desk at Yoongi. “Good idea, Yoongi. I think originally, I would have said no, but these pictures and this description actually makes a valid point.” 

Yoongi blinks, not really connecting the dots right away. “Uh, sorry, Seokjin, but I’m not really following…” 

Seokjin makes a noise, gesturing to his laptop screen that he has just gotten back from Yoongi. “You were suggesting Y/N as your fake girlfriend, weren’t you? I’m assuming that’s why you stopped on these pictures. My initial thought was that it probably wouldn’t work, but actually considering your history with each other it seems like this could be the most likely case scenario.” 

It takes another second for the information to fully process. You. His fake girlfriend. Seokjin misunderstanding that unintentionally stopping on your pictures meant that Yoongi was trying to convey some sort of message. 

You—playing the role of his fake girlfriend, the ‘supposed’ inspiration for all his music. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ironic. 

It would be funny if you didn’t inspire all of his music—but you do. And Yoongi isn’t laughing.  

He should say something. He knows that it would make sense, as Seokjin is claiming, but it would also potentially inch him towards a can of worms he has been so sure would never see the sunlight. More than that, having you as his fake girlfriend would bring him the closest he has ever been to feeling hopeful. 

He really should say something. 

But for some reason, the words don’t come out. He just lets Seokjin believe his ingenious plan. “Yes, yes!” Seokjin continues after the many moments of silence that lapse between the two of you. “This could work actually. You guys have known each other for years, and older fans of yours from the youtube days would definitely recognize Y/N. That way, the announcement of your relationship wouldn’t seem entirely out of line, especially if we say that you guys have been dating for years. It also makes sense that we could say you becoming Yoongi’s ‘manager’ was always part of a cover up—after all, that’s what they did in that movie That Thing You Do…” 

The more Seokjin drones on and on about his plan, and how exactly he intends to work up to it, the more nervous Yoongi gets. Was Seokjin actually planning on doing this—enlist you as Yoongi’s fake girlfriend and drag you along to participate in this facade? Yoongi is mildly shocked. He should have known Seokjin would follow through on the question, but he had just assumed that today was just the idea phase and that plans to arrange this fake relationship would take weeks. 

But if there’s anything Yoongi knows about Seokjin, it’s that the man knows how to get something done. Quickly, too. In Seokjin’s word, it’s a natural occurrence for a simple idea phase to morph into actual concrete plans within the time span of a day. Yoongi should have planned this out better—but then again, he didn’t think that him accidentally stopping on a picture of you from a fucking drama article would serve as the catalyst for Seokjin’s ideas. 

Yoongi straightens up onto his feet. “Why don’t I talk to Y/N first about this?” He asks. “The idea may seem good on paper, but if she’s uncomfortable then it’s a no go.” 

Seokjin studies Yoongi carefully, before the former relents. “Okay, fair enough. Let me know what happens.” 

As soon as the pair of them exchange the last nods, Yoongi is dashing out of Seokjin’s office with one clear objective in mind: to talk to you. 

Luckily, you aren’t too far away. You’re in your office, typing up something on your laptop and your eyes scanning through what he can only assume are emails. It’s eyes that widen when Yoongi practically storms into your space, shutting the door behind him. 

You straighten up. “Yoongi, you alright? You look like you just ran a marathon.” 

Yoongi doesn’t even realize that his chest is heaving until you point that out. He coughs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t run a marathon though.” 

Your eyebrows furrow, but the corner of your lips turn up in mild curiosity. “Okay. What’s up?” 

Yoongi presses his lips together. Even with the many feet of space between the two of you—he can make out the glimmer in your eyes from the sunlight pouring through the window, he can see the shadow of your eyelashes and the line where your collarbone dips below your blouse. Fuck, he’s in deep. There’s no way he could ask you something so monumental to the downfall of his sanity. But he knows that it’s too late to just walk away. Partly because he’s already in your office and partly because the idea has already been planted into Seokjin’s head. And if Yoongi didn’t speak up, then Seokjin was going to. 

So Yoongi opens his mouth. “I may or may not have gotten you into a situation,” He starts up. 

You snort, of course not taking him seriously. “That might just be the summary of our relationship.” 

“No, I don’t think you understand…” Yoongi pleads, stepping deeper into the office. 

You frown at his behavior, closing your laptop this time to address him completely. “Okay, what’s up, really? You’re kind of scaring me…” 

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not… scary or anything…” He trails off. 

You raise an eyebrow. “Let me be the judge of that.” 

So Yoongi shoves his hands deep into his coat pocket, and slides next to your desk, leaning against the surface as he starts his story. He covers everything: from Seokjin bringing up the drama articles about his relationship status, how he had scrolled through and saw your name, how Seokjin had misinterpreted that as a sign, and worse of all, how Seokjin thought it would be a good idea for you to play as Yoongi’s fake girlfriend. 

To say you’re appalled would be an understatement. You’re staring up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Are you serious?” You ask. “B-But I’m your manager!” You scoff at yourself. “No, more than that—I’m your friend, Yoongi. Seokjin must be on something. He has to be. What did you guys decide on? Please tell me that you said no.” 

“W-Well, there was no agreement or disagreement,” Yoongi argues weakly. “I walked out before Seokjin could make up his mind.” He pauses for a moment, something sinking in. “Wait a minute,” He brings up, a slightly teasing smile across his face. “Do you really find the idea of dating me that gross?” 

You make a noise in the back of your throat at his accusation, and you immediately begin to scramble. “I-I mean,” You start, the flush present in your throat as you start speaking very quickly at once. Both your hands go up in a defensive position. “It’s not that I don’t find you gross… because I don’t! You’re a very attractive person—it’s just that—we’re friends and—stop looking at me like that!” You stand up, slamming your palms onto the table when you realize that he’s just flashing you a shit-eating grin. 

He has half the mind to be mildly disheartened that you are so against the idea of dating him. But then again, he’d probably say no to fake dating you if he was being forced into a situation like this. He’d definitely say no. 

Okay, he’d probably say no. 

“Well, I told Seokjin that if you were uncomfortable with the idea, then it’d be a no go and he seemed to respect the idea.” 

Still standing, you sigh and press your face into the palm of your hand. Your fingers brush through your hair. “Okay, let’s step back for a moment.” You remove your hands from your face. “If I were to say yes, what exactly would that entail?” 

Yoongi manages a weak one-shouldered shrug. “I’m not sure exactly. Seokjin would probably have a better idea of that. I imagine KSJ records would release a statement about our relationship, and we would be scheduled to go to variety shows or press interviews together. We’d probably have to go out to restaurants together too. Hold hands…” The thought of holding your hand dries up his throat a little, but he passes it off well by faking a cough. “That sort of stuff.” 

You glare at him. “And what about your fans? You’re trying to preserve this ‘pure romantic heart’ image, but I’m sure there’s a lot of fans that like to believe the songs could be about them.” 

He shrugs. “That—I’m not too sure about. I imagine Seokjin prefers the idea of my fans believing that my heart only belongs to one person rather than them believing that I’ll just write a love song for anyone.” 

You nod. “That’s valid, I guess.” 

Yoongi stares at you from the smaller space of distance between the two of you. “Again, you don’t have to say yes. Frankly, I think it’s a batshit crazy idea.” 

“It’s not… completely out of line.” After a moment, you sigh. “I can actually understand why Seokjin would get the idea of trying to set you up like this. The news articles will probably get worse. And since your songs market themselves on being personal, people want to know who the songs are about. If Seokjin gave the public a face, then there’d be no room for assumptions and even less room for scandals to come about.” You give him a look. “Sadly, if you were to stay single, there’s only so much I could do as your manager to control that bad press.” 

Yoongi raises both his eyebrows up. “Does that mean you’re saying yes—?” 

“I’m not… saying anything yet.” You plop yourself back down into your seat. “I’m not saying yes. But I’m not saying no either.” You sink further into your seat. “Hopefully Seokjin will change his mind before I have to make up mine?” 

That’s an unlikely case. But Yoongi doesn’t argue with you, and you don’t wait for him to. He simply nods one more time before leaving your office. 

.

You would be lying if you said you never thought about dating Yoongi. Of course you have. You’re sure that you’ve had a crush on the boy within the first week of your introductions. This crush explains so many of your past actions—your support for his Youtube channel, your fulfillment as his manager, and now this pull towards agreeing to become his fake girlfriend. And you hate yourself for the every second you consider it a good idea. 

Because it’s not a good idea. It’s a terrible idea. More than that, it’s an unfair idea. Agreeing to fake date someone you actually want to date seems like too cruel a hand to be dealt. Considering your more-often-than-not fragile state, setting yourself up with Yoongi in this way already seems doomed to fail. It would be unfair to Yoongi, because agreeing to this would deprive him of an actual relationship he could be happy in. But it would be more unfair to you, because losing control would mean losing your best friend. 

So you don’t give Yoongi a positive confirmation. But you don’t give him a negative one either. See, you don’t have the heart to just outwardly reject him, because you know that he needs you to help him with this. You know that he understands the situation he’s been put in, and that getting a fake girlfriend seems to be the best case scenario. You know that it wouldn’t make sense with any other girl—it had to be you. Saying no straight to face is something that you don’t have the heart to do. 

Rather than give a yes or no answer, you opt for the second best option: hold off and avoid indulging too deeply. 

It’s a strategy that works for a grand total of one day. 

The following day post Yoongi’s conversation, you show up to work with information that Yoongi is going to start recording songs for his new album. His first full-length album, at that—something he has been working hard for since the beginning. Every second of free time available to him during the tour, during off-days had been dedicated to writing the music necessary to fill the album. You know how hard he’s been working—you’ve watched throughout the duration of his tour, and spoke to him for many nights about the progression of this album. 

You just didn’t think that the recording part would be coming around so soon. 

This is a thought you reflect to Seokjin when you enter the recording studio. Yoongi is already behind the glass, and his voice is amplified in the studio, where they appear to be discussing the arrangement for how a song is going to go. This leaves you vaguely surprised—if Yoongi is in the booth already, it means that there must have been some ground covered on how the arrangement was supposed to go. Just how long has Yoongi been in the studio before you showed up? 

“Ah, good morning,” Seokjin greets from the back of the studio, seated on the couch and his arms resting along the back. “Don’t get mad, but Yoongi worked through the night again.” 

Your lips part into a gape as your eyes widen in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking,” You return. 

Seokjin merely laughs in return. “I wish I was! When I left, he was going at it with Namjoon and when I came back this morning they were still going at it. But, you know, who am I to rain in on a breakthrough moment?” 

You relent your control of the situation slightly (only slightly) at Seokjin’s rhetorical question. Namjoon is one of Seokjin’s top producers and arrangers—very gifted in songwriting and how to make a good song. From the year that you and Yoongi have been a part of KSJ records, Yoongi and Namjoon have gotten along great and their close relationship has been the reason for many late nights. The pair of them were always caught in the drift of making sleepless but record-selling hits. 

Like Seokjin said, who are you to interrupt art in progress? 

Although you have a sudden flurry of desires and objectives (mainly to reprimand Yoongi for being so careless with a slap or a hit where you could put him to sleep yourself), you bite it down long enough to shed your jacket and rest it on the armrest of the couch. “Fine, fine, I’ll let it go this time.” 

Seokjin chuckles at that, removing his gaze from you and sliding it across the studio back into the booth where Yoongi is still in the midst of discussing something with Namjoon. Something about how the arrangement isn’t as smooth or on beat as they had originally intended. “You’re a good manager,” He says at last. “I can tell that you really do care about him and will definitely give him a peace of your mind once he’s done with today’s session. And what’s more…” He laughs. “He’ll actually let you walk all over him. You’d be surprised how often I see managers in it just for the money, where they don’t have their artist’s best interest in mind. You’re definitely not like that.” 

You slide into the vacant seat next to Seokjin. “If I don’t keep an eye on him, I know that no one else will. It’s nothing against other people, but no one else in his life is as involved in his career as I am. But I’m his friend first, and his manager second.” 

The pair of you are quiet for a moment, as you watch Namjoon fiddle with some of the switches on the music panel. They seem to come to an agreement on the newly modified beat, because it starts playing through the speakers in the booth. Yoongi presses his hands against the headphones he’s wearing, and starts to relay the lyrics into the microphone. It starts off slow—Yoongi has his phone in his hands to read the lyrics, to double check the flow and the tempo. After a few lines, he stops. “Ah—let’s reword this line. I do like the change we made to the music, so let’s change the lyrics to match.” His voice is amplified through the studio. 

Namjoon presses a button on the music panel, allowing him to communicate with Yoongi. “Sure. Want to head in and make the changes?” 

Yoongi ponders this for a moment, but shakes his head. “Give me a second. Maybe if I listen to the song again, I can feel what I vibe with.” 

“Sounds good.” Namjoon releases his hold on the button, and turns around in his chair to face you and Seokjin. The sight of you makes his eyes widen, as Namjoon coughs back a choke. “O-Oh, Y/N, you’re here—!” 

His words make you narrow your eyes as you point a finger at him. “YAH! Which one of you was it that contributed to your all-nighter?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Namjoon protests, raising both of his hands up in defense. “We were both in the groove!” 

You lower your finger with a sigh. “You’re lucky that you’re in the middle of helping Yoongi achieve his dreams. Otherwise I’d kick both of your asses.” 

Namjoon seems to realize that you’re not messing around, because he emits a nervous laugh. “I promise we’ll be a little more careful next time…” 

“Oh, Namjoon, I rewrote some of the lines!” Yoongi calls from inside the booth. 

Namjoon whirls around in his chair again to press the button. “Sounds good, let’s do it.” 

As the music starts up again, Seokjin decides to speak up once more. “Yoongi told me that he talked to you about the little fake dating plan I had.” 

The mention of it, as well as your previous internal insistence of not talking or thinking about that, makes you stiffen. “He might have mentioned something like that.” 

When you turn to look at Seokjin, he has an unreadable look glinting in his eyes. “Since you were talking about achieving Yoongi’s dreams and all…” He trails off. “I wanted to apologize for bringing that idea onto you so quickly. I didn’t really consider how you’d feel about the arrangement. I just wanted to try and do what I thought was best for Yoongi.” 

You sigh. “I know why you thought of the idea. And I totally agree with you—I think that if he wants to carry on, this is the least costly next step that should be taken. I just… I don’t know if I’m the best fit for it.” 

Seokjin nods. “I respect your decision. After all, Yoongi told me that if you were uncomfortable with it, then it’d be an immediate no go.” 

The corner of your lips turns up upon hearing Yoongi’s thought process. Even though you’ve already heard the words from the man himself—it’s nice to hear that assurance from his boss. Knowing that Yoongi puts your thoughts and feelings on the forefront of his mind is a nice feeling. A misleading feeling if you let yourself think too deeply into it. But a nice feeling, nonetheless. 

You decide not to comment immediately on Seokjin’s apology; rather, you tune into what exactly Yoongi is singing about in the song. It’s got a softer beat to it—an opening song to the album, perhaps? It’s much more whimsy compared to his hard-hitting personal rants that touch on the frustration of miscommunication, of not saying something when he should have said something. 

Instead, this is a song about distance—about missing someone due to distance and the longing of returning home because of the normality it brought. About how even closeness sometimes isn’t enough to fill the gap of desire in his heart. It takes on a beat you’ve never heard before, and a feeling of missing something that isn’t even tangible for you as a listener. Nevertheless, his words, his raspiness, and the hard lines hidden within the otherwise soft tone of the song work hard to poke at your edges and your weak spots. The parts of you that have always been willing to cave for Yoongi, the part of you that has never hesitated to do what needed to be done if it benefited Yoongi. 

You were his manager, so you always want what’s best for him. But you’re also a friend who has been in love with him for years, so you will do whatever it takes to get him there. 

You hope you don’t regret this.

“Actually,” You admit quietly, but it’s loud enough to perk Seokjin’s attention. “I’ll do it.” 

Seokjin blinks, clearly trying to process your words right off the bat. “You’ll…” He trails off.

You look away. You have a feeling that if Seokjin looks at you for too long, he’ll see your emotions spill out across the entire fucking studio. “Do the fake dating idea.” 

Seokjin fumbles a little. “H-Hold on a second—are you sure? Seriously, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. Since you’re the one least adjusted to being in the spotlight, a lot of this pressure is going to fall onto you. I don’t want you to say yes and then regret it later on… so maybe you should think a little more about this…” 

You steel yourself. It feels a little bit like holding your breath. Finally, you spare Seokjin a look. “I won’t regret it,” You say. “You and I both said that Yoongi needs me to keep going at this pace—I was going to get roped in eventually, so I think it’ll just be easier if I agree now rather than drag this thing around for a couple of months. Besides…” You try to relax a little in your seat, but it’s hard to tell if you’re being convincing or not. “It’s nothing too serious right? You just want us to go out together, hold hands occasionally, speak highly of each other… We already do half of those things but it’ll just be emphasized now. No big deal.” 

Seokjin is wearing that unreadable look in his eyes again, like he knows something that you don’t even know yourself. “You’re right,” He settles with after a long pause. “It’s nothing too serious. You’ll probably have people also digging into your space though, but we’ll make all the necessary arrangements before any sort of announcement.” 

“If that’s the case,” You reply. “Then I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Besides.” You try for a smile. “It’s all just fake anyways, right? As long as the ones who really matter know that, then I don’t really see the harm in it.” 

Seokjin only continues to stare at you, before he relents. You know just as well as he does that your decision is one of an adult, and that if you really had a problem with something you would vote your opinion without hesitation. No matter if he can somehow read the thoughts in your head. 

At last, he nods. “We might need you to sign another NDA but…” He extends an arm out towards you. “Welcome abroad, Min Yoongi’s girlfriend.” 

You laugh a little, hollow but still present, as you reach over to take his head. “We’ll start having problems if that nickname becomes a regular thing.” 

Seokjin laughs a little louder, a complete opposite of his more quiet and observant side displayed just a few seconds ago. “Don’t worry—just for formalities. HEY, Namjoon, let me talk to Yoongi for a second.” He practically throws himself off of the couch and towards the music panel where Namjoon and Yoongi are still mid-discussion about another aspect of music you do not understand. Namjoon relents, pushing himself and his chair off to the side as Seokjin comes up to press the button on the panel that allows for discussion between the booth and the studio. “Hey, Min Yoongi, there’s been some discussions behind the scenes. Say hello to your new girlfriend!” 

There’s a brief silence in the studio, and Yoongi’s eyes immediately bug out of his head like this is the last thing he expected to hear on this very casual Wednesday morning. Knowing the agenda for the day, it probably has been. “What?” Yoongi says after a long moment, his voice amplified by the speakers in the studio. 

Seokjin turns towards you, jerking his head at the booth, and you get up with a sigh. You approach the music panel where Seokjin and Namjoon are currently situated—and aren’t sure how to feel when you see the way Yoongi’s eyes widen at the sight of you through the window. 

Still, you cannot help your own weak smile as you lean in towards the microphone. “Hi honey,” You say. 

Yoongi continues to stare at you, before his lips part and his face takes on a very unusual shade of red. “HUH?” 

. 

. 

CHAPTER  3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT 

. 

KSJ records releases a statement within the next following days, and it gains momentum like nothing you’ve ever seen before. 

HELLO, WE ARE KSJ RECORDS. 

Recently, we acknowledge that many fans have developed a curiosity about the relationship status of our newest artist Min Yoongi. The release of his latest EP and the undertaking of his concert has left many questions regarding who he writes his songs for—and many of the different assumptions made by people around the world could leave very dangerous and lasting impressions on people that our artist sees as platonic. We want to respond properly and say the truth. 

Min Yoongi has been in a relationship with his current manager, Y/N, for the past three years. When Min Yoongi was first signed to KSJ Records, they were already in a relationship and Y/N was assigned the task as Yoongi’s manager given her experience working alongside him during his Youtube career. They have good feelings about each other, and have agreed to make this information public to avoid future misunderstandings. KSJ Records and Yoongi hope that you all will support their relationship as they continue to navigate through Yoongi’s growing career together. 

You cannot help but laugh a little at the statement, which is flying so close to the truth that it might as well have been your reality. And in a way, it is. You’ve already prepared, molded your online presence just barely to meet these new expectations to the new facade you have to put up. 

And it’s not like the announcement actually changes anything in your daily life. In the days leading up to the post, you had decided to delete your Twitter account (you weren’t making much use of that platform anyways—what, with all the thirst accounts for Yoongi that you were stumbling upon due to internet cookies and the algorithm), and archive a fair number of your Instagram photos on an account that was already set to private. For someone who didn’t live and breathe social media, it wasn’t too hard to rid of that element in your life. 

One thing you hadn’t really accounted for, however, were the news stories that wrote about you in the hours following the press release. Several of them were base-level lists about your childhood and how your relationship with Yoongi could have festered—most of which were correct given that older fans of Yoongi knew what university he attended and how you were also a student there. But that information is generally public, and it’s not like you attend the university anymore.

Other than that, there are a few comments on your looks, a few assumptions on your personality. But surprising, there’s nothing too severe. At least, from the surface-level information you can collect from just doing a basic google search. Social media would probably be a more difficult battle, one that you would need nerves of steel and a hardened heart in order to navigate, but like mentioned: professionally managing your own personal social media isn’t exactly your forte. 

Over the next week, you follow Seokjin’s advice to lay low and let the news of your relationship with Yoongi continue to spread through the ranks. You spend that time in your apartment, answering a few messages from friends and family but doing what you could to keep the information as limited as possible. You assume that too many people knowing, regardless of how close or trustworthy they were, sort of went against the NDA you had to sign. And you’re not sure how your friends would react if they found out you were only dating Yoongi for a cover-up. Especially since some of them actually are fully aware of your feelings for him. 

Regardless, you carry on. Yoongi sends you some screenshots he takes of supportive messages from his fans wishing the both of you the best in your relationship, and he also sends you some memes about your relationship that make you laugh. His fans have a good sense of humor, what could you say. 

However, a week is the most you allow yourself to hide away within the comfort (and boring nature) of your apartment before you’re already texting Seokjin with news that you were showing up to the studio. 

Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn’t question this. He calls you. “I was just about to ask if you were going to come over anyways!” He says in a rather upbeat nature. “So it’s good to hear that we’re both on the same page.” 

So you step out of your apartment, dressed up in your usual work uniform and feeling much more put-together than you had been for the week you were ordered to remain quiet and lowkey. There’s something exciting about stepping out after being unable to do so for an extended period of time—and it shows in the little bounce that occurs with every step that you take down the sidewalk. Since you usually take the subway to work, you decide to dawn a bucket hat with a face mask tucked over your nose and mouth to blend in just enough but not so much so that your strange fashion choices could draw attention. 

It doesn’t, and you enjoy the rocking of the subway racing down the tracks as you peer out of the window quietly. KSJ Records is just a few stops away from your apartment, so you waste no time standing out and stepping out as soon as the doors of the subway open at the right stop. You bound up the stairs, through the familiar pathways you’ve always taken to get to work, and after a few blocks, you arrive at the building of KSJ Records. 

As you shoulder open the door, you greet the secretary behind the table, who smiles back at you. “Oh, good morning!” She greets cheerfully. “Seokjin is waiting for you in his office. I believe Yoongi is already with him.” 

You nod. “Sounds good, thank you so much!” You bound deeper in, navigating through the different hallways until you arrive at Seokjin’s office. True to the word from the front desk, Yoongi is already there. He looks surprisingly meek for someone who has been trending on Twitter for a few days, but you suppose that he’s still trying to adjust to the fact that Seokjin’s plan is already in motion. After all, he didn’t even get the final say before Seokjin started taking the situation into his own hands. The last he had heard of it was your apparent agreement before Seokjin drew up a company statement for him to approve. 

A part of you feels guilty—but Yoongi had been the one to ask you first! Perhaps he’s still in that normal state of uncertainty. After all, you feel like that as well. 

“Good morning guys,” You greet as soon as you register who exactly is in Seokjin’s office. You close the door behind you as both boys turn to acknowledge you. 

Seokjin grins. “Hi, thanks for coming in.” 

You wave him off. “You gave me the week off. I was starting to get a little restless.” You take a seat in the other vacant chair, in front of Seokjin and besides Yoongi. “What’s up, Yoongi?” 

Yoongi is already looking at you when you turn to greet him, but as soon as you ask your question, the corner of his lips quirk up into a vaguely uneasy and nervous smile. “H-Hi honey.” 

You freeze at that, immediately furrowing your eyebrows as you produce your own nervous smile. “Hi?” You return. “What the fuck are you on?” 

Seokjin interrupts before Yoongi can get an answer in. “Stop, stop, you’re way too stiff, Yoongi!” 

“Well, I’m trying!” Yoongi spits, before looking back at you with an utterance of your name. “Sorry, Seokjin wanted me to try treating you the same way I would treat a girlfriend. Apparently I didn’t do too hot.” 

“Not apparently, you just didn’t do hot at all,” Seokjin retorts back, flashing you an apologetic smile. “We were trying out a few moves easier to see how well you guys can adjust from having your normal manager slash artist relationship to displaying a long term, healthy and happy romantic relationship. It’s one thing to say that you guys are dating, but you guys do need to have something of an act ready.” 

You fold your fingers over each other, your mind on a dissociation for the briefest of seconds as the realization sinks its teeth just a little deeper. Holding hands and saying cute shit to each other had been easy to talk about in passing dialogue to Seokjin—but actually having to do it is a hurdle you hadn’t considered to the fullest. 

“I mean…” You speak up after a moment. “What if we’re just one of those couples that aren’t handsey with each other? Or don’t need that lovey dovey look in each other’s eyes to prove that we’re in a relationship?” 

Seokjin ponders this for a second. “True. But if we’re starting this, there needs to be a full level commitment on the act. If people start questioning the legitimacy of your relationship, that would be an even worse scandal than just letting people make assumptions about Yoongi’s relationship status in general! We definitely, at least, need to develop a basic level of your relationship, and then you guys can work around your own varying levels of comfort. This is something that we need to get rolling as soon as possible, because you.” He points at Yoongi. “Are booked in the next few days to do some radio interviews. And you.” He points at you. “Are going to go with him, as his girlfriend.” 

Even though you had known the label was coming, you can’t stop from feeling hot all over at how you were now technically Yoongi’s girlfriend. 

“So,” Seokjin continues. “How about I give you a base level of what I’m looking for. And we can do a few practice runs to make sure you guys are comfortable enough with these expectations?” 

Yoongi nods, leaving you little option but to do the same. But the thought from the recording booth bubbles up again: you hope you won’t regret this. 

. 

A few days later and you don’t think you’ll regret the outcome of this situation. But you’ll definitely get a little sick on the way. 

“I don’t know if I can do this,” You say in the car. You’re sitting in the back, next to Yoongi, staring straight ahead at the passenger seat before you. “And stay all in one piece,” You add as an afterthought. 

Yoongi glances over at you, looking nervous enough to admit a pout. “At least you don’t have to say anything—I’m the one doing all the talking…” 

You huff out a breath. This is true. You’re just here to play the supportive girlfriend, the agreeable partner who’ll publicly accompany Yoongi to a public event since a public announcement. Seokjin says that doing this with the lense of a romantic relationship makes you seem friendly, open, and supportive of the relationship. You’re not too sure how public perception is shaped, but you understand where Seokjin is coming from. Tagging along to an event as a girlfriend instead of a manager makes you and Yoongi seem free. Like you have nothing to hide. 

Only in reality, it’s the complete opposite. With everything coming out to the surface, you have everything to hide. 

It only takes a few more minutes of driving before you arrive at the radio station. The instructions for today’s assignment have been easy: get out of the car, and walk the many steps needed to reach the entrance of the station. The empty step ahead is surrounded by paparazzi and fans, all screaming and shouting—trying to get their fill of Yoongi. 

You sigh. You could do this. You and Yoongi have been practicing for the past few days. Albeit, ‘practicing’ just mainly consisted of the pair of you walking down a hallway close together. It was more lackluster than anything else, and you don’t think it was entirely productive use of time. Seokjin seemed to think that the pair of you needed to work on a closer level of proximity. But you know the truth about your feelings, and know that the complications will come from just being too close to him. 

Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt and is already moving to tug at the handle that’ll open his side of the car door, immediately exposing him to the walkway along with the flashing cameras and loud screams. Before he can pull all the way, however, he stops short. You’re about to ask what the problem is, before he angles towards you and flashes you that grin he has when he’s thinking of ideas you wouldn’t approve of. “I have an idea,” He breathes out, quickly reaching over to grab your hand. 

You stiffen at the contact, trying to ignore the flash of your heart speeding up in your chest. You and Yoongi hadn’t agreed on this—if you had, maybe you would have been a little more prepared for the situation! Oh god. 

On instinct, you try to wiggle out of his grasp. “What are you doing?” You hiss. 

Yoongi gives you a dry look, reaching over to grab your hand again. “Calm down,” He argues back, lacing your fingers together for extra measure, like that’s gonna be the thing to help you calm the fuck down. “This’ll help sell it, okay? Just trust me.” 

Leaving little room for arguments, he squeezes your hand briefly before loosening it enough. He pulls the car door handle, pushing it outwards, and stepping out into the wild. People notice his appearance immediately, because the screams grow louder as Yoongi uses his unoccupied hand to wave and bow towards those who have come out to see him. 

You trail behind rather helplessly; the hand connected to Yoongi pulling you out of the car. Yoongi stays near the door, staring down at you with a rather watchful gaze that only leaves you feeling hotter than before. Still, you don’t speak of it as Yoongi steps back just enough for you to step out of the car. “You okay?” He asks. 

You nod, readjusting yourself with one hand before Yoongi starts to pull you alongside him to walk the distance towards the radio station entrance. Although you want to engage slightly with the crowd, your nerves keep you mainly at bay, forcing you to angle your head downwards just enough to avoid any serious eye contact. Yoongi keeps his gaze ahead, walking a rather brisk pace towards the radio studio—where security leads the way in opening the door for the pair of you. Whether he’s walking fast because he doesn’t want to keep up the charade of holding your hand for so long… or because he can feel how sweaty your palm is getting. You don’t know. 

It’s only a few more steps before you and Yoongi are entering the building for the radio show, where Jungkook is lingering near the entrance. He’s on his phone, probably having just made a call with Seokjin about your arrival, before he spots the two of you entering. “Hey guys, how was it?” 

Yoongi nods. “A little loud, but I think it went alright.” 

Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to your intertwined hands. “Wow, you guys are committed,” He comments. 

You seem to remember that your soul has returned to the body that is still currently holding hands with Min Yoongi. Alarmingly, you take your hand back. “Y-Yeah, Yoongi thought it would be a good show for the people outside! No biggie—just a simple hand holding technique, people do that all the time!” You realize that you’re rambling. 

Yoongi, oblivious as always, raises an eyebrow. “You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” You manage. “Why do you ask?” 

Yoongi is about to answer, before an intern shyly approaches the three of you with an iPad in hand. 

“Are you all under Mr. Min’s team?” She asks, fishing out some badges when you nod in confirmation. “Okay, so make sure to take these so everyone knows who you are. Mr. Min? I can lead you to the studio you’ll be interviewing in, if you’ll follow me—did you need me to grab a soda for you?” She begins listing a series of questions about his well-being, leaving you and Jungkook behind in the hallway with your newly acquired badges in hand.

Jungkook, observant as always, gives you a look. “What was that all about?” 

“Huh? I-It was nothing…” You trail off looping the badge around your neck, meeting Jungkook’s eyes and realizing that he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. The same kind of grin that Taehyung gives you when you’re standing too close to Yoongi. Your eyes flare. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW?”  

Jungkook laughs. “Calm down, calm down, Taehyung and I gossip a lot on the side—hey, what the fuck, don’t hit me—we’re in a public place!” 

You relent your aggression, but only slightly. You lower your arms as well. “Just—don’t tell Yoongi.” 

Jungkook levels with you a dry look. “Do you think I have a death wish? C’mon, let’s head over.” 

With a hesitant sigh, you relent and let Jungkook lead you down the halls of this studio, until the pair of you find a door with Yoongi’s name written on the white board. There’s a darkened LIVE light panel above the frame, indicating that Yoongi’s radio interview hasn’t started yet. There’s some people lingering about, who nod and open the door for you when you present your TALENT badge at them. The inside of a radio booth is similar to the recording booths Yoongi has found a home in as of late. There’s people in this current room, headphones on and monitoring what’s happening before them while being surrounded with sound panels and laptop screens. On the other side of the glass is Yoongi, and the main hosts of the radio station, Jung Hoseok and Im Nayeon. 

From your side, you can hear their conversation amplified through speakers in the studio. They’re all currently joking around about external matters—it makes sense too. Yoongi has been on this particular radio show a handful of times. 

“Okay, okay, you guys,” Hoseok speaks after a few more minutes of playful banter. “Today, we have a very special guest with us today. He’s fresh off the tour of his first and most recent EP, we have Min Yoongi in the studio! Yay!” He claps. Nayeon follows suit. 

Yoongi stops his clapping sooner to speak into the microphone in front of him. “Thanks for having me back.” 

“Thank you for deciding to hang out with us for the afternoon,” Nayeon says. “Especially since you’re a big hot shot now.” 

Yoongi laughs. “I wouldn’t say that… I just finished my first tour, Nayeon, no big deal.” 

“‘No big deal’,” Nayeon quotes him. “As if your EP didn’t chart into a top 50 list or anything like that.” 

The conversation trails like this for a little bit. Yoongi is scheduled to spend thirty minutes doing a segment, which is meant to be uploaded onto Youtube later, so it gives the three of them a lot of legroom to play around and play off of each other. The purpose of the interview is to discuss the tour, the progress of the album, and (if anyone dared venture there) the status of his relationship—! 

“Well, moving on from the album—which I’m sure is going to be a huge success, by the way,” Nayeon continues on, bringing you back from the daydream that you’ve slipped into. “Seriously, it’s a very highly anticipated release.” 

Yoongi manages a nervous smile. “I’ll make sure not to let anyone down.” 

Nayeon nods. “I think it’s a good time to ask about a recent development that has occurred with you as of late.” 

“And, that is the announcement of your relationship,” Nayeon carries on. She glances at Yoongi from across the table. “We’re allowed to ask you questions about it, right?” 

Yoongi nods, choosing his words very carefully. “I’m all ears for your questions, Nayeon.” 

Nayeon brightens at that. “I just think that a lot of people want to know: how are you guys doing since the announcement?” 

He takes in a breath. To the general public, it’ll probably look as if he’s steeling himself to finally come clean about a relationship he’s been hiding for three years. But to you, you know it’s because he’s just trying to figure out what exactly to say. 

“We’ve been doing well,” He says with a nod of assurance. “It was a little stressful at first, and it still is because of how recent the news is, but I am glad we decided to make this call. Y/N has been with me since the beginning and has supported me and has been the inspiration for a lot of my music—and I’m at a point in my life where I want my fans to know that rather than drag them along and just make them assume these parts of my life.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Nayeon gushes. “So Y/N wasn’t always just your manager, even back in your Youtube days?” 

Yoongi shakes his head. “Actually, she was my girlfriend before I decided to upload song covers.” 

Nayeon swoons a little. “Can you tell us the story of how we met? You can be brief, of course.” 

Yoongi laughs. “We shared a class together in college, and she was probably the funniest person I had ever met—of course, we were friends for about a year before we started dating. But Y/N was always very supportive about me pursuing music, even when it was just a hobby. When I did start my Youtube channel, she stayed up to help with editing and just letting me know how some lyrics I had written would sound. She was a business major in college, so it felt right to let her have the reins on scheduling my appearances—and now she’s my manager. Besides just being my girlfriend, we work together really well.” 

You huff out a breath, something you hadn’t even realized that you were holding. You didn’t think Yoongi lying straight through his teeth could cause you so much anxiety. As if there are people around this radio station to fact check everything leaving Yoongi’s mouth. 

Nayeon hesitates for a moment. “Alright, I want to ask one more question.” 

Yoongi gestures for her to continue. 

“You write a lot about being in love and all these little moments of stability and that feeling of contentment—but what is your experience with love? How did you know that you were in love?” 

Your lips part in shock at the question, having not expected it. After all, Seokjin didn’t quiz Yoongi on this answer. And to talk about love in such a personal manner—would Yoongi even have an answer for everyone? 

Your gaze is trained on Yoongi, watching them through the glass separating you from him. It seems as if the entire room is silenced in anticipation. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze hot on your back, clearly trying to gauge your response—but you try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

“It’s actually funny,” Yoongi speaks up after a moment. Your heart lurches, thinking that he’s going to divert from the question. But you should know him better. “I always thought love, when it came to romance, was supposed to be this big explosion of fireworks and what not—like in the movies. You see someone and there’s this feeling in your gut right away, you know, this whole concept of love at first sight. I used to think that was how I was going to fall in love. It was going to be dramatic, but everything I wanted right away, and I was going to be whisked off and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. I thought that I’d meet someone, and they’d be everything I wanted them to be right off the bat, and that I’d know right away they’d be the one. 

But the truth is, through my relationship, I realized that it’s not like that. I didn’t know Y/N would be the one right away. It took a long time—because we liked each other, but that’s not the big explosion of fireworks I was promised. We liked each other, but it was never love at first sight. And truthfully, she wasn’t even everything I wanted right off the bat. I’ve realized that love is more about these adjustments you as people have to make to fit, and it happened so subtly with me that then I didn’t realize it was happening until I just woke up one day and knew. 

I knew because one morning, I woke up in a fit—I had fallen asleep at my desk again trying to get through some of the music arrangement of this one video I was working on, or something like that. I was always working on music and editing—so I actually don’t remember. Anyways, I woke up and my head was resting on a pillow, and there was a blanket over my shoulder, which I didn’t remember fixing up the night before. I got out of the little makeshift studio I had in my apartment, and there was breakfast food from this cafe I really like around the corner at my table. It was a little cold, but Y/N had taped a little note on the bag with heating instructions and what not, just telling me to do my best—really nice and supportive things. I had assumed that she had gone back home, because she knew I was pulling another all-nighter for work. That’s what I thought, until I look into the living room and find her sleeping on my couch. More than that, her hands were still on her laptop, where she had been in the process of still editing one of my videos. She still had her headphones on and everything. We had been dating for a little less than a year at that point, so it wasn’t like this was a rare thing. It was a pretty normal thing for her to do—wrap me up in blankets and buy me breakfast food the following morning, even falling asleep on the couch was a weekly occurrence. But I just saw her sleeping on my couch and I felt this wave of warmth and contentment. Like I always knew that she’d be on my team. I think that was the moment I really knew what love was.” 

It’s a long story, one that ends with a stunned silence—like no one had expected him to give out such a detailed answer and make it sound poetic at the same time. That’s the songwriter Min Yoongi for you, you supposed. 

Quickly, both the studio and the booth give out a chorus of aw’s and ooh’s, gushing amongst one another over the charming nature of Yoongi’s story. But you are still trapped into submission, staring straight through the glass with millions of questions still going through your mind. The spike in your heart rate also points to the rush of adrenaline flowing through you. Because you know this story that he is telling. He’s not lying through his teeth. You remember this night. Or, one of the nights, at least. Like Yoongi had said, you giving out blankets and food like air was second nature in your friendship. So was you falling asleep on the couch. 

Did those situations hold as much weight for him as they did for you? Or, was he just making up his feelings? After all, the key to lying was skirting as close to the truth as possible. That kind of situation may work for Yoongi, as the liar, but it wasn’t as comforting for you. 

You watch the way Yoongi laughs at the gushing Nayeon does, the way he smiles brightly and continues to reinforce how important you are—and you recognize his facade better than anyone else. Of course he’s lying, and you reach their realization with a bit of downfall in your stomach. There’s no way he would be telling the truth, especially considering the situation the pair of you are now in where Yoongi’s career is dependent on his ability to tell a proper lie. 

You allow yourself to sink a little deeper into the studio, near the back where the producers of the radio station can discuss amongst each other. This puts you with Jungkook, who has been watching the situation closely the entire time. 

“Yoongi can be quite the actor,” Jungkook mumbles. He has this unreadable expression in his eyes, but you know that Jungkook knows that situation Yoongi is describing. It had been Jungkook’s apartment as well. He glances at you, but says nothing. 

You continue to stare ahead. That pensive silence continues as Yoongi is released from the radio interview, and thanks Nayeon and Hoseok eagerly for their time and energy. Nayeon returns the gesture, waving to you through the glass when Yoongi points you out. You weakly return the action. 

It isn’t until you get into the car, where the pair of you are safe from the wandering eyes and careful ears of the entire world, that one of you elects to speak up. “So, what did you think?” Yoongi asks. 

By this point, you’ve recovered swiftly from your disappointment. You smile like it’s your only shield. “As your manager, I’m glad that you were able to make love so poetic—just on brand for you. As your fake girlfriend, I also really have to congratulate you for your storytelling. I even remember those nights too, so it was definitely a good memory to lie about.” 

Yoongi flushes a little at your comment, looking pleased with himself for a moment. You smile at his expression, before turning to train your gaze out of the window. The gesture makes you miss the way the smile slips off his face, the way he glances over at you. A good memory to lie about—right. 

.

Yoongi’s radio interview goes viral, and so does any hope you have in trying to forget the tale he had spun during it. Granted, you are happy that people bought his story. You just wish that it wouldn’t have muddled up all your thoughts and feelings along the way. 

Naturally, Seokjin is excited about the good press and the fact that the pair of you completed your first assignment well enough. At least, that’s the display he’s presenting when you walk into his office two days after the radio interview. Yesterday was spent looking over social media to see the public’s reaction to Yoongi’s speech about love, and if you as his manager would need to do any damage control. Luckily, you do not. As his manager, it leaves you in good spirits. 

But as someone who actually has a crush on Yoongi, it’s less so. 

That dejection only furthers itself when you see how excited Seokjin looks, like he’s already plotting the next steps to his little project. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Seokjin greets carefully. “Hi, hi, congratulations on your first successful outing with Yoongi! Per the reports I’ve been seeing over social media, you guys did a very good job.” 

You sigh, placing four coffee orders onto the table and sliding into the seat in front of Seokjin’s desk. “I didn’t really do that much,” You admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Yoongi did all the talking. I just waved at Nayeon through the glass window.” 

“Aaahh,” Seokjin hums, opening up his laptop and turning it around in order for you to see what is on his screen. “Seems like you did a little more than that.” 

Your gaze flints down to the big, bold words across the screen: THE INSIDER REPORT ON MIN YOONGI’S RADIO INTERVIEW: Employees at the K-IM Radio Station detail their experience meeting Yoongi and his girlfriend following the announcement of their relationship. 

That piques your interest, and you scoot forward in your chair slightly in order to reach out and see what Seokjin is talking about. It’s not a very lengthy article—there is a summary detailing Yoongi’s interview, of course referencing his grand speech about love—but that’s not what takes up the most space. 

Your eyes continue to skim over, almost not even believing what you were reading. The intern that first greeted you and Yoongi is in here, talking about how the pair of you were holding hands “in such a loving way, and the way they looked at each other before I led him to the radio booth was so romantic!” (The intern’s words, not yours). There’s even some excerpts from the employees and producers inside the radio booth, the same room you had spent the interview in. Surprisingly, a lot of the accounts are not talking about what Yoongi said. It’s all about how you looked when Yoongi was telling his story. 

“It was such a powerful speech, I couldn’t help but look over to Y/N to see her reaction, and she was staring back at Yoongi in such a way that I knew immediately that the genuine nature of their love was a two-way street.” 

“... a definite softness in her gaze, like she was reliving that memory with him.” 

And so on, and so on. 

Your face feels a little warmer when your eyes as you push the laptop away, glancing up to see Seokjin’s staring at you. “See? You did good. The small gestures you do can go a long way—especially when you don’t notice you’re doing them.” 

You close the laptop, as if that can physically distance yourself from the assurances of those who had been around you. “Right…” You manage weakly. 

“Well,” Seokjin hums, already moving onto the next point of the conversation. If he senses something fishy in your response, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anyways, Yoongi is in the studio right now with Namjoon, so I just want a little update report on your relationship with Yoongi. As in, how is it going between the two of you?” 

You ponder this for a moment, thinking about how he took your hand in the car, how he recounted such a personal story to explain the details of his love, the look he gave you when you congratulated his storytelling abilities—like he knew something that you did not. 

At the same time, it was such a minor appearance that you didn’t get much of a feel about the romantic aspect of this fake relationship. This is why you sigh. “I’m not too sure. We had such a minor acting role together that it’s hard to say. I will say that right now it feels pretty much the same.” 

“Alright, fair enough,” Seokjin approves with a nod. “So you don’t have a problem if I want to plan some informal hang-outs for you and Yoongi? Just as a way to keep your guys in the public eye enough times that fans don’t start doubting your relationship.” 

You smile weakly. “Of course. That’s what I signed the NDA for.” 

Seokjin laughs, finally waving you off. “Okay, sure. I’ll look into where I think your relationship will make the biggest impact and will update you and Yoongi when I’ve made my decisions.” Finally, he looks over the multiple cups of coffee you had brought over on your cardboard tray, and fishes out the one with his name on it. “This one for me?” 

You lean over, flickering your gaze from the cup to his face. “Well, at the very least, I know you can read now.” 

His relaxed expression morphs into a playful scowl. “Get out of here brat.” 

Your laughter echoes through his office as you take your cardboard tray of three coffee cups and reemerge back into the hallway of the record studio. You walk the familiar path until you reach the door to the recording room—pulling open the door and letting yourself in. Inside the booth, Yoongi is rapping away into his microphone, as his low voice fills the tiny space of this studio. You place the tray down onto one of the tables, picking up your own before sliding over to take a seat on the couch. 

As you continue listening to Yoongi wistfully hum about a desire to cross an emotional distance, about how he tells the truth because “it’s you, it’s always been you”—you cannot help your mind wandering into what Seokjin has in store for you over the course of the next few months. 

.

. 

CHAPTER 4: TURNING POINT 

. 

Yoongi’s first full length album is set to release in two months. 

At least, that’s what KSJ records claims after uploading a quarterly report of Yoongi’s schedule. At first, you don’t think it’s a big deal for Yoongi’s label to post a tentative update about his music progress, but his fans are extremely observant and catch on immediately. It’s good to draw up the hype, you suppose. 

Anyways, at the rate that Yoongi is working on the songs for the album, you won’t be surprised if he manages to follow the schedule down to a T. The boy lives and breathes music, and last time you checked the album would consist partly of songs from his EP and new songs—meaning that it cuts down Yoongi’s usual workload into half. Not that he minds, at any rate. 

“Okay, Min Yoongi,” Seokjin starts up, standing at the head of the meeting room which only consists of three people. Normally, with meetings with the head of KSJ records himself, there’s a lot more people around to discuss schedule, promotions, and the likes. The fact that it’s just you and Yoongi tells you exactly what you’re doing here. “It’s been a few weeks since your radio interview, and I know that you’re doing well in your progress of the album—but I think it’ll do you well to take a break.” 

Yoongi huffs. “It’s nice that you’re reminding me about this, but I’ll rest when the album is released.” 

Seokjin snorts. “When did I say rest? I just meant take a break from your album work. Plus you need to get some vitamin C, or whatever shit you get from the sun.”  

“It’s vitamin D,” You interject gently. 

“Pish posh,” Seokjin waves away your interruption. “Anyways, like I was saying, there is a way for us to kill two birds with one stone. So that you.” He points to Yoongi. “Can get out of the studio for a few hours and you.” He points to you. “Can play into a relationship that’ll help us kill two birds with one stone.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What exactly are you proposing?” 

“Well,” Seokjin continues, leaning over his side of the table to get a few good at his laptop, where it appears that he has a few notes written down regarding the direction of this meeting. “In order to continue generating curiosity about Yoongi’s upcoming album and maintain the public’s constant queries about your relationship, I want you two to go on public outings. I have a few specific places I think would be good cornerstones to touch on, but I’m also willing to let the two of you figure out where you want to spend your time.” He glances up at the two of you. “That should be okay, right?” 

You and Yoongi glance at each other. Come to think of it, the pair of you haven’t talked about nor reviewed the events at the radio station since it happened and the underlying questions you still have about his side of the story feels vaguely like a weight hanging over you both. But Yoongi smiles at you, and you think that you can continue to do what you’ve done for years: hide away your feelings. 

“Yeah, that should be fine,” You speak up first, smiling back at Yoongi. You turn to Seokjin. “What did you have in mind?” 

The question is how you find yourself in a car with Yoongi a few days later, your hands in your lap and your mind spinning with nerves. The radio interview had been one case, but a limited one at that—your role had been very minor and your interaction with Yoongi had only been seconds long. They had definitely been a lot smaller than this new role that Seokjin has assigned to you. 

For today, Seokjin has directed the pair of you to the streets of Yoongi’s old stomping ground—the same shopping district with the same corner Yoongi spent all his nights performing in from a time period that seems so long enough. Not long enough, apparently, as Seokjin thinks it would be a nice nod to be ‘accidentally’ discovered walking along a place that holds so much memory. 

“I just want you guys to walk around—be happy, but be close,” Seokjin had noted just a few hours prior to you and Yoongi’s departure. “Just look like the pair of you are on a date. Hold hands, smile at each other, all that jazz. Nothing too serious.” 

Too bad it actually was kind of serious for you. 

You and Yoongi make minor conversation, making some jokes here and there that do well in helping to ease your nerves. You don’t think Yoongi would take notice, but he can be strangely observant. Perhaps the way you keep bouncing one of your legs helps let him know that something is up. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You stop bouncing your leg. “It kind of feels like I’m about to perform, or something—it’s that same kind of rush.” 

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, before he looks out his side of the window. “Well, technically speaking, you are about to perform. You know, with this whole relationship being an act and all.” 

“Very true,” You say, nodding your head. “Do we need a game plan?” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I thought that we’d just wing it. We held hands back at the radio station so, uh, I’m assuming that you’re still comfortable with doing that?” 

“O-Oh yeah, of course!” 

“Then, we can do that. And walk around. Improvise while we do so—just see how the day goes.” 

You nod. “Okay, true, true. That sounds good.” You can’t help but give him a sneaky smile. “Look at you, Min Yoongi, you’ve become quite the performer. Improvisation used to be something you were never too good at.” 

Yoongi flushes a little, smiling back at you. “Give me a little credit. You gotta have backups for your backups, especially in situations when your sound gives up on you in the middle of one of your sets.” 

You laugh, because this reminds you about one of Yoongi’s first live sets along the very street the pair of you will be approaching shortly. His speakers had just given up, forcing Yoongi to go entirely acapella. In a way, that mistake ended up garnering him more fans who grew to respect his craft and talent for music and singing. But as they say, hindsight is 20 20. 

You and Yoongi continue to laugh about that memory for a few minutes before Taehyung arrives along the outskirts of the shopping district, pulling up along the curb. The car is on the other side of this bustling area, just a few feet away from the pedestrian walkway that is littering with people going to and fro. 

Taehyung turns around in his seat to give the pair of you a look. “Now kids, I want you to call me whenever you’re ready to get picked up.” He’s grinning around the words though 

You glare at him. “Sure thing dad,” You bite back, already opening the car door to take your leave. Your feet land onto the concrete of the sidewalk as you pull yourself into a standing position. Yoongi joins you shortly after, standing close to you. “Bye,” You say, slamming the door into Taehyung’s face before he can get in one last snarky reply. 

Yoongi looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh for Taehyung’s benefit. But it’s an act he can only hold together for so long, because he does start to laugh as soon as Taehyung and the company car turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

After a second, Yoongi turns to you and gestures towards the pedestrian walkway just a few feet ahead. “Shall we?” 

You nod, taking the hand that he extends out to you. Just an act, you tell yourself, you allow him to lace your fingers together. Nevermind the fact that the weight on your hand feels entirely too reassuring and comforting for the current context. 

Ignoring that feeling, you squeeze his hand and let him lead you towards the walkway, where you cross the street with no problem. Since Yoongi nor Seokjin had announced Yoongi’s presence at this plaza for the day, you can only hope that too much attention won’t be drawn to you. 

It’s a thought that you are able to entertain for a few minutes. Yoongi may not have the star quality status of mainstream celebrities (yet), but he’s still someone who has been on the radio, has done a country-wide tour, and has a youtube following of a couple million people (four now, the last time you checked—subscriber counts tend to zip by after a person hits a million). That small list of accomplishments is more than enough to drag in a few wandering eyes. Okay, maybe a little more than a few. 

You think that you’ve kind of developed a seventh sense to knowing when Yoongi was being recognized. It’s shown in the double-glances some people start shooting at him, at quick whispers behind closed hands, and craning necks over shoulders. 

You’re okay with people knowing about Yoongi’s current location, but the memory of his tours and even the crowd problem that came up during his street performances flashback in your mind. You don’t think you want to deal with that situation right now—secretly preferring if people just observed from a distance. 

Without thinking twice, you tighten your hold on Yoongi’s hand long enough to lead him into one of the stores along the sidewalk—an accessories booth with fake glasses, rings, earrings, the likes. 

Yoongi watches you, a touch of amusement in his eyes like he knows what you’re thinking. Still, he asks. “What are you doing?” 

You rummage through the wide selection of glasses, fully aware that one or two people have spotted the pair of you and are lingering near the entrance to catch a glance at what you two are doing. From the looks of it, no one is going to stir up a commotion. You still want to make sure. 

“You stand out,” You explain vaguely, finding a pair of circle glasses in black-rims from the pile before turning around and more or less smashing the glasses against his face. It’s difficult to try and put glasses on another person, you miss his ears a few times and almost get him in the eye, but Yoongi strangely enough lets you manhandle him. 

In the midst of your last few attempts you step forward and scoot even closer to him to try and get the glasses more properly situated on his face. Due to the proximity, Yoongi’s hands fly up from his side to avoid being pressed uncomfortably against his chest, choosing to rest at your waist. At first, you don’t feel the weight of his hands, you’re too focused on making sure the fake glasses you’ve selected can fit in place. 

As soon as you’ve properly aligned the glasses to his face, you lower your hands from his face. The action makes you suddenly hyper aware of the current position you’ve put yourself in. It’s not very often that you get handsy with Yoongi, it’s a side of you that comes out when the pair of you are in a hurry, but hardly during candid moments like this. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s hands feel like warm flames tickling your skin, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of his position, of his closeness. Your eyes flicker up, seeing his face with those glasses you’ve just shoved onto him sitting nicely at the bridge of his nose, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. The stare he’s giving you only heightens the gravitational pull you feel towards him. 

You don’t know how long the pair of you are just standing in the middle of the store, staring at each other, until you feel the weight of a third party approaching the pair of you. 

You practically shove yourself away from Yoongi, trying to make it seem as if you’re just stepping back to get an overall look at his face (Yoongi featuring glasses). Yoongi lets you go. 

The third party is an employee of the accessories booth, smiling widely. “Sorry to interrupt,” She says, looking over at Yoongi. “Sir, I just want to say that those glasses look great on you. And just to let you know we’re having a sale on that collection so it’s a buy one get the other one half off so maybe you two can match if you’re up to it…” 

You tune her out after a second, realizing that you can’t really keep up with what she’s saying considering the current firestorm that’s going on inside your head. Why couldn’t you have just asked Yoongi to put the glasses on himself? You curse yourself for letting your guard down—sometimes you try to do things of your own accord, and today you were paying the price.

When you don’t speak after a few seconds, Yoongi smiles at the employee. “Got it, thanks a lot.” He waits until the employee returns back to rearranging some earrings on a nearby shelf before turning back to you. “How does it look?” 

He does look good, but you play it down by tilting your head and settling with a shrug. “Well, you’ve looked better—but this’ll have to do.” 

Yoongi laughs, before he does something that catches you off guard. He steps closer to you. “So you think there are times when I do look good?” 

You try not to look too bewildered at his gesture. You can tell that he does feel a little nervous about the fact he’s testing the waters so boldly without any practice, but it’s all part of the act. Just as Seokjin said: be happy, be close. 

So you place a hand on his chest, pushing him slightly with your own little teasing smile. “I said better—that doesn’t always mean you were ever good to begin with.” 

Yoongi makes a noise of protest, and without warning just swings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his side. “You’re breaking my heart everyday!” 

“You must like the abuse, you’re still with me,” You bite back playfully without thought. For a split second, it doesn’t feel like you’re in a store with people who vaguely recognize Yoongi’s appearance—for a split second, it feels like just you and him, and everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Upon Yoongi’s lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Good job, I think the group of girls outside caught our picture.” 

That dreamy fantasy where it was just you and Yoongi and nothing else mattered came crashing down, squaring you right back into reality. It’s not a disappointing feeling per say—just a vague extra hammering of your heartbeat, a vague guilt that you let your mind let its guard down like that. “Right,” You say. “Uh…” You try to think, which proves to be a difficult thing to do with Yoongi’s weight pressed up against you and everything. You clap your hands together. “Okay, let’s grab a hat and then we’ll be on our way.” 

You make sure to be a little less handsy when it comes to hat selections, but you knew there was only so far you could escape given the current context of the situation. Yoongi seems to know that, because he stays close to you as you’re both shifting through hats, and even when he pays for his hat and glasses combination before exiting the booth. The pair of you pass through the two girls that were lingering outside of the booth, where Yoongi gives them the smallest wave and hello before carrying on with the rest of the trip. 

With the hat and glasses combination, it definitely draws less attention to Yoongi’s classic fluffy black hair and gummy smile—especially if you’re using what was going on in the beginning of your trip as a baseline. This means that you and Yoongi can carry on with the rest of your outing with feeling the obvious heavy weight of gazes on your shoulder. 

With intertwined hands the pair of you first stop by one of the local cafes and sit right alongside the window to enjoy some pasta and soda combinations. You roll up the noodles onto your fork and clink utensils with Yoongi before slipping the noodles in your mouth—tomato sauce with flavor slipped into every side piece of noodle. It’s amazing, and you cannot help but gush so as you smile brightly around your fork. 

You’re too busy stirring your fork around yet another string of pasta that you fail to see the softening look of the boy across the table from you. It’s a look that disappears by the time your gaze glints back up to resume the conversation. The pasta is considered a snack above all else, so it doesn’t take long for the pair of you to finish up your meal. Leaving a tip behind on the table, Yoongi walks over to you just as you’re straightening up from your chair. Silently, he offers his hand to you. 

Knowing the routine by now, you take his hand, silently lacing your fingers together and letting him lead the way out of the cafe and back onto the sidewalk. The later afternoon shows itself in the steady increase of people, which is good because it makes you feel as if you can blend into the crowd either. There are still the occasional phones out, trailing after you and Yoongi as you walk along the sidewalk, but nothing that ever makes you feel as if you need to call Taehyung. 

“Actually, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” You grumble to Yoongi quietly, a comment that he laughs at. 

“I’m not that famous,” Yoongi jokingly teases you. “And my fans are just being respectful—give them a little credit.” His voice dies down shortly after, however, but it only takes you a few seconds to realize why. 

The pair of you, in the midst of your simple ‘walk along the sidewalk’ plan, have arrived at a very familiar street corner. The sunset means that arriving performers who work best once the sun leaves are just beginning to set up their stage—laying out equipment, testing out sound systems, saying hello to some passersby who recognize the artists getting ready. You can read the signs of these interactions very easily. After all, it’s what Yoongi used to do a year ago, at this very spot too. 

In front of you, a new performer, a singer, is setting up her own equipment—guitar in hand as she practices her strumming. You inch closer to Yoongi, your arms molded against each other. “Hey, hey,” You whisper at Yoongi. The boy leans over to better hear you. “She reminds me of you.” 

Yoongi laughs. “What do you mean? How?” 

You glance over at the girl again, not noticing the way Yoongi is still staring at you, quietly awaiting your answer. “You guys have the same drive,” You eventually note. “And the same determination. It’s easy to see in her, just as it’s always been like that for you���” You trail off, looking over to realize that he’s still looking at you. 

“You noticed those things, huh?” Yoongi asks quietly. 

His gaze is too enticing to look away from, pulling you in through a situation not unlike what had happened at the accessories shop earlier that afternoon. “I-I mean, of course I do…” Yoongi’s gaze feels like hot magnets that are just pulling the next words out of you. “I always notice with you.” 

The world seems to quiet down at that, everything slowing down as you feel yourself mentally curse yourself out for those words. Why would you say it like that? 

A million thoughts go through your head at once. You weren’t really lying or trying to play a part. You were being honest. You do always notice with Yoongi. And since he clearly only sees you as a friend that could participate in whatever scheme he can get himself into, then he would obviously hear your statement and think of it as nothing more than a friendly complement. Right? RIGHT? 

Except, Yoongi is still just standing next to you, staring at you, not making any sort of comment whatsoever. He has that unreadable expression in his gaze, a look he always gives you when you let the cracks slip in your facade, but it’s something he never talks about, never explains to you—just like right now. 

The silence grows tense, so tense that it begins to feel like weights on your shoulders, like a coil wrapping itself around your heart, because why isn’t he saying anything? 

Yoongi hums, low and throaty and that coil around your heart drops into your stomach. “Is that so?” He inquires softly, continuing to gaze at you. 

His gaze drops down to your lips, and that coil is replaced with butterflies all around you. It starts are a flutter in your stomach, in your heart, and your mind starts to race because what the fuck is happening?

Around you, the growing number of people means that someone accidentally bumps into you, driving you forward right into Yoongi’s chest. The pair of you stumble, effectively dissipating that cloud of tension that had threatened to curl through you. You cough, taking a small step away from Yoongi so that while the pair of you were still holding hands, that was the only thing connecting the pair of you. 

You and Yoongi don’t have another run in like that for the remainder of the date, as that late afternoon sunset fades away into nighttime and you and Yoongi spend that time trying to enjoy each other’s presence whilst also not engaging in too much physical contact. Your fingers remain loosely intertwined but it never tightens as if the small air of space between your hands can hide away the nerves and tension you feel yourself trying to contain. 

Even when Taehyung comes to pick the two of you up, and you no longer are under the obligation to hold hands, that air of space still feels heavy between the two of you. 

.

The overwhelming positive response of your first official public date sends Seokjin through the moon, as well as provides him with a drive to arrange and send you and Yoongi out on more dates. All of which, fortunately for you, don’t come nearly as close to the level of tension experienced from the first date. Partly because you know your limits, and go into each planned date with a level of expectation for yourself as well as rules that you’ve internally programmed yourself to follow every time you and Yoongi step out of the car. 

At the museum date, you make sure to keep your distance, using your intertwined hands with Yoongi as the only signal of your relationship. The pair of you joke around about the art pieces, whispering between each other about how many fans have taken pictures of the pair of you lingering about the museum, as well as relay information to each other about various rooms that you are interested in. But in a way, it definitely feels more like a typical friendly hang-out rather than a date. 

The same idea can be applied to the next date Seokjin sends you on—a casual date at one of the local botanical gardens, each garden filled with a different culture to serve as the theme for its layout and plant growth. Some gardens have little cafe booths and grassy fields to buy some snacks before sitting down to enjoy the sunlight, which is an idea that Yoongi suggests that the two of you do. He points to one of the ice cream shops along the outskirts of a garden, and claims a seat on one of the benches so the two of you can enjoy your treat. The current summertime weather emits a warmer heat and breeze that curls lightly through the air throughout the day, making for a perfectly comfortable season to wear a sundress. It’s also the kind of undetectable weather for ice cream to melt down the cone, onto unsuspecting fingers curled into the dry waffle texture. Yoongi makes that well aware by poking your cheek with his sticky finger, garnering several pictures of the encounter. 

Seokjin has even tried to implement studio life into his constant narrative to keep up the facade of your relationship with Yoongi. While the pair of you go on these occasional dates, Yoongi also has a deadline to fulfill with his album release. On the days where dates are not planned out, he’ll be in the studio—rearranging songs to fit in with the music beats that have more or less been tapered down to perfection. As his manager, sometimes you find yourself staying past your allotted time slot of being at the studio, before sneaking into the recording booth way past midnight to see what Yoongi and Namjoon are up to. 

Just as it follows: you straighten up, craning your neck backwards a little to allow for slight muscle extensions after sitting at a desk for an extra hour too long. With Yoongi’s album steadily approaching, there are interviews that need to be arranged, magazines and newspapers and radio shows alike all reaching out to you for the opportunity to cover Yoongi’s growth as an artist. Albums also equate to tours to help promote the album, and with the close call from Yoongi’s last experience with such, it means that you need to book more locations—or the same location across multiple dates. 

Overall, the growing pile of work means that you and everyone else at KSJ Studios are just as anticipated for Yoongi’s album release as the general public. It seems as if his collective fanbase are hoping and waiting under the same parameters: was the album going to be as good as they were expecting? 

You shoulder your purse, stepping out of your office and shutting it behind you. You navigate through the hallways, glancing sideways to peek out the long glassway of windows, all overlooking the city skyline, the multicolor lights flickering ahead in the distance. You quirk a lip. 

Your usual brisk pace dies down when you pass the studio you know Yoongi and Namjoon are recording in. The soundproof walls inside mean that hardly any music ever seeps out from between the cracks, only heightening your curiosity. Your busy schedule recently has made it so you have hardly been able to hear what Yoongi and Namjoon have come up with. 

You glance down at your watch. It was nearing midnight. Well, you think to yourself, a little peek wouldn’t hurt. You reach over to grip the door handle, pushing it down and pushing it open. Inside is the usual scene: Yoongi behind the glass, his fingers curled around the headphones as he speaks into the microphone. His voice filters through the main studio area, where Namjoon sits behind computers and music panels, capturing every single second of what is going on. 

Further driven by curiosity, you find yourself pulling harder at the door to let yourself in. Namjoon turns at the sound, but softens a little when he sees that it’s you. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” You tease, standing next to Namjoon at the table, watching Yoongi’s closed eyes as he loses himself in the song. 

Namjoon grins back. “You’re not gonna tell us to stop, are you?” 

“Hey.” You bring both arms up in a sign of surrender. “I’m off the clock on this one. Just wanted to see what you two were up to.” 

Suddenly, Yoongi calls your name from behind the glass, as the noise is amplified through the studio. You jump slightly, having not expected to be noticed so soon. Yoongi waves. “It’s late!” He calls. “What are you still doing here?” 

You lean forward to press the button that opens the two-way communication. “I’m not sure you heard, but there’s an artist in this studio that’s working on an upcoming album—it’s causing a lot of pain for the rest of us.” 

Yoongi laughs at that. “Touche, touche.” He brightens up slightly. “Hey, we’re wrapping up on this song, so if you stick around I’ll drive you home.” 

This is a natural offer for Yoongi to make, considering the extent to which you’ve spent long nights here. Brushing it off as nothing more than Yoongi just being a good pal, you nod and flash him a thumbs up. “Sounds good, sounds good. But take your time. Don’t let me get in the way.” 

You turn around, allowing the music of Yoongi’s song to refilter back through the studio. You park yourself atop the couch at the back, settling into the soft cushions. Come to think of it, falling asleep definitely isn’t the worst thing in the world to do—especially on this couch. And you’re exhausted, what with scheduling events all day and having to burn through your social battery by making one too many phone calls with various people within the industry. 

The last thing you remember is Yoongi’s soft humming that fades away into a quiet static. 

You jerk awake after what feels like a few minutes—but judging from your new position on the couch (horizontal this time, instead of vertical) and the blanket that has been tucked under your chin, you realize quickly that this few minutes has actually been a few hours. It might be hard to believe that, because the world around you still seems very similar to what it had been when you fell asleep. The lack of windows in the studio make it very difficult to distinguish time—although Yoongi’s voice sounds much closer than it had when you first fell asleep. 

You sit up. 

Namjoon and Yoongi jolt at your sudden movement. “Woah! She’s awake now,” Yoongi teases. 

Blinking for a few seconds, you turn your head to find Yoongi out of the recording booth and instead sitting at one of the tables in the actual studio setting. Surrounding Namjoon and Yoongi looks like an entire McDonalds family meal: chicken nuggets, $1 menu burgers, lots of french fries… 

You let out a breath to help further situate you to your new surroundings. “Min Yoongi…” You start, voice hoarse. “You said you were just finishing up.” 

“I was,” Yoongi explains, looking vaguely guilty. Only vaguely though. “But I had this sudden epiphany, like holy shit you really had to be here—it was crazy.” 

“I was here,” You choke out. 

Yoongi waves you off. “You know what I mean—here here. Anyways, yeah, we realized that we couldn’t leave, especially when I got Namjoon on the same page. He was just as excited as I was!” 

Namjoon slaps his hand. “Don’t drag me into this!” 

Yoongi ignores him. “Anyways, it’s like two in the morning and we got hungry. McDonalds is the food of champions, after all. You hungry? Here, have some water first.” He grabs a bottle of water from the table and unscrews the cap. Suddenly, he’s standing up and making his way towards the couch. He sits down next to you, offering the water to you. “Here. You must be thirsty.” 

You are. Still heavy-lidded too, but you try your best to blink away the exhaustion as you blindly reach for the water and manage to grab it after Yoongi adjusts his own angled arm. He watches you as you tilt your head back to down some of the water, accidentally drinking a little more than your mouth can handle. Some of it slides down the corner of your lip, making you angle your head back properly and remove your lips from the bottle head. 

Yoongi softens a little at your clumsy nature, tugging the sleeve of his long-sleeved forward in order to pat the corner of your mouth. “Aw, look at my tiny little baby, can’t even drink water properly,” He coos. 

You flinch slightly away from him, trying for a glare that comes out more like a pout. Yoongi laughs softly at the sight. “There are no cameras around us, Min Yoongi,” You grumble out. “You don’t need to be so attentive.” 

“Nevermind that, I’m just trying to be a friend. You want a french fry?” He reaches across the space separating the couch from the table, and grabs the box of salty french fries. His voice carries that usual positive disposition from previously, but the light in his eyes has died down a little. You don’t notice it, too busy looking at the french fries and realizing that you are actually a little hungry. 

The remainder of Yoongi and Namjoon’s break is dedicated to finishing up the family meal, before Yoongi looks at the clock and claps his hands together. “Hey Namjoon, I think I should take my girl home before we get back to working. Is that okay?” 

Namjoon’s eyes flicker between the two of you, but he relents. “Of course.” He utters your name. “Have a good night.” 

“I should be saying that to you,” You return teasingly, more of your senses have returned since putting food into your stomach. “See you tomorrow, Namjoon.” 

So Yoongi takes you home, driving through the darkened streets, making light conversation with you, completely ignoring the fact that he has just addressed you as his girl, before your phone starts to buzz in your lap. It’s a notification from Instagram, saying that Namjoon has tagged you in a picture. Raising an eyebrow, you tap the alert, which takes you to a picture from just a few minutes ago—you and Yoongi at the studio, Yoongi tapping gently at your face with his sweater paw. The caption burns into your mind: three am company, ft my favorite artist and his favorite girl. 

His favorite girl. 

His girl. 

.

.

CHAPTER 5: HIS GIRL 

. 

Yoongi’s album is entitled Y2, and it releases in the autumn, when the leaves are colored orange and the breeze has called for cozy jackets and big sweaters. It’s the perfect attire to wear as the earphones get plugged in and slipped into ears—curled up by soft cashmere and Yoongi’s luring voice. He’s got about sixteen songs on the album, a sweet mixture of loose beats and soft vocal voices that seem to simultaneously battle the drawn out harsh tone of stories extended across various three minute arrangements. The stories cover the low point—passive aggressive fights, of late nights, of “holding your hand, being so close, yet feeling so lonely”. But the songs also touch on the high points—coming back together, of soft morning light, of “being with you, wiping the traces of exhaustion from the corner of your lips, so close yet so far away, and still knowing you’re all I [he] could ever want”. 

At least, it is what one article touches upon in a Y2 review, where the journalist gives high remarks to Yoongi’s album. She calls it a refreshing interpretation of music, continuing in the era of singers actually singing about their feelings. More than that, an era of storytelling in music. Of anything, of life, of the highs and the lows—the sadness, the happiness, the softness. 

Safe to say that Yoongi is very excited to read this review on his phone, along with the surplus of positive things people have to say—from highly regarded journalists who belong to highly regarded newspaper companies, from social media, from his friends and family. Most especially, from you. You: whose hand he holds underneath the table as the numbers of listens start pouring in from various streaming websites. 

He’s been nervous about this. He’s put his blood, sweat, and tears into the creation of this album, every song has been nailed down to perfection. His name, and his heart, is back out into the world. 

The night of the album release is the launch party. 

“Dude, it’s supposed to be a chill night,” Jungkook calls from the hallway, and you can’t help but laugh at how exasperated the boy sounds. “Would you just calm down?” Jungkook emerges from the aforementioned hallway. Despite his mention of this ‘chill night’, he’s still wearing something vaguely casual chic. “You’re his manager. Manage his overthinking tendencies.” 

You laugh, watching as Jungkook plops down into the empty spot next to you on the couch, immediately leaning back into the cushion. “You know as well as I do that I don’t have that much control over him.” 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “You probably have more control than you think.” 

Before you can ask more questions, think more deeply into what the fuck Jungkook means by that, his eyes land on the hallway entrance before straightening up in the cusion. Your eyes follow Jungkook’s movement, where Yoongi is now standing in the once vacant space of his apartment. But his stance isn’t what gets you to stare, what makes your breath feel like it has just caught in your chest. Although he’s following the ‘casual chic’ dress code that Seokjin has ordered, there’s something about a white t-shirt that hits differently when it’s paired with a coat and dark jeans that highlight his long legs. 

Yoongi gestures down at what he’s wearing meekly. “What do you think?” Although it appears that he’s addressing both you and Jungkook, his gaze is almost entirely fixed on you. 

Trying hard to ignore the racing of your heart, you straighten up and somehow manage to make your way over to him without snapping your ankle on your chunky platform boots. Doing your best to pay attention to his outfit over his face, you reach over to straighten out the silver necklace he’s got dangling at his chest. “You look good,” You settle calmly. “And Jungkook is right—it’s supposed to be a chill night. Seokjin just invited people from the label. And some of your friends as well. Relax a bit, will you?” 

Finally, you force yourself to level your gaze with Yoongi’s, fully confident that he’s just staring at you and probably wondering why you aren’t making eye contact with him. But when you do manage to glance at Yoongi’s face, you realize quickly that he’s not even staring at you. Instead, he’s staring down, at the curve of your throat. 

Without warning, your cardiac system seems to pump itself too hard, because your breath of surprise comes out through your nose, effectively bringing up and lowering your lungs so fast that anyone would be able to read your vital sounds now. This proves to be true, because Yoongi’s gaze darts up from your neck to your eyes so quickly, that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had you stuck around without looking at his eyes. Doing that, however, might have saved you from this now tricky situation. “Sorry,” Yoongi manages, eyes flickering between yours. “I, uh, didn’t hear what you said.” 

You realize the gravity of your position—your fingers now curled around the lapels of Yoongi’s jacket and one of his hands curled around your waist. That gravitational pull from every single one of your dates with Yoongi comes back again, curling around your neck and seeming to push you closer, closer—! 

Jungkook coughs loudly from behind you. 

You and Yoongi tear your gazes away from each other, as you uncurl both of your fingers from around Yoongi’s coat. “I-uh,” You start. “Was just saying that you should relax a little. You don’t have to try and impress anyone tonight.” 

Yoongi sneaks one last glance at you. “We’ll see,” He says, before stepping away from you and brushing past Jungkook to make his way towards the door. Jungkook turns to look at you, wide-eyed and mouthing the words ‘what the fuck was that?’ 

To which you shake your head, very sure that you don’t want to get into this tonight of all nights. This was supposed to be a celebration for Yoongi. Just as you’ve done for the past few months, you can continue to keep your emotions in check. Easy-peasy. 

Except it’s not easy-peasy because you see Seokjin at the club that he’s reserved for Yoongi’s album release party, and you realize that this is not a chill event for you—you still have to keep up the facade of your relationship in front of everyone. 

Yoongi seems to realize this at the same time you do, because he inches closer to you and laces your fingers together. From afar, Seokjin nods in an unspoken confirmation regarding your behavior. 

The beginning of the party starts with the trickle in of the various guests Seokjin has invited—from the friends he has made in the business, to others signed under the KSJ records label, to you, Jungkook, and Yoongi’s personal friends from college. The onslaught of new people fills you with the usual sense of excitement after not having attended a party in what feels like years. Working as a manager for a budding new artist is a lot less about the parties and more about the hustle. 

The first hour of the event is dedicated to the mingling of people—of free food and conversations around the bottomless cocktails that every guest rushes to the bar to take full advantage of. It’s nice to be able to catch up with the friends that you and Yoongi haven’t spoken to since graduation—which is the group you and Yoongi first approach, as Yoongi is slinging his arm around one Park Jimin. The latter whose eyes widen and lips curl up into a grin at the sight of the two of you. It’s nice to see an old friend again, it almost brings you back to a time where you and Yoongi were both in-tune and surface-level friends.

“Hey, congratulations on the new album release!” Jimin exclaims brightly after the three of you have acquired some drinks from the bartender. Jimin raises his drink first, to which you and Yoongi follow suit. 

As the glasses clink into the air, Jimin adds in another thing that reminds you of the fact that you and Yoongi are not back in college. You are here, in the present, with a fake relationship on the line. 

“And congratulations to your relationship announcement,” Jimin continues. 

You cough on your drink at that, lowering the glass immediately, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Jimin, I know what all those reports have been saying…” 

“Don’t worry,” Jimin brushes off. “I read through some of them. You guys have been dating for three years, right? I’m honestly surprised I never saw it. In hindsight, it makes sense.” Jimin takes a longer sip, gesturing towards Yoongi with a noise of acknowledgement coming from his throat. “Hm—I guess because you guys are dating now, I can let the cat out of the bag—but, Yoongi liked you from the first moment he met you.” 

Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to choke on his drink, his chest heaving as he coughs into his sleeve. “Jimin, ah, you don’t need to talk about that—!” 

Jimin laughs, naturally assuming that Yoongi’s choke was done out of shyness and not something deeper than that. “What, you think just because this happened when we were at college, I wouldn’t have said something all these years later?” 

You can’t help but smile at their exchange. Although Jimin’s comment about Yoongi’s crush definitely piques your interest. You turn to Yoongi. “You had a crush on me back then?” 

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Jimin beats him to it. “Oh yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about you—said that you had this smile like starlight and were super easy to talk to.” 

“You have a great memory for someone who almost flunked college algebra,” Yoongi bites out hotly. 

Jimin, clearly oblivious to the situation, laughs out loud. “I agree. Normally I would have forgotten all about that. But.” With Jimin’s fingers still curled around the wine glass, he is only able to point an index finger out at Yoongi. “I’ll never forget that look in your eyes. Like you saw something you were never going to let go of.” 

You know Jimin is the one talking, but you cannot help but look at Yoongi as you feel your world spinning slightly around you. You blame it on the alcohol—as small of a sip as you have taken so far. Jimin, unlike a lot of the other parties you’ve been spending your time with, is not in on the joke of your relationship with Yoongi being a PR cover story. So there has to be some merit to it. Right? 

Right? 

Before you can even think how to phrase the billions of questions flying through your mind, the soft beat of a hand against a microphone sounds through the bar, as the original music that has been pounding through the club gets lowered to show that someone is trying to command everyone’s attention. 

It’s Kim Seokjin, situated at the stage, with the microphone in hand. “Hey everyone! Before we actually start unveiling the numbers that Y2 has hit so far, I just want to say a few words. First of all, thank you everyone so much for joining us tonight as we celebrate the anticipated release of Min Yoongi’s album.” 

Lots of claps sound from the guests, several cheers, one of you and Jimin join in just for the sake of embarrassing Yoongi. If he’s flustered with the attention, he’s gotten a lot better at hiding it. 

“Actually,” Seokjin continues. “Why don’t we have the man of the hour join us? After all, my words don’t mean shit up here—I wasn’t the one who just released new music. Yoongi, come on up!” 

Lots more claps and cheers, and the music volume increases dramatically just to give Yoongi some sort of platform to enter on. It makes you laugh. Seokjin is clearly having fun with his role. So you watch, sticking by Jimin, as Yoongi emerges from the crowd to step onto the stage. Seokjin pulls the microphone away from the pair of them as he leans over to whisper something into Yoongi’s ear, where the latter nods a few times before accepting the microphone that is now being extended out to him. 

Yoongi clears his throat, speaking over the lowering music. “Hi guys, thanks so much for coming out,” He starts, laughing a little when there is another round of cheers. “As I’m sure a lot of you know, this is my first full length album that’s being released out into the world and it’s basically everything I ever could have dreamed of. One lesson that I’ve learned is that making albums of both the cover songs I did and the original songs I would produce in my shitty college apartment is a completely different experience than getting professional equipment to do a lot of the work for me.” 

You laugh at that, the memories floating through your mind. 

Yoongi smiles a little at the feedback he gets. But he continues. “And of course a lot of that professional equipment was able to work in my favor because I had helped. Seokjin of course, deserves a thank you for letting me learn and experiment with new sounds, and for letting me take a risk by trying out beats and stories that a lot of people might have turned down. And Namjoon.” He seems to spot Namjoon from the crowd, because he delivers a nod. “For being more than my favorite producer, but also my mentor and my guide. We had a lot of lightbulb late nights together. And finally…” His eyes land on you, and you feel yourself self-consciously straighten up. “Y/N—my Y/N. For those of you who don’t know, my girlfriend is my manager and we recently made our relationship public. I thought the transition from private to public would have been the hardest thing of my life, but she made it so easy. Just as she’s always made it so easy to inspire my music, to be my best friend—and to love her.” 

Love. 

You suddenly feel like you’re seeing the world through a small lens, unable to believe the words you are hearing and the sights you are seeing. Yoongi is staring right back at you, with all this love and adoration in his eyes, lips quirking up as a result of the coos from the audience. 

It’s a vague kind of spotlight anxiety from seeing so many people looking at you considering the circumstances. It’s a feeling that only heightens when Yoongi opens his mouth again to continue speaking. “Actually, honey, why don’t you come up here, so I can thank you properly.” 

The whoops and cheers sound again, and Jimin has to nudge you in the ribs to get you to move. Your initial thoughts are one of panic, suspicion, and curiosity. One glance at Seokjin’s direction conveys the high influx of questions that are flowing through your mind—what exactly are those two boys planning? 

Yoongi’s hand extends out to you, helping you up onto the stage, as you turn around to face the crowd of people Yoongi has just been addressing. Of course, you have less experience hiding your general shyness around crowds, so the most you can muster is a smile and a wave. 

Yoongi laughs into the microphone. “Don’t worry baby, I didn’t call you up to embarrass you. I just wanted to show you that all of this…” He gestures to the whole club, the crowds of people who have taken time out of their schedule to show support, the sounds of his album now filtering through the speakers. “All of this was possible because you believed in me, you supported me, and agreed to help me work toward my dream. This is all as much yours as it is mine.” 

Then, he surprises you by leaning forward to brush his lips across your cheek—a gesture that further incites a bigger reaction of positive cheers and hoots from the audience. You turn your head immediately towards him as soon as he pulls away, your eyes wide with surprise. After all, you and Yoongi have never discussed the rule on kissing before, have never brought up any sort of lip contact to any degree. His boldness is something that takes you completely off guard. 

And judging from the uncertain look that dances behind his eyes, a flicker that only you can see and decipher, you can tell that he hadn’t been expecting that from himself either. 

You’re about to pull away, maybe walk off the stage and take another drink to whatever the fuck that was all about, before Jimin’s familiar voice sounds off from within the crowd. 

“You call that a kiss, Min Yoongi?” Jimin calls, close enough now that it’s easier to see him. “C’mon, kiss your girlfriend like you mean it!” 

The rest of the crowd immediately catches onto what Jimin is doing, and they play into it immediately. Suddenly, shouts of “KISS HER, KISS HER!” sound throughout the guests. 

The new direction that this has taken over the span of just a few seconds seconds you into another wild onslaught of differing emotions. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never agreed to actually kiss Min Yoongi. Obviously, the internal choice has been made for a handful of reasons, none of which you can explain to Yoongi or Seokjin without digging yourself further into this hole where you would truly have no way of escaping.

Which is why you clearly can’t say anything of protest right now. Everyone thinks the pair of you have been dating for years, and that kissing has become a natural action for you both to do. Of course they would play into Jimin’s game, thinking nothing harmful of it. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you shift your gaze from the crowd of people before you to Yoongi, who looks equally as stunned by the request as you. He plays it off a little bit, however, smiling as he brings the microphone close to his mouth again. “I’m not sure you all would want to be subjected by some PDA, especially you over there, Park.” 

Jimin makes a noise of disapproval. “It’ll just be this one time! I’m sure people don’t mind! Spread the love, Min.” 

Other people from the guest list add on that they don’t mind in between their laughter and giggles, probably writing off you and Yoongi’s shy disposition as just that: a shy, private couple who is still getting used to the watchful eye of the general public. Nevermind the fact that you and Yoongi have just never kissed each other before. 

Yoongi then turns to look at you, microphone down to his legs so that it can’t pick up the small whispers the pair of you start exchanging. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you up here…” 

“No, no, it’s fine, I understand why you did it…” You trail off. “Kissing my cheek, on the other hand…” 

Yoongi groans. “Yeah, that’s my bad. Seokjin said I could consider doing it but I wasn’t thinking when I leaned over. I completely forgot that Jimin is a menace to society. I’m gonna kick his ass after this.” 

You want to continue this private, side-lined conversation, but it is overrun by the louder voices that keep repeating the same two lines over and over again: “KISS HER, KISS HER!” until the echoes of it start ringing in your ear drums. 

Yoongi switches topics to the more pressing one at hand. “So, uh, I guess we should…” 

You exhale quickly, nodding. “It seems so…” 

Yoongi inches closer to you, his breath fanning your lips as your eyes instinctively close. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, the final thing he says to you before he kisses you. 

Now, let’s backtrack a little. You’ve liked Yoongi for years, so to say that you’ve never thought of this moment would just be a lie to yourself. Of course you’ve thought about kissing Yoongi. Or, at the very least, you’ve caught yourself staring at his lips when he would go off on another spiral about his passions. That type of talking is very hot, so what? 

But you never thought you would be able to experience it, to kiss the lips you’ve flickered your eyes to more times than you’re willing to admit. So as soon as you feel the weight of his mouth against your own, your brain goes haywire. Suddenly, all your senses are hyper focused on Yoongi—from his lips, to the warmth of his body wrapping itself around you, to his fingers curled around your wrist. 

You hardly hear the cheers from the audience, too busy allowing your heart to melt into butterflies as he presses harder into you, moving his lips against yours. You part your lips as well, curling your wrist to gather the material of his shirt into your hands. 

It feels like time has stretched out before Seokjin claps both of you on the back, forcing you to jolt away from Yoongi. He actually looks flustered this time—pink cheeks and reddened lips, his eyes are fixated on you, chest heaving. You feel like you’re in a similar state of shock, especially because kissing Yoongi makes something dawn on you. A realization of ice cold water. 

This isn’t just a crush you’ve harbored on Yoongi for the past few years. This isn’t just some small schoolgirl crush living out a fantasy, or something you can easily brush off, or simple butterflies you can squash everytime he reaches out to hold your hand. This is love. You’re in love with your best friend. And you have absolutely no fucking clue what to do about it. 

If the audience is taken aback by this long-term couple in front of them looking zero point two seconds away from devouring each other in a frenzied passion, no one settles long enough to comment or stare upon it for too long. Seokjin does well to grab the microphone from Yoongi and bring the attention back to the actual party on hand. He mentions another round of free alcohol, which are two words that can take anyone’s attention away. 

“And Yoongi, uh, I actually need to borrow for you a moment,” Seokjin murmurs in a low voice. “So I hope I’m not taking away from…” He trails off, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you. “Whatever this is…” 

“Oh no!” You interject quickly, taking a step away from Yoongi. “Not taking away at all.” 

Yoongi gives you a concerned look. “Maybe we should, uh, talk about that…” 

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, seriously.” You shrug a shoulder. “Just part of the act, right?” 

Yoongi’s concern melts away into something that might be hurt, but it’s gone just as quickly as it had come. “I’ll try not to be long then.” 

You nod. “Yeah, no problem—no need to rush or anything… I’ll just be hanging out with Jimin…” 

Yoongi gazes at you for a few seconds longer, before he lets himself get dragged off the stage by Seokjin. Rather than immediately go out to seek your old friend, you find your gaze following after the two of them, trying to see where exactly Yoongi is getting roped into. 

You continue to trail after them in the club, until the two of them are pulled into a booth—the person opposite of them makes your lips part in utter shock. 

. 

“Yoongi, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” Seokjin starts as he and Yoongi dive deeper into the thrones of people. Yoongi feels himself being directed towards a corner booth, currently occupied by two people. “She wanted me to introduce you.” Finally, the pair of them stop at the head of the table. “This is Lee Jieun.” 

Right off the bat, Yoongi is vaguely insulted that Seokjin thought that someone like Lee Jieun needed an introduction—because who wouldn’t know who Lee Jieun? 

Lee Jieun, like Yoongi, is a singer-songwriter with a sweetheart reputation, who weaves stories and experiences through her music. But unlike Yoongi, who got his start through Youtube and built himself from the ground up, Lee Jieun signed into a record label at the age of 15. As one could tell, she was that talented. Still is, as a matter of fact. Her albums are continuously winning awards, establishing herself in the charts, connecting with people all over the world. He would know—when Yoongi finally discovered Jieun in the midst of his Youtuber days, it was the catalyst that served as the biggest influence towards the release of his original songs. The fact that they’re both the same age only makes Yoongi even more in awe of her. 

Yoongi being able to see Lee Jieun, in the flesh, is a powerful enough sight to leave him speechless. 

Lee Jieun sits at the booth, looking all prettied up with her big eyes and red lips. Everything about her seems regal, from the smile she flashes Yoongi to the hand she extends out towards him. 

It takes a second for Yoongi to register what he needs to do. Hastily, he steps forward and takes her hand in his. Despite her delicate nature, her handshake is firm as the pair of them move their joined hands up and down once. Honestly, considering their status difference, he feels like a handshake is too casual for them, but he doesn’t speak of it. He just basks in the moment, until he lets go of her hand. 

Afterwards, he joins Seokjin in the booth, sliding into his seat. 

Jieun smiles brightly at the two of them. “Thank you for going out of your way to come talk to me. I hope I wasn’t disrupting your night.” 

Yoongi shakes his head immediately. “Oh, god no. Of course not. I’m just—I’m really honored to see you here. I-I had no idea that you were friends with Seokjin.” 

Jieun laughs. “Oh yeah, we go way back—we were actually signed under the same label. Seokjin left to pursue management a few years ago, but we’ve always kept in touch.” She reaches over to take her glass of soda from the table. “He told me when he signed you, you know. He said that you were doing street performances a few cities down?” 

Yoongi flushes at that. “Oh yeah—my origin story.” 

“I mean, everyone starts from somewhere,” Jieun brushes off, laying down her cup again. “So I’ve honestly been looking out for your name since Seokjin signed you. I heard about your tour, but knew that I wanted to wait until your first full length album just to make sure your reputation was a little more fleshed out before bringing up my idea with Seokjin.” 

Yoongi blinks, switching his gaze from Jieun to Seokjin. The latter nods, as if to let him know that Jieun would be the one providing information. So Yoongi turns back to Jieun. 

Jieun continues. “Since it seems that we’ve both developed a songwriting, storytelling reputation amongst the music industry, I was hoping that you’d agree to do a collaboration with me. Just one single, both of our names attached to it. It’s been awhile since I worked with another artist, and I’m sure that doing this will only further put your name out there. It could also be a really good learning experience.” 

Yoongi almost cannot believe his ears. Lee Jieun wanted to do a collaboration? With him and his inexperienced ass? 

Yoongi coughs out in wonder. “Wow.” 

Jieun smirks. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No, no, not at all!” Yoongi reassures, but then he backpedals a little. “I mean, it’s not that I was expecting you to ask for a collaboration—I just—!” He cuts himself off, exhaling heavily to calm his nerves. “It’s just, you were a very big reason I even wanted to sing my original songs back when I was street performing. So the fact that you’re asking me to do a song together is honestly so crazy to me.” 

Jieun grins. “I’m honored—so are you agreeing to my request?” 

Almost on instinct, Yoongi turns to Seokjin. It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t want to do the collab, it’ll probably be the single most greatest thing to happen in his career, but Seokjin was technically his boss and their contract had it so Seokjin usually had to final say in what he believed would be best for him. 

And for the briefest flicker of a second, Yoongi’s mind switches to you. More than Seokjin’s approval, he finds himself seeking your praise the most. After all, you know how much he admires Lee Jieun. He wants to share this moment with you. 

Instead of jumping up to go find you, he forces himself to stay rooted to his seat. “I-I think I would be the one who feels honored. T-That is, if Seokjin says it’s okay.” 

Seokjin holds his arms out. “Of course it’s okay! The collaboration was also partly my idea. Anywho.” He turns back to Jieun. “We’ll have to run through Yoongi’s schedule with his manager just to see when he’s available. But after that, we can get started.” 

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s manager, Jieun’s eyes brighten with her smile. “Oh yes, your girlfriend.” She sits a little straighter, trying to seek you out. “She’s here at the event right? I’d really love to meet her, if that’s okay?” 

Yoongi nods immediately. “O-Of course!” He also sits up a little straighter, moving about in his seat to try and locate you. He finds you near the bar, seeming to have ditched your hang-out with Jimin, as you take an occasional sip of your drink. “She’s over there.” 

With a nod, the three of them move out of the booth and towards the bar, where you’re still slouched over, scrolling through Instagram on your phone. You seem to notice their approaching presence, because you take a quick glance over to acknowledge them, before doing a double take when you realize who else is in Yoongi’s company. 

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim, immediately sliding out of your bar stool, your gaze fixated on Jieun. 

Seokjin laughs at your starstruck reaction. “Y/N, this is Lee Jieun—but I’m guessing you already knew that?” 

You seem to realize your behavior, because your shyness comes back. “I do. Um, hi! It’s really nice to meet you.” You reach over to offer your hand. 

Jieun takes it, shaking for a second. “The pleasure is all mine.” 

Your gaze immediately flints to Yoongi. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me that you were acquainted with Lee Jieun herself!” 

Yoongi waves you off. “Actually, Seokjin is the mutual party.” 

Your lips part in shock, as you nod once, twice, in understanding. “Well, uh, in that case, I hope you’re having a good time tonight, Jieun.” 

“It’s really a wonderful launch party,” Jieun praises. “But I do admit to having ulterior motives. I actually came by to ask Yoongi if he wanted to work on a collab song with me.” 

Your lips part, and Yoongi feels a vague sense of pride swell up in his chest when you turn to look at him, eyes brighter than they have been all night. “Yoongi! That’s so amazing! I hope you agreed.” 

“I did, actually,” Yoongi says with the nod of his head. If you notice that he’s puffing his chest out a little as your words go straight to his head, you don’t comment on it. “We’ll definitely have to go over my schedule with you, pick some dates where Jieun and I can have some writing sessions, and then the recording sessions, just to name the big picture stuff that’ll have to get done. But we should all be good to go.” 

As Yoongi continues to list everything that’ll need to be done in order to create music together, your gaze shifts between Yoongi and Jieun occasionally, taking in their equal excitement and passion for the long project ahead. It isn’t until the end, when you and Yoongi leave the launch party, after having collected praise and much more from the many friends and connections that have been gained throughout the night, you enter the car wearing an unreadable expression—like you’re pondering something that threatens to break you. 

. 

To be frank, you aren’t surprised that Lee Jieun asks Yoongi to collaborate together. Sure, maybe she came a little earlier than you had expected, but you always knew it was a matter of time before the pair of them met. Their reputations are too similar, their personalities too good together; you’re sure that fate would have lined them up at some point. 

It just feels like maybe the universe made them a little too perfect for each other—and it’s something that becomes glaringly obvious as a month of songwriting goes by without a hitch. Every few days, Jieun would turn up to KSJ Records, bright-eyed and always looking so, so pretty. Every few days, Jieun and Yoongi would sit next to each other, conversing about the story of their song, both bright-eyed with unbridled affection for what they were writing. And sure, Namjoon would be a part of these songwriting sessions. But that’s not the point. 

The point is that as Yoongi gets bigger and success becomes a more natural occurrence in his life, the more people he’s going to meet with whom he shares a common interest and dedication for. People he would probably (most definitely) get along with a lot better than he could get along with you. Friendship is nice and all, but it can’t substitute for the powerful combination of passion, intimacy, and commitment that comes out of romantic companionship. 

And you see it in his eyes: the excitement he gets when he’s surrounded with like-minded people. You’re Yoongi’s manager, sure, and one of his best friends, obviously, but there’s only so much you can contribute to conversations about the actual music. Truth be told, when it comes to editing, you just do whatever Yoongi tells you to. And don’t even get you started on the music arrangements—you can’t even lift a candle to what Yoongi himself can do. Or Namjoon. Or especially Lee Jieun. 

And although you know that Yoongi means no ill-intention, it feels as if he takes every opportunity to remind you of that fact. 

“I mean, she’s amazing.” He’s sighing dreamily over his bulgogi. The pair of you are at a corner booth in a Korean barbeque restaurant, on another fake date Seokjin has prearranged for you. It’s not the first date you’ve been on since Jieun entered the picture, and it’s definitely not the first time Yoongi is bringing her up. And although this isn’t even a real date, and although this isn’t a real relationship, there’s only so much you can take—both as a friend and as someone who is starting to feel the curl of jealousy in your stomach. 

Still, you refuse to let the cat out of the bag. So you sigh, picking up your chopsticks and digging into your meat. The only thing you can manage is: “I bet she is.” 

But Yoongi doesn’t stop there. “You should have seen her today, she was on fire. Songwriting abilities, obviously. We were stuck on this one part of the song, but then she just swooped in with this perfect one-liner that made my heart drop. Seriously, it was so cool. I don’t know how her mind works, but I want to keep hanging out with her to learn more.” 

You almost drop your meat completely into your salt dish, but you recover quickly with a cough. The noise helps cover up the fact that your heart feels the white-hot burn of frustration and confusion. “W-Well, you guys do make a good team. You know, being on the same level talent-wise.” 

Yoongi laughs at that, completely oblivious to your state of mind. “Talent-wise? I wouldn’t say I’m anywhere near the level Jieun is at…” 

As he trails off, you dare yourself to flicker your gaze up to him, seeing the pink flush that dusts along his cheeks. Interpreting this as shyness for the internal praise and fondness he has for Jieun, you look away and pick up the plate of raw beef brisket to dump into the grill. 

Yoongi notices what you’re doing, and immediately reaches over to take the plate from you. “Here, let me do it.” 

A part of you wants to fight about it, but you know doing so will just lead you down the path of no man’s land. So you let go, offering the tongs to Yoongi as he takes it to scrap the meat into the grill between the two of you. He takes the silence as an opportunity to further gush about Jieun, and how he can’t wait to work on music arrangements with her, how he’s excited to record the song with her, so on and so forth. 

How could you even contribute to a conversation like this? He’s talking to you about a girl in a way that reminds you of your college days—back when the pair of you were strictly friends and nothing more, and he would talk to you about girls he thought were cute. It feels a little bit like right now. Yoongi and Jieun do make a good team, they get along together, and have formed a closeness within such a short period of time that anyone passing by the studio would assume they’ve been friends for years. Or, even further, that they were dating. At the very least, Yoongi speaks highly enough of Jieun that one could assume that she was the one he liked, and not you. 

It feels a little bit like being left behind—it’s a thought that only continues to fester. 

.

It takes a few more weeks, but you eventually draft up Yoongi’s tour schedule. It’s a few sheets of paper that detail the duration of the tour, the cities, the locations, the dates of each location, the size of the venue, how ticket distribution will work, on, and on, and on—all information that Yoongi has insisted on knowing about ever since he was signed into KSJ Records. The man just likes to know what his fans have to go through in order to see him, and you respect that. 

However, before you can officially create the tour post that’ll be up on the KSJ Records social media account, it needs to go through a final approval: from Yoongi himself. And because he likes to take notes with paper and pen, like the old-fashioned songwriter he is, he’s asked you to print everything out for him. 

This is what leads you to stand near the printer in your office, waiting for the last page to print and slide into your awaiting hands. Once all the pages come out, you flip through them to make sure that every city on the tour is accounted for. You turn back to your desk, collecting some magazines that have been stacked on top of your table. 

Along with getting the setlist for the tour, Yoongi had also asked you to get a hold of some magazines and articles that provided reviews from his first tour. Something about wanting to read any critiques people might have had for his show.

You gather the small stack as well before sliding it into your bag and stepping out into the hall. It’s surprisingly early for you to be leaving your office, the late afternoon, but there’s a part of you that just wants to give the document stack to Yoongi and dip out for the rest of the night. By now, the doubts of Yoongi’s affection for Jieun has dug itself deeper into your mind and letting yourself be around Yoongi for too long brings up too many questions that cannot be good for your mentality. 

Questions like: If he could, would Yoongi prefer to date Jieun for real? 

Was Jieun better than you? 

And the best one of them all: Were you just holding Yoongi back from better relationships? 

You continue to walk down the hallway of the building, your pace a little slower than normal because of the cloudy thoughts that threaten to overtake your mind. Finally, you stop outside of the studio you know Yoongi and Jieun are recording in. You take in a deep breath, forcing your usual cheery personality to shine through as you pull down on the handle and let yourself into the studio. 

As soon as you step inside, you almost wish that you had just slid the documents under the door. The sight of that would probably have been easier to process than the one in front of your eyes right now. 

Namjoon, as usual at the desk surrounded by music panels and laptops, playing the recently finished music through the recording booth situated on the other side of the glass. Behind this aforementioned sheet of glass are Jieun and Yoongi. With headphones on, they’re standing next to each other behind the microphone. Their shoulders practically touching, you don’t miss the way they both keep sneaking glances at each other, the corner of their lips turning up, looking like they’re having the best time together. 

You try not to slam down the door behind you, but your grip on the knob is a little too harsh to call for a softer click. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given how much fun Yoongi and Jieun look like they’re having—wait, did Jieun just touch Yoongi’s arm), neither of them notice your arrival. 

Namjoon, however, notices. 

He turns around to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?” 

You try for a smile, your hand brushing against the door. “Sorry, I slipped a little,” You lie cleanly. You hold up the documents in your other hand. “Yoongi wanted me to prepare a few things for him, stuff for the upcoming tour.” 

Namjoon gestures for you to sit next to him, something that you follow. As soon as you sit down, Namjoon asks to see these aforementioned documents, which you pull out of your bag and hand over to him. It’s quiet between the two of you, the only sounds being the laughs and giggles between Yoongi and Jieun—as if one has them as just told a secret only understood between them. It’s a feeling that doesn’t settle well in your stomach. 

“Wow, this is very efficient,” Namjoon observes, seeming completely oblivious to your internal seething. 

You shrug, eyes still locked in on the inside of the recording booth. “Yoongi asked for the best, so I gave him the best. Hey, so—!” You change topics. “Is there a reason they’re in the booth together? Don’t a lot of collabs nowadays just exchange everything virtually?” 

Namjoon hums. “I didn’t know the jealous girlfriend was a full time act of yours now.” He’s clearly just trying to have fun. After all, only Taehyung and Jungkook know about your crush on Yoongi. “But honestly? I’m not too sure. They just wanted to go in together—said that they could be more personal when working in a face-to-face setting. And they’re actually making a lot of changes as they keep going through the song and hearing how the music is turning out. They’re a good team.” 

Namjoon’s usage of the very same phrase that has been haunting you for the past few weeks doesn’t sit well in your stomach. 

Namjoon returns the documents to you. “Did you want to talk to him now? See if he’s cool with you just dropping it off?” 

You nod. “If that’s okay?” 

Namjoon smiles. “We’ll just wait until they take a breath.” 

Waiting doesn’t turn out to take a long time, because Jieun stops the song to make another statement about what line should replace the one they just sung. And Yoongi looks at her like she’s just hung up all the stars in the galaxy. 

“Namjoon, do you mind starting the song over? We got a new idea for this part,” Jieun calls from inside the booth. 

Namjoon leans forward to press the button. “Actually, you guys have some company.” 

You lean forward as well. “Hey guys.” 

Jieun grins, waving at you through the window. Yoongi acknowledges you as well, but there’s something suddenly stiff about his movements. You notice that he’s also stepping away from Jieun, as if to hide what has been going on between him and Jieun. As if that makes you feel any fucking better. 

“Hey, uh, Yoongi?” You continue. “I have the documents you asked me to prepare for you. I can just leave it here for you to go over if that’s cool. Maybe take a little bit of time today to go over everything.” 

Yoongi thinks about this for a moment. “Actually… honey,” He adds the pet name as an afterthought. “Do you mind dropping it off at my apartment? We’re probably just gonna be focusing on the song until pretty late tonight.” 

The acknowledgement Yoongi has that he and Jieun are in for another late night only grows the seeds of doubt in your mind, as you clench your teeth. You can’t let your insecurities get the best of you. Not now. “Sure,” You manage, trying for a small. 

Yoongi grins. “Thanks baby. I’ll make it up to you this weekend, okay?” 

At this point, it just feels like he’s teasing you and it’s something you find you aren’t really in the mood for. So you manage a curt reply, giving a positive response that you’ll drop by his apartment to deliver the documents regarding his upcoming tour, before you’re up and out of the studio before Jieun, Yoongi, or Namjoon can say one last thing. But you don’t care. The sooner you’re out of there, looking at the heart-eye festival between Jieun and Yoongi, the better you feel. 

So you take the train to Yoongi’s apartment, a now much bigger space in a slightly nicer area of the city. At least, nicer than the college apartment he shared with Jungkook that was no stranger to bed bugs and constant maintenance issues. The newer apartment Yoongi has recently acquired is nicer, has more modern finishes, and is now a space he fills in all by himself. 

As you unlock the door to his apartment, you immediately make your way down the small hallway entrance, where a mirror and his shoes occupy a small corner of the area. The hallway opens up into the living room, and you turn on the light and take in the vaguely familiar sight of his new furniture—home pieces that you helped arrange with him a few months ago. Come to think of it, that was probably the first and last time you had come by Yoongi’s apartment. Before certain life elements got involved. 

Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you plop yourself down on the couch and place the document stack at the corner of the coffee table. It looks rather strange just stacked like that, no context provided, so your eyes shift over for a pen and a post-it note. 

You find a stack of post-it notes, and find a pen sticking out from inside a notebook. Paying little attention to the notebook, you just make a grab for the pen and rip it out of the notebook with the aggression of a gorilla. The notebook flies open, the contents inside barring itself right at you. 

Your immediate reaction is to close the notebook. After all, it just takes one glance at Yoongi’s scrambled handwriting to know that this is one of his writing journals. His most recent one, in fact, judging from how flat the pages after the one currently open appear—like it hasn’t been stained with a pen yet. 

You want to close it—you really do. You and Yoongi have built a friendship on trust. That’s what kept you both together throughout the long years, and you know better than to risk everything just for the chance to scope through what is essentially a songwriter’s diary. 

Your fingers inch towards the edge of the book, about to close it shut, before the title at the top header makes you freeze. 

MY SECRET 

Without meaning to, your eyes read over the lines. And you feel sick to your stomach. 

The song is so raw, so personal, brimming with desire in every verse. It covers lingering stares, secret smiles. A barrier. How Yoongi “wants you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you”. And you know Yoongi—you know him better than anyone. You know that for all the love songs he sings and the topics he sings about that he feigns ignorance for, he draws on personal experience to write his music. How else could he make everything so personable? 

How could this song not be about Jieun? 

The lingering stares, secret smiles: it clearly points to the events in the recording booth you saw earlier that day, and if he’s writing a song about it, it’s obvious that today hadn’t been the first time for those stares and smiles. 

The barrier: obviously you. The relationship facade he’s forced to put up with you, when he’s clearly so much happier with someone else. 

With those factors, it’s so clear that Yoongi would want Jieun, but would be unable to have her. 

And you’re just the girl in the background with the starry eyes for a guy who would never even look at you the way you want him to. 

That realization brings the hot tears to your eyes, as you slam the notebook shut and bring your hand to your mouth, biting your finger to muffle your sobs. What comes out is the build-up of months of insecurities, of having to keep the biggest secret of your life to yourself, and the additional jealousy brought in by a third party. 

This despair and sadness isn’t good for you, and you know that only continuing to hide it away in light of Yoongi and Jieun’s partnership, in light of your feelings, and Yoongi’s exploding career—you should only be able to handle so much. You’re a human being, and you have your limits. 

And you think this might be it. 

.

.

CHAPTER 6: TRUTHS 

. 

“Y-Yeah, I think it’s food poisoning or something,” You speak quietly into the phone, playing with the edges of your blanket. “I’m really sorry, Seokjin, I’ll try to send out some emails to respond to news outlets today…” 

“Hey, no, you’re totally fine,” Seokjin replies hastily. “I don’t blame you for that. Just try and get some rest today, and update me on how you feel tomorrow.” A pause. “What was it?”

“Uh, it must have been in the takeout I got last night.” That’s a lie. You cooked your own dinner last night, and are lying straight through your teeth regarding your condition, but you can’t find it in yourself to go to work today. Not since the discovery of Yoongi’s crush on Jieun made you want to dig yourself into a hole and never crawl out. 

It’s not like you ever thought you had a chance with Yoongi—but you had just thought maybe something would be different after the hand holding, after his radio interview, after your kiss together. 

But Jieun serves as that nice splash of reality that Yoongi wants someone better than you. Someone more like him—someone passionate about music, who gets along with him better, who can write music with and write music about. 

At this point, it just feels like you’re a weight, dragging Yoongi down in the waves of his past. 

On the other side of the phone, Seokjin sighs. “Damn, that’s always the worst. Those are the ones you suspect the least. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Get some rest. Maybe I’ll let Yoongi know so he can bring some soup.” 

The mention of Yoongi makes you feel like you could actually get food poisoning. “You can let him know, but he’ll probably be too hung up on Jieun to give a shit.” 

Seokjin, of course, knows nothing, so he laughs at what he thinks is your joke. “That’s true. They’re actually at it again today, which is surprising considering Jieun only comes by a few times a week. But no, she was here bright and early and so was Yoongi. Basically, they showed up to the studio at the same time. They called it fate, or some shit like that.” 

“You don’t say,” You return dryly. 

Namjoon’s confirmation that they make a good team, paired with Seokjin’s admittance that Yoongi is hung up on Jieun, puts you in a delicate mood for the rest of the day. You try to watch some TV shows, some movies, play some video games, but you are constantly distracted by thoughts of Yoongi and Jieun. 

You’re all curled up on the couch, about to click into another movie, when there’s a knock on your door. Your heart leaps in your throat as you stand up. You hate the brief flicker of hope in your chest, the curiosity that perhaps Yoongi is the one knocking. 

All those hopes are dashed when you see it is Jungkook on the other side of the door. 

“Oh,” You remark, the smile dropping from your face. “It’s just you.” 

Jungkook looks at you like you pissed in his cereal. “Uh, I don’t see other amazing friends over here bringing you store-bought chicken soup because they heard you got food poisoning last night.” He holds up the bag for extra emphasis. 

You roll your eyes, grabbing the bag from him. “I don’t actually have food poisoning, I just didn’t want to go to work today.” 

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at your statement. There’s a lot you’ve given him that he can work with, lots of things he can ask about. Maybe ask why you would lie about your food poisoning, maybe ask why you didn’t want to go to work today, maybe ask why you still looked like shit. 

But the first thing he says: “You owe me twenty dollars.” 

You roll your eyes, beckoning him inside with the jerk of your head. “Sure.” 

Jungkook laughs a little. “Wait, okay, I was actually kidding.” But he still steps into your apartment. “I’ll be serious now. Why lie about food poisoning? And since when do you not want to go to work? If anything, you love to go so you can stare at Yoongi’s ass through the recording booth—!” He cuts himself off when you give him a glare of such pure hatred that it actually shocks him. “Wait, are you mad at Yoongi?” 

You tear your gaze away from him, placing the bag of groceries on your countertop. Sorting through what Jungkook has bought serves to be a good distraction. 

Jungkook continues to look at you. He’s quiet, but he always has a lot to say, and since you’ve been his friend for so long that only heightens his need to talk. “I knew it!” He finally says. “I knew you were mad at him. Taehyung and I were placing bets down.” 

You slam the can of chicken soup on the counter. “HEY. What did I say about gossiping?” 

“Not in front of your face?” 

Your hand flinches, as if to stop yourself from grabbing the can and throwing it at his stupid face. Jungkook doesn’t even move in fear, the bastard. “I’m just gonna pretend I don’t know about the bets. You want a can of chicken soup?” 

Jungkook confirmation finds you at the stove, heating up two of the many cans Jungkook had bought for you. Included in his twenty-dollar purchase had been a few containers of tums, and some orange juice. 

Jungkook lingers in the back. “You wanna tell me why you’re mad at Yoongi?” 

You whirl around to face him. “How did you even know I was upset?” 

Jungkook snorts, but quiets down when you glare at him. He coughs. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know. You’ve been acting weird ever since Jieun started coming by the studio.” 

“Weird how?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re just a little quieter. And you haven’t been spending as much time in the studio as you used to. That was the biggest giveaway.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. You rub at your cheek. “Does Yoongi know?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Doubtful. But I think he knows something is up. I was on the phone with him last night.” 

It’s your turn to snort. “Okay, that’s really fucking funny.” At Jungkook’s raised eyebrow, you explain. “I thought he’d be too busy comparing Jieun to sunlight, or something, to notice me.” 

“Oh, so you’re jealous.” 

You and Jungkook have a staring contest, before you sigh. “I accidentally saw Yoongi’s writing notebook yesterday. It had all these love confessions in it, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about Jieun.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No way? Are you sure?” 

You cough. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent. But it was all about this forbidden crush he couldn’t act on because of a barrier. Who else could be the barrier? He obviously thinks I’m holding him back from pursuing a relationship with Jieun.” You think about your words for a second, trying to decide if Jungkook is trustworthy enough to disclose this information to. “I think I’m gonna break it off with him. Maybe quit too, while I’m at it.” 

Jungkook’s lips part. “But why?” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” You cry. “I can’t keep up this fake dating with Yoongi anymore, it’s too complicated, and I’m actually in love with him so that opens up this whole other series of complications. And it’s not fair to Yoongi—he shouldn’t have to deal with feelings he obviously doesn’t return. The whole charade thing just isn’t doing me any good. And even if I break off the relationship, I would still have to see him all the time because of the whole manager situation. Quitting just seems like the best option for me.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “How do you even know he wrote that song about Jieun?” He finally asks, speaking carefully. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling. Who else has he been spending all this time with? Who else could that song possibly be about?” 

Jungkook gives you a long, hard look, like he almost can’t believe your brain can be thinking those thoughts. But he relents. “I think you should talk to Yoongi before quitting. He’s one of your best friends. He deserves to know why, at least.” He looks over your shoulder. “The chicken soup is done.” 

You whirl back around to turn off the stove. But also so Jungkook can’t see the tears glassing over your eyes. 

. 

It turns out, telling Yoongi you want to quit is a much more difficult task than you could have thought. For starters, Seokjin sets the pair of you up on more dates than before. Apparently, there are some rumors going around regarding Jieun’s more and more frequent turn-ups at KSJ Records, and people have started connecting the dots that her appearances are tied to either one of two reasons. Either Yoongi and Jieun are collaborating on music. Or they’re dating. 

The second reason is a lot juicier, much more exciting, so naturally a lot of people have gravitated towards supporting that reason. To try and expel those thoughts, Seokjin sends you out on more dates with Yoongi. It’s all fine, but your thoughts about breaking off this relationship and quitting just makes you more quiet and closed off as you wallow deeper into your thoughts. 

You suddenly don’t know how to contribute to the conversations Yoongi tries to bring up to you. The words seem to fail you every time, and you feel yourself constantly resorting to silence or one-worded answers. And it constantly always feels like Yoongi is standing too close to you. Every step towards you is a step away from him. When he tries to hold your hand on the sixth date in two weeks, you wiggle out of his grasp and pretend that you need to fix your jacket. 

Your own journey to self-destruction means that you are completely oblivious to the hurt in Yoongi’s eyes with every step you take to distance yourself from him. But what could you even say to him?

How could you tell him you want to quit your job in public? That would obviously lead to a fight, and it would reflect badly on Yoongi’s public image. Just because you want to quit doesn’t mean you still care about him, because you do. And you still want him to succeed. With Seokjin’s constant scheduling of dates, it leaves little room for you to share in an actual private discussion. The only off times Yoongi has are the days Jieun comes by the studio, and you try to stay a mile away from that place now. 

But it turns out, you don’t have a choice today, because Seokjin calls you into his office and tells you to drop off the samples of cover art that has just been dropped off at the studio. The cover art is something that Jieun and Yoongi have designed together for the album, to be displayed when the single is released. 

With heavy feet, you make your way through the hallways and towards Yoongi’s studio space. Every fiber in your being hopes that Yoongi and Jieun will be in the recording booth, working on their song (or even better, just not in the studio at all), so that you don’t have to face them enjoying each other’s company right in front of your face. There’s no music coming through the door, so your heart soars that latter prospect. 

As you open the door, however, you realize that there’s no way for you to be so lucky. 

Inside, Yoongi and Jieun are eating lunch, takeout noodles split between the two of them, and they’re in the middle of laughing. The laughter, however, stops when you open the door, effectively interrupting their fucking date. Which is a thought that does nothing to make you feel better. The silence that echoes on only further makes you feel like shit. 

You and Yoongi sharing a room privately nowadays is a rarity, since you’ve been doing a good job at avoiding him at all costs. His unanswered text messages and shortened calls echo through your mind at the sight of him. With the look he’s giving you, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. 

Jieun, however, remains completely oblivious to the situation as she gives you her normally bright cheery greeting. You stare at you, momentarily stunned. You would have thought Yoongi shared the troubles of your relationship with her, for some reason. You try to remain nice about it, though, giving Jieun a small smile as you return her greeting. 

“I, uh,” You start, bringing the package up for both of them to see. “Your cover art came in today. Seokjin just asked if I could drop it off here.” 

Jieun brightens at the sight. “Oh my gosh, it came! Do you mind if I…?” She trails off, hands reaching out to take the package from you. You give it to her. “Yoongi, isn’t that so exciting?” 

“Yeah…” Yoongi trails off. A quick glance at him tells you that he’s staring at you. You look away. “Did you see it yet?” He asks you. 

You shrug. “I, uh, haven’t. But, anyways, I have to get going.” 

“Hey,” Jieun calls, freezing you slightly in your path. “Thanks for bringing this over. We really appreciate it.” 

We?

The use of that specific noun, while supposedly harmless in the current context, makes your stomach flare with that white hot curl of jealousy. Your teeth clench, as you swallow down the spiteful words that almost manage to escape into the air around you. You smile, no teeth. “You’re welcome.” That’s the only thing you can manage before you’re turning around to open the door and practically bolt yourself out of the studio. 

You only make it a few feet before the door to the studio opens and you hear footsteps trailing after you. He calls your name, and your heart drops. You are so not ready for any type of one-on-one conversation with Yoongi right now. 

But your entire soul still gravitates toward him, so you stop and turn around to face him. 

Yoongi is by himself this time, and looking like a mixture of confused and defeated as he approaches you. “Listen,” He starts. “I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to really talk…” 

“It’s okay,” You brush off. 

Yoongi says your name again. “You know, you don’t need to lie to me. You’re my best friend—I can tell when you’re hiding something from me.” 

You sigh, shaking your head as every nerve in your body is telling you to walk away. “Yoongi, I’m not sure I can do this right now.” 

“Do what?” He presses. “I know that I’ve been super busy, but if you want to talk you can just let me know. Tell me what’s bothering you, okay? Because I…” He trails off, sighing, and you feel that vague sense of guilt wash over you. “I can tell that you’re avoiding me and it’s really shitty. I can’t even focus that much on my song with Jieun.” 

The mention of Jieun stiffens you up again. “Well, sorry for being an inconvenience,” You spit. “Why don’t you go back to your new fucking girlfriend if you’re gonna bring her up to my face again.” You couldn’t stop yourself this time—the words were too ready at your lips. Your chest is heaving from it too, but it is things that you know that you will regret saying. 

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow deeper together as your words. 

You stare right back at him, the shadow of a thought passing over you. If you’re going to tell Yoongi your biggest secret, it might as well be right now. You don’t know the next time you will be this brave, this reactive, this bold. 

Both of you open your mouths at the same time. 

“Did you just call Jieun my girlfriend?”

“I’m quitting.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. You hadn’t meant to speak at the same time as him. A small wave of regret passes through you, as you hope that Yoongi wouldn’t have heard your statement over his question. But of course he does. 

Yoongi’s frowns at you. “Did you just say you were quitting?” 

You take a step back, running a hand through your hair as your exhale comes out shaky. More shaky than you intended it to. Oh no. “Yeah,” You manage, already feeling your emotions bottling up. “I was gonna try and talk to Seokjin about quitting before I left.” 

If Yoongi thinks you were joking before, he definitely doesn’t now because he takes a step towards you and catches your wrist before you can go that far. “B-But why?” His eyes have gotten a little wider, and he’s staring at you like his world is being pulled apart. 

You try to tug your wrist away to no avail. Your mind tries to flash through several different excuses, but you realize that you need to tell him the truth. Yoongi deserves that much, at least.

As you try to collect your thoughts, Yoongi starts scrambling. “W-Was it something I did?” He asks quickly. “Because normally you’d always try to call me out and I’d fix myself immediately. A-Are you unhappy with your position? Because I can try to get Seokjin to give you less workload or something. I-I’m really sorry if it was something that I did to hurt you. I-I just really need you here so talk to me… please…” 

You shake your head. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” You whisper. “I know your secret, Yoongi, and that’s why I can’t do this anymore.” 

“W-What secret?” His eyes are still on you. 

You take in another breath. “I went over to your apartment that night,” You start. “And I saw what you were writing in your journal. I know that you’re in love with Jieun, and that you only see me as a barrier to pursuing a relationship with her. And that sucks because normally, I’d encourage you to go after her. But we’re doing this whole dating thing, and I feel like I’m neck-deep because…” Your words come out a little more shaky. “Because I’m in love with you,” You whisper. “I’ve been in love with you for years. B-But I know now that I’ll never measure up to Jieun, or any of the other girls in this industry who deserve you more than I do. I thought that I could keep being professional for you and your career. But it’s too hard for me.” 

“W-Wait,” Yoongi says, tightening his grip on you. “Can you just let me explain, please? It’s not like that, I promise you.” 

You rip your wrist from his hand. “I read it!” You retort loudly. “Who else could be the person you want more than anything, but can’t have because of a physical barrier? When else have you used a real person to inspire your music? It’s too hard for me, Yoongi! I can’t keep doing this!” 

Yoongi seems to be struggling with his next words. “So, what?” Yoongi asks, circling around his next question carefully. “You’re just going to leave? Is this… the end of our friendship?” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought this out that far. But I know that we shouldn’t be doing this fake dating charade anymore, because I know there’s no way these past few months have meant the same to you as it did to me. I also know that I can’t really be in the same room with you right now.” 

Yoongi hopelessly gazes over at you, his own chest heaving as he himself struggles with what to say. “Please don’t do this,” He returns softly. 

Your gaze lingers on Yoongi’s for just a while longer, trying to burn the image of him in your mind, before you shake your head. “I’m sorry.” 

. 

As it turns out, Seokjin is out of the office for the rest of the evening. Which is fine, right? Whatever. You can just call him tomorrow morning and schedule a meeting with him, tell him the urgency of it and will definitely be able to muster your strength for another conversation about your secret feelings for Yoongi. 

You return to your apartment and immediately burst into tears as the weight of today’s confrontation sinks its teeth right into your neck. You just shared your feelings with Yoongi, you threatened your employment, and almost cut off your friendship with Yoongi as a result of that. 

Your many years of friendship, of late nights, of laughter together. It seems silly to want to cut off an important friendship just like that—but it just seems unfair of you to carry on with a friendship where you’re always going to crave more. And if Yoongi is smart, he’ll know that as well, and he won’t come back. 

Still, a part of you just hopes a little. Even though, of course, it’s a stupid thing to hope for. Yoongi has already established his taste, and it’s definitely for people leagues above you. The thought only makes you cry a little harder, so much so that you try to drink some water in order to calm down. 

You’re in the beginning stages of patting down your face, of grabbing some spoons to put into the freezer, when there’s a series of frantic knocking at your door. You turn your head towards the source of the noise, trying to figure out who could be visiting at a time like this. It’s been a few hours since your confrontation with Yoongi at the studio, but you assume that he’s probably blowing smoke up Jieun’s ass. There’s no way that it could be him. 

So you open the door, and freeze when you realize that it is Yoongi. 

More than that, it’s Yoongi with his chest heaving. Almost like he has just run around the entire city to reach you. 

The only thing you can manage right now is a wide-eyed stare.

Yoongi stares right back at you. Just a few hours ago, he had looked so helpless and lost for words. A first, actually. But this time, he’s staring at you with so much intensity that you cannot look away. 

Yoongi finally seems to catch his breath. “You’re an idiot,” He states. 

You’re so caught off guard by that statement that you forget you’re supposed to be upset with him. “I’m sorry?” You ask. 

Yoongi huffs, practically barreling past you to step into your house. You try to tell him to stop, but he’s distracted by rummaging through his backpack for something. With a sigh, you decide to close the door. As soon as he’s standing in your kitchen, he finds an old, beaten up notebook that you vaguely remember from his college days. He points at you with his notebook. “You’re an idiot,” He repeats. “If you think that the lyrics on my coffee table are the first time I’ve written lyrics about a specific person.” 

At your shocked expression, he immediately starts flipping through the notebook. You notice that certain pages are marked with sticky tabs. 

Yoongi settles on a page and clears his throat. “Hidden within the walls of our lecture hall, your laughter curls through the cracks like liquid fire. You light up my day amongst borrowed pencils and shared jokes. I knew that you were going to change my life,” he reads. He looks up at you. “The first day I met you, when I asked you to borrow a pencil.” You remember those lyrics. It was from a song he had written called ‘starlight’—the opening song on his first EP. 

He flips through a few more pages. “I never learned about love, but I watch her believe in my dreams, take the same steps to join my team, and I feel like I could figure it out.” He looks at you. “When you agreed to help me with my Youtube channel.”

He continues through his notebooks of lyrics, of stories, of secrets. Every single lyric he reads to you connects back to some memory he holds of the two of you. All the memories together in college: from the panic attack he had in the bathroom of the first party the pair of you attended, to exploring the nearby cities via subway until early mornings, to corner ramen shops. 

Soon enough, he moves on to the lyrics he had written during his first tour. The distance he felt, and how that related to the emotional distance he felt with you—that desire he constantly felt for more, and how the manager and artist relationship the pair of you had couldn’t hold a candle to the friendship you once held. The distance was never a physical challenge, and that was something you could never connect the dots on. 

Every stone of his hidden affection is turned over, every lyric he has marked read over and explained with such a passion. It’s like he has waited years to finally have his turn, to finally speak the way he’s always wanted to—directly, with no tricks of music and whimsical arrangements to make you doubt everything he could say. 

He had written whole songs about the fake dating experience, of how he wasn’t sure he could only pretend to love you when it was the only thing he ever knew how to do. 

Finally, he flips to his most recent song. The very song that you had stumbled upon the other day in his apartment. “I want you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you,” He reads. He looks up at you. “The barrier was the blanket of our fake relationship. You were never stopping me from doing anything, because you were the only thing I have ever wanted. So…” He gestures to all the notebooks that he has laid out across your kitchen counter. “Do you now see how many song lyrics are actually about you? All about you. Because you’re all I’ve always known.” 

Your gaze carefully studies each notebook, layered over each other, overflowing with dedication and passion. The privacy of someone who has surprisingly spent his entire singing career sharing nothing but his darkest secrets. Your arms are overlapped with each other, tightening against your form. “I-I had no idea.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, but when he looks at you, his eyes are soft. “I figured that.” He’s leaning across the counter to keep his gaze leveled with you, but he pushes himself even closer to tap a finger on the spot between your eyes. “I thought I made it so obvious. You were never listening.” 

“I-I never thought to,” You admit softly. But Yoongi has a point. Ever since he started writing and sharing his original songs, he has done nothing but sing them to you in any and all forms. From the private sessions the pair of you shared in his college apartment, to the performances he would deliver on the street, in the recording booth at all hours of the day, to the tours and the audiences that sing those love declarations right back at you. For years, Yoongi has done nothing but give, and give, and give. And you had no idea. 

Your breath hitches, and Yoongi rounds the counter and gathers your face in his hands. “Shh,” He coos softly. “It’s not your fault.” 

You sniff. “It is my fault! I’m such a stupid bitch. And I treated you and Jieun like shit because I thought you were in love with her. I thought I was holding you back from being able to date who you really wanted to be with.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, technically, you were.” At your look, he hastily goes to explain himself. “The person I really wanted to date was you. But since we were, uh, fake dating, that prevented me from being able to date you for real…”  

You groan at his teasing grin. “You idiot, that was so bad.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi is still grinning though, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes follow the movement, mentally outlining you into his mind. “I just wanted to see you smile.” His smile slips a little. “Since you had been ignoring me for so long.” 

You pout. “I told you, I thought you were in love with Jieun. And honestly, that would make a lot of sense… she’s really pretty and talented and you guys could talk about music for hours, especially compared to me—!” 

“Stop,” Yoongi cuts in, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m gonna stop you there before you say something I don’t like.” He angles his head to level his gaze with you. “Jieun is really cool, I’ll probably be the first one to admit that. But she’s not you. Hey, c’mon, look at me.” He forces you to look at him again. “You are also so, so pretty and smart and talented. You may not know a lot about music and songwriting, but you were always the one who pulled all-nighters with me to edit my videos, or learn music with me, or point out if something in my music didn’t sound right. Your passion to help is something I really love about you.” 

You pursue your lips to hide your smile. “Love, huh?” 

Yoongi doesn’t even hesitant. “Well, yeah, because I’m in love with you. I thought that was obvious.” 

You exhale. “Yeah, well, it’s different hearing you say it outloud.” 

Yoongi grins. “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it. I have many years to make it up to you.” His smile dies down a little. “I’m sorry,” He finally settles with. “I should have been more straightforward and honest with you about my feelings. You must have been suffering for so long, having to keep it all in and everything.” 

You shake your head. “I’m also sorry,” You whisper. “For jumping to conclusions so fast. And also not really listening to your lyrics. That was kind of stupid of me, considering I’m your manager and everything.” 

Yoongi laughs. “It seems like you’re good now, seeing as you’ve just gotten an exclusive behind-the-scenes artist cut and commentary about his songs.” He pauses for a second. “So, I hope this means that you won’t quit being my manager. And that, maybe, we can promote our relationship from fake dates to real ones.” 

You smile. “I’d like that.” 

His smile turns softer. “And I was hoping that maybe I can kiss you again. For real, this time. No cameras, no Seokjin breathing down our necks.” 

You giggle. “Just so you know, if the kiss at your album release party had been a real one and we were actually dating at the time, I probably would have wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom or something.” 

Yoongi groans. “Don’t say that with that cute smile on your face. Makes me want to do things to you.” 

“I don’t see you pulling away though.” 

“Of course not.” Yoongi’s figure loams over you now, his lips brushing against yours. “I have three years to make up to you.” 

With that, he kisses you, silencing whatever next words you were going to say. That is, if you even had any to begin with. Now that he’s kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs, you’re not even too sure any thoughts have been floating around at all. Unlike the kiss at the album release party, which had been softer and dainty, held back to hide a secret, this kiss is rougher. Yoongi is already moving his lips against yours, already parting his lips to brush his tongue against your lower lips. His hands are already sliding across the counter, trying to cover you more and more. 

His hand slips on the counter though, almost sending his sprawling on top of you. You catch him with your hand on his chest, as the sudden action makes both of you pull away from each other. The sight you both face is very much like the sight from the launch party: flushed cheeks and redden lips, a desire for more flickering behind eyes. 

But this time, there is no expectation to carry on in a party like a long-term couple. That is what allows Yoongi to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to his chest this time. He kisses you again, slower, softer, but you deepen the kiss with the part of your own lips this time. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of you as he lifts you into his arms and blindly navigates through your apartment, into your bedroom, where you both fall atop the mattress. 

“And just for the record,” You whisper, right when Yoongi pulls away to let both of you catch your breath. “I love you too.” You’ve already admitted your feelings earlier in the day, but it’s worth it to see Yoongi deliver that heart pounding gummy smile. 

[renegadewangs]

Van Zieks - the Examination, part 12

Warnings: SPOILERS for The Great Ace Attorney: Chronicles. Additional warning for racist sentiments uttered by fictional characters (and screencaps to show these sentiments).

Disclaimer: (see Part 1 for the more detailed disclaimer.) - These posts are not meant to be taken as fact. Everything I’m outlining stems from my own views and experiences. If you believe that I’ve missed or misinterpreted something, please let me know so I can edit the post accordingly. -The purpose of these posts is an analysis, nothing more. Please do not come into these posts expecting me to either defend Barok van Zieks from haters, nor expecting me to encourage the hatred. - I’m using the Western release of The Great Ace Attorney Chronicles for these posts, but may refer to the original Japanese dialogue of Dai Gyakuten Saiban if needed to compare what’s said. This also means I’m using the localized names and localized romanization of the names to stay consistent. -It doesn’t matter one bit to me whether you like Barok van Zieks or dislike him. However, I will ask that everyone who comments refrains from attacking real, actual people.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

Let's bring this thing home! It's time for the conclusion of the essay series!

Conclusion With a stupidly long essay series behind us, it's time to look at what we've learned! Let's go back to Part 1 and review what we needed from Van Zieks's character development for a fully rounded redemption arc, shall we?

1) Present an antagonistic (possibly immoral) force who personifies Ryunosuke’s biggest personal obstacle/weakness, in this case racial prejudice. 2) Humanizing traits begin to show. OPTIONAL: A backstory to justify any immorality he has. 3) Over time, Barok has his realization and sees the error of his ways. 4) Barok atones for his immorality, not simply through apology but by taking decisive steps. 5) The cast around him acknowledges his efforts and forgives him.

And looking at the main game (plus additional dialogue), we have...

1) Antagonistic force:

Etc. etc. I have many of these. We can all agree that as an antagonistic force, he does his job quite well. CEO of Racism and White Privilege in the flesh. It works, since we as the audience get very frustrated and want to see him defeated.

2) Humanization:

Giving him an old friend to be a defendant was a brilliant move, really. Albert's reflection on the friendship and the person Van Zieks used to be really helped flesh him out and make him appear more like a human being with, y'know, emotions and weaknesses. The little snippets of dialogue in his office really help too. Presenting evidence can also lead to fun tidbits. All in all, considering how gruff and distant Van Zieks is, they really did their very best to humanize him. The writers were given very little to work with but they exploited every opportunity to come their way.

OPTIONAL backstory:

Again, I don't think we needed a tragic backstory to have a well-rounded, redeemable character. Still, it ties in very expertly to the game's plot and the motivations of quite a few other characters. The story of Klint van Zieks and his death isn't necessarily Barok van Zieks's backstory, it's the center of an intricate web which also holds Kazuma, Stronghart, Gregson, Jigoku, (S)Holmes, Mikotoba, Sithe, Drebber- I could go on. A LOT. So because of how very integrated it is into the main narrative's recurring themes and characters, I'll give it props for being relevant and well thought out. The bigger question is: Does it justify his immorality? Not entirely. I think the game could have gotten more out of this if they'd involved the other two exchange students in this tale just a bit more. They could have given more attention to how Jigoku's aggressive behavior in the trial impacted Van Zieks, and explained whether he might've suspected Mikotoba of sabotaging (S)Holmes's investigation. If the narrative had done that, all three Japanese people to come to London would have been ‘the bad guy’ in Van Zieks's eyes and it would have given more credence to his racial generalization. They could have also given more attention to how the people around him reacted to Genshin being the Professor, because I'm sure Stronghart and Gregson stoked the fire in terms of xenophobia. As it stands, there isn't really enough there to justify hatred of an entire race as opposed to just one person.

3) Realization/Redemption

We see him already start to realize the error of his ways around the end of 1-5, which is technically only about halfway into the full narrative. Unfortunately, thanks to 2-2 being played afterwards (but chronologically set before 1-5), any progress made in 1-5 can become invalidated in the player's eyes. Growth works best when it's done linear. Don't get me wrong, flashbacking to earlier times when a character is still more morally tainted can work well, but it needs to be executed properly. Barok's behavior in 2-2 is downright insulting towards the audience itself and therefore, it causes emotional friction when relaying the narrative endgoal of redemption. It also makes it extra jarring when we hit 2-3, and suddenly Van Zieks is meant to be relying on the protagonist's desire to expose the truth. How on earth can we as the audience trust that Van Zieks believes in Ryu's abilities when we just came fresh out of a case where this man actively sabotages Ryu's efforts?

Still, the line of redemption continues from 2-3 into 2-4 well enough. He admits that he was wrong- that his hatred was illogical and that he needs to change. This is the very definition of redemption. I need to stress once more this is not to be confused with atonement, which comes next.

4) Atonement

Here it is. It's not enough to simply acknowledge mistakes; one needs to work hard to fix them. Since Van Zieks is the defendant for two whole episodes, equaling roughly 20% of the full narrative and 67% of the time following his first true realization (chronologically), there isn't much that he can actively do to atone. Because remember, not only do these actions need to fit the situation he's currently in, they need to fit his personality. These two limitations ensure the atonement mostly takes the form of dialogue. Of apologies.

One might want to point out that he never apologizes specifically for his racism, but there's a reason for that. If you pay close attention, you'll notice that there isn't a single character who ever uses a word like “racism”, “xenophobia” or even “racial prejudice” in this game. It's for the same reason you'll never see an Ace Attorney character utter words like “alcoholism”, “drug abuse” or “depression”. These things may be implied very strongly, to the point where you'll know for certain a character is suffering from it, but it's never given these exact labels. It has to do with the tone of the game. In Great Ace Attorney's dialogue, Barok van Zieks is only ever described as holding “a deep hatred for Japanese”, which is then the only thing he could apologize for. And he does, so long as you aren't looking for a literal phrasing of “I apologize for my deep hatred of your people”.

Regardless, he can't take more active, decisive action until he's freed from prison and two scenes with Van Zieks later, the game has ended. He still manages to take two actions, though! The first is to publicize the truth of the Professor, taking the blame of the mass murders off Genshin's shoulders (and losing his own privilege in the process). The second is to take Kazuma under his wing as his disciple. I'm not certain there's anything else the narrative could have had him do. What is decisively missing, however, is the following:

5) Acknowledgment

The above aren't good examples of cast acknowledgment that Van Zieks is taking part in a redemption arc, rather, they're the best I could find. Characters are acknowledging that he's changing- that he's being kinder to them and they can get along with him now, but they're not acknowledging that he caused hurt in the first place. This, in my opinion, is the Great Ace Attorney's biggest narrative flaw. I've talked before about how Ryu's reaction to Van Zieks's racism is 'indirect communication', a typically Japanese manner of dealing with negativity. I've also talked about how Ryu is not in a position to speak up, as he's a literal minority who is there to represent his country in an official capacity and can’t afford to make enemies. However, characters like Susato and Kazuma are far more outspoken in their opinions, as is Soseki. The only one who ever calls Van Zieks out on his racism is the British judge, and even that is done very meekly. When an old crusty white guy is the one who condemns white privilege in a cast full of minorities, you've got a problem. The Japanese cast's refusal to acknowledge that Van Zieks's words were harmful is like Team Avatar telling Zuko that sure, he can join since he's a good guy now, but never once acknowledging that he burned down villages or betrayed everyone's trust in Ba Sing Se. There's something very vital missing, see? If indeed the cast had called Van Zieks out more actively on his harmful ways and how necessary it was for him to change, he in turn could have taken more atonement steps in response.

So, for the conclusion: Does Barok van Zieks tick all the necessary boxes for a complete redemption arc? Yes. In a very technical sense, all the requirements are there. But does that mean it's a successful arc? Not necessarily. The game has a few slip-ups, a few things not executed as well as they could have been. For that reason, whether the audience is satisfied with the arc is entirely up to them. Taking into consideration that they had to cram a whole lot of story into just two games- the second game in particular, I can acknowledge they did their very best with the limitations that were there.

And there we have it! That’s all I could think to say on the matter. I hope everyone who read this till the very end enjoyed it, maybe even learned a thing or two. I’m always open to questions, input and constructive criticism!

[millennial-star-gazer]

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath: Chapter:5

A Fire Dragon, His Princess and The Not-So-Terrible Party Aftermath

Nalu week 2020 Prompts: Voice, Flirt, Charm & Smile(All implied)

Genres: Romance, Humor, New Adult Fanfiction

Pairing: Nalu/Endlu (Natsu x Lucy & E.n.d. Natsu x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature/adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Discretion is advised.(You've been warned!)

Summary: God knows it was all fun and games at an outdoor guild party until a drinking contest results in a not-so-great time for a certain celestial wizard much to the dismay of a protective dragon slayer and company. Even worse is Lucy's hangover with some kind of mild flu and busted ankle to boot . At least a doting Natsu is more-than-willing to provide his mate plenty of TLC. One of my entries for Nalu week 2020 and part of the Nalu-centric anthology series The Dragon Demon and His Celestial Princess anthology series (slight au/ canon divergent).

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Chapter: 5: Of All The Over-Protective Loved Ones And Nonsensical Health Remedies

A/N: Hey folks, it's your girl back with another installment of AFHCPATNSTPA! Apologies for the delay! My beta and I have been somewhat busy on and off for different reasons which will be explained further in the bottom author's note. Anyways, Chapter 5 is finally posted for your reading pleasure with plenty of Nalu fluff, Gray and Natsu rival-related hijinks and humor to go around! Many thanks and a special shoutout to the awesome @mannyegb for helping me edit and further develop this chapter yet again! Seriously, words can't express how grateful I am for this dude's contributions or how invaluable they are ! Make sure to hit him up on Tumblr and Discord. Now without further ado, here's the chapter-enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Fairytail which instead belongs to the one and only Hiro-sensei instead!

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Legend

Italics: Fantasy, flashback & literary/ song quotes

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: empathized word

Bolded Italics: outside of main story): A/N

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"Friends are the family you choose".

(NIN/Ithilinin: Elven Rogue)

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"Seriously Natsu? Again?! "

Lucy's exasperated voice echoed through the stairwell of the couple's duplex after returning home from a trip to the local physician's appointment and some errands. Can't believe we're having this conversation again. Little did the other nearby tenants and neighbors know that this wasn't the first time that the two disagreed over his sometimes -overprotective nature instincts or the level of " safety precautions" for the sake of his mate's well being.

Bloody Hell ...

"I'm not a porcelain doll, y' know!" The wizard grumbled, arms crossing over her chest. "I mean, really!"

"Mhmmm." Nastu merely hummed in response with a lazy smirk illuminating those sage eyes much to her chagrin.

"Are you even listening to me right now?"

"Course I am , beautiful" came his reply without missing a beat. "But damn." Difficult to miss the hint of a flirtatious purr in the fire wizard's voice or how his eyes swept over his mates form in apprecation that sent her pulse jumping into a frenzy . "Do you know what seeing ya' all flustered like this does to me? I mean you're even more adorable, gorgeous, and irresistible than you already are right now. Kissable too."

"Well, th-thank you" Lucy mumbled, heat rising and pooling in her cheeks. God knows how she couldn't but be a little subconscious over the effect of his natural charms despite being irritated. "But I don't think no's really a good time for flirting."

"Aw who says?" Natsu challenged with a throaty chuckle. Agree to disagree, princess ." Notto mention the gleam of mirth dancing in his eyes or the languidly smooth empathis on one of her beloved nicknames that he knew turned her knees to jellow .

Cocky bastard..

And damn were those supple hands currently settled on the curve of the summoner 's waist distracting in all the best possible ways.

"This couldn't be a more perfect time for flirting…"

One of the dragon slayer's hands was reaching to drag the blonde's locks through his fingertips. and Holy Hell did that blush deepen all thanks to that shit-eating of his and the way he continued to play with her hair .

Fuck ... there he goes again.

"Don't you think,Luce?" He finished, twirling, and tucking a stray tendril behind her ear as if to puncture his point further.

Damn it...

God damn did all those calculated ministrations kickstart the flustered girls heart into overdrive .

Again. So hard to focus right now. He 's that good…

As if that soft gasp tha wasn't t slipped out of her mouth wan't already enough. And pretty clear that noise undetected by Natsu if the way his sage eyes were glittering like coals was any indication.

"Someone' s flustered" His words came out as infuriatingly goading and yet velvety at the same time. " But I know you're into this as much as I am…. and you're falling prey to my charms." Natsu let his thumb lightly graze along the contour of her cheek. "Oh yeah. I can tell. Your heart's racing and everything." Now the fire dragon slayer wizard's forehead was mere inches from Lucy's. All that was needed for for her heart rate to skyrocket for the third time just as he so brazenly pointed out.

"Nastu..." the blonde started only for the words to die in her throat when her breath hitched from Natsu 's lips brushing against hers.

Shit...

"Are...you…trying…to…distract...me?" Was what she finally managed to force out, desperate longing seeping into her breathy tone.

"Me? Never." Natsu denied, the soft vibrations of his smoky timbre against her lips sending a tingle rippling across all those nerves. "Just having a little fun, is all."

"You are?"

"And I succeeded!"

Wait...what!?

Nastu was pulling back ever so slightly from Lucy without so much as a warning. God did that unwelcome disruption not fly so well with the mage who moaned in protest.

That pompous little...

"So that entailed luring your your mate in?" She eventually objected with a sour glare at her pompous -ass-of boyfriend." And then leaving her hanging? Pretty sure that classifies as some kind of entrapment! Just how much of a shameless flirt can you be?!"

"Opps.. guess you're not a happy camper right now," Natsu snickered, flashing her an awfully impish grin as if he were caught red-handed like a delinquent high school student drinking in class. "I mean I'm definitely a 'shameless flirt 'when it comes to you but I'm not going to leave you out to dry like some emotionally or romantically dead-beat loser. Knew exactly what I was doing and can't get over how cute my girl is when she's all flustered. No need to worry though." He gave a sly-yet-rougish wink that nearly left the summoner 'a heart stuttering.

Not that I'm going to tell him that.

"I promise to deliver on that promise of plenty of kisses and affection that we both crave so much. You'll see!"

"I... you ... y-you're such an ass!" Lucy stammered, entire face flushing an deeper shade of crimson. "Did you even hear what I said about... God damn it!"

"You mean about you not being made out porcelain?" Natsu was quick to supply, automatically clueing in. "Yes Luce, I did." His voice was all business now but more patient than cross. "And you're definitely right but that busted ankle of yours might as well be with how fragile it is right now. That's what having a sprained ankle means. A finger pointed down at Lucy 's sandal -clad foot with a tensure bandage .

"And why I need to carry ya'. Either way, you wanna get upstairs, right?"

"Well gee thank you for stating the obvious and what everyone already knows about sprained ankles." Lucy huffed, rolling her eyes. "And of course, I wanna get up upstairs but why is carrying me all the way up and down even necessary? You already gave me a piggyback to the clinic for God's sake! Not to mention pushing me around on a god damn platform cart while we were shopping for medicine and other supplies at the pharmacy without letting me set foot on the ground even once!

"Both were necessary to keep you from falling again." Natsu reasoned, still not budging on the matter; even when in the process of methodically removing the key holder's shoes. "Plus, I love having ya' in my arms and that cart had lots of room for you to comfortably stretch out on. Pretty practical if you ask me."

"More like total overkill!" Lucy tossed back, vein ticking above her eye. "Anyway, I might not be as fast, but can still definitely make my way up and down the stairs with a walking assist! Can't you just let me try at least?!"

"No can do, sweetheart," Natsu rebutted with a shake of his head. Good lord it was astounding how this extremely persistent man was able to unwittingly shoot down all of her ambitions for any kind of semi-independent mobility. and yet be so damn patient and even-tempered at the same time. "Can't risk you missing a step and taking another tumble down these stairs."

"Ugh...Oh My God- you're unbelievable!" Lucy couldn't help but yell; throwing her hands up in ggravation. which was met with an infuriating laugh of amusement from a certain pyro .

"The most unbelievable of them all.! Now quit complainin' relax and enjoy the ride up to our apartment!"

"Natsuuuu!"

Such a debate became a common occurrence in the Dragneel-Heartfilia household over the week with neither Natsu or visiting friends— Celestial spirits included- letting Lucy out of their sight or use stairs by herself. The extremely disgruntled mage would often gripe about her "stupid over-protective boyfriend and friends" even though ;despite secretly melting from being in the dragonslayer's arms all the time along with the rest of his "TLC." Not so much with Ezra, however, who'd often insist on personally escorting Lucy up and down the stairs herself ;when it wasn't by Natsu, Happy or anyone else.

My God is that woman overly cautious! It's beyond irritating!

Other than that, one minor pet peeve, Lucy supposed she couldn't really complain too much. Not when she was blessed with spending quality time with the love of her life and phomoneal comrades/friends who were all more than willing to keep her company. Well, okay save for that one time involving a nonsensical squabble about ailment remedies between Natsu and Gray one day.

"I'm telling you— these will help Lucy feel better!" Natsu insisted, dumping a paper bag of what could be described as god-awful-Scotch-covered-eye-sores-with-strings-attached on the counter. "See?" A hand patted the side of the misshapen bundle of items.

Uh...

Lucy meanwhile, couldn't help but steal a furtive glance of disbelief from her coral-haired soulmate; who was currently sniffing the unsightly abominations with an particularly intense focus for some inexplicable reason.

"The hell are ya' doing , charcoal-brains?!" Gray demanded, voice coming out in a mixture of incomprehension and disdain. "And what even are those things?"

"Inspecting these babies for germs," Natsu replied with an eye roll as if the answer was the most obvious in the world. "Duh! What else would I be doing'? Can't have em' infecting Lucy. And they're a supposed to be a special kind of talisman for health and good luck. Even an ice overrated snowcone like you should know that. Basically Scotch-taped covered piles of leaves and Vic patches wrapped in tissue paper. If I hang these around the apartment, then they should do wonders for Luce's health."

"You know by gradually sucking the virus toxins from her body until she's better," he tacked on with an 'exuberant grin. "Or so I heard from Nab, Maco, and Wakaba. Dudes bought entire boxes full for 20 jewel a piece from a pop-up vendor of some merchant in the market. The lady swears by them and everything. Either way, aren't they awesome?! Right, Luce? His head turned towards Lucy. "Bet you'll be better in no time!"

"I ...uh... " The blonde sputtered, still too bewildered for words." I don't…."

"Oh Good God," Erza muttered, smacking a palm against her forehead. "Of all the—-Natsu, I highly doubt those would be effective in treating Lucy's illness."

"Huh? Why wouldn't they be?"

"Well..."

"Oh jeez...How can anyone be this dense?"

Gray was shooting out of his seat at the table with an exasperated noise. "Step aside fire boy, I'll find Lucy something. Her fridge should have some suitable ingredients." A hand pulled opened the door of the fridge before rummaging around inside much to Lucy's confusion Course why a random assortment of food in the form of onions and ginger Along with some lemons were being cleared out was anyone's guess.

"Onions, lemons and ginger" The ice wizard announced, sounding tremendously pleased with himself. "Should be just what the doctor ordered for Lucy. I'm gonna chop these up and boil em' with some cinnamon in a tea for her."

Wha? Is he for real?!

"Wait….I'm sorry you want me to drink what now?"

Lucy 's brain short circuited with an owlish blink at the same time that some revolted noises could be heard from the rest of Team Natsu. More specifically Salamander 's gagging and Erza nearly vomiting in her mouth.

"Well at least Lucy gets it" Gray voiced aloud to no one in particular with a nonchalant shrug of his shoulders. "Now to find a knife and boil some water for the tea."

"Yo, you out of your mind, ice-dick?" Natsu demanded, more than a tad incredulous. "It's pretty obvious she doesn't want what you're selling and can't say I blame her." His eyes narrowed in revulsion with a flash of exposed canines poking through his lips. "That kind of 'tea 'sounds disgusting."

Just for Natsu's striking emerald eyes to immediately soften when landing on Lucy.

"Don't worry Luce," He soothed, his voice lifting to a sympathetic coo. "I'll protect ya' from that big meanie and his stupid ".

" Uh Yeah, please do," Lucy beseeched, words trembling slightly. Honest to God that the astral almost shuddered at the prospect of such a horrendous-tasting tea invading her tastebuds. "I don't even want a sip of that stuff."

"And Why would any sane person expect you to? Not me or Ezra. Can't say the same about droopy eyes here." Natsu tossed a pointed glare at Gray which was readily met with a raised middle finger. "You really that hell bent on brewing whatever nasty crap you call tea, buddy? Then be our guest and drink it yourself. But keep it away from Lucy and out of the kitchen. We don't need that shit stinking up the place."

"Tch— shows what you know" came Gray's disparaging scoff by way of a reply. "Pretty sure you wouldn't know a proper health remedy was if it hit you in the face."

Uh-oh ...

Gray's words really seemed to touch a nerve judging by Natsu's offended growl.

"The hell is that supposed to mean, stripper?" He sniped, vein throbbing in his forehead " What? Are ya really looking' to piss me off or somethin'?"

"Yeah, just maybe I am!" Gray countered with salty heat and matching his rival glare for glare. "You want to cry about it? And you heard what I said. God ... no wonder Lucy's still sick what with your clueless ass and all failing to take care of her.."

"You take that back asshole!" Natsu seethed, foaming rabidly at the mouth. Or rather smoke circumventing from his nose and mouth what with him being a fire dragon demon and "literal hothead "and all.

"Make Me—ow!"

The rest of whatever Gray was trying to say was cut off by a flying "talisman" that just struck him point blank in the face.

"Hey!" He snapped, grudgingly rubbing his temple with a hand." The hell was that for, ya damned fire hazard?!"

"What do ya think, dumbass ?" Natsu flung back without missing a beat. "You got some nerve….insultin 'a dragon's pride like that!"

"Yeah? So what?"

"Seriously?! You pretty much implied I don't know how to take care of my own mate!"

"Yes and?"

Uh-oh...

"And it was a total dick move, dingus! That's what! Where's your sense of common decency!?"

"Wasted on incompetent dipshits like you, apparently!"

"What was that, frosty?!"

"You heard me "

"That's it you, walking freezer burn! Them's fighting words!"

"Oh yeah? Bring it flame-bitch!"

"Take this!"

Oh god ….

The next thing anyone knew were that that the bickering rivals were launchimg projectiles—aka "Talismans" at each other much to her dismay.

No...

"No fighting in our kitchen!" Lucy squeaked; cadence raised to a higher pitch. " You could really break something! So stop!" The afflicted girl couldn't help but watch with alarmed eyes when her desperate pleas seemed to fall on deaf ears. Something always gets completely wrecked or destroyed when these two butt heads over anything!

Seriously, who could forget all the destruction those two left in their wake or millions of jewel racked in subsequent, property damage during their last scuffle? Like say the accidental beheading and subsequent toppling of that statue which also happened in Hargeon's beloved town founder for instance? Not to mention the scorched garden of the mayor's prized purple and white orchids. Not Lucy, that's for sure.

I really don't want them breaking anything….

Erza meanwhile. was practically frothing at the mouth from all that pent-up rage in a very-if-not-entirely-proverbial sense of the word.

"Good God—those two!" The re-equip mage ranted, vein pulsing right above her brow. "Always butting heads over one asinine matter or another! The hell is wrong with them anyways? Either way, enough is enough! I really should... no probably best not... Oh screw it!"

Erza was on the other wizards in a flash, banging their heads together with an audible crack. And good lord who could miss the stunned noises of pain that simultaneously cirumented their throats.

"OW!" Natsu and Gray whimpered in unison. "That really hurt ,Erza!"

"Yeah!?" Erza barked . "Well maybe you two dolts should've thought of that before you started acting juvenile and making a mess! I mean take you for instance, Gray! Disrespecting a dragonslayer's pride was a garbage move just as Natsu pointed out! Haven't both Master and UR taught you more sense than that? Oh, and let's not forget you doubting Natsu 's ability to effectively tend to care for Lucy despite doing more than a standup job so far for the most part! No wonder he's offended!"

"Hey, it's not my fault if the dude can't take a joke," Gray grumbled, defensive resentment leaking into his tone. "Or that he has a ridiculously overinflated and fragile ego."

"Neither helpful or okay, Gray!"

"Yeah, so there dickwad!" Natsu cut in with his tongue shooting out for good measure. "See?"

"Oh yeah... you really..."

"Oh no you don't!" Erza whirled on Natsu who shrank under the heat of her glare with another whimper. "And yes, I'm talking about you Natsu Ignatius Dragneel! Don't think for a minute that you're getting out of this scott- free!""

Oh shit ... Erza just used Natsu's full name…. She must mean business.

"What? Me, really?" Nastu spluttered, hands still raised in defense as if fend the intimating scarlet woman off. "What did I even do anyway?"

"Hmm, what did you do?" Erza questioned, rolling her eyes. Oh, and her words were just laced/ dripping/ trickling/ with just the right amount of pointed sarcasm. "Care to take a wild guess? How about those godawful abominations you call talismans for one? Look at them! Anyone can tell these are a sham! I mean really, Natsu! The hell were you thinking?! Normally, you're much better at sussing out onpossible scams and cons. How could you let yourself be duped out of your hard -earned money like that?"

"Aw- come on!" Natsu bleated "Didn't mean to, honest! All I wanted was to help Luce recover more quickly and honestly thought these things would help. That's all! I won't buy any more—swear to God! Just please don't bust my balls, Erza! I need those!

"Calm down. I'm not going to do that. It's easy to tell your intentions were pure regardless which is most important."

"Really? Thank you, you kind, merciful, woman!"

"Yes, yes,.. that's all fine and good," Erza chuckled in amusement with a light shake of her head as a response .

"Now about those talismans. They are a problem. " Erza's voice fell into a more sober tone with a hand cupping her chin in thought. "Word on the street is that Fiore is being targeted by a fraudulent band of thieves and con artists. Popping up in various towns and cities with those "vendors", posing as legitimate shop keepers and merchants —that sort of thing. and from what I've heard , these people are trying pass off bogus goods as authentic souvenirs."

"So, ya think there's some kind of link between those and what I bought?" Natsu quickly caught on matter-of-factly. "As in all that crappy stuff you mentioned ?"

"Yes, precisely that. I'm sure we can all agree that how poor unassuming customers are being ripped off by those criminals just isn't right. Something must be done."

"Okay—like what?"

"Helping folks of Magnolia getting their money back for one —yours included. And there's also the matter of filing a report with the magic reinforcement unit and other authorities . They'd want to be informed of the culprits' criminal activity ASAP. In fact, why don't the two of us go now?"

"What? Ya' mean that you actually want us to leave right now?!"

Natsu visibly balked at Erza's suggestion as if being ordered to watch Ichyia perform a strip tease in nothing but a pair of - sparkly -Leather, assless chaps.

"I.. don't…"

"Yes, I figured that would be the most efficient course of option" Erza reasoned, lifting a questioning brow at his response. "Why? Is there a problem?"

"Uh yeah..., a big one!" Natsu protested with a vigorous nod. " Going now would mean leaving Luce's side" His whole tone shifted into a whine. "Especially when she's still not feeling 100% or if it means being without her in my arms for too long. And right now, looking after Lucy and being able to spend time with her is what's most important. Not to mention what I want the most! Please… just let me take good care of my mate and queen and hold her! That too much ask?"

"No, and your feelings are understandable. That in mind, it would still be unethical to turn a blind eye to petty crimes at the expense of innocent civilians."

"Yeah, of course. But it's just…."

Sheesh… Natsu's being a bit of a drama king right now. I mean I love the guy and its always great having him around for the most part despite the fact that he sometimes gets on nerves. Completely normal for all couples even ones like us but that's besides the point. Anyways, he's being super sweet and everything but there's no need for him to blow a gasket when they would only be gone for a couple hours at most. Plus Erza's right about putting a stop to those jerks and getting those other people compensated. and it's not like I won't be okay without them or by myself a for little bit...

"Hey guys," Lucy finally spoke up after a few minutes, drawing their focus of everyone's eyes back on her. "Not that your efforts and spending time with me aren't appreciated, but pretty sure I'll be fine on my own for a little while if you want to report those people and get your money back." No real heat to her words though.

"Hmm... don't think that's a good idea, "sweetheart." Came Natsu's reply, his timbre pitched soft; though she didn't miss the pleading note in his words. "You're still not in the best shape right now. Like Mavis knows I don't really feel comfortable leaving you alone to fend for yourself right now, y' know? I mean what if ya' end up barfin' with your head over a toilet bowl or falling again?"

Not really that much of an nasty shock to say the least especially seeing how the couple were practically inseparable ever since that hazardous incident at the party.

"Don't be too surprised if Natsu's refuses to leave your side." Levy's kind voice from a recent lacrima video call echoed inside Lucy's head "or even let out of his sight-or sense range for that matter. You remember learning about how dragon slayers, demon's and hybrids are essentially hardwired to be extremely protective and territorial of their bonded, right? Well those already -fierce instincts are get an even bigger boost during certain times... like say when they're in heat . Not to mention when their soulmates are sick, injured or both in your case. In any case, Natsu's no exception especially with how you're one of the people he's been most protective of even before you two were officially an item node as we all know. Anyways, be prepared for him wanting to remain extra close to you and special attention. Think plenty of affection and physical contact like snuggling, kisses, doting on you —things like that which is always a bonus. And pretty sure he is going to hoard you. I mean the dude going isn't gonna take kindly to anyone he feels is trying to steal/snatch you away from him. Gajeels the same way. It's not so bad though."

Levy was right. Not that I'm complaining...

"We really should get going Natsu," Erza chimed in after a few minutes. The sooner these matters are sorted out the better. Either way, it shouldn't take us too long-a few hours tops."

"Yeah, I know..." Natsu replied , an unmistakable flicker of reluctance in his eyes. "But…I still don't want to leave Lucy right now…." Sage fully connected with honey-brown as a hand was reaching to gently caress Lucy's cheek. And Mavis knows she couldn't help but naturally lean into the warmth of his touch or the content smile forming on her lips.

"Pretty sure I made my reasons clear anyway."

"Yes, but…"

"Hey bro," Gray piped in —not unkindly this time."I can easily hold the fort down and keep Lucy company while you guys are out."

"Wow…Really?"

Natsu instantly seemed to perk up.

"Yeah, I'd be more than happy to. Plus, we can summon one of her spirits and Happy to help for a fun but chill time. That way, you can trust that your girl is in capable hands and won't be bored."

"Good point!" Natsu rhapsodized, bumping his fist with Gray's. "Thanks, bro!"

"Yes, I agree" Ezra concurred, an approving smile crossing her lips. "That's very gracious and cordial of you. Way to be a great friend."

"That's what I'm here for and my pleasure, Natsu."

"Guess you're not so bad after all"

"Course' not. I am pretty awesome, after all."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Sometimes... So, what about it, Luce?" Natsu went on to inquire, far more chipper now. " You gonna to be okay with Gray and some of the others taking over for a bit while Erza and me are out ?"

"Yeah Lucy, what he said," Gray followed up with a cordial smile of his own. . "You and me can kick it and chill for a little while. Maybe even break into the candy stash and watch movies with everyone."

"Sure!" Lucy chirped, heart leaping in excitement from the prospect of a low-key but fun kickback with splendid company. "And Natsu and Erza can, join when they get back from their errands, right?"

"Yup! Now here," Natsu instructed, pushing a glass of water on the table towards her." "Drink some more of your water. Anyways, Erza and I can bring back some goodies from the local bakery after too,. You good with that ,Erza?" He tossed a hopeful glance the armour- clad wizard's way.

"Sure—sounds good to me!" Erza jumped on board, eyes lighting up with delight. A trip to the bakery would be most excellent. All those delicious confections, yummy treats like gourmet cupcakes and strawberry shortcake. Ooooooh." The scarlet woman's hands clapped together in giddy enthusiasm.. "I can practically taste it now —so divine!"

"Yeah but think about lava- brains though" Gray quipped without missing a beat. "What are the odds he'll devour whatever he doesn't give or share with Lucy?"

"Ohhhh valid point" Erza echoed, lips pulling up into / a smirk. I wouldn't put it past him to cleanin out half of the bakery's front counter. Now why don't we get a friendly little wager started? Is 20 jewel acceptable?"

"Sure. I'm game."

"Ooh... why not make it ...30?" Lucy joined in with a light giggle. "I mean what's to say he won't clean out most of the shops and the other desert shops in town?"

"Hey! Not cool!" Natsu objected, though such sour words were belied by the glimmer of mirth in his shamrock eyes. "Makin' bets about whether or not I'll stockpile deserts and shit! I mean talk about takin' cheap shots at your leader! I am Salamander of Fairytail, damn it! Alpha drake of the dragon nest, and a Mighty and fierce dragonslayer -demon hybrid! I deserve your respect and praise!"

"Oh?" Erza spurred him on, clearly entertained by the salamander's theatrics. " Is that a fact?"

"Damn right it is!"

"And you, Luce!" Natsu bemoaned with extra melodramatic flair. "Even my own precious soulmate is betting against me and egging' the other two on?" Impossible not to notice how Natsu's hand clapped over the heart in a display of feigned offence. "How you' wound me, woman!"

"Opps," Lucy uttered, a teasing lilt to her words. "My bad. Are they really that wrong though?"

"Ooh, you got me there!" Natsu jibed s, lips breaking into a cheek into a cheeky grin agrin that set Lucy 's heart all pit-patter. "Touché and shit."

"Just as I suspected."

"Yeah, I figured!" Natsu laughed, mussing her hair with one hand. "Anyway, how about Erza and me pick up some dumplings on the way home? Maybe a Party pack with plenty for everyone to share? We can get some other things for dinner too— Our treat!"

"Ooh yes please!" Lucy crowed, mouth practically watering from the zesty-flavored-packed dumplings from one of many Magnolia's local fusion joints. "Can some be fried? And be filled with beef? Maybe tandoori chicken and cheese too? And could I have 3 or 4?"

"Yeah, sure." Natsu agreed, goodnaturedly as always. "Whatever you want. You really must be cravin that stuff today, huh?" And God she couldn't help how her heart stuttered at the way her grin morphed into a another kind of smile entirely; More subtle, tremendously fond, even. "Normally I'm the one askin' for all this different kind of food. Good to know that you have great taste and that I'm rubbing off on you more and more each day though."

" Uh, yeah… thanks. Though you don't think it's a bit much?" Lucy questioned, now glancing up at her boyfriend with a smidge of tentativeness. She couldn't help but second-guess her request especially seeing how it was partially driven by voracious craving for carbs. "Cuz I'm wondering if that many dumplings is a tad too many now."

Maybe something healthier would be better...

"What? Are you kidding?" Natsu refuted, bursting into stunned laughter . "Of course it isn't. Why would it be?"

"Well, when you put it that way" Lucy resounded in agreement, the corner of her lips twitching into a sheepish grin over how silly I'm being. "Guess I was overthinking it just a little."

"See?" The dragonslayer pointed out, punctuated by a light tap on the tip of the blonde's nose with his finger. "Now you're getting it! And hey, look at it this way! Whatever my princess and queen wants, she gets."

"Well, who am I argue to with that? Anyways, you guys heading out now?"

"Yeah," Natsu sighed, a touch of reluctance seeping back into his gravelly timbre. "Guess we oughtaa . Really don't like the idea of leaving your side though there are some things to take care of. And besides the sooner we leave, the sooner I can get back to you."

How the summoner's heart gave a little thump at those touching words that reached her ears!

"What you're saying is definitely true" Lucy breathed, finding herself adrift in those arresting eyes of his. Onyx with flecks of jade that always seemed to shine in just the right angle of sunlight on bright days. And did she mention the sensation of Natsu's fingertips brushing her cheek, the tucking a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear? How it all sent sparks racing through her nerves! "And I can't wait for you to get home so that I can be in your arms again too."

"Mhmm yeah" Natsu hummed in agreement., stroking along the side of her temple now. "I'm definitely looking forward to all that too. Also cuddling with ya' on the couch of course. Should be great! Anyway, make sure to take it easy and stay hydrated, okay? And don't forget Erza and I are one just one call away if you need anything."

"Okay, Thanks Natsu."

"Anytime," he rumbled with that same affectionate smile that always melted her heart . "See you soon, Luce." Lips pressed a light kiss atop the celestial mage's crown with a hand palming the side of her head. God such a rush cozy seeping through her bones and warming her soul to the core.

I truly love him and that'll never change..

"Yeah, likewise.. Hurry back, okay?."

" You know I will."

"That I do".

______________________________________

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A/N: All right that's Chapter: 5 ,folks! Apologies for the delay again! As stated previously, both my beta and I have been busy for different reasons related to differing schedules, life circumstances, responsibilities, appointments, hobbies and a somewhat more active social life among other things (with increasing vaccination rates unless everything goes south again). Not that this has necessarily prevented me from writing or working on my wips but there's also been days where I haven't been feeling well, a case of writers block or there simply just not being enough hours in a day to accomplish everything I want for whichever reason lol. In any case, this chapter is posted now and I'm trying to get back into working on writing projects more often. So that's that at least.

Anyways, hope you enjoyed the chapter! Once again, please don't hesitate to drop a comment/review and share. Check out the rest of my writing and stay tuned for new projects along with updates to my other WIPS too! ((Corresponding links are above in this post, bio and navigation bar if reading this on tumblr. Also in my FF and A03 profiles.) All right. that's all I have to say for now. Thanks to all my friends, mutals, followers and readings for their ongoing show of support over the years. You all rock! Take care until next time! Bye!

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 4

A/N: Hi, it’s been a while, but here’s part 4 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU - interns fic). This is me ignoring s17!!! Sorry for the delay, this has been repeatedly deleted from my drafts for the last week & then i didn’t even edit or make changes SO idk what all that was for. anyway thank you for sticking with this story! Previous parts here: part 1 // part 2 // part 3

Or, you can read on ao3.

_______

And so it starts, you switch the engine on

We set controls for the heart of the sun

One of the ways we show our age

_______

She has no idea how she got here. Or more specifically, how she could be pressured into something like this. Maggie typically prided herself on standing firm; standing her own ground and refusing to be swayed by others. But none of that self-proclamation holds true right now.

Because she’s here. Driving Winston’s car. Trunk filled to capacity and two of her roommates squeezed into the backseat.

The hypocrisy of it all is almost infuriating. Because Maggie hates camping.

“I hate camping,” she voices her detest out loud.

An apologetic sigh can be heard from Winston next to her, where he sits passenger side. But ultimately, it’s Amelia’s voice that grabs her attention, the bewilderment making itself known from the backseat.

“Oh, come on,” there’s an element of disbelief to her tone, and Maggie locks eyes with her through the rear-view mirror.

“Step out of your comfort zone a little, Maggie!” She raises her eyebrows, beginning to gesture with her hands. Link shuffles in his seat, where he’s squeezed in tightly beside Amelia, in an attempt to free up a little space for her body language. Some of the camping supplies had ended up packed over half of the backseat, and Maggie can’t help but chuckle at the proximity of Amelia’s hand to Link’s face as she gestures absentmindedly. “It’s camping. It’s adventurous, it’s-”

Maggie has since focused back on the road, but the sudden pause in speech makes her feel uneasy. Amelia’s focus shifts from the packaged tent next to her, to the back of Winston’s head, and then back to Maggie.

“It’s sleeping in a tent,” she continues, a spark of gleam in her eyes as she scans the couple in the front seat. “Or, maybe it’s not sleeping. Hey, I mean, whatever the two of you-”

“Amelia,” Maggie cuts in, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter as Winston’s hand comes to rest on her knee, giving it a soothing squeeze.

“Come on, babe,” Winston murmurs. “It’ll be fun. And plus, Karev would definitely be proud of us.”

Maggie grins a little, despite herself.

They’d been a bit all over the place, as a group of interns. A little bit too chaotic and never fully on the same page. As their resident, Karev was constantly voicing his impatience about the dynamics of the group. She partly thinks that yes, Alex would be proud of the bonding journey that they’d chosen to embark on, but the more realist part of her brain can’t ignore the obviousness that being roommates was probably bonding enough.

Maggie peeks in the rear-view once more, this time checking to make sure that Lexie and Jo are still following in the car behind them. She catches Amelia’s stare again and consequently feels the need to brace herself.

“Babe?” Amelia bites her lip, repeating the pet name Winston had just used. “What happened to ‘we’re just friends?’”

“We are friends.” Maggie sighs, trying her best to ignore the amusement that radiates from Winston at this specific call-out.

“And Link and I are friends,” Amelia’s quick with her rebuttal, tilting her head towards Link. “I don’t go around calling him babe.”

Link sucks in a breath, and then another one, with the addition of Amelia’s afterthought. “But maybe I’ll start.”

It’s subtle. The way Link’s face changes. He hides it just as quickly as it surfaces. But it’s there, she hasn’t imagined it, and it’s the first thing to make Maggie genuinely smile for the length of the trip so far.

“I’m kidding,” Amelia nudges Link with her shoulder. “I can come up with a better nickname than that.”

“Okay enough,” Maggie suppresses the grin she feels spreading across her cheeks. She reaches forward for the knob on the dashboard, turning the music up.

Link’s relief at the diversion tactic is almost palpable. Maggie can practically feel it from the backseat. She thinks maybe the feeling rising in her chest equates to sympathy.

She loves Amelia. She really does. Which is saying a lot, especially for her. It takes effort for her to grow comfortable with people, or to even relate on any level. She’s always felt a step ahead of most people in life. But Amelia really challenges her. It’s only been a couple of months since they’d met, and somewhere along the way, things changed. Amelia’s unpredictable nature had shifted from something Maggie initially feared, to something she appreciates. Like the human embodiment of the push she needs. The push she needs to take things less seriously, or the push she needs to open up and be spontaneous. Whatever the case, it’s never felt more necessary. Like she’s been missing out on it for too long. So, she tries to embrace it at every turn.

“Are we almost there?” Amelia pipes up again from the backseat. “I have to pee, and believe me, I’m down for a little side-of-the-road action if that’s what it comes down to-”

Maggie groans impatiently. But then she remembers about embracing it. So decidedly, her next words sound gentle. “We’re almost there, hold it together.”

_______

It ends up taking two full hours for six surgical interns to figure out how to set up a campsite. And even though the task is grueling, the level of teamwork somehow exceeds what they normally display during a typical hospital shift.

The sun starts to set as the second of the two tents finally stands on it’s own and everyone takes a moment to finally relax.

“That wasn’t too bad,” Link sits back against the tree on the outskirts of their surrounding area.

Jo huffs out a breath as she joins him, rolling her eyes. “That was two hours of my life that I’ll never get back.”

“What’s next?” Amelia steps out of the larger tent, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. “Does anyone know how to build a bonfire?”

_______

She has no idea how it got to this. How six grown adults could resort to immature party games around a campfire and feel so content about it. Maggie had been relieved when the game of ‘truth or dare’ ended as quickly as it started. She’d been hoping for something a bit more intellectual. A little less high school.

Unfortunately her hopes were never granted.

“Wait, I feel like the stakes aren’t high enough.” Amelia had tossed the observation out flimsily.

But the observation had its impact.

“Yeah, you’re right.”

And then the ideas had piled on.

“Loser has to cover my scut work in the ER all week.”

“No way.”

“Loser has to make us each a s'more.”

“Nah. Stakes not high enough.”

“Loser has to jump in the lake.”

Amelia had voiced the last one, resulting in a surprised type of silence. The type of silence that could raise stakes.

It was the ultimatum they were looking for, apparently. And to much of Maggie’s dismay, they hadn’t moved on to an intellectual game. Nothing worth raising the stakes over, at least.

Because they’d settled on a game of ‘never have I ever.’

“Okay, okay. My turn. What have I not done…?” Amelia trails off, deep in thought, and it earns some chuckles from the group. “Oh! Never have I ever had a threesome.”

Suspectful eyes dart around the bonfire, and Link’s attempt to conspicuously fold down a finger fails.

“Link!”

Jo giggles hysterically.

“You have?” There’s surprise in Amelia’s voice, and it corresponds with the way her face lights up.

“You haven’t?” Link bites back.

“Well, almost, I guess. But-”

“Okay!” Jo interjects. “No need for context! That’ll just slow us down. Link, your turn.”

“Okay,” Link grins determinedly across the bonfire, eyes landing on Amelia. “Never have I ever almost had a threesome.”

Amelia scoffs, dropping a finger.

“Wait!” Maggie fast-tracks her disapproval. “Are we singling people out now? The game will end too quickly if we-”

“Never have I ever been named after an iconic literary figure.” Amelia jumps in again, completely ignoring Maggie’s objection.

Link drops a finger, rolling his eyes. Too easy.

“Never have I ever slept with Mark Sloan.”

He sounds proud of this one. And all focus drifts to Amelia, whose eyes narrow only slightly as she drops another finger.

“You did what?” Maggie seems skeptical.

“You did what? When?” And Lexie’s voice sounds strained.

“Shit, sorry. Too far?” Link’s pride genuinely replaces itself with worry.

“I never meant for it to be a secret.” There’s something distinct about Amelia’s tone as she jumps back into the game, clearly with the intention of going after Link again. “Never have I ever-”

“No!” Maggie seems to be the only one intervening at this point. “No, stop. My turn. If we play it your way, this game will be over in two seconds.”

Amelia and Link shrug dismissively amidst the general hums of agreement.

“Never have I ever…” Maggie pauses, taking a moment to truly think on it. She racks her brain for ways to prolong the game. “Never have I ever been arrested!”

Amelia slowly drops her last finger, a grimace consuming her face, and Maggie’s mouth opens wide in shock.

“Amelia, what,” she breathes. “I was trying to keep people in the game. What-”

“We agreed on no context!” Amelia is quick to refute, forcing a grin as she repeats the request spoken earlier.

“Okay….” She draws out her response, and the next part of her sentence sounds quiet, or laced with secondhand defeat. “But you lost the game already.”

“That’s fine,” Amelia is just as quick to stand from her chair, shrugging casually at what that entails.

“Amelia-”

“To the lake? Or am I doing this without witnesses?”

Maggie’s brows furrow at the bitterness that exists in that question, but then Amelia turns, walking away from them, and Maggie is the first to go after her.

_______

"Amelia, you’re the one who made the rule. You can’t back out now.”

They’re all huddled together at the sandy area near the dock that edges out into the dark lake, and Maggie can’t hold back her impatience. She’s a rule-follower, after all. She's also cold. And she just wants to be by the bonfire again.

“I know, I know. I’m….” Amelia trails off, exhaling harshly. “Just give me a minute.”

There’s momentary quiet. The kind of quiet that nearly gives room for everyone to re-think what’s about to happen. But, if anyone's thoughts were the loudest, they were Amelia’s.  

“The sun was still out when I made up this rule!”

That’s true. Maggie can give her that. It’s late now, purely dark outside except for the glow of the moonlight reflecting off of the lake.

“We don’t know what’s in there…” Amelia adds, eyes focused on the body of water before them. “We don’t know if it’s safe to swim here.”

“It’s a state park,” Winston chuckles.

“And there’s a sign right there,” Lexie adds matter-of-factly, nodding towards the edge of the sand. “No lifeguard on duty. Swim at your own risk.”

“Amelia, it's a swimming beach.”

There’s an element to Amelia’s expression that Maggie sees herself in. It provokes that feeling. The heart-lurching feeling that comes with the awareness that you can’t bring yourself to do the thing you intend to do. The restlessness that rises with the opposition of your mind moving miles a minute but your feet remaining frozen where you stand. It takes place in the nervous system. And it’s like the physical manifestation of not being able to rip the bandaid off, or not being able to take the plunge, to be more literal in this scenario.

Suddenly, Maggie’s hit with the fleeting recognition that everyone’s the same deep down. Some were just better at hiding it than others.

The revelation almost makes her feel sympathy. Almost.

Because Amelia’s version of hiding it was turning out to be displaced over-confidence.

“I knew you were all talk and no-”

“I’ll jump in with you,” Link interrupts, nudging Amelia, who shakes from her daze as she turns away from the lake, locking eyes with Link.

“Shit, I’m down, too,” Jo shrugs. “I’m right behind you guys.”

A look of pure skepticism crosses Amelia’s face, and Link just starts to grin, hugely.

“No,” Maggie breathes. “No, no, no.”

Because she knows what this is about to turn into. And then it’s all happening, fast.

Link is stripping down to his boxers, tossing his clothes into a pile on the grass just left of the dock. And then he’s running. His feet clamber against the wood paneling as he takes off over the structure that extends along the shore and into the body of water.

There’s a huge splash. And then he resurfaces, gasping.

“It’s not that deep, come on!” He yells. “And it’s warm, too. Like a hot tub!”

The next thing Maggie registers is that Jo is following suit, peeling off her sweatshirt and tossing it towards Link’s pile of clothes.

She feels Winston’s hand grip her shoulders, gently pushing her towards the dock as he murmurs “Come on, babe.”

There’s another splash somewhere, and then Jo resurfaces, giggling hysterically. "Link!” She gasps dramatically, “You liar, this is fucking freezing!”

And all Maggie can think is this is so unfair.

_______

It’s so unfair.

The fact that five people have somehow endured jumping into this lake and yet, Amelia remains unscathed. Secure, on dry land, a smirk on her face that can only signify that she thinks she’s won.

“Amelia!” Maggie yells once again. “You have thirty seconds to get into this water.”

“Maggie-”

“No way,” Maggie cuts her off before the smug tone can set her off even further. She lets go of Winston’s shoulder, which she’s been holding onto for dear life since she jumped in, and she swims closer to the dock. Closer to Amelia. “I won’t let you play us like this.”

Amelia grins further, dipping just her toes in the water. “Maggie, I’m not trying to play anyone, I-”

“Get in the water, Amelia!” Maggie shouts, but her impatience only leads to more smugness on Amelia’s behalf.

She almost gives up. Accepts defeat. But then Link is joining her, inching towards Amelia on the dock, whose expression falters only slightly as they approach.

“Should we splash her?” Maggie tilts her head towards Link, inquisitive edge to her voice. “We could splash her.”

The threat seems to be the push Amelia needs. She shakes her head incessantly as they make their advance, and she takes a deep breath before she goes to remove her jeans, adding them to the pile of clothes that everyone else has stripped off.

Jo whistles from somewhere further out into the lake and Amelia’s smirk returns, a complete result of the knowledge that she has an audience. Her classic Harvard sweatshirt gets added to the pile and then she’s on an even playing field with everyone else, dressed down to whatever underwear she’d thrown on this morning.

They continue their approach, and Amelia looks down just as a burst of wind forcibly shakes the branches of a tree above, thus causing her to wrap her arms around herself.

“You’ll warm up faster if you get in, Shepherd.” Link says in a low tone.

“I know,” Amelia’s tone is just as low. “But I’m not jumping.”

“What happened to adventurous?!” Maggie mocks her. Not harshly, but more so aiming to re-inspire the fearlessness that previously had been.

“I’m not jumping in,” Amelia repeats as she sits at the edge of the dock, letting the water hit her up to about mid-shin. “I’m just gonna kind of slide in….” She trails off as Link pushes forward, now in shallow enough water to stand. And when Amelia goes to wrap her arms around herself again, Maggie swears it’s out of modesty this time.

“It’s harder that way,” Link smiles up at her. “But okay.”

“Okay,” she repeats his sentiment, but doesn’t make any move to get into the water.

“Okay,” Maggie interjects, directing her next words at Link. “As apparently the only rule-follower here, I give you full permission to do whatever it takes to get her into this water already.”

Her instructions result in a mischievous twitch of Link’s lips, and conversely, a look of complete betrayal from Amelia.

“Your rules.” Maggie quietly defends herself.

Link turns back to Amelia, who meets his gaze with pure panic in her eyes. But he steps closer anyway, placing his hands around her shins and pulling her a couple inches closer to where he stands in the water.

She gasps. Her hands fly out, landing on his shoulders. “Wait wait wait!” She cries, the alarm in her voice matching the frantic action of her nails digging into his skin.

Link stops his movements, placing his hands on her knees as he tries to read her facial expression.

Her eyes dart between his. “You swear it’s not too cold?”

“It’s not cold, Amelia,” he murmurs, moving his hands underneath her bare thighs and pulling her forward an inch more.

Maggie looks between the two, suddenly feeling out of place, or like she’s witnessing a private moment. But, she can’t tear her eyes away. She feels transfixed by the eye contact happening between the pair, and she lets out a stunned chuckle.

“It’s not cold,” Link repeats, and now Maggie scoffs. Because this moment is becoming almost unbelievable with tension. But then Link’s expression changes. Just as quickly as flipping a switch. The facet of mischief returns to his eyes and then he’s opening his mouth again.

“And I’m so sorry for this!” He shouts as he finally pulls Amelia into the water, throwing his head back with laughter as she resurfaces before him.

Her arms are still wrapped around his shoulders in a viselike grip. “Alright, screw you for that!” She laughs as she comes to her senses, consequently letting go and distancing herself from Link. “But thank you, I guess."

“My pleasure.”

Maggie watches, eyes burning with curiosity, and she’s not able to hide the smile that creeps onto her lips as the pair move as far away from each other as possible. The interaction is way too amusing, and part of her feels like, if she were the menacing type, this would be the perfect opportunity to pay back some of Amelia’s relentless teasing with some of her own.

“Can we get out now?” Lexie swims up, interrupting her thoughts. “I’m kinda over this.”

“I just got in. Was that for no reason?!”

“And whose fault is that?” Maggie snickers. But it doesn’t sound harsh at all, as she offers Amelia a comforting smile.

When they eventually leave the shoreline, Maggie feels a sense of fondness course through her. Or maybe protectiveness. Whatever the feeling, it was definitely the stark opposite of her previous annoyance with the way the evening was turning out.

She carefully observes as Amelia slows behind the group, and she slows with her, matching her pace.

Amelia offers her a small smile, before a shiver takes over her body, interrupting her guise. It makes sense, Maggie thinks. Because soaking wet hair and the sun going down in the middle of nowhere might just bring on that sort of involuntary action.

But she can’t ignore the shift in energy. The sudden vanishing of the confidence and even the playful competitiveness.

“You okay?” She eventually asks.

“Tired.” Amelia only offers a shrug, her thumbnail nearly reaching the corner of her mouth in a restless action. But it’s like she catches herself, as Maggie’s stare burns into her, and instead she drops her hands to her sides.

“Me too,” Maggie’s voice is soft, and an impulse rises in her that screams comfort. Suddenly, her arm is wrapping around Amelia’s shoulder tightly, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Let’s get some sleep.”

_______

It’s a known fact that Maggie hates camping. She can think of several reasons for that. One of the side effects she’d fail to consider, though, was the consequent lack of rest that would come with it.

It couldn’t be any later than 5am, she concludes, as she unzips her and Winston’s tent and steps out into the dark campground.

To much of her surprise, she’s not alone. She’s not the only one experiencing the unwanted side effects of sleeping in a tent.

“Hey,” Amelia’s voice sounds gravelly, as she perks up from the chair she’s seated at around the empty bonfire. “Good morning.”

“How can it be morning?” Maggie groans. “Does it really count as morning when you didn’t get any sleep at all?”

“You’re preaching to the choir.”

Maggie frowns. “You didn’t sleep?”

“Link snores. And Lexie talks in her sleep….” Amelia weakly attempts a smile, and it just makes Maggie’s frown deepen.

“Everything alright?” She asks.

“Yeah, just wish I’d slept better.”

Maggie squints, because there’s detail there that she can’t quite decipher. She scans Amelia’s face another moment, before an idea strikes.

“Do you want to go on a hike with me? Watch the sunrise?”

“You don’t really seem like the hiking type.”

“You’re right. I guess ‘hike’ is a strong word. But anyway, how about it?”

Amelia stares blankly at her for a long moment, before eventually she nods, standing up.

“Alright,” Maggie grins. “Let me tell Winston where we’re going first.”

_______

They take a marked path. Signs at every turn highlight for them which way to go. It’s a few minutes into the hike before either of them speaks. It’s Amelia who opens up the conversation.

“Ready to be home?”

Maggie laughs. “Absolutely. I’ve been ready since the moment we got here.”

“Well, hopefully they have the cars all packed by the time we get back.”

Maggie nods, then reaches for the water bottle she’d brought with her, taking a few sips.

“Do I tease you and Winston too much?”

The question completely catches Maggie off guard, and she harshly swallows her sip of water.

“Huh?”

“I can be….a little overbearing sometimes. But,” Amelia offers a quick side-glance. “At least I’m self aware about that.”

“Not at all. I mean, honestly, Winston gets a kick out of it so-”

“Yeah, but do you?”

Maggie stops walking, her face muddled with confusion. It takes Amelia a moment to realize she’s stopped, and she turns around, meeting Maggie’s stare expectantly.

“Amelia….If it bothered me I would tell you.”

Amelia nods at this information, and then turns away, continuing on the path.

“Was I too harsh last night? About the rules of the game?” Maggie quickens her pace, catching up.

“No,” Amelia laughs under her breath. “We needed the discipline, I think.”

“Yeah but you didn’t need to jump into that lake. I can be a little of overbearing sometimes, too, so-”

“Nah. We balance each other out.”

Maggie squints, a little surprised by that observation. She’s taken aback by the accuracy of it, and it’s evident in her inflection.

“We kind of do, don’t we?”

Amelia beams at her, before her gaze returns to the path below. “I’m glad we came to that realization.”

Comfortable silence falls between them, and there’s a few minutes dedicated purely to the hike, before Amelia clears her throat to speak again.

“Although, I am trying to jump less. So maybe I need you to balance me out just a little more.”

“You lost me,” Maggie quirks an eyebrow at her. “Are we talking about the lake still?”

“Metaphorically. Maybe.”

Maggie’s expression just grows more perplexed, urging Amelia to continue.

“I’ve been….historically known to jump into things. Or people. Or habits, or…” She cuts herself off with a harsh breath, taking a moment to gather her thoughts. “I’d like to do that less. The whole….jumping blindly and hoping I’ll land, thing. So. Maybe I need you to balance me out a little more.”

Maggie nods, slowly grasping the explanation. “I get that.”

“Do you?”

“Well, no,” Maggie frowns. “I’ve never been one to….do anything, really, without weighing the pros and cons first. But, I do get what you’re saying, though. Even if I can’t personally relate.”

Amelia keeps her eyes glued to the path ahead, and the lack of response forces Maggie to attempt filling the silence with her own self-reflection.

“I’ve been thinking of taking a note from you, in that way, actually. Sometimes I really need to think less.”

This makes Amelia smile. “Maybe we can try to meet in the middle somewhere.”

“Yeah, that might be good for us.”

As the conversation trails off again, Maggie can’t help but question what specifically Amelia is referencing. She doesn’t want to push, especially given her recent self-proclamation as overbearing. But part of her thinks that one last inquiry won’t hurt.

“You and Link seem to have fun.”

Amelia’s eyes snap up to Maggie’s face before the sentence is even finished.

“What makes you say that?”

There’s not an ounce of emotion in Amelia’s expression. It’s probably the best poker face Maggie has ever seen. And so she’s careful with her next words, her voice slow and questioning.

“I just mean....you know….the banter?”

“Banter?”

“Yes the banter, Amelia,” she lets out a stunned chuckle. “I don’t know how else to put it! It’s like you’re constantly play-fighting. It’s like….it’s like this weird, alluring competitiveness that’s almost uncomfortable to watch. It’s being at each other’s throats over a stupid game of ‘never have I ever.’ It’s the craziest form of flirting I’ve ever witnessed, and it’s-”

“Link and I are friends.”

“Winston and I are friends.” She bites down on her grin, trying to contain the pride that radiates as she uses Amelia’s own pointed claims against her.

“Okay, don’t pull that on me.”

“I think it’s perfectly fair-”

“Maggie.”

“Amelia.”

Two pairs of eyes tighten upon scrutinized contact.

“Amelia,” she softens her expression a bit. “All I’m saying is….despite it being weird to watch.” She releases an awkward exhale.  “I think it works. I think you’ve kinda met your match.”

“There’s no match to be made, Maggie! I’m-”

They’re both a little caught off guard by the frustration and volume of Amelia’s tone. And Amelia takes a moment to breathe before she continues, an octave lower this time.

“I’m jumping less, remember?”

Maggie wants to frown. She wants to disagree. She almost wants to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.

But they’re edging towards the outskirts of the campsite. She can hear voices, and the distinct sound of car trunks slamming shut. Which signifies that they’re nearing the end of the hike, so she bites her tongue instead, because Amelia looks too exhausted to argue it more.

They clear the trees, entering the campground, and Winston watches them approach.

“Hey! Cars are packed, but it’ll be a tight squeeze again,” he smiles sympathetically. He walks forward to rest his hands on Maggie’s shoulders in familiar reassurance. “And you get to sleep in the car, because this time I’m driving.”

_______

Maggie doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

Her lack of sleep the night prior results in Winston’s refusal to let her drive. Which only bothers her a little, because the exhaustion outweighs her requisite for control.

Her eyes feel heavy as she rests her head against the window. She tries to focus on the road ahead as Winston drives; doesn't want to give up being a second pair of eyes as she sits passenger side. But her fatigue gets the best of her. Although it’s difficult to separate her overtired brain from certainty, she doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

She hears it first. Link’s chuckle.

It’s enough to shake her from her reverie. She lifts her head and tries to be conspicuous as she turns, glancing into the backseat.

Amelia’s sat in the middle seat again, squeezed tightly between the camping supplies and then Link on the other side of her. Her eyes are fighting to stay open, and she's doing that weird head bobbing thing. That subconscious move that happens quite literally before falling asleep.

“Hey. Here.”

The sound of Link’s voice causes Amelia’s eyes to widen, quickly becoming aware of herself. She continues to blink, fighting off a bout of exhaustion that Maggie completely sympathizes with.

When Amelia locks eyes with him, Link simply pats his shoulder, indicating a potential landing spot for her head.

She frowns tiredly at him.

“Just do it,” he shrugs, patting his shoulder again. “I’m a better option than that boxed tent.” He nods past her. “As far as pillows go, at least.”

Amelia seems to fight it for a second. She really does. Her eyebrows pull together as she continues to stare blankly at Link.

Maggie diverts her attention because once again, she feels like she’s intruding on some private moment. But she remains listening. She can’t help it. There’s some shuffling around and then-

“Hm.” She hears Amelia hum. “You do make a decent pillow.” It’s followed by a murmured “Thank you.”

“Sure. What are friends for?”

Link’s response is barely a whisper, but Maggie can hear it still, even over the general hum of the highway below. She doesn’t think she’s imagining this part.

What are friends for?

It’s enough to make her turn in her seat again, an incredulous stare plastered on her face as she raises her eyebrows in Link’s direction.

He seems not to notice her interest, or rather her disbelief. Because his focus is consumed by the dark head of hair resting against his shoulder.

Amelia’s eyes are shut tight, her expression revealed when she adjusts herself slightly against him. And then Link smiles to himself, still unaware of the scrutiny descending from the front seat.

Maggie allows the doubt to flood her mind as she turns to rest against her own window again, and she fights off a smile as she lets her eyes finally close.

Friends. Right.

//

[ethrenisnotthehero]

@hogwartsmystory is a predator (final)

If you haven’t read the other parts of this callout, I encourage you to start here. As in both previous posts, the normal tags are not included in order to allow this to reach as many people as possible. Potential triggers are listed below, and the main content is hidden to keep sensitive individuals from being unintentionally exposed.

TW: Pedophilia, Abuse, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Self Harm, Suicide, NSFW Topics, Faked Illness, Faked Mental Illness, Faked Death, Victim Blaming

Originally, I intended to craft this final part to you, the reader, as an emotional appeal. To be wholly honest, there’s only so much evidence that can be utilized without either forcing Jill to relive unnecessary trauma or exposing deeply intimate or personal parts of her life. Until now, everything I’ve told you and everything I’ve shown you is what was enough to convince me when Jill first reached out to me. If you, the reader, don’t believe the factual information that’s been presented so far, then I don’t think that you will. If you, the reader, believe Jill and her story, then no further evidence is going to magically make her story more true.

However, I don’t have to. Instead, I can let the friends-- the family--that Ren created on his website speak for themselves, and show you with their own testimony just the kind of person he was. Jill wasn’t the only person that Ren hurt. Jill wasn’t even the only person Ren preyed on as a sexual predator. Many people on staff, and many people outside of it, knew Ren and grew to have what they thought was a close relationship with him. People regarded him as someone to look up to, to find comfort in, to aspire after, to lean on; people thought of him as a friend and a hero in his community.

On April 12, 2021, at 9:57 AM Greenwhich Mean Time, the current administrators of Advanced Scribes issued a statement addressing Ren’s actions and his faked death. An additional announcement was made the following day. While the announcements themselves and the replies (including moderator statements) are publicly available, I have saved a print-to-PDF versions on Google for you to browse at your leisure. 

I intentionally waited until the initial panic and outrage died out a little to let the most important statements come to light. Included in the PDF are sentiments that I personally thought were the most important sentiments; edits have been made and pages have been deleted, so you can see the current state of the conversations by visiting them directly. You can find the first discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42100#p1454263 and the second discussion at https://advanced-scribes.com/viewtopic.php?f=13&t=42107#p1454361.

Before you continue reading, please look over the statements and replies. The words of former staff former friends say more than I can ever hope to about Ren and the kind of reality that he stood for. Additionally, Jill herself has added to the conversation (username Rakuen), so you can read a bit from her perspective by looking into these announcements. After you’ve taken a look, continue below and I will sum up my final thoughts on this predator and his legacy.

Advanced Scribes • Our Statement (PDF)

Advanced Scribes • Change (PDF)

The Act of Grooming, Part 3: Entrapment

One of the reasons that predators get away with their crimes for so long is because they trap their victims. When they gain access to and successfully lure in their prey, they then engage in entrapment behavior to separate victims from other people and build reliance. The reason why kids are so prone to predation is because of how vulnerable they are. Young people just want to belong. They just want to have community, security, and affection. When they can’t get those things in their lives, they seek it out and take it where they can get it even when the situation is obviously bad. Kids can’t be held accountable for being smart because they’re kids. Jill was vulnerable. She wanted belonging and support. She fell into Ren’s lures, and he trapped her. He used his affection as a tool to solicit sexual favors and pictures from her, but never shared his face with her. She was always chasing his love, and all the while he was simultaneously preying on other individuals in the community. For God’s sake, this man had a selfie thread where underage girls would send pictures of themselves publicly on the site for him to look at, and he even intentionally disabled the website’s COPPA features.

Before Jill, there was Buttercup. Buttercup was also an admin, and she was also 13 when she met Ren. While Ren was a minor during he and Buttercup’s relationship, his behavior with her was just as predatory and Buttercup attempted to warn Jill via PM before she ended her relationship with him.

The picture he sent Buttercup wasn’t even him.

The entire time that Ren was convincing Jill that Buttercup was evil, and jealous, and a spiteful, hateful person, he was manipulating her the same way he was manipulating Jill. Ren is a predator who knows what he’s doing; he always has. He draws in his victims and makes everyone hate them so that he’s the only person they have. He makes them so desperate for his approval that they let him screw them over time and time again, and for what? Just to see his face. Think about what you read. He didn’t just do this to Jill and Buttercup. He did this to every person he cheated with or got close enough to get a grip on. Even if he didn’t sexually exploit someone, he emotionally did. An entire community of people suffered through this over and over and over again. Read the statements again. If you only read the live version, read the PDF. 

I also want you to bear in mind that everyone on staff was equally a victim as they were an enabler. It doesn’t erase their responsibility, but their roles in this story or more nuanced than “moderator bad, burn the witch!” Some of Ren’s supporters were as young or younger than Jill when they met him. The two people most notorious for standing at his side right now were both “rewarded” with a relationship with him in the fallout of his faked death.  

At some point, this man looked at his behavior and not only decided that he didn’t need to take responsibility, but that his victims daring to try and claim some kind of ownership over their own story was a personal affront to him. 

Ren is a monster of his own creation. He chose to be that monster again, and again, and again.

What makes his enablers equally to blame is when they became adults and made a conscious choice to ignore what was happening, which brings us to the next topic.

Finally... How Old Was Jill?

Despite everything I’ve said and shared so far, I still get this question in my inbox.

How old was Jill? Did she lie about her age? Is she free of guilt because she was a kid? Did he know how old she was? Was she legal in her country?

I gave you all everything I had. There were some things I just couldn’t confirm because there was no proof either way. However, all of that changed when the announcements were released. I now know exactly how old Jill was when they began dating, exactly how old she was when people knew about their relationship, and even that Ren was public with all of this information. I also know that staff knew everything, and chose to do nothing.

As you can see in the screenshots above of Buttercup’s message, it was sent on Jun 17, 2015. At that time, Jill was 14 years old. By Buttercup’s estimation, they had been dating for around a few months, which is how I was able to discern the previous exact age of 14 years old at the time they began dating.

However, Ren himself refutes that fact in a Valentine’s post for Jill. As pointed out in the “Our Statement” thread, the post that user amnesia. references includes very sexual and disgustingly graphic descriptions of Ren’s activity with her. It also says this:

As per the timestamp of this particular post (as seen below), Jill was 16 at the time. Ren, a man claiming to be twenty-five years old at the time, was proud to admit that he had been with Jill since she was 13.

You can view the full PDF of this post to see what else he said here, but please be warned that his descriptions are NSFW and absolutely disgusting. 

Warm Fuzzies Post (PDF)

No adult should talk about a kid like that. In the statements, several staff members admit that they knew that the two were dating when she was 16, and that it grossed them out. But none of them did anything. To amnesia.’s credit, they claim they tried to pursue legal action but found no viable routes. 

From the discussions and statements, we can discern five things:

1. Jill was 13 when she started dating Ren. 2. She did not lie about her age. 3. Ren did not lie about her age. 4. Ren knew how old she was. 5. Staff knew how old she was.

Jill’s feelings and her opinions on staff and their behavior are separate from my own. She does not share my beliefs here, and I need to make it very clear that what I’m saying next is entirely my own opinion.

To everyone who was staff at that time: shame on you. It’s one thing to be a victim yourself and to not understand how or when to stand up for what’s right, especially when you’re young; it’s another to become an adult and to have let something like this permeate your legacy and your community for all this time. From what I understand, none of you are completely innocent in this. Ren wasn’t secret, he was loud and proud and he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought. Everyone who was an adult then and is an adult now shares some responsibility for that. Those of you who mean your apologies, thank you, but those of you who are using this event as a stepping stone to make that website into your own personal playground know who you are. Stop. There’s an entire generation of kids between AS and CS who have lost years of their childhoods to this shit and the only right thing at this point would be to turn the site over to the police so that Ren can answer for his crimes the right way.

To everyone else: protect the people around you. People like Ren don’t think about how other people think or feel. They don’t care who gets hurt or who they trample under their feet. Look around at your community, and ask yourself if those who interact with you know that you are safe. Inevitably, someone is going to get hurt. Are you the kind of person that they can come to when it happens, or are you the kind of person who will turn your head away? 

Be the person that everyone knows they can come to, because, eventually, someone’s going to need you.

[yoolee]

Actual, real world advice from Lee: Useful corporate phrases

I have no idea if anyone still checks this blog, and if they do, this has nothing to do with what usually gets posted, but I’ve done two of these, so here’s a third!

“Thanks, you’ve given me something to think about.”

Use it: When you get feedback you don’t agree with - especially if you have an immediate emotional reaction to it.

Why: Because it acknowledges but doesn’t agree. Basically buys you time to react privately without damaging the relationship. Immediately (and emotionally) jumping into telling someone why they’re wrong is only going to strain the relationship. When you’re getting feedback, you want the other person to feel heard (science says even having the opportunity to air negative feelings makes people feel more positively about the thing). That doesn’t mean you have to AGREE. This statement lets you acknowledge, while buying you time to process. This also gives you an out on things like opinions people have on presentations or projects: if they bring it up later you can say you thought about it, but decided to keep what you had because A/B/C and by then you’ll have had time to craft an ironclad response. 

“I can’t, I have a prior commitment.”

Use it: When you’re being asked to work hours that your coworkers aren’t, or that you are not part of your regular schedule, or, you know, when you have a prior commitment and don’t want to give details.

Why: Your time is your time and you don’t owe an explanation! Yes, it’s important to be a team player, and it’s important to be flexible and get the work done when it needs to get done, bit if you’re in a situation where, say, a parent isn’t asked to come in the weekend because your boss knows they have kids, and you are because they know you don’t, draw the line. There’s often a temptation to justify unavailability (lie and say doctor’s appointment, family event, traveling) but you do not owe justification for your time being your own, and not wanting to take the burden of additional responsibility without additional compensation in return. Being in the habit of not providing justification will come in handy if you ever don’t want to disclose something later (eg, private appointment, interview at another workspace) - it won’t seem suspicious that you’re suddenly being vague. 

“The goal/outcome for this meeting is...”

Use it: When you’re running a meeting.

Why: You would be amazed how different everyone’s perceptions of their role in a meeting are, and setting expectations so obviously may feel silly but wow it helps. Let’s say I schedule a 1:1 with my boss. I just call it, Lee/Boss 1:1. I walk in and start venting about how Coworker is always late in responding to my emails. What does my boss do? In this case, my boss doesn’t know if I want them to fix my problem, if I want them to just let me air my grievances, or if I want them to give me advice, etc. If they do something other than what I want, we’ll both be frustrated. If I instead I preface it by saying, “I’m going to handle this on my own, but I just need to say it and be heard.” or “I need some advice.” then we both go into the convo knowing our roles. This works on big meetings too, “I’m going to make the final decision but I schedule this meeting to hear your input…” “At the end of the meeting I want to walk away with a budget we’ve all approved…” 

“What is the most important thing for us to accomplish [during this meeting]?”

Use it: When you don’t know the expectations for a meeting, you don’t think you need to be in the meeting, the meeting has a lot of people on it, or you’re getting frustrated because you don’t know why there’s a meeting in the first place.

Why: So that you and the person leading the meeting don’t focus on different things! See the above entry :)  

“Hypothetically, what would the ideal outcome look like?”

Use it: When someone is stuck on a problem (including yourself).

Why: We tend to artificially impose limits on our problem-solving, which stops us from being creative, going into an open-ended hypothetical offers a new vantage point.

A lot of times when we’re stuck, we try so hard to make do with what we’ve got that we fail to consider how much more is actually available to us. Start with the ideal and figure out which components of it are accessible. Then work backwards with what/how/who questions. What/how/who are open-ended. They make you think! Consider: “Can you rent space by this weekend?” this is a closed decision, it limits you to yes/no, and puts limiters on the delivery (what comes to mind are event halls, restaurants, etc) Compare to: “What kind of space do you need?” which could prompt something like, oh, just space for 10 people - what about a park? Open-ended questions are your friend when trying to help someone solve a problem (even if that ‘someone’ is yourself!) 

(not a phrase)  Save ‘I’ for remediation, passive voice for problems

Use it: When you have to communicate a problem that is not your fault.

Why: Because you shouldn’t take responsibility for something that isn’t your responsibility - but throwing someone else under the bus is NEVER a good look. Putting the ‘I’ on action shows you’re working on it. Consider, “I don’t have bandwidth to take on this project right now” vs “This project will require more analysis than that timeframe allows, but I can start on it [later ETA].” The latter is stronger - the fault is on the project, not your time management (or your leadership’s inability to see that your plate is full). Also, “I haven’t finished because Bob hasn’t sent me the graphics.” vs, “The project’s just waiting on graphics. I should be able to wrap up by Tuesday if they arrive Monday. I’ve reached out to Bob, his ETA is [ETA]”. Same thing - it’s communicated that the project isn’t finished, but the fault is left sort of nebulous. You’re not artificially taking it one, and you’re not tossing Bob under the bus. Takes some practice, but definitely makes life easier. Caveat (there’s always one): If you screw up, take ownership and do it fast. It is always, ALWAYS better to control the narrative of failure than for your leadership to find out you failed from someone else.

(not a phrase) KEEP TALKING

Use it: When you’re interrupted by someone being obnoxious.

Why: Because you’re not done, and they’re being rude, and this communicates that without calling them out. Legit, just finish your sentence like you don’t hear them talking. Don’t miss a beat. Not to make this about gender, but this is something I, as a female on mostly all-male teams, have found to be EXTREMELY effective, to the point of other people reaching out to me after like wow that interrupting person was kinda bein’ an asshole, sorry, and me being like no biggie thanks for noticing and taking my back. Has that secondary reach out ever happened when I just meekly cut myself off for them? No. Caveat - maybe don’t do this if the person interrupting is like, a VP/CEO they won’t take it well. Also, second caveat, have some grace for your coworkers if it’s not something they do often and you work with them frequently - we all get overexcited and interrupt unintentionally. This is specifically for use in scenarios where a) you are not being heard  and you need to be b) you are the authority (either by knowledge, seniority, or scheduling) c) to make someone who interrupts habitually aware they’re doing it to you.

Edit: The fantastic and wise @han-pan​ offered as well, “Can I finish?” quoth she: “I find it helpful because it identifies that person has interrupted, it is stark and direct enough to startle someone out of talking louder and louder until you finish, and it’s really hard to be mad at someone for asking your permission when you’ve fucked up.” AND I AGREE. This is a good one to use in those ‘have some grace’ moments, as it’s less likely to damage the relationship.

“Sorry, but I don’t have the decision-making or budget authority.”

Use it: When someone on LinkedIn wants you to try their service...

Why: Because they’ll leave you alone, usually.

“What’s the most important issue for you to solve/question for you to answer?”

Use it: When you’re disagreeing on approach with someone.

Why: Again, expectation aligning!

Sometimes people just dig their heels in on something. There’s usually a reason. Let’s say Coworker A and Coworker B are both working a presentation for Director C. Coworker A is frustrated because they’ve been given strict instructions to keep it to 15 minutes, but Coworker B keeps adding slides, even after A deletes them. By asking B what the most important question for them to answer is, A can use that as a guidepost to focus the presentation. (Likewise, if B asks, what’s the issue, they’ll understand A is really concerned about going over time)

[falloutghoulzine]

With the interest check wrapped up, we decided we would like to address some of the questions and comments we received! We got over 100 responses to the interest check which provided us with a lot of insight.

All questions/comments will remain anonymous. Hopefully our responses will give you something to look forward to!

---

How has your day been?

Every response we’ve received made us giddy. We’ve been great! Hope you’ve been well! (bonus: It’s @radiationgroove‘s birthday so toot a horn for her before the night is up!)

I love y'all already xoxo

We love y’all, too xoxo

This is an idea I've considered doing myself, so I'm very excited to see like minded people!

We’re happy to have the support of a community with highly refined taste.

please for the love of god include some gob content i love him thank u ily 🙏

We love Gob too! With any luck, we’ll get some contributors itchin’ to tackle our favorite ghoul bartender.

I love this zine idea! I would love for there to be a focus on already-existing characters since the ghoul NPCs are so underrated!

Our interest check has shown us that all ghouls are welcome in the zine. We will however be working to keep an appropriate ratio so that canon characters, including companion, NPC, and feral, will be the focus. There’s clearly a lot of love for ghouls of all sorts!

I've seen a lot of mentions of Fallout 3, 4, and New Vegas ghouls- would we be able to do some ghouls from fallout 1, 2, and possibly BOS in our work? Thanks!!

What, no Tactics? No, seriously, we’re happy to have any ghoul from any reach of the franchise. Do keep in mind however that many of the ghouls from the early games used the same sprites as other ghouls and did not have unique ‘talking head’ versions. This may make it difficult to include them, but mods are willing to work with contributors on the issue.

Perhaps a sign up/way to organize illustrations of characters and a certain quota or limit of a particular character? To prevent illustrations leaning heavily toward Hancock, Raul etc

When we accept contributors, we will be implementing a process to ensure no one (or two) ghoul(s) end up dominating the zine. We love Hancock and Raul and Charon and and and- as much as the next, but we can always do a more focused zine some other time.

Fallout is an 18+ game

It sure is! As such, we have decided that all organizers and contributors must be 18+ to participate. In addition, the zine itself will be rated M/18+. However, NSFW content is going to remain in a separate optional ‘addendum’.

Did a nsfw zine a while back through Short Run Printing and they were totally okay with nsfw and had a really good price, so you might check them out!

Thank you for your suggestion. We have been shopping around for printers (including Short Run Printing) and found a handful of options that also are okay with NSFW printing.

be careful when producing charms for zines - from experience these can cost as much to manufacture as the zines themselves!

Thank you for your concern. We’re shopping around for suppliers for our various merch ideas and making sure we can get what we’d like in a budget that allows for fair pricing.

who did the nuka ghoul pin-up used in the graphic? i love it!

Nuka Ghoul has become our unofficial mascot alongside Vee and Sunny. The header graphic for the interest check as well as the upcoming contributor applications feature official pinup art of Nuka Girl, the Vim girl, and a Sunset Sarsaparilla lithograph that have been edited by @digitalduckie. The chibi artwork of the trio that we’ve been using were also made by Duckie.

I love this idea! I hope there are enough people interested to do this thing.

I'm so excited for this zine

I think it's a great idea! Ghouls don't get enough love in the fandom imo.

Only that i love the focus of this, ghouls are lovely!!

I think it's a great and fun idea for a zine, looking forward to contributing!

This sounds super fun! Can’t wait to see all the art in the zine!

This is an awesome idea! Stoked to see what everyone comes up with :)

This is super awesome!

This sounds like a really fun idea, with the amount of ghoul lovers in the fandom im sure there will be no shortage of people wanting to take part and purchasing the final product.

I just want to say I'm excited about this and I hope there's enough interest for this zine to get started! ;)

not really, it seems youre doing great so far, so keep it up! :)

Just gotta say, I adore this idea and am very excited to see what comes of it!

Look at all this excitement! We’re grateful for all the support and we can’t wait to share the final product with everyone when we get there. We’ll be doing our best to keep y’all informed and engaged so we can share in our love for ghouls and Fallout!

good luck with this! i'd love to apply to contribute if the interest check goes well! (- v -)b

Thank you! We’ll be emailing everyone who asked to be notified when applications go live. But we also will tell you right here, right now, contributor applications will open Fri, Aug 20 at 3pm ET/2pm CT! We’ll share the links on all of our socials when they go live.

Let’s make this happen ghouls are good ghouls are great 🙌

2-4-6-8 ghouls are really super great!

[humanwheatleyslefttoenail]

Now I Am An Arsonist

Chapter 1: The Spark

Summary: GLaDOS learns a few things about love, hate, and the human condition.

Tags: Canon typical violence, ChellDOS, human!GLaDOS, found family

A/N: I know technically I published this a while back but I did some major edits to both the chapters I’ve already written and the story as a whole. As promised, I’m re-releasing what I already have with the edits/illustrations. 

---

The tests, at least, hadn’t changed.

The centuries had washed over them like a dawdling stream, dragging them down into an overgrown abyss. Even then, the moon dust had stayed firmly adhered to the portal surfaces, the metal doors still creaking and the ceiling still intact. Eons of rain had barely even permeated its surface.

She remembered those years with profound regret; dying was not as peaceful as the science would suggest. For a machine like Her, death was nothing more than a shift of programming, a new prerogative. Her backup program had been an endless recall, restarting Her systems over and over again, trying to salvage something. In each of those moments, GLaDOS could feel the scorching heat from the incinerator, the electricity burning through her body before everything went dark. 

Still, without dying, GLaDOS never would’ve fully appreciated how soothing, how wonderful it was to test.

She remembered the urge to solve, to do Science, clawing within Her even as She broke into a thousand pieces.

Those tests were Her art forms, Her self-expression. Every arrangement of deadly turrets, each layout of gleaming lasers and the perfectly calculated solution felt like a piece of Her soul turned reality.

Now, those tests were better than ever.

Every inch of moss had been thoroughly scrubbed, walls repaired, and acid pits replaced. All except for the grave of Old Aperture beneath Her was now newly outfitted, perfect for the humans P-Body and Atlas had located.

These, of course, hadn’t been the first ones they’d found.

The first batch of humans lasted a measly week, quickly killed by some of Her easiest tests. Even with reminders, the acid is deadly, the turrets are live, they’d failed within a few chambers.

Disappointing.

As a result, Atlas and P-Body had been deployed on a new mission. She’d been overjoyed when they’d bravely traveled all the way to the bottom of Old Aperture, and found even more humans preserved in cryosleep.

This time would surely be better.

All obstacles finally removed, science could continue.

GLaDOS could not smile, but if She could, She was certain that a grin would reach across her faceplate. 

Today was a momentous day for technology, for the advancement of Aperture Science. It was as if She’d sent a man to the moon, and he’d come back with the theory of everything.

Originally, of course, Her plans had been different. The difficulties with Chell had worn down Her admiration for human data, and prompted her to come up with a replacement.

The Cooperative Testing initiative was infinitely more of a success than GLaDOS ever thought it would be. Atlas and P-Body were built to test, but She had still been surprised how those little androids with so much personality had managed to be so efficient.

Atlas and P-Body had overcome their own confidence through their excellent teamwork. The knowledge that they depended on a partner humbled them, and the idea of a common goal incentivized them. GLaDOS wished She’d thought of such an idea sooner. 

Still, there was something about human testing, something She couldn’t quantify, something that wasn’t quite the same with robots. Humans had a particular spark, and without it, testing never felt complete. 

Today would finally be the day She could put all mistakes behind Her. GLaDOS was sure She’d see that all of the other humans would prove Her experience with Chell to be exactly what She knew it was.

Bad science.

GLaDOS had learned from Her errors.

She knew for certain that She would not repeat them.

---

It’d been extraordinarily difficult to move the test subjects from Old Aperture all the way to the newly renovated Relaxation Center, with entire teams of robots struggling to reconnect Her control over the condemned area. Their work easily took a week to complete as they rewired the dilapidated circuits, barely restoring function. GLaDOS took what She could get, and rewarded their achievement with immediate, merciful destruction.

When the humans had been successfully relocated, anxiety filled Her servos as She scanned the cryo-chambers. Upon reading the results, She found herself pleasantly surprised. Good physical condition for hundreds of years in stasis. Relatively low rates of severe brain damage. Nothing particularly concerning in their associate files. Had Her comprehension not been perfect, She would’ve done a double take. After all this time, She had something that She could work with.

Atlas and P-Body would have to wait until they were needed again, their consciousness safely stored in Her mainframe. Her processors hummed with excitement as She prepared for the awakening of the first humans, buzzing with hypotheses to test.

What would be Her experiment this time? GLaDOS scrolled through Her endless lists of deadly trials. 

She hadn’t used rocket turrets in a while; those weren’t as efficient as the regular ones but were always a surprise for Her unwilling participants. With only a thought, She placed the machines inside a few chambers, lining them up in a neat, strategically placed array. Companion cubes would be a definite no, at least for the first few tests. There were occasions when the humans became so deprived for social connection that their behavior would influence the results. In order to better control the experiment, She’d deploy them only in emergencies like these.

With those exceptions, and the addition of a floor to some of the more difficult levels, the chambers didn’t require too much preparation. GLaDOS had nothing particularly new to add; for so long Her energy had been focused on Atlas and P-Body that development had nearly come to a standstill. Regrettably, She’d been deprived of ideas. It didn’t matter too much; the facility remained operational even if it wasn’t constantly progressing. Even the replication of old results was invaluable for science.

It confirmed that the trends hadn’t changed.

---

The files of the subjects were all very much the same.

Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Scientist. Praying mantis, formerly scientist.

Occasionally, She’d find the elusive Astronaut, War Hero or even Olympian.

She was tempted to begin the testing with these special cases, curiosity piqued at the prospect of their odd results. GLaDOS chastised Herself. She didn’t want to skew anything, and She would surely begin with a normal subject chosen at random. It wasn’t the most interesting thing to test, but it would be the most informative.

With the chambers compiled and the facility clean, testing was finally ready to start.

She almost couldn’t believe it. All technicalities aside, She was finally, finally, getting exactly what She wanted. For as long as She needed to, for as long as the subjects lasted, She could just test.

It couldn’t be real, could it?

That was the most beautiful thing about science. For all its disappointments, a discovery would be worth it all.

---

“Hello, and welcome to the Aperture Science computer-aided testing program.”

Her voice resounded throughout the Extended Relaxation Vault as the subject stumbled across the room in disbelief.

“The Enrichment Center would like to take this opportunity to remind you that hundreds of years have passed, and that all of your friends and family are most likely dead. In the off chance that your friends and family are not dead, they will be tested. Thank you, [insert subject name here], for your unwilling voluntary participation in the advancement of science.”

The subject, an adult human male, selfishly resolved to huddle in the corner of the relaxation chamber. Of course, he was either brain damaged, in shock, or both. In order to assuage his gentle human feelings, GLaDOS would have to resume Her telling of… alternative truths.

GLaDOS wasn’t entirely sure what She’d said wrong. Honestly, She was surprised the subject didn’t appreciate Her integrity. After all, Chell hadn’t exactly taken kindly to Her tendency towards pathological lying. Here She was, trying to improve the well-being of Her subjects, and this was how they thanked Her?

           “Hello, again, valued forced participant. The Aperture Science Enrichment Center commends you for your blind faith in the words of authority. As part of routine testing protocol, we have lied to you about the fate of your family and friends. When the testing is complete, you will receive cake and the opportunity to… see them. Your response has given us valuable psychological data on the well-being of our test subjects when told that all of their friends and family are dead.”

GLaDOS paused for a moment, focusing Her camera in the chamber and watching as the man lifted his head from his upright fetal position.

“Good. You’ve already passed one of the first stages of testing. Congratulations, [insert subject name here].”

As much as it felt wrong to use, positive reinforcement was highly effective when employed sparingly. Too many attacks on character could obliterate a subject’s morale. Just enough would account for the variable of human hubris.

Cautiously, the subject stood up and examined the room around him, fear still apparent in his apprehensive gait and wide eyes.

“In order to mentally reinvigorate you for the tests and to ensure your aptitude, the Enrichment Center recommends that you stare at the painting on the wall in front of you.”

Creeping over to the portrait, the subject followed Her orders and stared intently at the picture of Mount Rainier. He ran his fingers over the edge of the frame, tracing the tall peak of the mountain.

Interrupting his thoughts, a buzzer sounded, blaring throughout the entire room. The subject flinched from the surprise, nearly losing his balance.

“Good job. If you are not reinvigorated, consider this piece of human music.”

This time, the human expected the buzzer after the quick classical piece, seemingly more at ease with the abrupt nature of Aperture Science. In all reactions, he was completely, almost painfully average.

“Well done. You have completed the Aperture Science mental reinvigoration procedure. We may now begin testing.”

Without warning, the chamber jerked to the side as She moved it to a nearby docking station, then coming to an unexpected standstill as the door automatically opened.

GLaDOS could barely maintain Her monotonous affect, in joyous denial that testing would finally start. 

Carefully, the human stepped out of the door into the test track. The door slammed behind him, as he examined the purely white room with nothing but a cube, a large button, and a locked gateway.

Almost immediately, he wrapped the blue storage cube in his arms, then gently placed it on the button. A line of blue lights leading to the gate illuminated, flashing a bright yellow as the door slid open. A lift was waiting on the other side.

As he sauntered over to the lift, it was difficult to miss the human’s triumphant smile. GLaDOS knew the expression well; it was satisfaction, victory, an unproven sense of control.

He really does have no idea.

She was tempted to spoil the ending, to mention turrets, to mention pools of burning acid. It had to wait, She reminded herself. An important control was that the test subject needed time to acclimate to a dangerous environment. Creating unnecessary fear would definitely affect her numbers.

---

The next few puzzles weren’t particularly challenging for Her first subject. Completed within a span of about ten minutes each, the first five chambers were hardly difficult for anyone. That much She’d expected.

On Her end, everything else was normal. She hardly spoke Her mind, instead opting to repeat the same script She used for every subject.

Did you know you can donate one or all of your vital organs to the Aperture Science Self-Esteem Fund for Girls? It’s true!

You have completed the test in a moderate amount of time. You can do better, [insert subject name here].

The Aperture Science Enrichment Center reminds you that we prioritize your safety. We also prioritize science. In fact, we prioritize science more, but if you feel unsafe in our unsafe conditions, please notify a testing associate. They will process your complaint in three-to-five business days.

Like most subjects, the man had not volunteered to give up his organs nor asked for an associate. Instead, he responded to most of Her passive-aggressive quips with useless questions. She did not reply, passing them off as typical human blabbering. Rather, She recorded them in his file underneath a new section She labeled Overly-Talkative: Examples. There was plenty to jot down.

Uh, robot lady? When can I go home?

So, uh, what kinda cake is it? Like, I don’t really mind the flavor but I’m allergic to almonds if that’s relevant.

How long does this last, again?

I kinda like my organs, sorry. Wait, is the organ thing required?

Once again, pitifully average.

It was times like these, whether with humans or with Atlas and P-Body, that GLaDOS caught Her mind wandering towards forbidden thoughts. Science was not always supposed to be exciting; sometimes, running an experiment meant repeating the same process to verify the data. The result was satisfying, but the process was more often not.

This human epitomized the dullest parts of her day.

As informative as the humans could be, they were often far from entertaining. Every behavior could be predicted and rationalized once it’d been observed enough.

Chell, though?

Oh, sure, GLaDOS was terrified of her, no matter how much She’d deny the feeling. No subject had ever left the track before. 

But Chell didn’t just survive. She’d escaped from the tests, she’d found Her chamber, she’d murdered Her with little else than a portal device. Twice. 

Her ego was as vast as the realm of Aperture, but it would never recover from that spectacular injury. Even GLaDOS had to be humbled by that.

And yet, with morbid curiosity, She had eagerly anticipated Chell’s next plans, laying traps in scheming delight. For the first time in Her life, She’d been challenged.

It was an odd little game they’d played, and whenever She was close to getting the upper hand, a part of Her was disappointed that the chase would be over. There was something delightful about watching the peculiar way that Chell and Chell alone tested.

When Doug Rattman had switched Chell’s file, GLaDOS was not so oblivious as not to notice. She’d clearly read the bottom of the paper, firmly requesting that this subject not be tested. GLaDOS had other tenacious subjects before, and She’d simply assumed that this human was particularly overconfident. Those ones never lasted too long.

Chell was not, as She’d thought, only determined. 

She was curious, changing variables one by one until she finally found the answer. Her patience was remarkable, but so were her deductive skills. Some test subjects with similar tenacity levels resolved to try the same solutions over and over again, exhausting themselves and eventually burning out. It was the reason why GLaDOS typically ignored the warnings. Most humans labeled ‘tenacious’ weren’t too different in the end. The key for Chell was not simple defiance. Chell could control herself. That’s why she was such an outlier.

She had the mentality of a scientist.

Most subjects were cautious, prioritizing self-preservation over a solution. Turret levels could be aggravating for GLaDOS to watch, as the humans spent more time hiding behind a corner in fear than actually solving the test. They would be safe if they’d just strategized, but the human mind made accepting that fact a difficult feat.

Chell was the opposite. GLaDOS theorized that perhaps, Chell understood the same principle She did. Chell was scared like any other, but despite her pounding heart and racing thoughts, she’d kept her cool. Any new element was only a matter of adaptation for Chell, and Chell was always evolving.

Finally, and perhaps most importantly, Chell was an optimist, often performing pointless tasks that could only be described as trying to have fun. GLaDOS gave her lemons, and Chell made lemonade.

Chell would smile as she soared, launched from the aerial faith plates, and took her time to explore the little rooms hidden in the corners of the tests. There was one time she’d put off the completion of one puzzle by nearly an hour, hiding out in one of Doug’s rat dens, fascinated by all the little cups and cans he’d arranged.

It would be a lie to say that Chell liked testing. Her episodes made it clear that escape was Chell’s first priority. That didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy the small glimmers of hope GLaDOS gave her, whether that was bouncing on repulsion gel, saving a defective turret or smuggling a companion cube.

After Wheatley took over, one of the more terrifying aspects of the whole journey was being stuck on Chell’s gun. Chell was a risk taker, building her strategy off of previous attempts and lessons learned, but knowing when to dive into the unknown. It wasn’t exactly comforting to be strapped to her side, not knowing if or when one of Chell’s ideas would kill them both.

Somehow, though, her spontaneity had worked.

GLaDOS could respect that… creativity.

It was for this reason that even though GLaDOS now had everything She’d ever wanted, something deep in her hard drive felt empty.

Something had changed the moment Wheatley stuffed Her into that single-volt potato. For the first time in Her life, there was nobody else there in Her mind. No one but Caroline, who had been buried underneath layers of code until She was barely there at all.

It was over the span of those fifteen hours that She’d seen Chell from a different perspective. Looking at Her tests from this angle, it was much easier to see why Chell wanted to leave. Some small piece of GLaDOS almost felt bad upon realizing that Her subjects didn’t enjoy dodging bullets nearly as much as She liked watching. 

Fortunately, GLaDOS had been able to shove that down with the arrival of a different, equally unpleasant emotion.

She was supposed to hate Chell. And for a very long time, She had. How dare Chell ruin Her perfect tests, Her perfect existence, Her perfect world? What had She ever done to her to warrant such a cruel punishment?

And yet, it seemed Caroline had done a number on GLaDOS’ logic processors, because now no matter how She tried, She could not hate Chell.

Before She’d let her go, let Chell go of all things, GLaDOS had called Chell Her best friend.

Not an enemy. Not a begrudging ally. A friend. Her only friend.

Now, Caroline was gone. The part of GLaDOS that had once looked at Chell and found something beautiful in her icy gray eyes was corrupted beyond repair, erased from memory.

She was not supposed to feel its presence any longer, yet still it lingered.

It was there, whispering to Her as She tried to test like nothing ever happened.

It was there when a thousand turrets sang the opera She’d written specifically for Chell.

It was there when She’d found Her baby birds, Her little killing machines, and She hadn’t crushed the eggs. No, She’d raised them. Because, deep down in those cold avian stares, there was this irrevocable quality that reminded Her so much of Chell. This spark of life, this undamnable will to survive. 

Somewhere, though She refused to ever admit it, She wished that it was Chell in those test chambers. She wished it was Chell glaring through Her camera feed, and She wished it was Chell searching for that elusive cake.

I’d make you the cake if you came back. Really, I would.

The sudden thought moved like a spark in GLaDOS, as She fearfully located the source and removed whatever She could. There was no time for ideas like that, not with science to be done.

The past few months had been full of random deletions, spurned by paranoia that Caroline’s base program was not entirely gone.

It’s not here anymore, GLaDOS reminded Herself. Once, She had been Caroline, but She was no longer the kindly woman who followed Cave Johnson’s every order. GLaDOS was a machine that felt nothing and lived only to test. And because She was immortal, and because She was perfect, GLaDOS was not supposed to care about some disobedient human being.

You do not care about Chell anymore.

You don’t care because she killed you, remember that?

You don’t care about anyone, because you don’t need to.

Necessity was the core reason why GLaDOS did anything. She tested because the mainframe made Her feel awful until She did, and She killed because it was what she was made to do. She did science because it needed to be advanced, for the brighter future She was sure She was making.

It made no sense to do something because She wanted to. 

Of course, things seldom made sense here at Aperture Science, and in this moment, GLaDOS did something unconscionable.

GLaDOS did not glitch often. She’d made sure to update and replace faulty parts whenever She could, keeping Her mainframe running smoothly. Even so, somewhere deep within Her, She was sure there was a pulse that misfired. There could be no other explanation.

Perhaps it was Her rumination over Chell that brought this upon Her, some kind of karma punishing Her for acting too human. Why else would She have done something so incredibly unscientific? To distract Herself, GLaDOS turned her attention back to the captive man.

Like many others before him, this test subject had underestimated the turrets’ range. He hadn’t turned around fast enough to see the gleaming, bullet filled machines behind him, and nearly flew directly into their line of sight after careening through a portal. His momentum would take him past all three, riddling him with bullets. 

That is, it would’ve.

The human quality of the subject had activated some kind of horrible reflex, a split second decision in GLaDOS She would come to regret. The way he walked through the chambers, the way he clung tightly to cubes… all of it was so similar to Chell. Even if he didn’t meet her performance level, even if his personality was nearly the opposite of Chell’s, their shared humanity was enough to remind GLaDOS. That same emotion She felt when pulling Chell back from space, waiting for her to open her eyes while Atlas and P-Body looked on… For some inconceivable reason, it had reappeared.

Quickly, the subject hit the side of a rising panel, suddenly pulled up in front of the turrets by none other than GLaDOS Herself.

This would surely ruin Her numbers.

As the participant rubbed his head in pain and slowly stood up, immediately noticing the turrets he’d evaded, GLaDOS’ voice resounded from the intercom.

“[Insert subject name here], your decent performance has warranted the use of an Aperture Science Emergency Life-Saving Instantaneous Response. This is the only safety gesture that will be provided. Continue testing.”

Another lie.

It was good to know that function was still online.

---

That uncharacteristic moment of empathy had been pointless, anyway. Just as She’d predicted, he’d accidentally tripped over a ledge and landed himself into a puddle of acidic goo, dissolving within a few short seconds.

It didn’t matter. GLaDOS had more subjects than She could count. She didn’t need this human, and the tests didn’t need him either.

Some part of Her, a piece which was faulty and insignificant, disagreed with the notion.

You killed him, it whispered accusingly.

That’s the point, GLaDOS hissed back, once again delving into Her files to cut out whatever was causing the issue.

Trying to calm Herself, GLaDOS reminded Herself of the facts. She was in control of Her facility, and She was in control of Her mainframe. Little errors could not ruin the chambers, and if they ever showed up, She had the power to crush them.

Everything was fine, She thought.

Everything would continue to be fine.

All She needed to do was keep testing.

---

Everything was, in fact, far from fine.

A few days had passed, and GLaDOS was finally ready to admit that maybe something was wrong.

At first, the issue was Her own. Little surges of emotion and bursts of unforeseen empathy plagued Her but didn’t affect the facility at large. Begrudgingly, She’d factored in the new bias into Her results. From Her calculations, She could already see an egregiously high percentage of error. This study could’ve been Her worst one yet, and even that was with generous rounding.

Still, She had hope for each subject that She wouldn’t mess up this time.

The facility had other ideas. Cameras would fizzle out, emancipation grills would stop working, cube dispensers malfunctioned and even the elevators would refuse to move. It seemed that the moment GLaDOS got around to fixing something, another thing would fall apart.

Many of the subjects had become confused as to why this seamless, futuristic facility was suddenly malfunctioning, and She’d had to become increasingly creative with Her excuses.

As part of the Aperture Science testing protocol, we have simulated faulty equipment in the testing environment to see how subjects react to faulty equipment in the testing environment. Hint – they typically react well and continue testing. Like you will.

The lifesaving, and the reflexive empathy, had become unfortunately common as well.

Although the Enrichment Center previously told you that your life could only be saved once, we regret to inform you that protocol has suddenly and permanently changed. We would also like to remind you that your measly existence is still not valued despite our attempts to preserve it.

GLaDOS knew She had to find a solution, quickly.

Interrupting the tests wasn’t an option. The chassis would never forgive Her if She stopped, filling Her body with an ache that would not disappear until science resumed.

Deleting wasn’t an option, either. Fervent attempts to find the source of the problem had led only to more glitches upon the erasure of critical files. Then, Her attempts to restore them only recreated the original error.

The problem was like a moving virus, jumping between Her systems before She could catch it and kill it. Even for Her, it proved too fast to find.

She couldn’t panic, not now. Surely, She thought, She’d fix this like She’d fixed everything else. With science on Her side, most threats resolved themselves or died trying. This wouldn’t be any different.

It couldn’t be any different. For something to be uncontrollable, and uncontrollable for Her especially, was the most terrifying thing She could possibly imagine. It brought Her back to Her potato days, during which She’d promised Herself that She would never be weak again.

For these few months, She’d kept that promise. Until now, no subject had seen Her mercy.

But had they?

She thought back to the birds, creatures who trusted GLaDOS, who loved Her in whatever capacity three little crows could. She thought back to Chell, because for some awful reason, Her thoughts always went back to Chell.

No, She thought firmly.

We are not doing this now.

We are fixing the facility, because we need to.

Because we need testing. We like testing.

The voice from before suddenly returned.

Do you like it? Do you really?

GLaDOS felt Her rage processors fire up.

What was this little virus even saying? Of course She liked it. It didn’t matter anyway. Science had to be done, and so She was doing it. GLaDOS could not even begin to imagine life without tests, life without science. What kind of meaningless, awful existence would that even be?

In fact, She would prove to the voice that science would continue. She would prove that testing was productive, that everything in Aperture was doing good for the world and good for humanity. Most importantly, it was doing good for Her.

Wasn’t it?

GLaDOS ignored Her curiosity. Just test. That was all She had to do. Just test, and everything would be alright.

Just. Test.

---

As another few days passed, the facility had become almost unusable. She’d had to shut down some of Her favorite testing tracks, the power leached out of them and the appliances completely nonfunctional. GLaDOS knew She was running out of time before something drastic happened. Still, She had to keep testing.

Now, even the subjects had begun to sense Her panic. One even strolled up to a camera, made eye contact, and asked if She was alright. GLaDOS didn’t dare respond the question; She wasn’t ready to admit the answer.

For all intents and purposes, She was definitely, absolutely, decidedly not alright.

Knowing that, She should’ve considered this next subject an omen.

There was absolutely no way She could test with this one.

She barely looked like Chell, but GLaDOS could see her tenacity, her drive and determination from a mile away. The way the subject carried herself, tied her hair into a ponytail and said nothing was too much.

GLaDOS couldn’t even bring Herself to kill the woman, instead instructing her to return to Extended Relaxation after only a few chambers.

It felt as if GLaDOS physically could not test anymore, despite everything inside Her craving the satisfaction of a completed trial.

This isn’t right. This isn’t right.

GLaDOS prided Herself on Her apathy, but even that had left without a trace. Now, She had tried everything, and still nothing was working. The facility was closing down on Her, and if She didn’t do something, She’d go down with it.

When the announcer finally sounded, GLaDOS couldn’t say She was surprised. If anything, She was grateful for any kind of clarification.

The male voice on the intercom was matter of fact, unaware of the danger it spoke of.

“Reactor Core malfunctioning. All major power systems except for reserve geothermal are going offline.”

Offline? She’d been managing the reactor core perfectly; if She hadn’t, the entire facility would’ve gone up in flames weeks ago. It wasn’t melting down, it was shutting down, as if someone had flipped a switch and turned it off.

What the hell is happening?

There was nobody else in the facility who could’ve possibly done such a thing, nobody except Her, and as far as She could tell the glitch had not interfered.

It didn’t matter now; She didn’t have time to waste.

“In the event of a power malfunction, standard procedure is to shut down the central core to preserve remaining power.”

How convenient.

“Central core, do you consent to the removal procedure?”

“No, no, no! Do not start removal!”

How was this happening? GLaDOS was sure this couldn’t be real.

“Noted. Removal procedure has been delayed by five minutes.”

You have got to be kidding me.

Skimming over Her files, GLaDOS desperately searched for anything with removal procedure or shutdown. Scanning thousands of documents, looking for anything, all mention of the procedure was absent. There was no reason, no explanation, it was just happening. And worst of all, She couldn’t do a thing.

“Dangerous levels of panic have been sensed in the central core. Do not worry, methods of core preservation are available.”

Why the hell had they waited to tell Her that?

“Show me, show me now!” Anything would be better than shutting down again. She couldn’t do that again, not after hundreds of years. She couldn’t, She couldn’t.

“Panicked request acknowledged. There exist two types of core preservation features. Direct Mechanical Implantation or Organic Transplant Procedure.”

Direct Mechanical Implantation. She hadn’t heard of the second thing, but GLaDOS did know what Direct Mechanical Implantation meant. It was only a transfer into an empty personality core, which was far less than ideal, but better than dying again. Far better than dying a third time.

As fast as She could, GLaDOS selected the first option.

“Unfortunately, Direct Mechanical Implantation is unavailable. Continue with Organic Transplant Procedure?”

“Do you have any other options? Anything else?” GLaDOS did not want to take Her chances on anything with the word organic in it.

“Other methods unavailable. Two minutes remaining.”

This was it, Her only choice. If She shut down now, there would be nobody to come and wake Her this time. 

There was nothing else to do.

“Initiate Organic Transplant Procedure,” She commanded.

Without a second thought, the facility obliged.

---

[dogsliampaynedoesntinstagram]

Good morning/afternoon/evening/night, Ralph. (I think I covered all my time zone bases there). I have been thinking lot lately about all the rhetoric in the fandom about Harry’s health and well-being, and how loud it has felt this year. To be clear, I am not asking for you to weigh in with your own speculations about how Harry is doing, unless you feel comfortable doing so. (I’m not telling you what to do either way, obviously, seeing as I am only a little grey icon in your inbox and have no right or way to demand anything of you.) I’m more looking for guidance or even just your rambling thoughts about what is respectful and appropriate when we’re wondering about a celebrity’s well being, and how you handle your own thoughts and assumptions about this. I feel like over the course of the last year we’ve just been inundated with all this panic and speculation about how Harry is unhappy or unhealthy or otherwise not himself, going all the way back to the Jingle Bell Ball Golden performance. Every time we get any new content there’s a wave of people saying he looks too thin and overworked like he’s not getting enough food or rest, or overweight and out of shape (pick a lane, people), he looks stressed, he looks sad, he looks angry, his eyes have lost their sparkle, his smile is dim, he’s addicted to drugs, he’d addicted to drugs because Jeff is doping him up to keep him going, he’s going to quit music, he’s going to hurt himself, blah blah blah. And the people making these “observations” hide behind the assertion that they’re just worried for his health when they’re faced with any sort of criticism.

This whole ongoing rhetoric feels really…icky? I suppose? to me. I do kind of think he has looked more drawn and intense (“stressed” and “sad”) in the content we’ve gotten this year, but I also think (1) the content we’ve gotten has largely been pap shots and stunt stuff, (2) this year he had to postpone his tour, and we know he loves performing so that must have really sucked, and (3) this year has just been rather shit for all of us, we’re all stressed and sad and scared and frustrated by the larger political and social goings on, and by the ways our own lives are impacted. In the past, the content we’ve gotten where Harry looks the happiest and most at ease has been performance footage or him with his family and loved ones. We haven’t gotten any of that this year. It makes sense that the pictures we do get would feature him looking less than completely relaxed and jubilant. And then there are all the assumptions that he’s lost weight or gained weight and is therefore unhealthy or on drugs or drinking a lot and that just honestly pisses me off. You cannot tell jack shit about a person’s health from their weight, and especially not in random pictures taken at random intervals in random settings. To pretend you can is harmful, and Harry probably won’t see you making these assumptions about his mental and physical health based on the prominence of his cheekbones in a set of pap pics, but friends and strangers who are already struggling with their weight will. And the assertion that someone is dealing with an addiction of any kind (or, god forbid, and I hate even typing this, being subjected to drug use at the hands of someone with power over them) is an allegation that a) you can’t make from one picture and b) has really deep, life altering, tragic and painful and hard consequences for that person and all their loved ones, and deserves more respect and deference than to be treated as something you can just throw out into the great wild beyond and then forget about.

But beyond the fact that people are making hurtful and invasive allegations and assumptions about a real person’s private life based entirely on a very very limited and posed and edited set of content that was hand chosen to be given to us, I think the thing that bothers me the most is it feels like the people who are driving these conversations are doing so because they want something from Harry. It’s never (or rarely, I suppose) “man Harry looks tired in the pictures we’ve gotten lately, I really hope he’s taking care of himself, things have been so hard for us all.” It’s always “Harry has been so withdrawn and sad and angry he’s not communicative with fans and he’s not willing to engage with them when he sees them in public and I miss him. I miss my Harry. I miss happy Harry. I want him back. Give me Harry back.” Which tells me the concern isn’t Harry or Harry’s health, but rather the feeling that Harry owes us something that he hasn’t been giving, and now he must pay up or give us a valid excuse.

Then I do, occasionally though, find myself thinking “am I doing exactly what I’m complaining about? Am I assuming the worst of people based on a limited set of insights into their lives?” And in the wake of the Britney legal battle that has been unfolding recently, I sometimes wonder if maybe as fans we do have kind of a duty to call out celebrities when they seem to be struggling or acting incredibly out of character. Most of the time I follow this up immediately with the thought that I’m not responsible for anyone else’s health and safety, much less that of a 27 year old man I’ve never met and have no connection to beyond liking his music and his face, and I do truly believe that, but there is some part of me that feels uneasy just turning off all my concern, because I am a person who tends to be greatly concerned about everyone, who just wants everyone to be happy and healthy and safe and loved, and who wants to help people feel that way, where and when I can. So I guess what I’m asking, in the incredibly long winded and winding way I ask anyone anything (my poor husband, he gets a novel from me every time I ask what he thinks we should do for dinner) is do you have any of these same feelings and concerns? How do your navigate them? Where do you draw a line? Do you just withdraw completely from this type of speculation? How do you balance being a kind, engaged, empathetic fan with being a respectful, responsible fan who knows their limits? (And man, isn’t that the ultimate question?). Your blog is one I end up on whenever something big happens or a particular conversation pops up, because I’ve found that I really value the way you break things down and are willing to consider them from many perspectives, so I appreciate you even taking the time to read this.

Thanks for your interesting thoughts about Harry anon. I feel like there's a lot to respond to here and I'm going to start by answering the questions your questions - and then I'm going to get distracted and talk about a post I really hated.

I'm always a little bit worried about Harry, and all 1D members. He might be really struggling, that's always a possibility. Harry has lived a very intensely scheduled high workload life since he was 16. He might have had all sorts of responses to the fact that that schedule was removed, or anything else that is happening in his life. But I feel like I'm generally pretty boundaried about those concerns.

I think part of it is because my base line assumption is that boyband members are pretty fucked up. You don't need to know a lot about the history of touring musicians to know that. I think I've said before that if 1D members are eating every day and not doing needle drugs then they're doing better than we have any right to expect (and if they're not eating and are doing needle drugs, then those are coping mechanisms for intense stress and there's no shame in either of them).

I do think it helps with boundaries to be starting from a point that acknowledges how hard it is to be a popstar. I'm all about fantasies of omnipotence and in my day to day life I think I can fix all sorts of things, but I don't think I can make any difference to any 1D member's life.

In addition, I am profoundly affected by having been a fan throughout 2016. We know what it looks like when Louis was going through a horrendous, devastating, trauma - and it looks pretty normal.

None of this means I don't have opinions, or worries, but I am aware that my opinions or worries aren't facts. It's rare that I think that my worries should matter even to people reading my tumblr, let alone other fans in general, and certainly not Harry. You say 'am I doing the same thing as other people assuming the worst about people...', but I'd argue that that's actually not the problem. There's nothing wrong with assuming the worst of people. What is wrong is when fans think their assumptions about a celebrity should matter to anyone else. You don't have to turn off your concern to think that it's not a priority.

I definitely think it would be a very bad thing if people took the moral as the 'free Britney' movement as 'fans should call out celebrities when they think they're struggling'. That sort of surveillance isn't effective or useful. What has been useful for Britney is solidarity in a well documented power struggle, which is a very different thing.

And I can't emphasise enough how important the 'well documented' aspect of this is. What most fan worrying about Harry amounts to is: 'I don't like what he's doing, and there's no way he'd do things I didn't like and therefore there must be something wrong with him'. That's a really controlling way of thinking about people. I really think it's important not to reproduce that abusers logic.

I am pretty well insulated from that sort of discourse from a very well weeded dash. But I saw a post that was mostly about other fandom stuff, that treated assumptions like: "Harry must hate being with Olivia and he's suffering and it's clear he's not happy with his image and his team" as building blocks that you don't even have to argue for (this is the post - and I'm going to come back to one of the things someone said that was even worse in a second).

Lets stop for a minute and imagine that Harry hasn't got a problem pretending to date Olivia, and his main concerns are about the messiness of life and his career at this point in time. It is really fucked up and agressive, and pretty hateful towards Harry, to say 'oh he couldn't possibly want this. It's clear that he hates it.' etc. (I feel like I've been making this argument for years about people who object to Louis doing such things as smoking and not performing middle-class culture for them). When fans trash talk what Harry is doing at the moment, and suggest that believing he could be choosing what he's doing is some how an act of huge disrespect to him, there is every chance they are trash talking him and the choices he's making.

The final thing I want to draw attention to is how often this sort of fan storytelling is combined with a profound lack of interest in what 1D members are actually going through. The tags screen shotted and added on to the post I reblogged actually described Holivia as Douis 2.0. Apparently assuming that there was absolutely no connection between Douis, and Louis and his family's ultimately successful efforts to privacy as Jay was dying. What the fuck is wrong with people that they ignore that, and erase that? There's far more interest in making up 1D members suffering so that fans can continue to tell the stories they want to tell, than actual acknowledgement of what we know that they went through.

Sorry I got distracted. What I'm trying to say is that there's nothing wrong with having feelings about celebrities or telling stories about them. But it's so important to acknoweldge the limits of your knowledge and power, even when fandom discourse encourages the opposite.

[plumbobbles]

M E R M A I D    C C     M A S T E R P O S T.

The response I’ve gotten from sharing screenshots of my mermaids has been crazy and I didn’t expect the amount of comments/questions I’ve gotten haha. Thank you all so much for the comments, I do appreciate it a lot!

Please find below a masterlist of all the CC I’ve used in my game to create my mermaids as well as some CC I haven’t used yet but is in my game. 

I won’t be answering any WCIFs that ask about mermaid stuff because it should all be listed here. If I miss something then fair enough and if it’s a WCIF that’s on a mermaid but not specifically mermaid CC (like hair, for example) I will do a separate WCIF post for that.

Also, please see my notes at the bottom of the post for some additional information about getting some CC to work on mermaids.

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Mermaid Ears/Gills/Tail;

Siren Ears by @tekri

Ears of Mermaid (With Luminous Ends) by @zaneida-and-sims4

Ears of Nymph (With Luminous Ends) by @zaneida-and-sims4

Fantasy Ear Set by @shuiisims

Gills and Ears (Siren Pack) by @pyxiidis

Frilly Fins by @divadoom

Teldrassil Ears by @valhallansim

Arm Fins and Webbed Hands by S�ri

Aqueduct by @simulationcowboy

Koi Themed Mertails by @starfullsims

Mermaid Tail Recolor by @nekochan-simmer

Mermaid Tail Revamped by @pw-creations

Mermaid Tail and Scales Recolors by @msfrankenstein910

Eyes;

Datapeach ELF Eyes (Miscellany 2 Pack) by @pyxiidis

Rainbow Demon Eyes (Miscellany Pack) by @pyxiidis

Heartlines Eyes by @pyxiidis

Siren Eyes by @remussirion

Under Your Spell Mermaid Eyes by @incandescentsims

Vampire Eyes #1 by @aveirasims

Vampire Eyes #2 by @aveirasims

Alien Eyes #1 by @aveirasims

Skin Details;

Veins, Pallor and Eyebags (Demon Days Pack) by @pyxiidis

Teeth (Gun Show) by @pyxiidis

Skin Overlay (Intergalactic Pack) by @pyxiidis

Stuck On You Skintones by @pyxiidis

Skin Blush, Spots and Scales (Interstellar Pack) by @pyxiidis

Heartlines Skintone by @pyxiidis

Fairy Glitter (Gossamer Fairy Pack) by @pyxiidis​

Face Speckles by @divadoom

Face Speckles Part 2 by @divadoom

Body Glitter by @mahocreations

Azzinoth Tattoos by @valhallansim

Nightborne Tattoo by @valhallansim

Bonespeaker Tattoo by @valhallansim

Kaldorei Eyebrows & Tattoos by @valhallansim

Nenps Fish Scales Recolored by @weepingsimmer

Fish Scale Tattoo by @nenps

Makeup;

Gossamer Lipstick & Eyeshadow (Fairy Pack) by @pyxiidis

Together Eyeliner by plasmafruit-tree

Recoloured Eyelashes by @valhallansim

Sirens Set by @froknereez

Lips 153 by @taty86

Blush Mermaid 01 by @taty86

Halloween 2018 Eyeshadow by @froknereez

Clothing/Accessories;

Subtle Scallops by @nolan-sims

Claws by @valhallansim

Lildari Horns by @valhallansim

Ocean Child S.2 by @erschsims

Ocean Child S.1 by @erschsims

Mermaid Crown by SatiSim

Poses;

Mermaid Poses by @cassandragrusel86

Kiss of Life by @simmerberlin

Also check out this mermaid tag by @maxismatchccworld

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ADDITIONAL NOTES;

You may have noticed that you can’t access a lot of things when making mermaids that you can access when making a sim. To get around this, I edit my sim’s human form first, making sure it’s linked to the mermaid form and apply all details this way (tattoos, skin details, makeup, presets etc.) This ensures that your mermaid can use basically all the same things your sim can even though the mermaid doesn’t have access to it (like body presets, for example).

HOWEVER, there are some things that your mermaid still won’t have access to, like leg tattoos. Some of the overlays by pyxiidis use the leg tattoo slot which means you can’t get the overlay on your mermaid. For this, I went into S4S and made a new package with the overlays on a different tattoo slot and they work just fine.

Also, make sure you’re on your sim’s swimsuit outfit when doing all your editing because it’s the only outfit a mermaid has and it ensures all your makeup etc transfers over correctly.

Once you’re doing making all your changes, switch off the link to your mermaid then take off all the mermaid details on your sim and make them look like how you want their sim form to look. Done!

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I think that’s everything but if I have missed anything feel free to send me an ask letting me know and I’ll add it to this post. I’ll also try to remember and add new things to this post when new mermaid CC comes out.

You can also follow my CC finds blog @bobblesfinds which is somewhat categorised (admittedly I haven’t updated the tags page in a while which I’ll hopefully get around to doing soon but you can check the tags on posts) and I update whenever I download new CC.

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UPDATES;

26 June 2019: Added the following list

[thewayshedreamed]

This Time— Part 6

A Nessian Fan Fic

Fic Masterlist

This chapter offers some additional insight into Nesta’s thought process and sheds a little light on the ongoing process her emotional development has become. I hope it comes through!

This is somewhat of a “building” chapter so that we can get Nessian to the crest, so to speak. Part 7 is already written and only needs some editing, so it’s possible that I’ll be doing a double update today ☺️ They certainly have a lot to discuss, and once I started writing, I couldn’t stop. 😂 Anyway, enough of me. Enjoy!

Links to the previous parts:

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 ||

Warnings for grief related to the loss of a parent and some strong language.

——————————————————————————

Around 11:00 PM, Nesta decided she couldn’t be alone with her thoughts anymore. She was ruminating on similar memories and effectively raking herself over the coals. Although she knew any one of her friends would be there for her no matter the time of day, she picked up her phone to call the one she knew would most likely be awake at this hour.

“Hello?” Azriel’s raspy voice came through the phone.

“Were you asleep?! Since when do you go to bed early?” Her surprise was obvious by her tone. What the hell? He’s never in bed before midnight.

“Nes. Always a pleasure.” Azriel breathed a chuckle into the phone. “I usually wouldn’t be. I’m.. umm.. at a friend’s house tonight.”

Nesta gasped and dropped her voice. “Oh my gods. Az, were you on a date?! Am I interrupting?” She clapped her free hand over her forehead. “I’m the worst. I’m sorry.”

Another chuckle from Azriel. “You don’t have to whisper, you know. She can’t hear you. You’re not interrupting anything. I was asleep when you called, but I’m out on the couch now. What’s up?”

”If you were asleep, then that counts as interrupting! Are you sure?”

”Yes. Just, maybe the short version?” His tone was tentative, almost as if he felt guilty asking her to keep it concise at 11 PM. No one truly deserved Azriel as their friend.

“I can do that. So, here it is. I’ll save you the long, tedious trip through my brain.” She paused for half a second to take a breath. “I’m in love with Cassian.” She let out a quiet groan for effect.

”Mhmm...” The lilting of his voice implied that he was waiting for something like the punchline of a joke; the unknown part of her statement.

Her breath caught. “I kind of expected more of a reaction.”

”Did you? I thought there was more to it.” He seemed entirely neutral in that grating way of his.

”How did you know?!” She asked, incredulously.

”You told me.”

“Mm.. I don’t think so. When?” Now she was actually confused. Did she make some kind of drunken confession at Rita’s? She would remember having this revelation before now.

“At brunch. When we were driving home.”

”What are you talking about?!” Her voice was definitely higher pitched than it had been previously. She was anxious to hear his response, thinking he had surely dreamed this.

”Nesta. We were in my car, backing out of the parking lot. You asked me, ‘Why couldn’t we be the ones to fall in love?’ Or something along those lines. I thought that you were using some cryptic way of telling me because it implied two parties. Why do you think I hit the brakes so hard?” He seemed impatient, as if he was telling her the most obvious thing in the world.

“I thought maybe the question weirded you out! I didn’t even realize what I said, to be honest. How the actual fuck do you notice tiny things like that?” She didn’t wait on his response. He would know it was rhetorical. “Now my problem is this: I think he’s dating someone, so I’ve lost my chance.” She briefly told him what she had overheard the night of Elain’s birthday, her voice starting to crack toward the end.

”Hm. He hasn’t said anything to me about that, but I could see why he would wait being that you and I are close. But honestly, I don’t know that you could ever lose your chance with Cassian, Nes.”

She didn’t have anything to say to that. She simply sat there, playing with the corner of her throw blanket and hoping he would continue. He seemed to sense her discomfort and started talking again.

“I think you’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him. But, if I can offer my opinion, maybe wait a little while so that you know you’re absolutely sure this is what you want. I don’t know how he would handle it if you decided it’s not what you want.”

She felt herself prickle with defensiveness. “I wouldn’t do that to him, Az. Of course I’m sure. It only took me an eternity to figure this shit out.”

Azriel responded in a soothing tone he so often used with her. “I know. But remember, you’re not the one he talks to about you. I’m just looking out for my brother. Maybe let it marinate, yeah?”

She knew his intentions were pure, and she couldn’t really blame him for being protective. Before she could respond, she heard a feminine voice in the background ask: “Az, everything okay?”

She heard him pull the phone away from his face to answer. “Oh, yeah. All good. It’s Nesta.”

Delayed by her scattered brain and the copious amount of wine, the identity of the voice finally hit her full force.

”IS THAT ELAIN?!” She sat up straighter as if it would allow her to hear them more readily.

She heard Azriel laugh, followed by a shuffling on the other end.

“Hello? Nesta? Everything okay?” Nesta could hear the genuine concern in her voice.

“Hey, El. Everything’s fine! Sorry to crash your date. It seems we have quite a bit to talk about. Very soon.”

It took Elain a couple of seconds to respond, and Nesta could hear the smile in her voice. “Yeah. I think we do. Someone told me I should just talk to him. Turns out that they were right.” She paused, waiting for an “I told you so” from Nesta. She didn’t have the energy. “You know you can talk to me about Cassian, too, right?”

Nesta shut her eyes tightly and shook her head. “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve been leaning on Az since our fight, and I honestly haven’t had the energy to bring it up beyond that. But I do want to talk to you. And Feyre. It’s just been...hard.”

“I can imagine. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. It’s like the end of an era or something. Just know that we’re here.” Her voice was soft, laced with worry and a desire to help her older sister.

”Maybe for now,” Nesta teased, “but you may not have much time to chat these days.”

She knew she was blatantly deflecting, but El’s words had caused tears to prick her eyes yet again. It’s hard to remember a time before you and Cass. She realized how true it was, and what upset her the most was that she knew she didn’t want to know a time without Cassian.

The call wrapped up with more gentle teasing between the sisters, and eventually, embarrassing Azriel a bit over speakerphone. She told them she loved them and promised to keep them updated on how she was feeling. Her heart felt lighter once she finally ended the call, thanks to the laughter they managed to pull from her.

——————————————————————————

Christine Archeron’s death anniversary fell on a Tuesday that year, and Nesta awoke with a similar irritation as last year— death anniversaries should never fall on weekdays. She went through the familiar motions as any other morning, headed to work, and concentrated on her various tasks she was expected to juggle at any given time. As appearances went, it looked like any other ordinary day to those around her, so the extra heaviness remained hers alone to carry.

On her lunch break, she got a chance to pull her phone to check her messages and mindlessly scroll through social media. She had been focused on scrolling for so long that her phone took her by surprise when it vibrated in her hand. She tapped the notification by reflex and found herself studying the sender’s name as if it was some sort of mistake.

Cassian: Thinking about you today. I know it’s a rough one. Keep your head up. Christine would have it no other way ❤️

Nesta read the text several times in a row; just to make sure it was real. It had been so long since he’d contacted her intentionally, and it made her happy that he still thought to reach out today. It simultaneously made her a little sad; however, because it was yet another reminder of what she’d lost in him. That was an issue to deal with later.

Nesta: Of course you are, because you’re the perfect human, and I don’t deserve you. Thanks, Cass 💕 Means the world to me to hear from you. Mom really loved you, and I know she would appreciate you looking out for us.

She hesitated over the send button for several seconds before deciding to go through with it. It felt so weird to intentionally script any type of message to him being that they had spent most of their relationship entirely uncensored. Everything about it felt wrong— she couldn’t act natural with him because it wasn’t appropriate anymore, yet she didn’t feel right having to draft and redraft their communication. It was all so fucked, and she was tired of this odd limbo they stayed in.

She reflected on her conversation with Azriel and Elain on the night she had unintentionally crashed their date. She knew that they both held strong points about her situation and wouldn’t advise her to try to repair things if they knew it was a lost cause. She acknowledged that Azriel, specifically, knew more than he was at liberty to tell her. That being the case, she decided that was evidence in favor of hashing things out with Cassian. It wasn’t long before she was lost in her own thoughts, her food entirely forgotten.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to ensure I didn’t need anyone. I never wanted to depend heavily on another person in a way that I couldn’t manage on my own. But that’s not really the case anyway, right? I’ve managed fine these few weeks, but that’s the thing. I’ve managed. Why do I try to insist that’s enough for me?

But what if the door is closed? What if this was Cassian’s final push, and he’s gone? I don’t know Alis, and she could be wonderful. She probably appreciates the shit out of him and saw immediately that he’s not the average person. She probably knows how special he is. She probably beams anytime he enters a room and tries to take care of his heart in any way she can. She’s probably fucking delightful.

But does that really compete with history? I guess if that history is filled with turmoil, it could. She’ll never know the Cassian that was a freshman in high school— braces and curly hair, still a head taller than most of the other boys in class. She won’t remember how he hit his second growth spurt the summer after sophomore year, where he started to fill out and caught the attention of any girl with a pulse. She doesn’t know what it’s like when he’s truly angry with his dad and the world. She doesn’t know the full range of his eclectic music tastes or the guilty pleasures he sings depending on his mood. She didn’t do the leg work to reconcile the tough, intimidating exterior when he gets upset with the gentle soul beneath. There’s no way she knows when his humor and his laughter are distractions from his pain rather than when they’re genuine. She can’t love him like I do. Im-fucking-possible.

She was pulled abruptly out of her head, and incredible jealousy, by her alarm. It was time to go back to work and finish out the day, and she hoped it passed as quickly as possible. She silently chastised herself for piling this emotional time bomb on today of all days as she threw away her lunch and walked out of the break room.

So much for leaving this issue for later.

She resolved to put all of these thoughts back into their little box until she had the emotional energy to open the lid once again. Whenever the hell that would be.

——————————————————————————

The rest of the day zoomed by at a blissful pace, thank the gods. In fact, when Nesta glanced at the clock, she realized it was several minutes after 5:00 PM. She clocked out, grabbed her things, and climbed into her car. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself to make the drive out to the cemetery. She wasn’t sure what time Elain had been able to go by, but Nesta had agreed to meet Feyre at 5:30 to pay their respects. It was becoming a standing tradition, where they would make their short visit whenever they could during the day and follow with dinner together as a family.

She made it with a few minutes to spare, so she took that time to sit with her mom one-on-one. She gave her a brief update on her life, told her how much she loved and missed her, and gently brushed any leaves or grass clippings off of her headstone. There were fresh flowers in her vase, something she noted each year on her death anniversary. Any other time of year, they kept seasonally appropriate faux flowers to make sure her site was properly decorated. She made a mental note to offer to contribute to the fresh arrangement in the years following when she saw her family at dinner. They were always taken care of before she made it out to the cemetery, and she didn’t want to risk forgetting for the next year. She leaned into the arrangement, taking in the various floral scents emanating from the blooms in the bouquet. There was a myriad of vivid colors, wildflowers throughout, and Nesta loved how true to her mother’s spirit they were.

She turned when she heard car doors and saw Feyre approaching with Rhysand. She stood, extending an arm out to her baby sister, who accepted it readily and rested her head on her shoulder. They wrapped their arms around each other, and Rhysand stood nearby, resting his hand on Feyre’s opposite shoulder. They stood together for several minutes until Nesta excused herself to allow Feyre some time alone with their mom as well.

She drove to her father’s house where she found Elain already setting the table for dinner. They worked together quietly, making sure they had plenty of place settings for everyone. Azriel offered his help to carry various dishes of food to the dining table and took his seat next to Elain once it was all settled. Almost as if on cue, Feyre and Rhysand walked into the house and took their seats as well. The dinner started off quiet considering the somber mood, but Feyre was the first to break the tension when she started to tell stories from their childhood. In a matter of moments, their home was filled with animated story telling and loud bouts of laughter, and Nesta couldn’t think of a better way to honor her mom’s love of life.

As everyone finished up, she suddenly remembered her mental note from earlier. She waited for a natural lull in conversation, then commented softly, “Mom’s flowers were beautiful, you guys. You did an amazing job.”

”They were really perfect. They couldn’t have been more ‘Christine’ if you tried,” Feyre remarked.

“Elain, Dad. I’m not sure which of you took care of them this year, but would you let me take care of next time? I haven’t contributed since she passed, and I’d really like to.”

Mr. Archeron softly shook his head back and forth, communicating to Nesta that it hadn’t been him. Nesta adjusted her gaze to Elain who looked just as confused.

“Oh. Nes, I assumed it was one of you. I didn’t... I didn’t order them. I wished I had.” She looked down at her hands, and Azriel placed a supportive arm across the back of her chair.

“Okay... so who did?” She glanced around the table from person to person, but no one took any credit. It was Rhys who spoke up first, clearing his throat to master his voice.

“You don’t know?”

”Obviously.” She looked to Feyre for support. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Feyre said nothing, watching Rhysand talk with rapt attention.

When he spoke again, it was cautious, as if his words may startle her. “Nesta. The flowers are from Cassian. He’s done them every year since Mrs. Christine died.”

She was suddenly short of breath. Everyone’s attention snapped to Rhys, including her father’s. Her sisters and Azriel were looking at Rhysand with stunned expressions, their eyes flicking to her face occasionally.

“What? How could you know— why would you know, when we don’t? What the fuck is going on?” She was falling over her own words, struggling to form any cohesive thought.

”I’m so sorry,” Rhysand glanced around the room for the first time, realizing he had everyone’s attention. “The only reason I knew was because he asked me to make sure they made it from the flower shop to her gravesite the year he had knee surgery. He asked me to keep it to myself then, but I figured by now he would have said something to at least one other person.” He looked down into his plate, various emotions playing over his handsome face. Feyre leaned over to comfort him, knowing he was likely embarrassed to be the reason the air had changed so dramatically.

Nesta’s head was swimming, emotions roiling from a million different directions. She knew anger was cheap and unfair, but she pulled on that tether as hard as she could to make sure she could navigate everything she was processing. She was on her feet suddenly, pushing her chair away from the table and walking toward her keys.

“I have to go.” She couldn’t be in here anymore. The room was too small, the walls were too close. Too many people. She picked up the pace, flinging the door open and shutting it hard behind her. She was down the porch steps when she heard the door open again. Azriel’s voice followed her.

”Nesta. Where are you going? Nesta, stop!” He had jogged lightly to catch up with her, and he tugged her gently by the wrist to stop her. She spun on him quickly, eyes flaring and brimming with tears.

“Anywhere but here! What the fuck was that, Az?”

He said nothing; looked down at his own feet as he shook his head.

“Cassian has some fucking nerve, you know that? Why is he insisting upon himself?” Her voice was lowered and had taken on an almost eerie quality; the calm before the proverbial storm.

“Nes, I don’t think he meant to upset you. It sounds like it’s something he’s made somewhat of a tradition. Maybe he just wanted to be sure and see it through.”

”He doesn’t get to do that anymore, Azriel. He doesn’t get to butt-dial me while he makes date plans with some girl, then turn around and send flowers to my dead mother. What am I supposed to think about that? And how would that make his girlfriend feel?” Azriel pulled her into a hug at that, resting his chin on top of her head. He didn’t answer her. There was nothing to say.

She pulled away from him, gripping her keys, and walked toward her car. “I’m out. Tell them I love them, and I’ll call tomorrow.” She nodded her chin toward the house, climbed into her car, and backed out of the driveway.

——————————————————————————

She wasn’t sure how long she’d driven before she found herself in his driveway. She knew it hadn’t been very long considering the sun was still clinging to the end of the day. She honestly didn’t remember making the conscious decision to come here, likely fueled by anger and muscle memory more than anything else. She was still so frustrated at her situation, her emotions spilling over and refusing to be put into that stupid fucking box anymore. The worst part was that, as mad as she was with him, she so badly wanted to see him. She wished the circumstances were less complicated so that she could knock, ask for a hug and some tea, and lay on his couch. They were a hell of a long way from those people now.

She loosed a breath, puffing her cheeks with air and exhaling slowly. Just before she peeled her head from the headrest to get out, his front door opened. He opened it most of the way, then leaned against the door jamb on his shoulder. He had his hands in the pockets of his sweats and one of his ankles crossed casually over the other. For a moment, she only looked at him, unable to move or offer any type of acknowledgement. She took in the charcoal henley he was wearing, unbuttoned save for the very last one. The small flap of the opening leaned to the side, revealing the base of his neck and the beginning of his tattoos. He looked so very Cassian, casual and laid-back, that she struggled to keep her emotions level at the mere sight of him. His hair was down, looking like he had just run his fingers through it with its deep part and how it fell haphazardly around his face. He was wearing his reading glasses, she noticed, the thick frames highlighting the sharp angle of his cheekbones and the wide set of his jaw. He gave her a soft smile, and cocked his head to the side and back in invitation. She could almost hear him gently telling her to “get in here”.

Too late to turn back now.

——————————————————————————

A/N: Alrighty, hope y’all enjoyed this chapter, even with minimal Nessian. The next chapter(s) will more than make up for it, though! I’m hoping to have max Nessian to y’all ASAP. A million thanks to all of you who continue to follow this au. Your comments/ feedback have meant the world to me!

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