#I don’t even have any plot past 1/3 of the way through but that’s fine

[glossdebut]

take a bite: remastered | MYG ★ 1

✧ PAIRING: yoongi x fem!reader

✧ SUMMARY: Your fledgling career as a music journalist is finally going in some kind of direction that must be on the path to success. Your coworkers like you enough to invite you out on Fridays, your boss is starting to think you’re competent enough to let you score a few bylines, and you’re finally getting the hang of InDesign. All of your hard work, late nights, and complete lack of a social life are starting to pay off… Even if it all came at the expense of the longest relationship of your life. Fine. You’ve accepted the fact that romance isn’t for you, under any circumstances. You won’t risk your career for anybody. Not even Min Yoongi.

✧ SERIES TAGS: (kind of) slow burn, eventual smut, eventual romance, producer!yoongi, music journalist!reader, neighbors to friends to lovers? you’ll see, reader is bad at feelings, reader is post-break up, now back and better than ever (excluding yijeong's bitchass)

✧ CHAPTER TAGS/WARNINGS: social drinking, mechanical bull-related injuries lol

✧ WORDCOUNT: 3k

✧ STATUS: complete

✧ AUTHOR’S NOTE: OH MY GOD! i've been working on editing this monster for MONTHS now and i'm finally done. in case you're new here, take a bite was the first fic i ever posted back in september 2024! i love this series to bits and pieces, and during my hiatus, i decided to go back through it and make changes to exclude yijeong from the plot + make some edits + add some bonus scenes! i hope that those of you who enjoyed the original series love this version just as much, because i'm so proud of how it turned out <3 i couldn't have done any of it without my friends @ggukivrse @ktownshizzle and @yoonmetogether who kindly beta read the whole series over and over as i made changes! i love every single one of you. thank you for loving this couple so much.

p.s. this series is being uploaded in scheduled posts, so some of the navigation links/masterlist changes will not work until i get a chance to add them later! search the tag 'take a bite: remastered' if you're having trouble finding anything!

p.p.s. happy father’s day to min yoongi the father of my children

CH. 1: turn a bad night to a good time

You can’t help but think to yourself that you should invest in some cowboy boots. You could make them work, you’re sure of it.

Even if you know you would never pull the trigger on purchasing any, too far out of the comfort zone of your normal style, the thought is the only thing keeping you sane—that, and the sound of Cowboy Carter blasting through the speakers of the bar, a welcome reprieve from the drawling country anthems you’ve been suffering through for the past hour or so. 

You pride yourself on seeing the merit in all genres of music, you do. You’ve always been the type of person to puff up your chest with pride when you tell people, ‘I listen to everything,’ uncaring of how pretentious it may sound. You mean it. It’s an asset in your line of work, and as far as you’re concerned, a little bit of pretentiousness is a small price to pay for the, quite frankly, baller route your fledgling career is heading in. 

But a western bar? Not the kind of place you’d spend a Friday night willingly. Your typical Friday involves you hunched over your laptop, drowning in deadlines, or—on a rare night where you clock out before midnight—re-watching Gilmore Girls and mentally compiling your latest thesis on why Rory is, objectively, the worst. 

That was the plan tonight, before you were intercepted on your way out of the office.

It’s not that you don’t like your coworkers. They’re fine. Smart, capable, occasionally even funny. It’s just… Gilmore Girls nights are sacred to you. You were finally getting to the Jess of it all.

But, after months of skillfully avoiding the weekly Friday nights out with the other rookie reporters at the magazine, you’d run out of excuses not to join them. If four years studying communications taught you anything, it was that connections are everything in the journalism business. Especially music journalism.

So here you are, at your fourth stop of your night of bar hopping with your extroverted and extremely drunk coworkers, nursing warm beer and observing from the least populated corner you managed to scout upon entry. 

You’ve been a good sport. You really have. You cheered. You clapped. You downed cheap tequila shots and even suffered through holding an intern’s hair back in a borderline-biohazardous bathroom. But you draw the line at square dancing. College may have beaten most of the awkward out of you, but you still have your limits. Your social battery can only take so much.

Your phone battery, too, you think bitterly as you stare down at the taunting sliver of red in the corner of your screen. 

Okay, so you’ll finish your shitty beer—because you’re not quite successful enough yet to afford wasting alcohol that you’re paying for—and then use your phone’s remaining juice to catch an Uber home. No biggie.

You’re mid-motion, locking your screen, just starting to mentally rehearse your exit strategy when you realize, with no small amount of irritation, that your chosen corner is about to be invaded.

Your eyes land on a pair of black Jordans (in a western bar? your mind supplies, as if you have any room to judge in your Docs) and travel up, past torn black jeans and a black shirt. The monochrome theme continues all the way up to a head of (regrettably, very nice) black hair and a pair of the darkest eyes you’ve ever seen. Anish Kapoor would wail at the sight of these eyes, you think.

As if sensing your apprehension, your corner-thief raises his free hand (the other clutching a plastic cup of his own) palm out, as if to say ‘I come in peace’, and stops dead in his tracks.

“I can find another spot,” your corner-thief says, the low rumbling of his voice barely audible above Texas Hold ‘Em. “I’m just waiting for one of my friends to get bored or injured so I can leave.”

“Injured,” you echo, blinking. That… was not the word you were expecting.

You mean to shrug, maybe give a nod to let him pass. But something about his word choice throws you. Plus, your phone is dead, your beer is flat, and this guy is—if nothing else—much easier on the eyes than the beer pong bros you’ve been observing for the last forty-five minutes.

Corner-thief grins a (stupidly charming) gummy smile, leaning just the slightest bit closer to be heard better, but still keeping a respectful distance. As if he’s still wary that you’ll lunge at him if he encroaches on your space any further. Good man.

“There’s a mechanical bull upstairs,” he clarifies, using his index finger on the hand holding his cup to point at the ceiling above you both.

Of course there is. With your luck, you’ll also have to peel someone off the floor later after going head-to-head with the bull.

"Not your thing?" you guess, glancing pointedly at his Jordans, and he shakes his head, huffing through his nose in mirth.

"No, I wouldn’t say so." 

He pauses, shifting from foot to foot for a moment before speaking again. "So, will you share your wall? I can look around again but this place is more packed than I would’ve pegged it for."

You nod and he smiles again thankfully, taking the spot on the wall next to you. 

That should be it. Two strangers who don’t want to be here standing in companionable silence while they wait for their people—your coworkers, his friends—to put them out of their misery and let them go home.

But… 

You consider your options, and as your phone takes its dying breath in your pocket, you sigh, turning to him.

"Y/N," you say, extending a hand.

He takes it in his free one, eyebrow raising in amusement as he shakes. "Yoongi."

"What’s that look for?"

Yoongi laughs again, more full this time, and your heart does a stupid, funny thing in your chest. "I don’t think I’ve ever been greeted by a pretty girl in a bar with a handshake," he says.

You practically yank your hand back, your face heating as you bring your drink to your lips in an attempt to recover. Of course.

A western bar certainly isn’t your scene, but admittedly, neither are bars or clubs in general. You got all of that out of your system in college where everyone was awkward as fuck or too drunk to care that you were, and ever since you got your degree you have lived and breathed your work. Your social skills were never quite up to par, but you didn’t realize you were this fucking embarrassing.

"I came out with coworkers right after we got off, so I think I’m still kind of in work mode," you lie, and as if sensing that you feel slightly made fun of, Yoongi shakes his head.

"I didn’t mean it as a bad thing, swear," he says, tilting his head at you. Dark eyes considering you. "Honestly, I’m thankful you’re putting up with me at all. I don’t think I’d be so kind if the roles were reversed. I know firsthand how hard it is to find a spot to breathe in places like this."

You let out a small laugh, relaxing just a little. "I almost did. But my heart breaks for a fellow introvert without a hiding place."

"At least I’m out with friends," he says sympathetically. "I’ve done the coworker thing before. It’s a drag."

"It’s weird," you correct. "I mean, I sit in meetings with these people. I avoid answering their emails all day. Why is it considered rude to not want to see them piss drunk?"

Yoongi hums in agreement, nodding his head. "What do you do, anyway?"

"I work for Look Here magazine," you say, standing a little straighter when his eyes light up with recognition. He angles toward you, shoulder brushing the wall, and you mirror him. "I’m a staff writer for the music section."

"No shit? I’ve probably read your stuff, then," Yoongi says, grinning. 

He’s cute. Hot. Charming. You can’t help but notice, no matter how hard you’re trying not to. Particularly, the way that he seems to carry himself might end up driving you crazy if you’re exposed to it for too long. Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, but you’ve never met a fellow wallflower who manages to exude such confidence—the kind that doesn’t overpower, just lingers in the air like cologne.

He wears it insanely well.

"Look Here covers a lot of big artists," Yoongi continues, snapping you out of your thoughts. "I’m a little surprised you’re hugging the wall, honestly. This place is nothing compared to music industry parties."

"Ah, I only started a few months ago," you admit sheepishly, looking down into your cup. "Not a lot of bylines yet. I haven’t made it into a room with an artist that big."

"But you want to," he guesses, and you nod, looking up to meet his eyes. He looks impressed, impressed by you, and that… does something to you. Huh. "Shit, that’s… That’s really cool."

"Thanks," you say. You can feel your cheeks heating up again, and you’re suddenly very eager to turn the attention away from yourself. "What about you? What do you do?"

"Ah," Yoongi says, fixing his eyes to his cup just as you had a moment ago. "I’m a music producer, actually."

You perk up at that. So that’s why he reads Look Here, why he seemed so interested when you told him what you do. 

"Anything I’ve heard?" you ask, leaning in like he’s about to tell you a secret. Networking never stops.

He watches as you lean, his mouth turning up at the corners in a smirk. "Probably." 

You wait for more, but it doesn’t come. Shithead. So much for that.

"You’ve gotta give me more than that," you say, and god, you can hear the pout in your own voice. Are you that drunk? Flirting for a lead in a story?

"I don’t," Yoongi says simply, his smirk in full force now. Mean and annoying and hot. He hasn’t leaned away from you yet. "I want to know more about you, actually. Journalism is hard work. I’m surprised you have time to go out like this."

"Like I said, I was forced."

"Still. Spending time with your friends or family or partner or whatever must take priority when it comes to your free time."

Why is he asking? You squint at him, trying to parse his angle. But your drink loosens your lips before your brain can object. It’s not like you’ll ever see him again, anyway.

"My family is back home. My best friend is this insanely talented playwright. She’s constantly traveling. I see her when she can get some time to fly out. Otherwise, it’s just me. And dating…" You take a quick sip of your drink, ignoring the pang in your chest. Sometimes it sneaks up on you, how lonely you are. You shrug. "People don’t get the job. It always ends in hurt feelings."

There’s a long pause, and you’re worried you’ve shared too much. You’re enjoying talking to Yoongi. You know it doesn’t matter, that you’ll likely never see him again, but it would really, really suck if his permanent mental image of you ends up being ‘lonely weird drunk girl,’ even if that’s what you are. You force yourself to look up at him. The look in his eyes makes your heart flip stupidly again.

"I get that," he says, and his voice is soft, barely audible over the music filling the space. You’re reading his lips more than anything, honestly, and you don’t let yourself look at them for too long. He may be pretty—unbearably so, you’re realizing—but he’s a stranger. A mean, annoying, hot, pretty stranger, but a stranger nonetheless. Every guy says he gets it. 

This needs to stay what it is, you think. Momentary companionship between introverts who would rather die than square dance.

You don’t get much time to agonize over it. Whatever is going on between you and Yoongi is quickly interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket, and his responding grimace when he pulls it out to check it.

"Namjoon fell off of the mechanical bull," he says, like he’s completely unsurprised by that news. He downs the rest of his drink and pockets his phone again, pushing off of the wall. "I’ve gotta deal with that."

You nod, pulling what you hope is a sympathetic face. "Good luck."

His bottom lip catches between his teeth, and you hold your breath. He looks like he wants to say something, torn between rushing upstairs to save his friend and staying, just for a moment.

You think you know what he wants to say, think foolishly that maybe he wants to ask for your number, and you honestly don’t know if you’d give it to him if he did. You’re so used to saying no.

He runs his fingers through his hair, opens his mouth to speak, and then he looks down like his phone is buzzing again. When he looks back up, it seems like he’s thought better of it.

"Thanks for sharing your wall," he settles on, smiling congenially. You smile back, and then he’s heading towards the stairs.

Good, you think. You know better. If he really gets it, he does too.

★ ★ ★

You get dragged to one more bar before you make it home. You’re not sure how you agreed to it, but you choose to blame it on the warmth in your chest left behind by that conversation, those dark eyes, that stupid, infuriatingly charming gummy smile. In a matter of minutes, a complete stranger had knocked you just far enough off balance to keep saying yes when you meant no.

And maybe that wasn’t the worst thing—your coworkers seem to like you more tonight. There’s a lightness between you all now, easier conversations, inside jokes beginning to form. It’s nice. Worth it, maybe.

But by the time your Uber spits you out in front of your building, you're deeply regretting all the different kinds of alcohol swirling around and threatening a coup in your stomach. You shuffle into the elevator dizzy-drunk, fighting to stay upright, the hums and clangs of the old machinery doing nothing to help the way the world spins.

You lean against the back wall, head lolling slightly, as the floor numbers creep by like they’re in no rush at all. Your reflection stares back at you in the smudged metal paneling. Hair a mess. Lipstick long gone. A zit 100% forming on your chin.

Great.

The elevator dings. You stumble out, already digging through your bag with one hand, the other dragging along the wall for balance. You’re sure you put your keys in here. Or maybe in your coat pocket?

"Come on," you mutter, your fingers brushing everything except what you need—lip balm, receipts, your emergency tampon—before they finally find purchase around your keys.

You’re fumbling and failing at getting your key into the lock of your front door, tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration, when a voice calling your name a few feet to your right almost makes you jump out of your skin.

You yell, clutching your chest, and when you turn to face the owner of the voice that almost made you lose the contents of your stomach on your doormat, you’re greeted by none other than corner-thief-mean-annoying-hot-pretty Yoongi himself, leaning against the door to the apartment two doors down from yours.

"What the fuck," you blurt out dumbly, and he laughs. At you! How dare he stand there, lean there, all hot and annoying and in your apartment building for some fucking reason and laugh at you?

"I was going to ask if you needed help," he says, and oh, fuck. You were safe from just how deep his voice was under the thrum of the music at the bar, but in the quiet of your apartment building this late, you can hear it just fine. Feel it, even. Feel it in places you do not want to humor right now. "I’m going to take a wild guess and say you do."

It’s obvious that Yoongi is faring much better than you are, although his night clearly didn’t end after the mechanical bull incident. He gently takes the key from your hand, brushing your fingers with his, and with a single turn—click. The door unlocks like it always does, like it’s easy.

"Gonna make it in okay?" he asks, looking down at you. You force your brain to make words.

"I’ll be okay," you assure him, your tongue heavy in your mouth. "Are you stalking me?"

He huffs a laugh, shaking his head. "I think we’re neighbors."

"Oh." Oh. Okay. That’s fine. Just because he’s your neighbor doesn’t mean you have to do something stupid, like see him ever again.

"Give me your number," he says softly. Oh.

You blink at him, and he grins. Gummy smile. You feel like you’re going to vomit all over his Jordans.

"In case you ever can’t use your keys again," he clarifies, his tone low and teasing. "I told you, those music industry parties are killer."

And really, you’re powerless to resist. You give him your number, using all of your remaining brain power to remember the order of the digits. Seemingly satisfied, Yoongi pockets his phone and steps back, heading back to his front door.

"Goodnight, neighbor," he says, unlocking his door with ease. "Sleep on your side."

You swallow thickly and nod, slipping inside your own apartment as quickly as you can manage. 

Once you’re in, you sink onto the floor, your back pressed against the door behind you. Your cat Pepper, perched on your coffee pot, stares at you in your drunk, flustered state, unimpressed. Offended, even, judging by the way she licks her paw.

You’re so fucked.

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PREVIOUS CHAPTER ✧ MASTERLIST ✧ NEXT CHAPTER

[ambrosiagoldfish]

i’m going a teensy bit feral reading your adam x third spouse story so i guess im just asking for part five and for it to hopefully have focus on dad beat dad and how lucifer would react to seeing the reader again after so long and like what would happen n stuff 🤭🤭 ofc if this is dumb ignore it i like what you’re doing with the story already !! the part im most excited for is the finale tbh but there’s a lot of time in between what you have rn and then so i’m just yapping abt stuff that could be cool in between. thsi is so jumbled omg sorry i just wanna see more of your writing it’s so good

idk how to end this uhh i love you bye 🫡

Benefit of the doubt PT.5

Adam x 3rd Spouse! Reader

Warnings: GN! Reader, confronting the past, next to no Adam (I know, sad, but it’s for the plot), Reader focused chapter, this is set during ‘Dad Beat Dad’, swearing, the next 2 chapters will have a LOT more Adam DW ❤️❤️

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Request Box: OPEN

Word count: 4322

A/n: Hey everyone! Thank you so much for the support on all the other chapters. It’s been 8-ish months since the last update and for that I want to apologize. I’ll save it for its own dedicated post to not full int his page too much. But if you’ve saw one of my post from the other day, I have posted this on A03 and I’m giving myself 8 total parts. 7 will be the finale and 8 will be an epilogue styled thing (not even sure if I’m wanting to do it so when we get there, you guys can tell me if you want it!! ) so yeah, enough rambling, you’ve all been waiting so long for the next part so here you go!! <3

Reblogs are VERY appreciated!

(My posts have been flopping so much, I would love you forever if you did 😭)

Old memories have a habit of slithering their way back into a person's mind, and even sometimes, people

The first few months at fhe hotel were a lot more enjoyable than you originally expected. Most days went relatively the same, Charlie would choose an activity to do and you would observe the progress they made.

At first, progress hadn't shown much promise but as everyone grew closer, things began to look up. Angel had gone clean with his drug abuse and was distancing himself from his line of work. Sir Pentious started to actually trust the people around him and has done no major constructional damage to any buildings as of late.

Everything was going so smoothly that, when you had woken up one morning to the sounds of screaming, running, and just general chaos. You thought everything was finaly going into the ground.

You quickly run down to the lobby, thoughts of what could be happening run through you. Did one of Pentious experiments fail and explode? Were we being attacked by one of the many gangs in town? Did Alastor decide the hotel was actually boring and started destroying it, starting with the occupants? Whatever it was, you hurry faster to the lobby.

But what was meeting you there was… unexpected to say the least. Party streamers, banners, cookies. It looked like some kind of welcome party heaven would do, albeit with less flare and taste in decor. A banner that read ‘Wellcum Daddy’ was being hung up by Razzle and Dazzle, everyone was either cleaning or baking something, and Vaggie seemed to be ordering them around.

You look at the clock, huh, it’s way too early for any kind of Charlie’s trust exercises. Not to mention, she would have told you about the curriculum and there was absolutely not a 10 AM home-EC class listed on your schedule.

You quickly run up to Charlie who seemed to be preoccupied with helping Vaggie put something up “Charlie, what’s going on?” You tap on her shoulder, She jumps a bit before just realizing it’s you,

”Oh- Y/N, I’m so sorry, I completely forgot to get you!” She apologizes when Vaggie pops in,

“Don’t be, I told Nifty to go wake you up, but looks like she had better things to do” she points over at Niffty swifty stabbing bugs and removing cobwebs out of habit

“It’s fine, just… what’s everyone doing, what’s with all the party supplies and sweets?” You say, arms to the festive lobby around you.

“Oh well…” she took a deep breath “you know that The deadline is fast approaching and while we’ve made progress it’s not much” she paused, trying to even brace herself for what’s coming out of her mouth, “I have asked… my dad to come over and hopefully get us a meeting with heaven” she stops, completely caved in on herself.

“Wait, so… your dad is coming here?” you thought about the times she had asked you to get them a meeting with heaven but you had already explained to her that it would be next to impossible for someone like you. You had to practically beg just to monitor the hotel

Charlie Picked herself back up and looked at you with a shakey demeanor, “Yeah In about… 55 minutes”

You blink a few times before giving a small chuckle “Well, would you look at the date! I think it’s time I used my 1-per-month trip back home! If you’ll excuse me-“

“Wait! No-“ she trips over herself “We need you here, if dad can see, not only the progress we’ve made, but also that we already have an angel supporter, there’s no way he could say no!”

“Charlie, I don’t think it’s a good idea-”

“PleasePleasePlease! I will pay you back, promise! But I- we could really use you there!” Her eyes looked at you, similar to a puppy. She hands clasped together In plea.

You looked away in thought. Seeing him again was the last thing you wanted to do at this moment, any moment for that matter. The last time…well to be honest, the whole exchange hadn’t meant anything to you in quite a while. He could say whatever he wanted about you… it was the words he had to say about Adam that kept your heart ablaze in anger at the Morningstar.

Trash? He should really look in the mirror before saying that about your Adam. But… this could be a good opportunity for the hotel -as much as it pained you to admit- You can only sigh, “fine.. for the hotel…” You let out a small chuckle raising your arm in defeat.

Charlie jumped up and down with glee, repeating a matra of ‘Thank You’s’ before continuing “I get it might be difficult since you’re an Angel.” She tries to give some comfort. But that caught your attention.

“Because I’m an Angel?” You honestly didn’t mean to say it out loud but it came out as a question.

She looks at you confused “yeah, you know, considering I don’t think angels have too kind of thoughts to my dad for being… the devil” she laughs nervously

Oh. Oh. So that’s what she means. So she doesn’t know about your past with him? Not too much a surprise, I doubt Lucifer would bring up any of his failures. But that also made you realize one other thing. Charlie doesn’t know about your marriage with Adam.

Look, you didn’t mean to keep it a secret. In fact you had already assumed they knew. I mean you were sitting literally right next to him and Vaggie already knew who you were. You just thought she would have told Charlie, but knowing this now… it may be best to keep it a secret.

You let out a quick “I understand.” and with that, you all went your separate ways, you did contribute to the decor the best you could, as well as helping Sir Pentious and Nifty with the baking until finally, it was time for Charlie’s dad to arrive.

You walked over to a more remote place in the hotel lobby, look… you may have to interact with him today but you will not be doing it that soon. Instead, you decided your best choice of action was to sit and watch quietly until Charlie decided it was time for you two to meet. And in the meantime, you can mentally brace yourself.

Charlie sighs deeply “Okay everybody, it’s showtime!”

With that she swings the door open revealing the one, the only (thank Father) king of hell himself, Lucifer. Immediately Lucifer pulls his, obviously nervous daughter into his arms. He greets her with excitement before moving on to Keekee, and eventually Razzle and Dazzle.

He eyes the room, clearly covering up any distain for the hotels “character” to protect Charlie’s feelings. At least until he got to the bar which even he couldn’t lie his way through.

Even from the distant view you were from, you could see Alastor and Lucifer weren't going to be the best of buds anytime soon. As soon as they were introduced to one another they immediately got into it. Huh, at least now you have something in common with Alastor at least! If that’s even a good thing.

Their quarrel lasted a few minutes, everyone either waiting for it to be over, completely ignoring it, or enjoying it as entertainment. It lasted what felt like an eternity and was only interrupted when a short and plump woman by the name of ‘Mimzy’ came into the scene.

The old time-y dressed woman was one of Alastor’s friends, you honestly didn’t think he had those but you digress. Eventually once the commotion dies down, you see Charlie give you a nervous smile and wave for you, ‘that’s my cue’ you thought. Anxiety still felt taught in your heart but still you pushed through.

You walk out of your hiding spot, walking up to be next to Charlie. Still trying to keep your presence hidden for as long as you could, savoring those last few moments of peace before a wave of interactions.

Charlie clears her throat and puts on a more professional demeanor despite her nervousness, getting the attention from her dad, “And last but certainly not least, i’d like you to meet our Angelic sponsor-“

“Y/N!?-“ the fallen Angel suddenly started coughing, clearly having choked on his own words. He clears his throat “Sorry! I just wasn’t expecting… you to be here” he lets out a chuckle.

“You guys know each other!?” Charlie looked shocked, her voice pitching up in bewilderment.

“We’ve… met before,.” Your voice was low, But still you pushed through “Though, it’s hardly relevant to anything of importance now. Isn’t that right, Morningstar?”

Lucifer's face contorted into an uncomfortable shaky smile, fingertips digging into his Apple-shaped cane. Perhaps he felt some type of remorse for the way things happened back all those years ago, but even if that’s true, you had no plans to forgive him.

He clears his throat “Yes it’s- unimportant Sweetie.. “

You 3 stand in awkward silence for a moment, all you can do is glare daggers at the short ex-Angel in front of you. Eventually though, you couldn’t stand the scilence any longer, “Well Charlie, I have to get something done in my room and I’ll be back to help with the tour in a few minutes, if that’s ok?”

Charlie looked like she wanted to protest, for you to stay with her through the tour, but she knew you wouldn’t just leave and not come back. “Um, yeah that’s fine! Me and Alastor can get the tour started and you can meet us around the 4th floor?”

You gave a quick nod as agreement and make your way to your room. Sighing, you flop down on your bed, feeling the soft warmth as you sink into comfort. Pulling out your phone, you quickly typing a text to Adam but your thumb simply hovered over the send button, anxiety washing over you. Your message was simple,

‘I promise that everything’s ok, but he’s here’’

You were hesitating, should you even tell him that he's here? You didn’t want to worry him over something so insignificant. He has a show tonight, he wouldn’t be at his best if he was constantly thinking you would be in the same room as the devil.

Or even worse, he could just cancel the show completely and march down here and a cause a ruckus which at best would completely destroy the Hotel’s plans and at worse… No, you can’t think of that.

You look at the message again before just setting your phone on your nightstand. 10 minutes… that’s all you need before you go back out there…

…Lucifer was having… let’s just say a tinsy bit of a bad day. Not only has he been forced to interact with that insufferable yellow-toothed sinner but also, he has been reunited with someone he hadn’t seen in a millenia, you.

The anxiety of the day was only topped off with the added stress of being with his daughter. Don’t get him wrong, he LOVES his daughter and is always happy to see her, but the way she talks and acts with these sinners… Ugh, it reminds him too much of himself back in the day.

Her hotel too… He may have given her the place but he never gave it much thought beyond it being a pipe dream for her. He was just trying to do something for his daughter, especially with… Lilith being out of the picture. He just wanted to cheer her up, and unfortunately it seems ‘grandiose plans’ run in the family.

Even now as Charlie and that Red haired Buck show him around, Charlie explains excitedly about different things they have at the hotel. It reminds Lucifer about how she was when she was little, that glow of joy never seemed to fade away from her despite the conditions she lives in.

But even still, as much as he’s trying not to zone out and actually listen to his daughters rambles, his mind keeps trailing back to one, singular thought. You.

What were you doing here? He knows you were there to ‘support the hotel’ as Charlie puts it. But this is the absolute first he’s hearing about it. Why wouldn’t heaven tell him that another Angel was down here, let alone, you most of all. The last time he saw you was… not the best first meeting

Were you here in secret? You clearly weren't fallen, considering you still had your halo and you didn’t look like you’ve been damaged anywhere close to what you’d be if you had fallen. Not to mention… Adam, the exterminations were his idea so why would you even consider an alternative when you are his-

“Uh, Dad?” Charlie interrupted Lucifer’s thoughts, a look of worry on her face. ”You’ve got a little bit of… horn? Sticking out”

Lucifer looks up and sees that he’s subconsciously beginning to phase into his full demon form. He quickly takes his hand and pats the horns as if he was just dusting off his coat, causing the horns to seem to fade away like dust. Wow, today really seems to be getting to him.

“Ah sorry Sweetie, it’s nothing just… uh..” He thinks for a moment, he has to talk to you alone, just for a second. “*Ahem* I was just realizing I had to… use the bathroom, I seem to have had one too many drinks on the way here. Can you tell me where the… bathroom is?” He lets out a chuckle to hopefully cover his lie.

“Oh, it’s just down the hall and to the right, I can take you there-“

Lucifer quickly lets out a loud ”No!“ Before clearing his through again “I can get there on my own, just wait here and I’ll be back!”

Before Charlie can even answer, Lucifer rushes through the halls of the hotel, yelling a ‘I’ll be back soon’ to his Daughter before turning the corner. He lets out a deep breath as he lays out the plan in his head. Figure out why you’re here, and get back to Charlie as fast as inhumanly possible.

Picking his feet up again, he makes his way to the lobby of the hotel, he looks around for a moment before spotting the check in desk. ‘They usually keep visitor information there, right?’

He quickly scours the desk, looking for any forms or documents that have your room number, before finally setting his eyes on your room number. It didn’t take long to find you seeing as there were such few occupants in the hotel.

He memorized your room and repeated it to himself while walking to your door. Past the first, 2nd, then finally, halfway through the hallway on the 3rd floor he finds it. Before he can knock, a sudden wave of worry floods his senses. Seriously, Why would he hesitate now?!

He shuffled around nervously, starting to doubt this little mission of his. Should he really be doing this? Is he really worried about you being here or is the real reason he came here because he wanted to… apologize to you? It’s true that the guilt of what happened all those years ago was still there. But… Digging up old memories just because he’s selfish and wants to apologize to you? He takes a deep breath.

He had to make things better or… at least get some things off his chest. So, with a heavy fist and an even heavier heart, he gently knocks on the hard wooden door…

This had been the longest 10 minutes of your life, trying to decide wether to send Adam the message, or to even return to tour with Charlie at all. As much as it pains you to say, you still become anxiety ridden when he’s in the room or even the mere mention of him. That spark of defiance you had in the lobby earlier being nothing but a small bit of courage. But you remembered that you had promised Charlie you’d be there for her, and you certainly weren’t one to take back a promise.

Before you could decide what to do, you hear an ever so faint knock on your door. Curiosity peaked, You thought Charlie was supposed to be waiting for you on the 4th floor? Had you taken too long and the tour went south? You quickly made your way to the door and hoped you wouldn’t see a very angry Charlie on the other side.

As the wooden-door creaked open, your face slowly turned bitter at The short, impish man who stood on the other side. Lucifer Morningstar. To be honest, you much would have preferred the angry Charlie, TWO very angry Charlies over this.

The man shuffled awkwardly in place, gripping his cane. Neither of you could break the silence . He avoided any eye-contact with you and even you couldn’t hide The disgusted expression on your face when looking at him. Finally after what feels like 3x the eternity you’ve lived thus far, you spoke In shaky words, ”What do you want?”

Lucifer pushed out his words as well as he could, meek they were, but you understood what he said “Can we please…talk?”

Your fingers gripped at the door, nails embedding into the wood, leaving scratches. It took all you had not to slam the door right in his face, but even if you had, it wouldn’t have solved any pressing issues. If anything, it might make him against Charlie’s idea with the hotel, which you couldn’t afford. You take a deep breath before letting out a quick but unsavory,

“5 minutes”

The short demon shuffles his way into the room as you follow in behind him, locking the door to prevent someone like Nifty or Charlie from walking in. Lucifer stands timidly by your nightstand as you stand on the complete opposite side of the room, facing him. Lucifer runs his neck as he lets out a shaky sigh “I just want to know what you’re doing here…” he pauses, he looks like he has more to say but decided not to.

You can only laugh to yourself “I’m here because I believe I think Charlie’s idea has potential to be great. The exterminations, they have to end… that’s why I’m here”

Lucifer seem a bit… surprised? Surprised with your stance on the exterminations. you figured he needed more than that so you continue “I… I’ve never been one for the exterminations. I've been against them from the start. I just didn't know what else to do. Nothing else seemed…right.“

He stayed silent, processing what you told him. He really didn’t understand you, he had a completely warped view of you. “If that’s all you wanted to know I’d rather you take your leave-“

“No!” You step back at the sudden raise in voice but he quickly clears his throat “No, there’s another thing. I would… I’d like to apologize to you about how things went… when we first met.”

You stared at him, the silence once again feeling the air. You didn’t dare break it, you watched as the impish man looked around with anxiety, trying to find the right words. “It’s always been there, in the back of my mind. How we- I, treated you. It was unacceptable… Lilith kept telling me to let it go, that she was done thinking about it, but I just couldn’t.” He takes a deep breath “so, I’m so sorry for hurting you, Y/n…”

Lucifer Morningstar. The man in front of you looked more akin to a puddle than a person at this point. Sweat dripped from his face, a scrunched mouth filled with a sour taste. He wasn’t looking at you, focusing his attention to the ground. Finally, after many long seconds later. You step forward, grabbing his attention.

“As much as I appreciate the apology, I don’t forgive you.” Lucifer began to speak or at least say he understood but no matter what his reaction was going to be, you interrupted him ‘“-I don’t forgive you, because I’m not the one who deserves it”

To that, Lucifer's head was struck with confusion, “what do you mean?” He tried to make sense of your words, shifting eyes looking around in unease before landing on a framed photo of a candlelit man, an old and forgotten, yet familiar smile on his face… ”You mean… Adam?” Despite his best efforts around you, saying the first man’s name still dripped his words with venom. That same sour taste filling his mouth at the mere mention of him. ”What does-” he stops himself, he knows why.

You breathe in slowly, “What you said to me, all of those years ago, hasn’t meant anything to me in a long time. I’ve gotten through it 10x over and finally understand that I am more than those words” you take another step towards him, closing the gap, “so… there's no use for your apology to me. But Adam… you’ve hurt him more than you couldn’t possibly imagine“

The room was filled with dense air, like any sudden move could kill the king of hell or even you at any second but still you continue. “Adam deserved so much better than what he was forced to have from you, so if anyone deserves your apology, it’s him.” He goes to speak but you shut him down again “but we all know that you are too prideful to do so, and Adam… he’s too stubborn to hear it”

You don’t yell, scream, all of your words coming soft from your lips “So… what you’re going to do, if you truly mean what you say. You will go back to your daughter, forget this conversation ever happened, then you can march back to your big castle with your Loving wife, and leave us be, for the rest of eternity.”

With that, you step away from him, words that have been bubbling inside you for centuries finally having been let out. It felt like several hundred pounds had been lifted off of you. You begin to walk to the door to let him out, wanting the conversation to be over, When you hear him speak a faint ”Ex-Wife actually”

You pause, your teeth already biting your tongue. Honestly, if you really thought about it, it was poetic. The Angel who ruined two marriages, leaving Adam nothing but a broken heart and baggage, ended up with a failed marriage himself.

But even still, you still felt a slight pain of pity for him. Through clenched teeth you let out ”I'm… sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”

This kind of thing, no matter the person, is always tough. You knew the aftermath of it through Adam, even now he struggles with so many issues from it. In that regard, you felt pity for the ruler of hell, but the rest of you felt… glad? Glad that he finally understands just a thorn of the pain he inflicted on Adam.

“The 5 minutes are up so… go now… please.” Your voice shakes near the end, your will power for everything you’ve done starting to break. Lucifer looked equally as defeated, you could tell he wanted to say more but he just nodded his head before walking out the door. slowly, silently, you close the door back before sliding down it as your legs give out.

You wanted to cry, scream, do anything but sit there, but you couldn’t. Your voice hurts from talking, your feet hurt from standing, everything just… hurts.

DING DING DING

A luminous yellow light follows the sound, you lifted your head and saw your phone on your nightstand. Adam… You used all of your strength to make it to your bed, practically having to crawl to avoid any more tiredness in your aching body. You finally land on the soft mattress to pick up your phone, seeing the plethora of messages from Adam.

DIXKMASTER69

Yo Bitch, everything good??

You’ve been typing for like 10 minutes

Answer me

Hellllloooooo??????

Oh, that’s why he was texting. You had completely forgotten your half written message you were debating on sending earlier. You start to delete it and rewrite it when suddenly,

INCOMING CALL FROM DIXKMASTER69

You sigh at the screen, your phone vibration sends chills through your aching arms, it acts as a lifeline for you not to fall asleep on the soft plush beneath you. You press the answer button.

‘Fuck Babe, finally! Are you ok?!” Adam’s voice sounded angry but you know he was just worried “you’ve been texting for like 15 minutes”

“Yeah, don’t worry Adam, I... must have fallen asleep while trying to message you”

“It’s 12 in the afternoon, you dont normally fall asleep in the middle of the day” Adam questions, his voice having obvious worry for you.

“Today’s just been very tiring. But I promise I’m fine, it’s just happened a lot today.” You hated lying to him, your other half, but you know this is something that he shouldn’t have to worry about.

You hear him groan, “how many times do I have to fuckin’ tell you not to overwork yourself for those sinners”

“I know, I’m sorry” you pause “I… I have to go now but I promise I’ll call you later, yeah?“

He was quiet on the other side before he lets out “Yeah, just don’t overdo yourself ok?” His voice was soft, no hint of sarcasm or anger, just him.

You let out a small breathy laugh “I promise. Have fun at your show tonight. Talk to you later, love you.”

“Love you too”

CLICK

You sigh to yourself, you still have the tour to do. It’s fine, everything is fine.

Tomorrow will be a better day. it has to be.

-

TAGLIST: @tired-of-life-86 @nervoussystemss @qopia @lovelyemily @hcneyiced @v3r41ynn

@ghostdoodlen @nxptvne-13 @ximenavc-che

@edgyfluff @ericityyy @diffidentphantom @faimmm @slasher-whore69 @1-randomized @ozzersauce @fanlovedlt @alientee @pandaquick @white-00-7 @call-me-nyx @adamstruelove @jennieyeager @sillyycatt @solatiium @my-name-is-heartache @parisiterileymoon @titan-senpai @lovely-night-owl-86 @innergardentoadpony @animefan106sposts @starlightstarbrightmyfirststar @lovkayy @ilikedrinkingsoda @barrythestrawberry041 @deadpoolssweetchimi @asegirllovesreadingporn @ripashy @deleted-1-800 @sirenetheblogger @ur1nonlygabi @aweleyirene @n0tmentallystable

(I really hope I didn’t forget anyone if I did, just asked to be added in the comments!!)

Shoutout to these specific asked as well, love you all <3

[defendingtheowlhouse]

Do you think the show handled redemption arcs (e.g., Hunter, Lilith) effectivelyand do you think certain characters (like Belos) have been given a chance at redemption, or was their fate appropriate?

I personally think the show handled redemption arcs like Hunter’s and Lilith’s fairly well overall, but I also feel they were a bit rushed (mainly Lilith), especially considering how serious some of their past actions were. That said, I’m still pretty happy with where they ended up. As for Belos, I honestly, wasn’t very satisfied with how things ended for him.

I don’t necessarily think Belos deserved a redemption arc—he was clearly a villain who caused immense harm and was rooted in a very specific type of fanaticism—but I do wish the show had explored his backstory more in-depth. We got little glimpses of who Philip Wittebane was, especially through the time travel episodes and Hunter’s arc, but it felt like the show only scratched the surface. Understanding why he became so consumed by his ideology—his fear of witches, his twisted worldview, even his relationship with his brother—could’ve added way more depth to his character. It wouldn’t have excused anything, but it would’ve made his downfall more impactful.

In the end, Belos just felt a bit too one-note, especially compared to how nuanced characters like Lilith and Hunter became. His final moments were more about a satisfying defeat than any sort of emotional resolution, which I get, but it also left me wanting more. If the show had taken time to really dig into his past and what drove his obsession with control and purity, it could’ve made his role as the central antagonist feel less like a symbol and more like a fully realized person.

That said, I totally understand that the creators didn’t have the time to flesh out everything they probably wanted to. With the show being cut short, there just weren’t enough episodes to fully explore every character arc, backstory, and plot thread. And in that sense, I don’t blame the writers—I just wish they’d had more room to let the story breathe, especially with such a complex antagonist like Belos.

1. I've said before, and I'll say it again, lilith didn't really have a redemption arc persay. The consequences of her actions fell upon her, and she had to act quickly to undo her mistakes and accept consequences. She leaves her old life behind and bears the curse instead of trying to avoid social and physical consequences by having belos heal her. Her redemption isn't an arc. It's a set of actions and moments, and I honestly think that's fine and not everything has to work the same way

2. I wouldn't say we should have to redeem belos if he was just a child abuser, let alone a mass murdering, genocidal, child abuser.

3. I feel as if a backstory would just act as fanservice. He's a man who was taught to hate and never let go of that hatred, another who was taught to hate was able to let go showing he wasn't helpless to his time and place, he refuses to accept the guilt in him because he thinks he shouldn't feel guilty and tells himself what he must to avoid that guilt (referring to the hallucination ghost type scene) .I'm not sure there's too much more to say, except maybe saying things a bit more overtly and directly, maybe it would've been more impactfull to show it through a normal episode format where they are characters doing actions and not just ideas of characters but I don't think it's particularly necessary. And sometimes, I even think people except characters to be deeper than their real-world equivalents. It's fine that you didn't feel his downfall, I didn't either, but we seem to be the minority in that regard.

[psychelis-new]

pick a pile: "Hidden meaning of your dreams (night)"

take a breath and choose the photo or number that calls you the most to read about possible hidden meanings hidden behind the dreams you may be experiencing at night. there are also other pacs on this matter, both on this blog and on my instagram, feel free to check them too if you need. I suggest you to always focus on one dream at time when taking this kind of pacs (at least mine). Do not make it general, as different dreams can have different meanings.

don’t take the reading too seriously. only take what resonates with you and leave the rest. if you're not called by any pile, let this reading slid as it may not hold messages for you. if you're called by more than one pile, there may be messages in each of those piles. remember that is a general reading and some things may not resonate with you. energies can change and readings are based on present ones (as you read); you're always in charge of your life.

(photos found on unsplash)

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1 2 3 4 - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ - ’ -

pile 1

This type of dreams may be just to give you company or entertainment. There's not always a huge hidden meaning behind them, they generally are giving you support and maybe help you unwind. They may also be for comfort. You may not always remember them and that's fine: seen that there's not a big hidden meaning behind, it's okay to forget them. You may even dream just to recover, like those dreams that help you sleep well and wake up kinda restored (but probably not remembering much of the plot). They may also be encouraging dreams at times, especially if you've been through rough days or something (even doubting yourself). You may also dream of love or something nice in general, something even funny or "impossible"/unlikely to happen but in a good way, stuff that feels normal in the dream but hard to happen irl (also cause of physics, eg.). You may dream about your manifestations too. Some of these dreams may be for guidance or support in your path though, they may help you realize some of the things you're stressing over on the daily are just unimportant stuff. Their reason is to bring you hope and tranquillity.

song: one of a kind | the gaia corporation

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pile 2

These are dreams you may have while napping too. They feel comforting. They may carry your ancestors' messages or something like that. They may also help you or guide you through something that happened in your past so to see it from a better perspective. And maybe even heal that. These type of dreams are supposed to help you open your eyes over a specific matter. They may hold signs or symbols for you to understand (through your intuition) or just the general message may bring some kind of support to analyze your "demons" or fears/insecurities. I think these dreams are supposed to bring you more balance in your life, or to suggest you how to take action. You may be dreaming of people no more in contact with you as well and they may give you some kind of message you may need to hear (either about you or the relationship you had with them, so to heal it or understand something about it). These dreams' meaning/reason is to bring you peace and balance inside first and foremost.

song: heaven sent | keyshia cole

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pile 3

I think there's the need to "read between the lines" here and an inability to see the core message. It may happen to dream about stuff you don't get at the moment, but they will get clearer in the future. It could be profetic dreams even, at least in a general sense. Or dreams about something you need to understand/realize within or messages from your counterpart. Maybe an explanation or clarification of sorts, but that is not as clear as you may want it to be as it may need a bit of an analysis while you're awake (my suggestion is still the one to not overstress too much about a message if you don't get it at first. Another occasion to receive it will come anyway). These dreams are in fact never to bring you anxiety but to calm your heart. Their reason is to help you understand and conquer any type of doubt you may carry within. They're supposed to help you let go of fears, not to give you more. They want to help you ground, so not overstress about them if you cannot grasp them (let your intuition guide you to the correct signs to analyze and when it says "enough", let go of it).

song: love to dream | doja cat

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pile 4

These dreams may be there to give you some type of clarification or explanation about yourself or your path. Differently from pile 3, these dreams may be pretty clear or easy to understand. You may be even dreaming of someone (probably your Guide or someone like that, maybe your inner/future child too) showing you about a specific matter or you may be dreaming of specific situations. These dreams are there to help you see beyond what you may see or feel on the daily. They help you open your eyes (and heart) on something or some type of chance you weren't considering (or you simply were unable to see before). They are probably to ground you and balance you energetically, to give you stability, to help you take control over any specific annoyance or confusion you may be experiencing (despite the song you got, I feel it could be related to your career/studies, at least for most of you) and it seems you cannot overcome by yourself. Their reason is to give you guidance and help you see a way out of that, or a new way to envision things. These dreams may be related to the spiritual world and you may have pretty vivid dreams or experience astral projection too.

song: chances | backstreet boys

[orangflowalober]

Blessed-Cursed

Pairing: Park Sunghoon x Reader

Genre: regency au; isekai au; prince!sunghoon; princess!reader

Summary: Being Crown Princess sounds fun from a modern-day point of view, no? Wrong. Wrong on so many levels. Starting from the fact that you had fight with your hands and legs to do certain things all over to marriage. Yuck. So how do you suppose one acts when their biggest secret is revealed to someone who has the power to have you executed?

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: sharp objects - swords, arrows, daggers; marriage; mushy stuff; implications of hunting animals; death of a bear by reader's hand; let me know if I missed anything!

Series: Enhypen Regency AU

Pinterest board: <3

Spotify playlist (songs I listened to while writing / had in mind while writing) : <3

~

You didn’t want marriage.

You didn't want to rule beside another.

You wanted to be the Queen who married her nation.

…

What a dramatic way of saying that you wanted to be Elizabeth the First of this world.

Oh. Right. England doesn’t exist in this world. Or like… any other country that exists on planet Earth.

Anyway. Your name is Lim Anestasia of the Lim Kingdom. However… your real name… is y/n l/n.

You do not hail from this world and yet here you are, living in the shoes of a spoiled princess who could get anything she wanted.

Dying really do be a unique experience.

When you first opened your eyes in this body it was ten years old. You cried. You cried for so long. Women dressed in uniforms of what you assumed were maids rushed in to comfort you and help you stop crying. You couldn’t stop. You didn’t recognise anything or anyone. You don’t remember when was the last time you felt so alone. That only made you cry harder. It wasn’t until a woman with beautiful long brown hair and a worried look on her face came in, that you started to calm down even just a slight bit. After all… your brain recognised the woman as your dearest mother. You cried in her arms for a long time, but in the end… you felt so much better. Now you just pretend that day never happened.

You spent the next two weeks in a daze, looking about and recalling all the memories of your past and present life. Then you realised something. There was a whole mediaeval world out there for you to explore… yet you remain stuck within these walls of a cold and almost empty castle… So you set out back to your room and made a list.

As a Queen to be, there were some issues you wanted to settle. Making a list seemed like the right choice. You were ten now so no one would truly take you seriously and this was fine. It gave you time to plot and plan. But first… for the next few years you would indulge yourself and learn some sports you have had the wish to learn back in your day but hadn’t the opportunity to do so.

The list read:

1.      Learn how to be a brilliant archer!

2.      Learn the art of the sword!

3.      Learn how to be a great horseback rider!

4.      Teach yourself everything you can about the kingdom!

5.      Start taking interest in politics!

6.      Settle dominance so your parents don’t try to set you up at 14.

7.      Steer clear of men in general

8.      Try and turn away as many suitors as possible!

9.      More to be added

Grinning to yourself you put away the stationary and folded the paper neatly. You would hide it in your room in one of the many books you owned.

“Mother. Father.” You greeted, approaching them in the throne room, curtsying in your pale green dress.

“Anastasia,” your mother greeted with a smile gracing her face, “What brings you here my precious daughter?”

“I wish to learn archery.”

The King looked horrified.

Archery wasn’t very lady-like after all. Or any kind of sport, really.

“My dear daughter-”

Welp, you thought, time to pull out the big guns.

You stomped your foot and sniffed.

“But Father!” you yelled through the tears, “I wish to learn archery and I wish to do it NOW!”

You sniffed again and softly glared at the man on the throne who looked to be panicking.

“Of course my dearest!” he responded quickly with a wobbly smile.

Well he switched up fast you thought.

“Really?” you switched up as well, deciding to play the role of a shy child, “thank you” you whispered softly, but loud enough for your parents to hear. You curtsied and left for the library where you would read up on the history of your country.

~

As you grew older, you learned more and more.

By the time you were fifteen you mastered the bow, horseback riding and were well into practice with the sword. Your “love” for studying never faltered and you kept at it relentlessly going through tutors at break-neck speed.

When you turned eighteen, you started getting involved in the rule of your land (with the help of your parents, naturally) and continuously impressed them with your knowledge and how mature and ambitious you were. You mastered the art of the sword and started practising with daggers. It seemed fun so far.

~

Other than all of these impressive achievements, you seemed to rather… lack… in the department of social relations.

Due to the fact that you spent a lot of time either with your nose in a book or practising with a new weapon you picked up, you haven’t had the time to make good acquaintances with the children of other royal families or nobles. At most you could say that you and the prince of the Kim Kingdom were close acquaintances. Sunoo was a rather interesting character whom you had not much trouble interacting with. You even occasionally exchanged letters.

Other than him there was princess Yeji of the Hwang Kingdom, but that was limited only to the balls you both attended.

As such, you haven’t had many suitors, which worried your parents and only served to make you happier.

While you were happy as things were, your parents unfortunately were rather persistent.

“My dearest daughter,” you heard your mother sigh for the nth time that month, as you readied your arrow, “you already turned of age years ago, you must at least look for potential suitors…”

You knocked the arrow. Bullseye.

“It is not my fault all of them are too afraid to even speak to me, mother.”

“What about Sunoo then?” she asked and this time you sighed, “How does he speak so freely with you?”

“You know as well as I do that, we do not speak freely with each other. And besides, we’ve known each other for years.”

“My darling Anastasia,” your mother sighed, taking your filthy hands into hers, “for your mother’s sake,” she whispered, “please, look for a fine suitor. I know that there must be someone who will catch your eye this time. Please my darling daughter.”

She knew you were weak to her pleading. Courtesy of your close bond both with your mother in your old life and this one. You agreed.

It was the first mistake you could have made.

~

You honestly didn’t mean to sound so full of yourself when you said that you were probably the best dressed person at the ball for your birthday.

Simplicity is what will most often catch the eye of others, is something you liked to think. This time was no exception.

The dress you wore was a light pink and it reflected the light due to its shiny material. It was long and flowy, which was brilliant because it meant you could move freely, and you didn’t have to wear petticoats. You honestly did love them, but they were, oh so, impractical. The dress had a sweetheart neckline with off the shoulder sleeves. It was tightened around your waist and made your chest look bigger than it actually was, but what annoyed you was that you had to breathe rather shallowly. From the waist down the skirt flowed freely and dramatically.

As they announced your name you walked into the ball with a slight smile and nodded at the present guests before you stepped down the staircase to join the party.

You've managed to stay at the party chatting with anyone and everyone who approached you for a whole hour before your social battery completely died out and you were seconds away from starting to behave like you used to, back home. In the modern world.

“Prince Sunoo,” you spoke to the boy next to you. “Would you mind if I made a quick escape to regain my composure?” you asked with a dazzling smile.

The chubby cheeked boy next to you giggled at how direct you were.

"Why of course, princess Anastasia” he purred with a playful grin, “I shall wait for you here!"

You nodded gratefully at him and swiftly made your way through the crowd and at the back entrance into the beautiful garden your mother loved most.

Sitting down on the grey store bench in front of the small lake filled with water lilies. At least they looked like water lilies.

Sighing, you then placed your fan down onto the seat next to you and reached behind your back to pull on the string which held the corset together and took a deep breath.

Time for my annual rant session, you thought to yourself.

"Marriage" you spat bitterly, allowing yourself to go nuts with anger.

“Why do I have to marry anyone?!? Why is that so bloody important?!" you yelled into the sky, throwing your hands into the air. “Do I have to marry to be Queen?! I mean come on!”

Getting lost in your emotions you failed to realise someone was standing at the entrance of the garden, listening to every word you spoke, slowly making their way towards you.

You groaned loudly as your voice took on a sad, desperate tone.

“Mom… I miss you so much…” you sobbed, “I miss my little sister too… that annoying little stinker…” you sobbed even louder, taking your gloves off to wipe your tears away.

“I miss those stupid gatcha games too” you laughed wetly, “Cookie Run… Genshin… Honkai… both Honkai games actually…” you mumbled the last bit, picking at your freshly manicured nails.

“Why me?” you whispered, sniffing a little.

A crunch of leaves caused you to turn around from your spot on the bench, eyes wide as you faced the intruder.

The man who stood in front of you was possibly the most beautiful man you had ever seen and you knew absolutely nothing about him.

His jet black hair was in rough contrast with his pale complexion. He wore a dark blue waistcoat with golden accents and pure white pants along with knee-deep boots.

His eyes and face was what held your attention at most.

He seemed not to mind your current state, but rather… he looked worried.

You two kept looking at each other, too startled to speak.

Then you remembered what you looked like; mussed hair, undone corset, puffy face and runny nose and you weren't wearing your gloves.

“Are you alright?” he finally spoke, his rumbling and melodic voice sounding genuinely concerned about your wellbeing, extending his hand towards you.

Quickly, you scrambled to stand up, pushing your hand against your corset to keep it in place and responded to him.

“How much did you hear?”

He blinked confused, his hand stopping in its tracks.

“Pardon?”

“I asked;” your voice was high with panic now, “how much of that did you hear?” you felt as though your heart was about to beat out of your chest.

“Is that really that important right now?” a seemingly sly smile played on his lips, his hand gently taking hold of your wrist.

Your heart stuttered in your chest as you made eye contact with him.

It wasn’t simply because you felt attracted to him. On the contrary, attractive men didn't seem to make your heart skip a beat in this life. It was simple enough really; you were scared.

If he was influential enough, could he get you thrown out of the family? Would you lose everything? Again? Your heart wouldn't be able to stand that.

“P… p-please” you cussed yourself silently for stuttering, while a smile grew on his lips at your mistake, “don't… don't tell anyone!”

You yanked your hand out of his gentle hold and ran back into the castle ignoring his stare and completely forgetting about your gloves sitting on the bench.

After you had made sure you were presentable you went back to the ball room only to see that it was only just now in full swing. You took a deep breath and set off to find Sunoo.

“Princess Anastasia!” you heard someone call.

Turning around, you were met with the smiley face of the Crown Prince of the Park Kingdom.

“Prince Jay” you curtsied, extending your hand for him to take, “it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance.”

The tall, blond man grinned as he pressed a kiss to your gloved hand.

“As it is mine Princess.”

Park “Jay” Jongseong. The Crown Prince of the Park Kingdom. He was smart, cunning and straightforward. That was not mentioning how kind and generous he was. Last you heard he was to be married soon before he assumed the throne of the Park Kingdom.

Again with the whole marriage thing…

“I must admit Princess, I only came to introduce myself and wish you a happy birthday with ulterior motives.” he smiled sheepishly.

“Oh?” you grinned playfully, resting your fan on your bare shoulder.

“I am afraid so” Jay laughed, “You see my brother is rather… shy.” he admitted awkwardly and continued, “But he really wanted to wish you a happy birthday, so I thought I would help him out.”

You smiled with soft eyes.

Jay had a younger brother. Well. “Younger” brother.

The circumstances regarding the two were rather unclear as it was never disclosed into the public eye, but the two had such a close bond it felt awful to speculate just about anything. And so, no one ever pried. The two brothers were, after all, the pride and joy of the Park Kingdom.

“How very nice of you” you hummed thinking of your younger sister in your past life.

“I do try” he smiled gently, noticing your reaction.

“Princess Anastasia,” you heard someone behind you.

As you turned around, your eyes widened scarily wide as you made eye contact with the man from the garden.

“I am Prince Sunghoon” he introduced himself with a slight bow of his head, his hand resting against where his heart was.

Lagging behind, you quickly curtsied and offered him your hand.

He took it gently, impossibility so, and pressed a feather light kiss against your knuckles, never breaking eye contact with you.

Jay, noticing what was going on, made a quiet escape leaving the two of you alone.

You were too scared and entranced with the man in front of you to notice anything.

“It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Princess.” he spoke slowly, still not letting go of your hand, but you haven’t noticed that yet.

“Likewise” you awkwardly smiled, your heart beating out of your chest in fear.

Sunghoon's eyes glinted in mischief, which caused you to shift under his piercing gaze uncomfortably.

The music which was playing in the background slowly came to a stop and the man in front of you smiled as he turned to face you.

“May I have this dance, Princess?” he asked, lifting your hand higher in the air.

Meanwhile, your brain was an absolute mess. You had no idea what was going on, what this man was plotting or what he could do if you even looked at him wrong.

He currently has the potential to have you sent away.

You couldn’t take that chance.

“Yes,” you spoke slowly, “you may.”

With a bright smile, the tall man led you over to the dance floor.

All eyes were on you as for the first time ever, you joined someone other than your father for a dance.

You were anxious and terrified.

The man opposite you stopped somewhere off the centre of the dancing area and faced you properly.

His gentle smile was throwing you off track and you couldn’t focus on anything but trying not to tick him off.

Letting go of your hand, he placed it on your waist and took your other hand, while you placed a hand on his shoulder.

His giddiness at your action didn’t miss you and it made you nervous.

“Why do you look so nervous, Princess?” he asked with a grin.

Offering him an awkward smile you responded.

“Ah, no! It’s just…” you began as the music started and Sunghoon gently pulled you into a slow waltz.

“I’ve never danced like this with anyone but my father…”

The dark haired man nodded thoughtfully.

“My mistake,” he smiled, twirling you with a mesmerising smile on his face. “I thought it had something to do with our fateful meeting in the garden.”

Had you not returned back into his arms, you are sure you would have fainted.

“Speaking of which,” he continued as if he hadn’t noticed your discomfort, “you left something back there.”

You looked up at him with panicked eyes, not noticing his blush as he recounted the events.

If he says something to someone I’m doomed! You panicked. What did I even leave?!

“I took the liberty of taking them so I could hand them to you now” he spoke, as if your whole world hasn’t turned upside down.

Plural?! You wanted to scream.

“Them?” you couldn’t help but voice.

“Yes…” he hummed bashfully, as he leaned down to whisper into your ear, “You left your gloves behind Princess…”

Cold sweat broke out all over as you remembered what that means in this world.

Much like that one scene in Jane Austen’s book "Pride and Prejudice" with Mr. Darcy and Ms. Elizabeth, touching a lady without her gloves presented an extremely intimate act in this world.

You cussed internally.

At this point, you weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh or cry.

“I will leave them in the corridor once the crowds dissipate” He continued, not minding the eyes which were trained on your forms, “You just make sure your maids find them.”

Oh, so, conveniently, the song and dance ended and Sunghoon disappeared into the crowd just as quickly as he had appeared, but not before placing another kiss on the back of your hand.

You liked to think what had happened during your birthday hasn’t affected you.

~

That is a lie.

It has.

You just pretend it didn’t.

After the dance, your mother sent you questioning glances, but you avoided them like the plague until she stopped.

There was another issue, however.

You suddenly began noticing him. And he was everywhere.

A birthday celebration of a noble? He was there.

A charity event for the children of the Lim-Kim region? He was there.

Tournament competition in arts and such? He was bloody there.

And if he could manage to sneak in a dance he would. Every. Single. Time.

At this point, the only time you didn’t see him is when you were avoiding everyone and camping out in the library or in your room.

~

As summer passed and made way for fall, the Lim Kingdom started preparing for the bi-annual Huntsmen Competition.

The bi-annual Huntsmen Competition was held by the Crown for the nobles and other royals of the lands to show off their skills and gain public favour.

A problem has risen this year though…

“We cannot hold the Competition in the Twilight Forest this year” the King announced. “The animal sources are scarce and we risk endangering the ecosystem if we continue to hunt there.”

After much begging and tantrums, he had finally let you participate in these talks. And in the competition, of course. 

I'm going to wipe the floor with those losers, you cackled internally, before focusing back onto the conversation at hand.

“... so in line with that I would recommend the Fiery Forest in the south.” one of the older councilmen huffed out.

"That wouldn't be a smart decision" you hummed in reply, looking at the map, "I propose we request the Kim Kingdom to collaborate using the Spring forests we share at our borders. Our relations are better and they won't try to use this to their advantage.”

Your father and everyone else at the table looked lost for words, before turning to the map in front of them.

“My god, she’s right!”

“Who would have thought?”

Briefly, you saw your father's proud expression as you participated in the conversation even more than before.

~

Being fashionably late is probably your favourite thing to do in this world. And as the Crown Princess, no one had the right to comment on it.

You strutted toward your tent feeling eyes on your figure. 

Why wouldn't they be staring at you anyway?

You were wearing mens attire.

The pants you wore were fitted and black, squeezing around your waist. Tucked into the pants was your favourite flowy white shirt and hanging off your hips was a majestic bastard sword. That was not to mention your favourite bow waiting for you in your tent.

As soon as it was time to set off into the forest, you took the reins of your black horse Stormy and got going when you heard the sound of the horn.

Riding on the back of the horse, you fired arrows, as soon as you caught sight of a moving hide.

By the end of it, you weren’t the best, but you were third best.

You also couldn't help but notice how Prince Sunghoon smiled the brightest when you approached the third place podium.

That was your second mistake.

~

The last time you were in a daze was when you were ten. It's been so long since then that you've forgotten just how easily the feeling creeps up on you.

“Princess Anastasia,” his gentle voice shook you out of your reverie, “It's delightful to see you again.”

You didn’t turn to face him, choosing to only lift your fan up to your face.

“Likewise” you quickly responded, finding that this time you didn’t quite find his mere presence bothersome.

The man hurried to walk in step with you.

“Princess,” he called and the title suddenly felt a lot more like a term of endearment from your past life, “you always say that, yet I feel as though you do not mean it as truthfully as I do.”

You kept quiet, wondering how you could even respond to such a claim.

“You enjoy nature I presume?” he quickly changed the subject. “It seems that every time you and I see each other it is in the gardens.” he smiled softly.

You were currently taking a break from all of the hard work you were putting into studying and practising. 

As a little treat, you thought you could visit one of the more popular gardens in the Kingdom of Lee. They were, after all, most popular for their wide arrangement of flora.

And these flowers and plants never ceased to take your breath away and heal your eyes at the same time.

“Oh… yes, I suppose I do…” you hummed, “It’s rather… calming. I feel at ease to think and the colours soothe my eyes.”

The beautiful man next to you nodded and hummed, looking at you as if encouraging you to speak more.

“You see, I do enjoy reading all the books our library has to offer, but my eyes do hurt after spending too much time in my study…”

“You have your own study?” he asked with an intrigued spark in his eyes.

When you looked at him, you were taken aback by the sheer boyishness radiating from that expression, that you felt the back of your neck heat up.

“I-” you stuttered, “I do. I mean-” you turned away from him swiftly to catch yourself, “As the future Queen, I must ready myself for the incoming troubles of ruling the Kingdom and be a respectable ruler.” you explained.

His head cocked to the side, almost reminiscent of a pupper.

“You do not plan on sharing those burdens with anyone?”

You eyed him.

“You mean marriage?” you spat out the last word venomously. “I will refuse it for as long as I can. Besides,” you huffed, forgetting yourself, “it’s not like I met anyone worthy of marrying me.” you crossed your arms over your chest.

A snort sounded from next to you and you turned startled towards Prince Sunghoon. He held his hand up to his mouth, eyes wrinkled into crescents and he was slightly turned away from you.

“I-” he laughed lightly, his face twisted to make room for his wide smile, “I do not mean to laugh at your- It is only- the delivery-” he kept giggling, unable to finish a single thought.

You only stared at him in awe, your opinion of him changing subconsciously.

“You Highness, Prince Sunghoon,” a butler called from behind you, “Your brother has requested your presence back in the castle.”

“I will be right there Ian,” he said, before turning to look at you, with an impossibly tender look in his eye, “I hope we see each other like this again” he spoke as he took your hand to place a kiss on it, “I had a great time and I hope you did too.”

And then he left.

It felt like a part of you left as well.

~

You have found yourself caught up in Prince Sunghoon’s- or rather, as he insists- Sunghoon’s arms, interlocked into the second dance of tonight.

The ball was a celebration of the spring solstice.

How you ended up in the dark-haired prince’s arms you also couldn’t quite remember.

You also didn’t realise just how funny he was whenever he talked back and you never realised your love for bickering. 

You were having the time of your life.

People were sending you odd looks, seeing you enjoying yourself with the second Park son, seeing as you only ever spent time with the youngest Kim prince and even that was reserved.

But now, you were giggling, laughing and you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut.

Another plus to having Sunghoon’s company: no one was approaching you for mindless small-talk and mentions of marriage.

The Lee castle was beautiful but…

“I heard the Lee’s have the most beautiful garden…” Sunghoon told you with a mischievous sparkle in his eye.

He didn’t have to finish his thought. You already knew what he meant as he extended to you and you accepted it without another word.

Your baby blue dress fluttered behind you as you walked down the halls with Sunghoon, both of your shoes clacking against the marble flooring.

The dress had a deep V-neck and the sleeves extended past your hands, although it added to the snowy princess look.

This time, the maids took extra precaution to cinch your corset and if you couldn’t breathe then, you certainly couldn’t now that you saw the garden.

The snow had freshly melted and there were faint traces of buds all over the trees and plants.

But most of all the night sky seemed to take the cake.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn’t it?”

You turned towards the man who had made your night.

Sunghoon was not looking at the moon. His eyes looked as if someone had stolen all the affection in the world and put it in his eyes.

He looked beautiful being bathed in the moonlight. His pale shin was seemingly illuminated by the moonshine, a perfect contrast to his all-black attire.

“My…” you began, your head feeling as if it was stuffed full of cotton, “My real name is y/n.” you spoke before you could realise what you just said.

He looked stunned.

Then his hold on your hand tightened as suddenly words started tumbling out, past his soft lips, explaining his predicament in his family and his relationship with them.

He looked so vulnerable. You thought you looked the same way as well.

You pulled your hand back, out of his gentle hold, and he looked as if you had ripped his heart out of his chest. You merely pulled your gloves off, threw them somewhere behind you (which had pulled out a choked laugh from him) and you raised your arms to wipe the tears from his glass-like face.

He shuddered feeling your skin on his face and you shivered feeling his breath against your hands.

“I’m sorry” he let out as he enveloped you in a passionate embrace.

This, after all, was not appropriate for two people who weren’t engaged to be married.

~

The bi-annual Huntsmen Competition in the spring was, oddly enough, the most anticipated event of the season.

You supposed it had something to do with your appearance.

Hence, you practising day and night, night and day, to attempt to get the first place this time around.

Also, you knew Sunghoon was participating in this event and you want to impress him-

Ah right.

It is too early for the list of participants to have some out, so… how do you know?

Truth is, Sunghoon himself told you.

A development which had happened since the Spring Solstice Ball was that you and Sunghoon had started exchanging letters with what was going on in your lives lately.

It made you unnecessarily giddy and you couldn’t hide this from your nosy mother who realised you were getting letters every other day as opposed to once every two to three months.

She was, needless to say, thrilled.

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was winning the competition to impress Sunghoon- no y/n stop.

This time around, the senators decided to change things up a little: they added an animal which automatically secures the huntsman first place. The animal in question is a grizzly bear. Yeah. A grizzly. It surprised you too. 

You were hoping to catch the biggest fish.

Also, this time you planned on showing up in a proper fancy riding outfit, fit to a prince.

You were rather petty like that. And your ass looked brilliant in those pants.

You seriously didn’t have enough opportunities to wear trousers.

~

Arriving late, you hopped off your inky black horse, feeling eyes on your form once again.

You wore tight white pants with a sporty waistcoat with gold and dark blue accents. And you felt magnificent holding your sword at your hip.

Subconsciously, your eyes wandered, looking for a particular someone, but you couldn’t see him. A frown tugged at your lips, but you quickly stopped it and smiled as you usually would, making your way to your tent to get ready.

~

By the time you had gone into the forest you still didn’t get to see a particular someone’s endearing smile and dimples.

Hunting brought you more peace than you thought it could. You languidly shot at moving animals - birds mostly- and looked for the grizzly. 

Why draw something out for longer than it should be?

You were lost in your own head when you heard a scream.

Quickly you turned your horse around and towards the scream. 

You were surprised, however, when you ran into Sungoon, appearance dishevelled, leaves and small sticks stuck in his hair and clothes, horse gone.

Looking him in the eye, you saw him breathing heavily, eyes wide in fear, before he flinched at the loud roar the bear behind him let out.

Before you could even realise what had happened, you drew your bow and knocked four arrows at the bear and it fell over with a cry.

You and Sunghoon though, just gazed at each other. He stared at you as if you had just promised him the world, and you, from your position on your horse, bow still in hand, looked at him as if he had just told you the secrets of the whole world.

You were startled from your romantic gazing when a horn sounded, both of you looking in the direction of the trees.

“Marry me” you said before you thought better of it.

~

To say that this bi-annual Huntsmen Competition had the best ending party yet, would be an understatement. 

Everyone danced and drank as you happily held hands with Sunghoon, right in the centre of everything, celebrating what would be the best event of this life yet.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My dearest girls: @ch3rryc0smos & @janaicetea

if anyone wants to be a part of the taglist send an ask <3

[rainfeathers]

Thoughts on the Mystery Labrinth

spoilers ahead for the game so don’t go further if you haven’t finished it.

I’ve seen mixed feelings about it all over (more so off tumblr than here) and that made me want to put my two cents in. Why not. Remember when I said Vivia was a yapper? Me too that’s why I fuck with him. I’m not proofreading this have fun with my typos.

Disclaimer: for the entire game I forgot you could get skills. Entirely. I didn’t get any of them nor upgrade anything. Do skills make the game too easy? Don’t know. I won’t go too much into difficulty for that reason.

Overall feelings

I like it! I’m a mystery labyrinth enjoyer. I dig the mechanics, my favorite being anything with the truth blade. Bobbing and weaving between trying to pick the right keys to answer questions was so fun.

One of my favorite parts is how each one changed to suit the case. The final labyrinth being Kanai ward?? Chapter four being the lab?? Good shit. Even how it framed questions and the mini games looked were different per case, which was a cool surprise. I thought they’d be more copy-paste, but every chapter felt distinct.

As such, it is very difficult for me to apply any blanket criticism to the mechanic. They all had different strengths and different weaknesses.

If any of this comes off as too negative, I don’t at all mean it that way. I’m just better at going in-depth on critique. I’m a certified ML liker. Give me more of that in the sequel.

Per chapter thoughts

Chapter 0: The chapter is good, but given this is the “tutorial” level, it drags a lot on replay. I feel like a lot of the explanation and exposition about it could have been condensed better. I know plot-wise it’s so Yuma stops freaking out, but the game could have taken more liberty with leaving things ambiguous and “it’s a game so there’s game mechanics” would have been a fine explanation. This is straying out of just chapter 0. Id much rather condense some of the exposition and put it towards real-life character development.

Otherwise I enjoyed it. Zilch was a great antagonist, and has some of the best designs. And he gets two?? As he should. There’s an interesting irony in him having two ML forms given he’s technically two people. (The Hitman himself and this other identity he’s taken on for the hit)

Chapter 1: not a ton to say honestly! Perfectly serviceable ML with nothing too stand out, which is ideal for chapter 1. It functioned great, and Seth was there AND Halara so it’s the best one. Jk that one is to come but also like-

Chapter 2: this is where what I said about the accompanying character affecting the chapter really did it a disservice. Sorry Desuhiko but you needed to can it once in a while. I’m not a hater of him, but he got pretty repetitive. Unlike the other chapters where the character either functioned perfectly fine (Halara) or actively made it better (Vivia), I started getting annoyed by him and replaying doesn’t make it better. I wish the game leaned into a few of his other traits other than just horny.

That aside the actual ML?? Stellar. The different hallways, the eerie music. The realization that they all come together into one path because the girls are working together, followed by the sickening realization that we’re going to kill three girls was a gut punch in the best way. This is my favorite ML for handling the consequences of reaping the culprits soul.

Chapter 3: another one that didn’t stand out to me. Granted this is because chapter 3 was the weakest one, but that’s more the fault of the chapter than the ML. That said, I loved Fubuki in it. I thought she was going to annoy me, but her small arc with Shinigami and working through her own insecurities was really nice to play through.

Chapter 4: OOOH you sly dog you’ve got me monologuing. What a great chapter. Props to the people who caught the twist coming because I didn’t until Vivia started getting weird about how we didn’t figure out the culprit. Granted I was drunk when I played this the first time, but it was so good. In such a painful way. This is a chapter where the accompanying character makes the fucking ML. Vivia’s arc, the fight he and Yuma had, the uncertainty if we were going to have to maybe kill him to escape, or if he would come to see our point of view?? Incredible. I’d say it’s my favorite chapter, but then we’ve got

Chapter 5: after 4, I didn’t think this one could hold a candle to it, but I was proved so delightfully wrong. The setting being kanai ward, the ambiguous antagonist, shinigami trying to steer us away from finding our identity as Number One all while we approach the final face off with Makoto, it was so so good. So fucking good. And the final battle? From the voice acting, the framing, the way it played out, it was just so fun. Slowly picking away at the truth both literally and figuratively while we shattered Makoto’s mask, it didn’t disappoint once. Makoto in general is a perfect antagonist to finish off the game. I could go on.

Overall I can’t wait to see how the ML is handled in the potential sequel. If we get anything akin to chapters 4 and 5 I’ll pass away because my heart can’t take it but it will be so good

[aliothbuzzsawshark]

Alright it’s tomorrow I watched the first 2 go rush dub episodes and here’s what my thoughts are - from a huge sevens fan who only has seen a few clips, tumblr posts, and the cat episode before watching

I also watched this with my sister, who greatly dislikes Yu-Gi-Oh! Bridge content. It was a joy having to also explain to her Yes You Can Draw Multiple Cards And All Of This Is Legal Play. A joy to watch from that alone

Episode 1 and I actually really like Yudias? I thought I’d get annoyed since he’s an alien and not an ohdo but he’s been the best part of this show so far. I love how dramatic both he and the voice actor are when doing literally anything ever. He’s insane in the way which reminds me of the drama in Yu-Gi-Ohs past. Also he’s just funny. I laughed at him a lot more than I expected, especially with him and the Velgears. Solid 8/10 character, would belong in any other Yugioh perfectly and his dub voice actor actually kills it at being Yudias (10/10 on va-ing)

Now I was weary of Yuhi. Before knowing anything about Go Rush I told myself I’d be a Yuhi stan. But no he’s kinda annoying? Like idk if it’s a translation thing but he just so fucking annoying whenever he talks. I think the dubbing plays a part of that too though; I’ve played stuff with his va (ntwewy) and though he sounded way to monotone but this feels like he’s exaggerating every sentence in the worst way possible. I like his design and his weird alien hair but unfortunately that’s about it? Like 4/10 probably better in sub I hate hearing him

Yuamu is almost good. I almost like her. Her dub voice feels way too high pitch but that’s not even my main problem and I don’t know what is. I liked her before watching (especially her hair, love the gradient and bangs) but she just feels…boring? Like she’s just here to explain how to play and has one part in the second episode which I find annoying but I’ll get to that later. Overall 6/10 nothing too wrong with her and her voice only annoys me a little (her voice actress would do a great Yuna though tbh)

I don’t really have any notes about the plot. I think it’s funny how the Ohdos say there’s a the smartest people alive for the sake of their livelihood, I like the velgears, the bit with Yudias just having booster packs was funny, I really like Yudias. Nothing wrong with it. Overall like 7/10 episode. Sevens had a better starting episode but I didn’t expect anything else

(also theme “song” was just as boring as sevens BUT THEY SAY THE NAME OF THE SHOW! Actually blew my mind the first time I have low standards)

Episode 2 is actually pretty fun. I like Yudias reminiscing about the war through a card, I like the secrecy (wait it’s called the MIK originally? Honestly I can’t be mad at the change two 3 letter organization is a bit confusing), and Manabu and Nyandestar are a pretty fun duo!

Manabu is a silly guy. I already liked him out of pity before but he’s just cool. I like his design and voice and him as a character overall. I thought him just saying no to dueling at first was really funny (paused the episode around that point and pointed out to my sister how the question “what if I just say no to duel” finally got answered) and I think it’s a really cute detail how his disguise it just Gakuto. 7/10 character would be higher but MADDOX SOGETSU? Bad name me and my sister just started calling him Matthew because that’s a better name. (Alternate better names include Mason, Morgan, Matt, Mark, any M name)

Nyandestar is fun! Meowdestar is a fine change to her name, it makes sense but I will never fucking call her that. She’s just fun, that’s about it! Her and Manabu are like team rocket but she’s both James and meowth. No complaints 9/10 I like cats.

Idk what isn’t a translation change, but the conversation with a disguised Manabu and Yuamu made me feel…mad? Annoyed? Idk but saying a man is faking a pet snake because snake aren’t slimy and are actually reptiles is such a nickpicking thing I would hate to be in her presence. ALSO THE OHDO’S INHERITED UTS??? NEPO BABIES. Another point against the Ohdo twins.

However, Yudias is a bright light in this dub, his va is doing amazing still and I love his vocal delivery in Yudias’s flashback of leaving his home planet. And from the 10 seconds I saw I like Zwijou enough (I’m not checking the spelling) and his voice actor. Really giving the dead wife trope and I’m curious on how I’ll inevitably hate him later.

Fine episode, 6/10. I’ll probably continue watching just out of principle but probably wouldn’t if I didn’t care for Sevens. Better than I expected tbh would recommend to yugioh watchers as long as they’re used to Yugioh dubs.

also peak logo, might be my favorite and that’s high praise lol anyways goodnight woohoo

[gumnut-logic]

Lego Volcano (Part 3)

Alexander Sweetapple series | Lego Volcano - Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Oh, look, there's more! I'm half vegetable, and this hasn't been read through by anyone but me, so don't expect much, but there is more :D

This one was sparked by @idontknowreallywhy, @sofasurf, @womble1 and @sailing-on-a-puddle and other wonderful Thunderfam peeps.

Many, many thanks to all of you who have read and supported this series of fics. You are all amazingly kind to me. And honestly, without you guys, there would be no Alexander Sweetapple ::hugs the lot of you::

I hope you enjoy this little bit.

-o-o-o-

Gordon found Scott in his office.

The fact his brother was in this rarely used space and not in the comms room was a clear sign of just how messed up Scott was about the situation.

“What do you want, Gordon?” His brother did not even bother to look up.

Gordon let his shoulder drop against the door frame. “Alex is deployed and Thunderbird Two is finally resting.”

“Alex is not a piece of equipment.”

“Works like one. Has a defined use and can be applied as necessary.”

Scott looked up at Gordon, his blue eyes both tired and vibrant at the same time. “Your point?”

Gordon sighed and stepped into the room, absently shutting the door behind him before dropping himself into a chair. “Scooter, it was going to happen sometime.”

Those commanding eyebrows narrowed on him. “What exactly?”

“Well, when boy meets boy…”

“Gordon.” Scott looked back down at whatever he was doing.

“…when boy meets boy, his…needs change.”

His brother ignored him, fixating his glare on whatever poor Tracy Industries department was being sacrificed to his mood.

Gordon held back another sigh. “Scott, you can’t be everything for everyone.”

Still Scott didn’t look up, but Gordon could see his reaction. But only because he knew his big brother so well. Not as well as Virgil, but he would have to do.

“He still loves you.”

That did it. “I know that.”

“Alex is going to butt in on your turf, it is inevitable. Virgil needs to live his own life.”

Blue blazed at him. “I know that, too. What do you take me for? I’m happy for him. We all are.”

Gordon pressed his lips together. “Yes, we are.” He stared at his loving big brother.

Gordon had been watching him over the past few months. Scott had been ecstatic that Virgil had finally found someone. He had encouraged, even plotted at times to make sure Alex and Virgil had time together and there were as many obstacles obliterated as possible, damn the ramifications.

Scott would do anything for his brothers.

But recently the result had come home to roost. There was only so much time in the day, and while Virgil used to spend the majority of it with his family, now Alex was cutting into that.

And time with Scott was part of the sacrifice.

Gordon was ever aware of the bond that existed between his two eldest brothers. It was so strong it sometimes breached the supernatural with that ability of theirs to speak to each other without speaking. The way they worked and supported each other was a symbiosis of the two men.

But now there were three, and Alex, whether he knew it or not, had become part of that equation.

And the sums were no longer solving to the perfect numbers Scott was used to.

“Gordon, I have work to do.” His tone was so tired.

“When do you not?”

Scott looked up, sharp. “What do you mean by that?” There was an edge in his voice.

Gordon groaned. “You know that’s not what I meant. You do us proud on a daily basis. You look after all of us.” He let out a breath, knowing he was about to waste a whole lot more. “You need time for you.”

Scott rolled his eyes. “I’m fine.”

“I disagree.”

It was Scott’s turn to groan. “Gordon-“

“You deserve happiness as much as any of us, Scott. Please don’t forget that.” To make sure he had the last word, he stood up, and strode out of his brother’s office.

And tried not to grind the enamel off his teeth.

It turned out that he definitely needed to save up some teeth to grind, because three days later, in true solidarity with his eldest younger brother, Scott collapsed with a fever.

-o-o-o-

Next

[happilylovingbitch]

911 Lone Star Countdown - Disasters Week Questions

Hello and thank you for including me @lonestar-s5countdown! This is a little trickier for me to answer tbh. I think 9-1-1 might stand to have longer-lasting consequences from their natural disasters (no need to skip past tsunami wreckage recovery or months-long rebuilding of the highway collapse, those would make some meaty dramatic narrative arcs), but otherwise it so far edges out Lone Star when it comes to order of experience (like, which state got which disaster first).

1) My favorite disaster… okay, gonna have to divvy btwn the 9-1-1s for this!

The plane crash in 9-1-1 (OG) would probably be my underrated favorite in terms of narrative developments for Buck, Bobby and Abby.

Season 4’s heat wave was more glossed over for plot setup, but I didn’t mind this natural disaster precisely because it was a little smaller in scale and because the plot setups (even the Iris arc tho that definitely needed fine tuning in hindsight) hooked me in already. (I also didn’t mind Brianna and Caleb in this one b/c this time Caleb’s situation was not his own fault.)

2) Since they’ve already done tornadoes (though, there’s always a chance they’ll do those again), a volcanic eruption, wildfires and a winter storm, I would think the only disasters LS hasn’t gotten down yet are freeway collapses, floods (barring how the cast would look while soaking wet, don’t ignore areas like Galveston, writers! There’s WAY more to the state than farmland, Dallas, Austin and El Paso yk! Let’s just say before I digress I kinda wish the showrunners were able to film in actual Texas), a border skirmish (just out of genuine interest— not getting any more political and no Owen’s refugee rescue doesn’t count) or droughts/ water shortages (no, heat waves also don’t count). I also just realized that the domestic terrorist arc could have waited for a later season too! O’Brien and Owen had chaotic good vibes much akin to him and Billy Tyson (if the three of them worked together tho? The 126 should probably move their whole firefighter team out of Travis County b/c they ain’t gonna go through the second-hand pain again).

3) They had and lost me at meteor/ asteroid, so I’m not sure I’d say looking forward to it. It all depends on execution, I suppose? (Sorry for the question mark, I’m just baffled since that usually needs film-length amount of time— I’ve seen the film Deep Impact. Scientific nitpicks aside the investigations, action and future implications in that film were well-paced enough.)

4) My top 3? Judd b/c he’s a great all-around leader whenever shit hits the fan— honest (sometimes to a fault but I can kinda relate), strong integrity and conscientiousness, and so dad-like even before he became a dad. Mateo b/c he’d be like the underrated badass youngest brother of any group— speaking as an only child tho. Third… boy, I can’t break this tie. It’s a draw between Tommy (she’s very composed and professional even during the times she isn’t) and Paul (I’d like to learn memorization-observational skills from him, and he fits the “cool Zen mode” temperament a little better than Carlos, don’t @ me).

5) This is painful… okay I’m so sorry. I don’t think I can answer this one as of now.

Tagging next: @lutavero @reyesstrand @toomanycupsoftea @fitzherbertssmolder @marjansmarwani @trkstrnd

[dark-night-star-light]

Spirit Animals: The Book of Shane (Reread pt. 18)

DISCLAIMER: WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES EXCEPT THE LAST FOUR BOOKS OF THE SECOND SERIES (THIRD ARC). 

Masterpost

Who is Shane?

“It isn’t very often that a gorilla and an octopus have a polite conversation” (1). God, I forgot how much I love this book.

“‘Hello, hello,’ said a deep voice . . . ” (1). I adore Mulop. He’s probably the best Great Beast.

“‘A villain through and through. The perfect choice to destroy the world and hand it over to me’” (2). This . . . is not how villains think. They genuinely believe they’re doing the right thing. Especially Kovo. He’s not just a mustache twirling villain. He has complex motivations. Why’s he pretending otherwise???

“‘I see a boy who will regret his mistakes . . . and who will miss his only true friend’” (2). The Shane and Abeke crumbs are going to destroy me. “His only true friend” I’m going to start sobbing.

“‘Is there a soul in there with any hope of redemption?’” (3). Shane’s redemption arc is truly one of the best I’ve ever seen. Also, this book clearly hints at the Wyrm, so I wonder why the writers didn’t make Kovo seem even the least bit sympathetic.

“‘I am quite certain,’ said Mulop. ‘that he would disagree.’ ‘I am quite certain,’ said Kovo. ‘that I don’t care’” (4). Obsessed with this interaction.

I don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion or not, but I actually really like the fourth wall break at the end of the introduction.

Venom

I forgot about the quotes . . . 

The parallels to the main story are so good. Both stories start with the summoning of a spirit animal but the contrast between terror and happiness is so jarring.

 “It was only then that the true horror of the situation finally dawned on Shane” (11). I think it’s so interesting that Shane himself never summoned one. That’s such a good choice on the writers’ part.

Shane’s jerking awake and obsessive checking is so sad. It almost feels like a form of PTSD. I love how they characterized him and his bare room.

“It was only after he was satisfied that he had not summoned a spirit animal in his sleep that he remembered to breathe” (11). How would you not know, though? You’d feel it.

“The tapestries showed legendary scenes of Stetriol’s ancient past. On one, torrents of water flowed from the mouth of a frog, creating all the lakes and rivers. Another showed two lizards painting patterns on each other, one with a fine brush and an eye for detail, the other without care” (12). I feel like that means something. Also, that must be Stetriol’s legendary water frog.

“But the Great Beasts had cursed Stetriol. They were better forgotten” (12). I wonder if Shane believes in the Great Beasts’ existence. Also, it’s so interesting how the “God” interpretation works here for the Great Beasts too, seeing as how Shane blames them for Stetriol’s curse. It’s strange he never learned about the First Devourer War.

“Shane imagined that if she attempted to lower herself any more than that, she might never manage to get up again” (13). Shane is hilarious, actually. Just not in a conventional way.

“He wasn’t sure exactly how old she was, but during her history lessons it was easy to imagine that she spoke from personal experience. The oddest thing about her, though, was that she sometimes spoke of the future as if it were history, too” (13). Wait. Did Yumaris bond to the earthworm before the events of the series??? I thought she got it when she drank the Bile??? Also, wow, lots of potential for plot holes there . . . 

“‘You will be glad to have this blade,’ she said . . . ” (13). OMG WAIT. DID SHE SEE THE WAR COMING? IS THAT WHY SHE GAVE HIM THE BLADE??? I think I got it, guys . . .

“Yumaris answered, a faraway look in her eyes. ‘For words and learning do little to impress a jackal.’ Shane tightened his belt and gave his tutor a questioning look. ‘There are no jackals in Stetriol’” (13). Wait. Yumaris saw Zerif coming??? That’s how I’m going to interpret it . . . 

It’s funny how Shane sees Gar as this wicked man, then does nothing about it.

“ . . . rumor had it that King Feliandor himself had added them during his reign, sometime after he had taken to calling himself the Reptile King” (15). So, the people of Stetriol know something at least . . .

“That was only made worse after the great war and the Greencloak invasion, when the island nation’s shores were overrun” (15). Wait, so. Then that means they know the full story, right??? Also I don’t know if I’ve talked about it before but the parallels between the Devourer Wars and the World Wars. The first ones were both referred to as “the great war” and the second was directly caused by the attacking nation being sidelined after being defeated during the first. I almost wonder if the inspiration for the First and Second Devourer Wars came from World War I and II.

Okay, so Zerif’s sunburn makes sense given that he climbed to Muttering Rock, but how was he not fried alive???

So Magda appears to be a servant, but earlier it’s stated that they didn’t have money to pay servants???

I kind of wish they’d shown more scenes of Shane and Drina before the bonding sickness incident.

“‘A worm? A slug? Something small and worthless’” (19). Interesting that Drina says this, because Yumaris’s spirit animal is a worm. Almost feels like Drina has a strained relationship with Yumaris. Foreshadowing the fact that Yumaris is the one that held Drina down when she got killed by Gerathon?

[cut because block limit]

“‘It’s not fair,’ she said . . . ‘I’d be great. I’d be so great’” (19). That’s actually so heartbreaking. 

“But in that moment, he felt no pity for her, and no love - only hate. Then he saw the handkerchief she held against her mouth. It was wet and heavy with blood” (19). This hits so hard. Just straight observations with no emotions attached. It feels so hopeless.

This snake anecdote is interesting. Might talk about it more in my Shane analysis. 

“But then their mother was there” (20). Doesn’t she have the bonding sickness??? Maybe this was a good day.

“‘This is the prince of Stetriol,’ she said. ‘He’ll never bow to a mere snake’” (21). This could either be irony, considering what happened with Gerathon, or it could be symbolism, with snakes representing evil and his mother saying that Shane would never become evil.

“In her absence . . . ” (21). Is Shane’s mom dead?

“ . . . when the Reptile King’s soldiers had bonded with any animal they could get their hands on” (21). So he knows about the Bile, too???

“‘I am in charge!’ Shane shouted” (23). Yeah, gettem. Also it’s hilarious how this must look to Zerif, to have this child shout at him like that.

Why doesn’t Shane just show Zerif to his father? Like, yeah, he’s sick or whatever, but he can just have him thrown in jail afterward again.

Shane casually calling himself leader in front of Gar!!!

“‘We’re the most peaceful nation in Erdas. The rest of the world pretends we don’t exist’” (25). He literally knows the entire story except the part about the existence of Nectar??? Also, why is Gar so insistent on starting a war? Like all he cares about is building his fleet. But why?

“‘It is my honor as regent to stand before you today to christen this ship . . . ’” (27). Erdas had Christianity???

The Stetriol-post-WWI-Germany parallels are. Not subtle.

Isn’t this the scene where Shane realizes that Gar wants to send him away to war to secure his own power??? Why is that not mentioned?

The idea of a small eight-year-old child who’s determined to kill all snakes is simply adorable.

“He was armed for war” (29). *insert picture of small child in scraps of armor*

“‘He wants to hurt the snakes,’ Drina said . . . ‘Because they hurt him’” (30). It’s interesting how Shane’s mom teaches him about harming innocents with revenge as young as eight, but this scene never actually says he processed or learned that.

“‘Most snakes are harmless, Shane. And the one that bit you was only surprised. You don’t want to hurt snakes for being snakes, do you?’” (30). Parallels between the war on the snakes and the war on the Greencloaks? The Greencloaks hurt Shane first, so he tries to hurt all of them, even the innocent ones. 

Small Shane yelling about how he’s not scared is so cute.

“‘Sometimes hate and fear are the same thing’” (30). Is this coded toward his relationship with Drina or the Greencloaks?

“ . . . Shane widened his eyes as if he cared” (31). Shouldn’t . . . he? Isn’t he kinda poor? Stolen food could be expensive . . . Also why are there servants now???

It’s so interesting how we don’t see Drina’s response to Shane asking her to leave with him . . .

“The planks that made up the fort had been painted pink and green - Drina’s and Shane’s respective favorite colors” (32). I’m going to assume that Shane’s favorite color is green based on the order the names and colors are listed in . . . his favorite color used to be the color of his future enemies . . . 

“He trailed his hand along a pink plank, curled his fingers into the gap, and with sudden violence ripped the board free” (32). He’s ripping away his childhood . . . ?

Oh, this is the scene where he realizes Gar’s plans to send him away to danger.

“If Shane refused to sail with the fleet, he would look like a coward” (32). He says . . . right before the exposition about his plan to leave Stetriol. Does he think that won’t make him look like a coward???

“Perhaps they’d even have a cure for Drina” (33). He’s right . . . in a sense. Even though it’s never explicitly stated, it's definitely implied that Nectar can’t cure bonding sickness, it can only prevent it.

Nobody: Literally nobody: Shane: *screams*

“‘Sugar water. Salt water. One maniac tried to convince my father to drink snake venom’” (34). But like. Why??? Was he unhappy or something?

“‘And during the day, it’s as hot as a cauldron.’ ‘I do not burn easily,’ Zerif said . . . ” (35). Only during the day??? Well, then, a lot of people should’ve been able to get to the top, right??? Just do it during the night . . . why is Zerif the only one who’s done this???

“‘One can learn all sorts of secrets,’ . . . ‘if one takes time to listen at the base of that great pillar’” (35). So Kovo didn’t hire Zerif, Zerif just overheard him talking???

“But Shane wasn’t allowed in the water. He knew he’d never be free” (36). Free, as in freely bonded to a spirit animal??? 

I forgot Shane’s mom died. 

“ . . . the Great Beasts were all but ignored in Stetriol . . . ” (37). Because Stetriolans believe the Great Beasts cursed them? 

It’s interesting how Shane thinks of the Four Fallen as “aid[ing] the Greencloak invasion” (37).

It really means something that Shane chose Mulop and Mulop is the only Great Beast that canonically saw the best in him. Shane and Mulop both have soft spots for each other.

Feliandor-Shane parallels!

“He looked over the portrait for a moment more, and decided he didn’t see much of a resemblance” (38). Shane! Fel! Parallels! Feliandor looking at the portrait of his parents and seeing no resemblance, but seeing that as a negative thing, and Shane seeing the portrait of Fel and seeing no resemblance, but seeing that as a positive thing.

“‘So smug,’ Shane said, feeling a little smug himself” (39). Heh.

[cut because block limit]

“‘Feliandor’s soldiers all used the Bile, and none of them suffered the bonding sickness’” (39). Okay, Shane came to the right conclusion, but did nobody tell him that the bonding sickness didn't even exist before the war?

How does Shane know what a talisman even is? Isn’t that some sort of secret?

The idea of the true king having the Jade Serpent is such a cool concept, and having the talisman be in the throne as a very literal interpretation of that is kind of interesting, because it kind of symbolizes how frivolous and material Kovo saw being king of Stetriol as. By “true king” he literally meant “guy who sits on the throne”, instead of something like “had the qualities of a king”.

“Would that mean Gar was the true king of Stetriol?” (41). See, this is what I mean. The narrative implies that having the talisman equals being the true king, even though that’s just what Zerif says.

Shane tries to save the kangaroo! That’s such a cool symbolism moment, representing how he truly just had good intentions.

“But there were no jackals in Stetriol” (43). Throwback moment.

“He refused, too, to admit that his wife had been sick” (44). Why did the king marry a woman with bonding sickness, anyway?

“But when his daughter . . . was similarly stricken, something in the king has snapped” (44) and “‘But the real trouble happened when he decided he could cure himself . . . He killed his own spirit animal’” (45) imply that the king killed his spirit animal around the time Drina got the sickness. It’s interesting how the combination of the death of a spirit animal and the bonding sickness compound on one another instead of canceling each other out. 

“‘ . . . I’d have to admit that the king is . . . unfit. That Stetriol is without a true leader’” (44). Not really anything wrong with that, though? He could just claim his position as leader.

Zerif refers to Shane as “Prince Shane”!!!

So Shane knew the entire story of what happened except the part about the Greencloaks having the Nectar. And that’s the turning point. That’s the moment he goes from being innocent to . . . not so much. 

Kovo’s message being so literal is perfect symbolism for how Shane saw being king as a surface-level thing. Just have a powerful spirit animal and no sickness and you’ll be a great ruler! Never mind any other qualities a king may need!

“The sense of triumph he experienced in that moment . . . ” (46). This reminds me of how he’s described to have “cold triumph” in his eyes during the showdown on Muttering Rock.

“ . . . bracing himself for her verbal abuse” (46). It’s so sad how he got used to that, though, even though he knew it wasn’t her fault.

“The curse had been broken” (47). Ironic.

“Shane stood on the beach that night and watched his sad little handmade boat go up in flames” (47). Symbolism for destruction of innocence, me thinks. The boat was made out of his childhood playhouse.

It’s so interesting how Shane didn’t get a real spirit animal, unlike Fel. Just thinking about how in another nation, he’d have been the only one in his family to not live up to expectations.

“He felt neither. But while their eyes were averted, he allowed himself a furtive smile” (48). Sort of makes me think that Shane’s morals immediately going out the window is about the destruction of his innocence more than him finally realizing it was an option to kill his father.

“What kind of person would want a spirit animal? A ruler, thought Shane. A king.” (48). This is what I meant when I said that Shane saw very shallow things as qualities of a good ruler rather than actual good qualities.

“Shane dreamed he’d bonded with a crocodile” (48). Ohohohohooho. 

“The creature had drowned one man and maimed two others before it had been subdued” (48). Kind of reminds me of that scene in Blood Ties where Shane sacrifices his own soldier to save Abeke. He doesn’t care who’s loyal to him.

“He woke slowly from an untroubled sleep” (49). Unlike the past two years . . . 

Also this story proves that Zerif’s jackal was a natural spirit animal . . . but we know he took the Bile. We also know after the war, it runs away, but wouldn’t their bond have been natural by that point? How did it leave him?

Vendetta

“The war was over, and he’d won it” (55). Gotta love the stark contrast between this section and the next one (Vengeance).

“But who needed to tell them apart anymore? What was the point of borders, anyway? It all belonged to him now” (55). Shane being up high symbolism for his ego?

“They’d both been lying for a very long time, hiding their true natures, like a crocodile hides beneath the surface of the water, waiting to strike” (56). The crocodile-Shane symbolism is just such a cool thread. It represents his corruption and redemption beautifully.

“The days he’d spent on the boat with Abeke had been … Well, they had been a pleasant respite from months of war” (56). I love how subtle this book is with Shane’s feelings for Abeke. You just get these little gems throughout that show how much he does truly care for her and how much it did hurt to betray her.

I like how it’s shown very clearly how hard the Greencloaks tried to fight to get the talismans back. Like they didn’t just give up hope at the end of Rise and Fall like the narrative suggests. No, they still tried to get them back. And they very nearly did.

“‘Have a care!’ Shane shouted. ‘Lose me and you lose the talismans’” (58). The ego that drips off of Shane in this section is just. Wow, this guy really talked back to a Great Beast. It’s honestly so well done.

“If there was one thing Shane couldn’t stand, it was feeling powerless. He’d had enough of that back in Stetriol. But he hadn’t truly been powerless in a long time. Not since he’d drunk the Bile and joined Zerif in his campaign against the Greencloaks” (58). I kind of want to know what Zerif’s motive in all this is? Why does he hate the Greencloaks? This is a great way of tying Shane pre-corruption and Shane post-corruption, though.

“‘Why not? Let them come in force,’ Shane scoffed. ‘I took them on single-handedly. What chance would they have against my army?’” (59). Shane is such an egoistic little bitch in this section, it's hilarious.

“‘You would not wish to displease Gerathon.’ ‘I know that,’ Shane spat. His face grew warm despite the blustery wind. ‘I know that well’”  (59). Ohhhhhhhh.

Shane’s fear of spiders parallels Meilin’s fear of spiders. They both started hating spiders during the same incident (Drina getting murdered by her own spirit animal). And Shane’s ego in this section perfectly matches Meilin’s near the beginning of the series, as well. 

“ . . . the most beautiful to Shane’s eye was the leopard of amber. It seemed to glow with its own inner light” (62). Well, warning that I’m about to read into this way more than the author probably meant for me to. The talisman is almost definitely symbolism for Abeke. It says “to Shane’s eye” meaning that objectively, the talisman probably doesn’t look that much better than the other talismans. Just like how, objectively, Abeke looks pretty average, but to Shane she’s more than that. It also says there’s an “inner light” which implies something that shines from within, not necessarily anything physical to see. Just like how Abeke has an inner charm. Also, the obvious leopard-Abeke symbolism.

Why does Shane have a vial of Bile??? Why would he need that???

“Kovo’s Obsidian Ape likewise enhanced his vision, but in a subtly different way than the falcon did” (65). I wonder how the Greencloaks got their hands on Kovo’s talisman and why they never used it before.

“[The Amber Leopard] made him feel at ease in this Niloan jungle Uraza had once called home. It was simply the most practical choice, he told himself” (66). Mhm.

“They had trusted their neighbors. That had apparently been a mistake” (67). Love the detached, almost unreliable way this is narrated. Out of context, you would think that Shane was not the one responsible for all the destruction.

“‘You killed me, whether you meant to or not. And that,’ he said, ‘is your nature’” (69). Probably more about Drina, honestly, not Gar.

“ . . . Shane jolted awake . . . ” (69). Hmmmm. So that didn’t go away then.

“Conor and Rollan had almost bragged about it when they’d told him” (70). Wow, Shane is an unreliable narrator.

“He was completely cut off from his sword, the talismans were a hopeless tangle on the floor . . . ” (71). This is why he should’ve kept the talismans on his person.

“ . . . feigning innocence before he remembered that he was in fact innocent” (73). Wow. Shane corruption arc go brrrrrr.

“The village, he decided, must have been protecting Greencloaks. It was the only explanation for the savagery with which the Conquerors had descended” (73). Wow, Shane really is such a manipulative ass in this section, and I love it. 

[cut because block limit]

“ . . . he couldn’t bring himself to pose as a Greencloak” (74). Shane’s ego is really getting in his own way, like my guy. Come on.

“ . . . Shane couldn’t leave him alone in the jungle. Could he?” (75). Reading on a bit further, you can tell that Shane kind of really doesn’t care about Achi and only takes him because he’s useful as a guide.

“But he knew what question Achi was waiting to hear, and he asked it” (78). Shane is manipulative and charming as hell.

“‘Abeke?’ Shane called, louder this time. ‘Abeke, if you’re out there, I can explain everything’” (80). God, I want to know what he would’ve said. Like think about the possibilities. 

“Shane made an involuntary gurgling sound” (81). THAT’S SO FUNNY.

Shane giving the Amber Leopard to Achi cements the Achi-Abeke parallels, in my head.

“He climbed even more nimbly now that he wore Abeke’s talisman - Uraza’s talisman, Shane corrected himself” (82). Ohhhh, so he does think of it as Abeke’s. 

“‘Did you ever hear the story about how the goanna and the perentie got their coloring?’” (83). Kinda wanna hear that one.

“Kovo escaped, but he lost the tail to the cats” (85). I wanna say, it’s pretty unlikely that this story actually happened in canon, because as seen in Tales of the Great Beasts, Uraza did actually like Kovo before they were enemies, saying that it unsettled her that he would work with murderers and calling him her neighbor. But a cute story nonetheless.

Also the story is kind of foreshadowing in its own sense, since in it Kovo is manipulative, but is still defeated in the end. 

“But that was the beauty of the Bile, wasn’t it? No one could resist it in the end. Not even stubborn, foolhardy Drina” (86). Foolhardy??? It’s still unclear whether Drina was in on the plan to get herself killed. In fact, it’s unclear whether Shane knew that the plan was to get Drina killed. 

“He didn’t need to bribe Achi, and he didn’t need to bully him either” (87). Well, at least Shane still has a shred of decency in this section.

“‘She was no Greencloak. She wasn’t even Marked’” (88). Wow, the Conquerors are straight-up stupid. How dumb do you have to be to realize that a non-Marked person means you got the wrong person??? And how dumb is Achi’s dad to gamble that they’d be that dumb?

“In [the jackal’s] jaws was a bloody crown, forged in the shape of a snake devouring its own tail’” (88). Wow, foreshadowing for Zerif’s betrayal for sure.

“‘He got the cats to stop fighting. He saved the day!’” (89). It’s ironic because Shane is clearly paralleling himself, but also he’s the one that started a fight in real life. 

“He was Uraza, and he was home” (91). Kinda cute, if you ignore the context.

“Not that it would have been a very strategic choice with a man-eating cat bearing down on him” (92). Right, but he’s used to sifting through talismans while running. He’s done it several times before in this section. Yes, he’s carrying Achi, but he’s also got Uraza’s talisman to take care of him while he searches. 

“‘And I lost the man I - a good man, Tarik’” (93). Well, that’s about as close to canon as we’ll get.

“‘I haven’t killed anyone,’ Shane growled” (93). Someone needs to teach this guy that killing can be indirect. And also, I don’t think that’s true. There are several battles that he’s been in, so I feel like it’s unrealistic to say he’s never killed anyone.

“‘So high and mighty. Not against sending an assassin after me, though, are they?’” (93). Yeah??? This is a war??? They’re gonna send someone after you, duh. Bro, what kind of logic is that???

“He acted quickly, and replaced the Amber Leopard with Kovo’s Obsidian Ape” (94). Kind of showing him throwing his morals out the window, since he was so repelled by the Obsidian Ape earlier.

“Black and white. Precisely how the Greencloaks saw the world” (95). As if you don’t??? My guy???

“‘Achi, it’s okay,’ Shane said quickly. ‘Grahv won’t hurt you’” (95). Wonder how true that would be if Lishay had called his bluff . . . 

“Shane had given him Jhi’s talisman and carried him all the way here despite the ache in his limbs” (96). Why did Shane carry him? Achi should’ve been healed? And why did Achi let Shane carry him?

“ . . . Shane turned to Achi and winked . . . ” (97). Bitch, he really tried that??? Like unironically??? I’m laughing. Man, I’m laughing so fucking hard.

“He tried to grasp at a fleeting sensation of victory, but it slipped through his fingers and was gone” (97). Kind of like how his victory over the Greencloaks in this section is short-lived and he lost anyway.

Vengeance

The quote. I’m sobbing.

“‘You won. We lost. Do you have to rub it in?’” (103). My guy. Do you know how war works???

“There was real hatred there. Real hunger for revenge” (103). Shane trying desperately to convince himself he’s not as much in the wrong as he is is simply splendid.

“‘Don’t play innocent with me,’ Shane countered. ‘I wrote the book on that particular trick . . . ’” (105). Paralleling the previous section?

“But he could always get more money” (106). How???

“‘Deadly?’ Shane echoed. ‘A frog?’” (107). Does he seriously not know about the whole bright-colors-warn-predators thing??? Huh . . . 

Why does he have a vial of Bile on him??? That is so weird.

“‘They came close, though,’ Shane said, fighting to keep his voice steady” (108). Not him still trying desperately to stroke his own ego.

“ . . . hoarded so jealously over the years” (108). One thing I notice across several books in this series is that whenever they talk about the Greencloak-Nectar situation, they always say “hoarded jealously”. Like, variety in word choice is not a thing apparently.

“‘ . . . What sort of snake?’” (109). This section is so appealing because of the mystery aspect. 

“But what if it didn’t stay that way? What if it could somehow do more harm? The Bile was Shane’s mess. And he was looking to clean up his messes” (110). Right, but he effectively does nothing. The Bile does lose all its power??? That’s so weird. But okay, I guess.

“ . . . stopped to trade for a bag of roasted nuts . . . ” (110). Where did he get the money??? He just gave it all away?

“‘You sound just like a snake I used to know’” (111). Yumaris???

Where is Shane getting the money to hire Anya??? Like huh???

Also Anya is described in an incredibly similar fashion to Anka. Like. I can see how you might get the two mixed up.

“As Shane’s parents and sister grew sicker, he was left entirely to her whims” (113). The relationship between Shane and Yumaris is so interesting and kind of contradictory in some places. 

The whole conversation about tools is probably a reference to Venom, when Yumaris insists that Shane needs many tools . . .

“If this year of war had taught him anyway, it was how much he’d taken for granted as a prince” (115). This is directly contradictory to his statement in Vendetta about how he’s not pampered despite being a prince. Character development or something, I guess. 

“‘“Bushmaster” is a code. And it leads to that jungle temple’” (117). How does he know that??? Is it something Yumaris taught him???

Feel like the venom-poison-snake-frog thing is symbolism for Shane and Yumaris. Shane is a snake, who’ll hurt you by himself, but for Yumaris to hurt you, you have to interact with her first.

“‘The bright colors are a warning to predators: I am dangerous and I taste bad. Stay away.’ ‘Sort of like a Greencloak,’ Shane said under his breath” (119). LOL.

“‘We don’t have bears here.’ ‘Tell that to the bear!’” (120). I love them, Your Honor. 

[cut because block limit]

“Outside of Stetriol, they were supposed to pretend he was no more than their commander’s nephew” (121). Even the Conquerors that aren’t Stetriolan know that???

“‘I’m thinking we throw Soyland to the bear and she lets us go’” (123). I’m with Anya there, not gonna lie.

“‘The bear was a victim in all this. Poisoning her isn't right’” (124). Redemption arc Shane go brrrrr. 

“‘“Bushmaster” was what we called this operation. We- We named them all after snakes’” (124). Oh, so that’s how he knew.

Also, what was the operation specifically?

I get that they have a common enemy, but Anya doesn’t react with much ferocity toward Shane’s reveal. Like. They haven’t even known each other that long.

“But there was no point in turning down the man’s gratitude, and he accepted it with a curt nod” (127). Yes. Yes, there is??? Yes, there is.

“Shane wondered briefly how many young men and women of Stetriol had marched into battle across Erdas” (127). Oh, so they are from Stetriol. Interesting. 

“Each and every drop was a drop made by their hands” (129). Wow, the paranoia starts already.

“And then there was Yumaris, who made an unusual choice” (130). Okay, so if Yumaris hadn’t already been bonded to her worm before, then how did she know the future before taking Bile? It said she spoke of the future like the past, so was she just making that up???

“Alone among the kings and queens of Stetriol. Food for worms, all of them” (131). I guess you can never really escape your fate, even if you become great.

“‘Sir,’ said Lovvorn. ‘Sire!’ said Alix. ‘Idiot,’ said Anya” (136). Cackling.

“‘Did she tell you I have a weak spot for girl archers? Did she think I’d be more likely to trust you if you reminded me of someone I care about?’” (137). Ooooooooh. Kicking my feet at the subtle references to Abeke.

Shane blaming Yumaris for Drina’s death as if he isn’t the one that came up with the plan in the first place is so damn blame-shifty. (He came up with it right? Feel like that hasn’t been confirmed, only heavily implied.)

“‘Gerathon was going to kill one of you that day. By stepping in when I did, I ensured it wasn’t you’” (140). Why was Gerathon going to kill one of them??? I thought it was Drina, so the plan could go . . . well, according to plan. But it really seems like Shane and Yumaris had no idea Drina was going to be killed??? So what was the original plan exactly???

“‘I wish I could see for myself how you’ve grown’” (140). Awwww.

“‘The world above will need a protector who can walk the line between good and evil’” (141). Why do they need to be evil???

What happens to Anya after this? Does she just go back? Do they ever talk again? Does she know Shane eventually dies?

Venture

“‘I’m not here to cause trouble Maddox’” (148). Why are they immediately antagonistic??? I literally don’t remember shit about this. 

“ . . . Abhay wasn’t from Stetriol - and he didn’t have an obvious grudge” (149). Wait. Are the men mad because Shane lost the war? Or something different?

“‘I am Maddox’s king’” (149). He just said it didn’t bother him to not be called a king like a page ago.

“‘People said that, at the end, you fought alongside the Greencloaks’” (149). How do people even know that? It happened at the Evertree, and nobody else was there.

“‘For us, the war never ended’” (151). Huh.

“Shane dreamed he summoned a wolf . . . he knew he’d never be alone again” (151). This is kind of heartbreaking, in a way. Like he’s been alone his whole life and only because of war is he making friends. And never ones that he really keeps.

“Others called him a traitor” (153). For fighting with Greencloaks in the end?

“She had a special knack for pointing out Shane’s shortcomings, and pride ranked high on the list” (154). She’s not wrong. Even in The Burning Tide, when Shane is trying to redeem himself, he wants to impress Abeke more than anything else.

“But, oh, how he wanted to trash this guy” (154). Yeah, me too, honestly. He doesn’t appear to be the most open-minded.

“Shane could swear the figure was wearing a crown” (155). Why is he watching her during a fight, anyway??? Like, dude???

“Shane dreamed he summoned a panda. The animal wrapped him in its arms” (155). Awwww.

“‘The dirt is no place for pride, my king’” (156). If Shane wanted to help himself, shouldn't he have gotten up and not laid pathetically in the dirt?

“‘A natural bond. We grew up together’” (157). I wonder what Viktor thinks of Bile bonds in general. He grew up in Stetriol, so he’d probably be pretty torn.

Okay, so he thanks Shane for the Bile, but also wouldn’t he find it somewhat repulsive, seeing as he has a good bond with his own spirit animal?

“ . . . held no medicinal properties as far as Shane or Yumaris could discover” (159). I wish they’d shown more of Shane and Yumaris working together.

“Shane dreamed he summoned a falcon . . . He was untouchable” (160). Paralleling his ego?

“Here, at last, were the true warriors” (161). How were they picked? 

“‘See now, Karmo? I said you’d get the hang of this’” (162). Is Karmo being forced? Maybe because of his merging with his animal? But that’s a secret, right?

“He did, however, wear a tight bandage around his left forearm” (162). Oop, Shane got him.

[cut because block limit]

The woman with the nickname “Greenslayer” needs a backstory of her own.

Why did Yeffa not want Karmo to help Viktor??? There’s a reason, right?

“It was clear who they held responsible for the outcome of the war” (164). Yep, that’s it.

“Shane wasn’t wholly surprised when Karmo made a break for it later that night” (165). Why didn’t Karmo do that earlier, though?

“‘Shane as in Shane the Reptile King? Devourer Shane?’ ‘It’s just Shane these days’” (167). Shane’s humor’s at its finest when it’s unintended.

“‘King Shane is a no-good snake’” (168). The snake symbolism thread is just *chef’s kiss*

“Who would want to keep so many smelly, scaly reptiles on display?” (169). It’s ironic how Shane is the self-proclaimed Reptile King, yet hates reptiles in reality. Almost like he hates himself from the start.

“‘Zerif chose some real lowlifes. Devin was a bully. Ana was a thief. And Tahlia, the girl from Stetriol? She was downright vicious. We were all afraid of her’” (171). Kind of wonder where Ana’s from. Like, what’s her story? Maybe she was a thief because of circumstance, like Rollan.

“Faced with such devastation, Shane had decided that day that he would activate their secret asset in the next battle. Let the Greencloaks hurt one another for a change” (171). It’s almost funny how jealous he sounds. 

“‘My tribe has never had a Rain Dancer. That means we get less respect in Nilo than the insects and grubs’” (172). But Abeke’s tribe was the same before she was declared Rain Dancer, right? It doesn’t really seem like respect was Abeke’s tribe’s main problem.

“‘Finally getting called a hero, and it’s for all the wrong reasons’” (172). I think even if Karmo had succeeded in the Rumfuss mission, he’d probably have come around anyway in the end. Like he has now.

“‘The Reptile Queen?’ ‘That’s what she calls herself.’ Shane felt a weight in the pit of his stomach . . . It was the feeling he got whenever something bad was happening - and that it was his fault” (173). Oh, he figured it out immediately.

“Shane dreamed he summoned a leopard . . . And he knew he had been forgiven for all he’d done wrong” (174). Oh my God, I’m actually gonna start crying. This like. Perfectly encapsulates the tragedy of Abeke and Shane. Like Abeke forgives him but at the cost of his own life.

“‘The snake is you, if it wasn’t clear’” (176). God, this guy is stupid.

“Shane had once worn that crown . . . ” (178). How did she get her hands on Stetriol’s crown?

Okay, but how did Tahlia survive??? How did she get off the docks?

Shane didn’t know what the execution method was going to be, and didn’t have a plan for dealing with it. Which means that if they had just been planning on running him through with a sword or something, he’d have been screwed. Like, wow, that was straight-up stupid of him.

“One of the tattooed islanders lay unconscious at their feet, while the second one stood at the edge of the tree line, pleading with a huge emu . . . ” (182). Yeah, gettem. This means that the brothers are Piri and Timone. Which means they didn’t change and are still both corrupted as fuck. Nice to see that Timone has regressed with his spirit animal bond.

“She wouldn’t let go of her knives any more than she would let go of her hate” (184). It’s giving Conor and Cordelia in that final battle.

“‘The war is over!’ he cried” (186). Aww.

“‘But this time, we’ll be fighting on the right side’” (186). Shane’s redemption arc is so perfectly started in this book. I will never not be angry that he and Abeke never sat down after they met up again and had a genuine conversation about their feelings.

Final thoughts and rating (doing the negatives first this time):

Zerif and Yumaris’s bonds are weirdly inconsistent. Zerif’s bond is natural, seeing as he was bonded even before finding the Bile, so how come his jackal ran away? It can’t do that, can it? And Yumaris had a Bile bond, but had her powers even before she was bonded? So that’s sort of a plot hole. I also felt the last two stories were slightly more off-putting than the first two. They felt strange in terms of tone, which I get that they were supposed to be, but the resolutions to those sections felt so weirdly rushed. While I did enjoy getting to see what happened to Tahlia, she’s just such a weird villain. I can’t imagine her having enough finesse to put together an entire army, the way she screams at Shane and the way she doesn’t take his hand at the end. With Shane, you can see that he’s smart and careful and manipulative, but with Tahlia, I just have such a hard time believing she could stop acting like a child long enough to put together a two-hundred-person army. Anya was a strange character. I liked her while reading, but her ending was so out-of-place. 

Most of the negatives of the book are nit-picks, because there’s almost nothing wrong with this book, in my opinion. First of all, the parallels. They’re so good. I feel like Nick Eliopulos has such a different writing style, one that favors symbolism and parallels and other analyzation things over the story itself. It was really fun trying to find them all and made my reread almost as fun as the original. Also the Easter eggs??? Like the Piri and Timone thing, or the several hints about Abeke. It was fantastic. The story really rewards you for paying attention to the main series and this book. First two stories were at their best, with the backstory and the Shane-snake-crocodile symbolism. The complicated relationships in Shane’s life were also written so well, such as Drina and Yumaris. It’s clear that Shane both hated and loved both of them. It also shows why he cared for Abeke so much, seeing as that was one relationship that didn’t feel as complicated to him, at least in the beginning. Exploration of the Bile was done well, too. We can see that Timone, for example, is still bonded, because his bond was originally natural, but Piri’s killer whale apparently left him. Getting Karmo’s backstory was also a highlight. And it paves the way for Devin’s story in Tales of the Fallen Beasts. And Shane the unreliable narrator. Excellently done. His pride being his “fatal flaw”, so to speak? And that being a thread that carried the entire book? It was astonishingly well done. I could see it even when it wasn’t explicitly said. Shane as a character carries this book on his back. He is such an excellent protagonist (anti-hero?) to follow, and it makes me wish we’d gotten more page time of him in the main series, as well as more chapters from his perspective. He’s so smart, and the places where he’s figuring things out or using his wits just make him even better. This book is the one that made Shane my favorite character because he’s just written with so much depth and this book does a spectacular job of humanizing him. 

Rating: 10/10

[free-for-all-fics]

So… What was supposed to be a much shorter prompt for Captain Renault developed a mind of its own and became a crossover prompt/story the length of a novella. Whoops. But I regret nothing. It’s a fitting end before I take a long break from Casablanca to focus on other movies! Don’t fret though! I’m not gonna stop writing for Louis Renault entirely, just any future prompts he’ll be in will be crossovers while I dip into other Claude Rains characters! This is part 1 of 3! Buckle up because this is my attempt at a slow burn and told through a partial epistolary format. Not every plot point is told in chronological order. The narrative mostly takes place in the past but occasionally jumps around with flash forwards and flashbacks interspersed.

Content warning: Majority of this story/prompt takes you through a fictionalized portrayal of World War I and some aftermath, neither of which are depicted in a way that would get approved under the Hays Code. World War II is also discussed, but not in nearly as great of detail because I was running out of steam. It will get dark and heavy at points, but there will be light at the end of the tunnel. I promise. That being said, this story/prompt contains mentions and depictions of adultery, violence (the kind of violence that comes with war but also a Claude character beats another Claude character with a blunt object in part 2) death, murder, verbal/domestic abuse, threats, blackmail, sickness, trauma, depression, pregnancy. Dead Dove Do Not Eat. There might be more that I’m forgetting. Pls tag me if you’re inspired by any of this and I’d love to read it! ⚕️🤍

You’re enjoying a quiet day at home with your husband and daughter when she finds old photos from your time during World War I and World War II. Neither you nor your husband have looked at these photos in what feels like ages. She asks, more like begs, for you to tell her about what it was like for you during those time periods. You’ve told her abridged versions before, but you thought it’d be too long and boring for her when she was growing up and kept it limited to only the parts that were appropriate for a child to hear. She’s an adult and old enough to appreciate it now, so you and your husband decide to finally tell her the entire story.

The increased militarization of Europe and the lack of negotiations between major powers led to harsh and rash actions taken by both sides in respect to Alsace-Lorraine during World War I. As soon as war was declared, both the French and German authorities used the inhabitants of Alsace-Lorraine as propaganda pawns. Germans living in France were arrested and placed into camps by French authorities. German authorities developed policies aimed at reducing the influence of the French. In Metz, French street names, which had been displayed in French and German, were suppressed in January 1915. Six months later, on 15 July 1915, German became the only official language in the region, leading to the Germanization of the towns' names effective 2 September 1915. Prohibiting the speaking of French in public further increased the exasperation of some of the natives, who were long accustomed to mixing their conversation with French language. Still, the use even of one word, as innocent as "bonjour", could incur a fine. Although the both of you were posted outside of Alsace-Lorraine, you were all too aware of the tensions that were rising between the Germans and the French, fueled by hate and fear. It wasn’t just the Alsace-Lorraine region that was affected, it was happening in other places all across Europe.

You tell your daughter that, while all this history may seem irrelevant at first, it’s important that you properly set the stage so she can fully grasp the seriousness of your situation. You, a German woman, and your husband, a Frenchman, befriended each other and later fell in love. That may seem inconsequential now, but back then, it was anything but.

Had it been like it was in the “old days” before Florence Nightingale, countless of otherwise perfectly strong and healthy men would’ve died. Back in those days, hygiene was neglected, medicines were in short supply, there was no equipment to process food for the patients, and poor care was being delivered to wounded soldiers by overworked medical staff in the face of official indifference. With overcrowding, defective sewers and lack of ventilation, ten times more soldiers died from illnesses such as typhus, typhoid, cholera, and dysentery than from battle wounds. Mass infections were common, many of them fatal.

But the First World War represented a turning point in the history of war and medicine. For the first time in a major modern conflict, doctors were able not just to treat and save the lives of hundreds of thousands of sick and wounded military personnel, they managed also to make unprecedented numbers of injured and diseased soldiers fit enough to return to the front lines to fight again. This was in part thanks to important developments in surgery and medical science – particularly advances in wound management, fracture and nerve injury treatment, bacteriology and immunology. But it was also the result of a gradual revolution in the organization and administration of wartime medical care – something to which most governments and armed forces were by now giving a great deal of attention.

Despite the many, many improvements since Nightingale’s time, your hospital wasn’t perfect nor were the people working there infallible. The working conditions for nurses overseas were generally poor. Typically, nurses had to adjust to many things that were uncomfortable or limited their ability to provide care. Long hours (14- to 18-hour shifts), extreme cold, and poor weather conditions were just a few of the adjustments that needed to be made, along with seeing and treating severe and often horrifying injuries with minimal equipment. Though considerably less, your hospital still had the occasional case of negligence on the ward. It was your duty and your mission to make sure that everything was kept clean and procedures were conducted in the correct manner to prevent infection. Your goal was to make sure that all the patients were comfortable and recovered quickly. Your passion was to look after people and to make them well again, and laziness you couldn’t abide. You had a duty to stamp out any traces of negligence and to intervene at the first sign something was wrong. Anything from an overworked nurse to a lookalike medication or patients with the same name mixup, you and your sisters on the ward all had a responsibility to watch each other’s backs and do everything in your power to prevent easy mistakes from being made before they became fatal mistakes.

You first met Louis Renault in November 1915. He had been posted abroad with the French Army and fractured his right leg below the knee during his service. He was sent to the hospital you worked at for medical treatment and put under your charge. At the time, the both of you were already married to other people. You were estranged from your husband. Louis, in contrast, was content in his marriage. He at least had a spouse who cared enough to write to him and loved her enough to write her back. He thought she was the love of his life.

You show your daughter one of the old journals belonging to Louis, in which he meticulously logged his major life events. You flip to the page where he wrote of his engagement, as this could be considered the very beginning of what would later become your love story. The ink is faded in spots, but still legible.

19 March 1912

Today is a day to celebrate! At long last, the woman I love has agreed to give me her hand in marriage. I must begin preparing for her arrival at once! I'll gladly change every fixture and fitting in the house so that she feels at ease. I'm also commissioning a special dress to be made for her. She's going to look stunning in it. I just know it.

When war was first declared in 1914, the reality of the situation didn’t immediately sink in for Louis. He knew that he was eligible for service and there was a high chance his name would be selected from the local ballot. He knew that he had only hours left to spend with Madeleine, his young wife, before he was forced to leave her behind to hold down the fort on the home front. But he kept these thoughts to himself and spent as much time as he could with her, hardly letting her out of his sight or out of his embrace for even a second. He doted on her, spoiled her, nearly smothered her in his affections and made love to her almost every day like he normally would.

The romantic that he was, he played his role and happily fulfilled his husbandly duties at home…until he received his conscription notice and couldn’t play pretend anymore. A single sheet of paper held so much weight. It forced him to face the reality that he had another duty, a duty to his country. After he was shipped out, he looked back on those last days spent with Madeleine and came to the realization that he made love to her and acted in a way indicative of how a man would if he was uncertain whether he’d survive or not. He never wanted it to be goodbye sex with her but there he was, subconsciously trying to use his body language to say goodbye without using words, in case he came home in a wooden box or didn’t come home at all.

The separation was extremely hard for the both of them. He missed his wife terribly, so much so that he nearly became physically ill from homesickness. She became lonely and wasn’t the same vibrant young woman that he once knew. He could tell this just by the change in the tone of her letters. The way she wrote, the words she used. In the years that followed, she became much more withdrawn and depressed. He did everything he could to comfort her and be there for her, but he couldn’t just abandon his post and she knew that. But phone calls and letters simply weren’t enough for her. Their marriage ultimately became much more subdued In the long run.

Your husband hadn’t bothered to write since you first began your training, citing that he had to go to Mexico on business then back to America. Before you left for your training, he told you over dinner that he’d be gone a long time and you wouldn’t see him very often. You weren’t surprised nor disappointed. He only confirmed your earlier suspicions that he wanted you out of the house and had ulterior motives behind his decision. But you were relieved. You had an extremely unhappy marriage and felt like a massive weight was lifted off your shoulders in your husband’s absence. You were free from the prying eyes and eavesdropping ears of both him and the servants, free from the stifling atmosphere of the cold and pretentious mansion. You no longer had to walk on eggshells out of fear of bringing embarrassment to your husband or jeopardizing his carefully constructed reputation. Here you could finally be yourself and stop putting on airs of being a great lady or happy wife. Though you had no say in it, in some zigzagged way, your husband gave you your name back and, with it, you had some grain of independence back. Whether he intended it to be that way or not, it was the greatest gift your husband ever gave you.

“You know, in some strange way, I feel closer to you than I ever have to anyone in my whole life. Do you understand that?”

“I think so.”

“You know that I'm married. I cannot ask anything from you but your friendship. But that would be very precious to me.”

“And to me, too.”

And so you became friends. With Louis, everything was new and fresh and wonderful. What he liked, you liked. A poem you loved before became twice as magical to you because Louis loved it too. While he was recovering from his leg fracture, he began to worry when he still hadn’t received word from his wife. He kept writing her almost daily, but nearly two months passed and still nothing came for him while he was in hospital. It became harder and harder for him to keep his thoughts at bay the longer he went without a peep from her. His letters not being returned to sender was of little comfort, but knowing that they were at least getting to her gave him the tiniest sliver of hope. Laid up in bed, he could do little else besides read and write in his journal. Maybe if he was just patient and waited long enough…

9 January 1916

I don't know how many weeks have passed, waiting to hear back from her. It's been so long, in fact, that I can barely remember even sending my last letter. I’m beginning to suspect that my letters never made it to her. Or worse still, what if she’s ignoring them or throwing them on the fire to burn? Oh, my dear Madeleine, just to hear from you is all I desire. Just a kind word from you to put an end to my inner turmoil is all I ask for. Maybe she really doesn't love me. Maybe she's happily living a brand new exciting life, getting romanced by other men. Maybe I’m just being paranoid. The drugs I’m being injected with numb the pain but make me drowsy. I can barely keep my eyes open. I need to stop writing now.

Louis developed a fever as his body attempted to heal itself. He experienced vivid fever dreams that felt almost like real memories, but weren’t. In his dreams, people all around town fell ill with a disease that had no name yet. Tourists and locals alike spread rumors that France had fallen victim to a silent but effective attack of biological warfare, while others called it a karmic curse brought upon them by their own hubris. In his nightmares, he couldn’t even think of leaving, still under the thumbs of his superiors and bound by his duties in the French Army. The thought of being forced to stay and keep fighting would’ve been more daunting and disturbing were it not for his wife. As long as she was waiting for him and safe at home, he believed he had the strength to see through till the end of the war. But his fever dreams always started and ended the same way:

It was a gorgeous early summer day. The sun was shining brightly, the birds were singing, and there was a warm gentle breeze. He came home early, expecting a kiss from his beautiful wife, and instead found her in the process of writing a Dear John letter. Sometimes she’d be writing to her lover and telling him of her upcoming nuptials, and other times she’d be writing to Louis and telling him of her affair and her desire to divorce him so she could marry the man she truly loved. Even after he woke up in a cold sweat, he still remembered the words on the half-written page so vividly that he logged them in his journal before he forgot:

Dear John,

I received your letter— glad to hear from you. We have been corresponding for some time together. This is very hard to tell you, but I know you’ll understand. I hope we’ll always remain friends, but it’s only fair to tell you that I’ve become engaged to another man. Now we will have to quit our corresponding to each other and I shall have to say farewell to you, my darling. As there was not any promise of marriage made between you and I, I feel at perfect liberty. If you’re in want of a reason, I would just say to you that I was afraid you would never come back; you are away up North, exposed to death, disease, and a smashing of your teeth on them hard crackers. After the war is over, I hope for a world where we may live in peace and safety.

But until that day comes, I must accept the security that wedlock has offered me. I leave the subject with you. I cannot stay with you or ever see you again, but I can only hope that you will understand some small measure of my conflict, and someday forgive me for my actions. Remember that however much I may appear to love him as a wife, it will never come close to amounting to the love I’ll always hold for you, my darling. Though my hand will be his, my heart will always be yours.

Madeleine xxx

Dear Louis,

I received your letter— glad to hear from you. We have been corresponding for some time together. Now we will have to quit our corresponding to each other, as I wish to be joined in wedlock with the man I’ve truly been dreaming of. I believe we are right together. We see no reason to delay in the inevitable. I wish to begin the divorce proceedings as soon as possible. I leave the subject with you. I know it’s not the welcome home you’d been hoping for, but putting it off and continuing this facade of a happy marriage would only be unfair and cause more unnecessary pain to you and I. If you’re in want of a reason, I would just say to you that I was afraid you would never come back; you are away up North, exposed to death, disease, and a smashing of your teeth on them hard crackers. Becoming a war widow is such a ghastly prospect, I can’t bear to even entertain the thought for a second. I really do my best to not think of it at all. I cannot stay with you or ever see you again, but I can only hope that you will understand some small measure of my conflict, and someday forgive me for my actions.

Oh, Louis. I'm sorry. So desperately sorry. I'm so grateful to you, and so proud, and fond of you. I don't know why I can't love you the way you want me to. I've tried, God knows, but I can't change my feelings. And it'll be a lie to say I do if I don't. I’m sorry, Louis. I’m really sorry I can’t love you as a wife should love her husband. You should be loved in the way that you want, in the way that you deserve, but I’m not the woman who can give you that kind of love. I hope someday you can find her, the special woman who can. She’s out there somewhere, waiting for you. I know it.

As for me, I shall have to say farewell to you, my dear. Though I do wish we could have parted friends. I so very much want to feel that you're happy for me. As I'd be happy for you, my darling. Remember: However much I love him as a wife, I will always love you as a friend. Stay safe and be happy, my darling, and God bless you.

Madeleine xxx

In his nightmares, Louis had no control over his words or his actions as he snatched the sheet of paper from Madeleine’s hand and began interrogating her as if she were a prisoner of war. He demanded an explanation but he never got one that was satisfactory. In the moment, he was confused, heartbroken, and angry all at once.

“But you and I are married! How can you just leave me here? I won't have it!”

“This whole city is cursed. If we remain here, all those dear to me will die.”

“Am I not dear to you, Madeleine? Stay with me, and we'll make it through the war together. We’ll rebuild our lives and start anew elsewhere once the war ends, if that’s what you want. I promise you!”

“I’m sorry, Louis. It wouldn’t make a difference where we’d go because I could never go with you.”

“Why not?”

“A journey like that? It’s impossible.”

“Tell me something, my dear. Ever since I got back, I’ve had a feeling that you were very far away from me. Have I changed so much?”

“We both changed. It seems centuries since we were married. Since I knew you.”

“Yes, I’ve seen that. But can’t we find those old selves again?”

“I’ve tried, Louis. I’m afraid they’re gone.”

“You did love me when you married me.”

“I thought I did.”

“Is there someone else?”

“Yes. I'm sorry, Louis, but there's someone else I love who needs me even more than you."

“I’ve sensed that. But I— Oh, well, I hoped against hope. Is that the real reason you want to go? Because there's someone else? Why didn’t you tell me so at once?”

“I thought I’d never tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

“Do you think it hurts any the less now?”

“I’m deeply sorry, Louis. I wish it could’ve worked out differently. I wish it with all my heart.”

“Do you love him?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What’s his name?”

“Does it matter?”

“What’s his name.” He was no longer asking. He was demanding. He had been crossed, and his expression hardened into iron. His smile seemed more the result of a frozen face muscle than a cheerful disposition. He wasn’t Louis, her husband, in that moment. He was Renault, a hardened Captain of the French Army.

“Louis—”

“I have to know it eventually.”

His fever dreams were often unpleasant but never revealed the name of the man his wife was seeing behind his back. His mind was always too foggy. While he didn’t think he’d ever talk to Madeleine in such a harsh or cruel manner, he felt unsettled by what he saw. He was just a Lieutenant and didn’t have the rank of Captain yet, but his dreams showed him as a leader. Was he experiencing prophetic dreams that gave him glimpses into his future? He didn’t want to think about it.

When Renault awoke again, you were in his room. He didn’t move a muscle except for his eyes, which followed your every move as you went about your work. When he was first admitted, you asked him to tell you how he ended up with the fracture in his leg, as it looked to be very painful. He told you the entire story about how he ended up in your hospital. He left out no detail, no matter how gruesome. As a war nurse, he assumed you were experienced enough to have seen it all, and he was right. You treated numerous types of wounds, as well as infections and mustard gas burns. Bullet wounds and outdoor exposure, combined with the added hardship of not having antibiotics, made for risky work. You and your fellow nurses were also faced with soldiers suffering from emotional injuries, including shell shock. Some of you were trained in social work, including psychiatric training, in order to help current soldiers and those returning home deal with their experiences.

From what he told you, it sounded terrifying. You’d seen many soldiers come through hospital with similar injuries to his, but they unfortunately didn’t survive. In the early days of World War I, if a soldier suffered a broken femur, at best, he would endure incredible pain and a high probability of infection of his wounds during his extraction from the battlefield. If the fracture was compound (where the bone pierced the skin), there was a greater chance such men would die from the resulting blood loss and infection. In the horrendous conditions on the Western Front, combat medics and stretcher bearers struggled to dress broken legs and transport the patients back behind the lines to casualty clearing stations for treatment without causing further damage and immense pain. The standard method of splinting fractured limbs was not simple or fast enough to be performed in a lot of combat situations.

The Thomas Splint revolutionized the manner in which men injured in the First World War were treated. It was easy to use and highly effective. It allowed access to wounds for dressing and cleaning, while immobilizing the limb, reducing pain and the risk of further damage and severe haemorrhage. It was comprised of a ring that encircled the top of the thigh at the hip joint, and two sturdy wires that ran down the length of the leg on either side, joining at the ankle or below the foot. It could be applied quickly on the battlefield without removing clothing or boots, before lifting a patient onto a stretcher, making for safer and less painful transportation to medical care. These types of wounds needed patience and time, which the Thomas Splint could help with.

You disparaged those practitioners who didn’t take care to achieve accurate alignment, as they got nervous after a number of weeks and interfered with ‘delayed union’, as you liked to call it, which could lead to a permanent disability. Ideally, a team of three was required to apply the splint (an operator and two assistants) but it could be undertaken by just two members of the team, if necessary. There were twelve different stages in the application of the splint, which all served to make the patient as comfortable as possible – including the last stage of applying hot water bottles. The main goal of that was to be able to move the patient without causing him pain, or any further damage to the injured part. Teams practiced the application blindfolded, so they would be able to perform this function at night and in times of poor visibility.

The timing of when Renault suffered his injury linked nicely with the idea that treatment for fractured femurs had started to improve by that point. You told Renault that he was very, very brave and lucky to be alive. He was fortunate that hospitals had adopted the Thomas Splint, otherwise it was very likely he would’ve lost his leg to infection and amputation, rather than explosion or falling from a great height. Just the other day you had a young soldier who had a very non-fatal wound and, because of incompetence and negligence, that wound became infected. You were quick to assuage Renault’s fears by assuring him that the soldier was perfectly fine but, because of the infection, you had to use more resources and more staff to look after him which, of course, put strain on everybody else.

You were determined to keep Renault in one piece while he convalesced. He wouldn’t be subjected to limb amputation under your watch. You knew that he was a fighter and, thanks to that splint which stabilized his fracture and prevented infection, it looked to you that his leg was healing up very nicely. You did everything in your power to let him know that he was in the best hands when you were looking after him. You scooted your chair closer to his bedside but asked for his permission before you leaned in and invaded his personal space a little bit to get a better look at him. You noticed beads of sweat dripping down his forehead, shining like diamonds in the lamplight. He seemed to look a little bit flushed in the face and, when you felt his brow, it confirmed for you that he had the start of a fever coming. How long had he felt feverish? Two days? Had he told anybody about this? He did? Had anything been done? Had the doctor given him medicine? Nothing had been done? Oh, dear. He had been suffering so.

Your ward had some very serious supply issues because of the war. The supplies hadn’t been getting to you promptly and this obviously caused you and your fellow nurses and doctors some distress on the ward because you couldn’t give the patients and the injured the right things that they needed and, of course, like Renault himself, fever set in and then you had to work even harder to break that fever. You managed to find a very small tincture of tonic for him. It wasn’t a full dose but it was the best that you could do. At least it would provide him with some comfort at least for the next twenty-four hours or so. You warned him that it was bitter stuff and tasted awful, but you promised that it would make him feel better. You told him that it should hopefully break his fever or, at least, make it feel like it for a day or so. Wishing to get it over with as quickly as possible, Renault downed it like a shot of brandy and quickly swallowed before he had a chance to really taste it on his tongue. You told him how well he was doing and how proud of him you were. The worst part was hopefully over now.

You asked if he was quite comfortable and, when he responded in the affirmative, you asked if he had any family. That’s when he first started telling you about Madeleine, his young wife back home. While he was bedridden, he showed you pictures and told you everything about her. She was a beautiful young woman who was many years younger than himself. In fact, she was closer to your age than his own. Despite their age gap, he spoke of her with such love and reverence that you could tell she meant the world to him. He adored her very much, but their marriage hadn’t produced any children.

“How wonderful! Well, you’ll be seeing her very, very soon once your wound heals up. It looks like it’s very much on its way! Once your fever breaks then I’m sure that you’ll be sent back to France swiftly to be reunited with your wife. You must miss her very much. You’ve been stationed here an awfully long time. Well, to be here all this time and only now just become injured, I would say that you’re a very good soldier and very lucky too. Now let’s reapply this bandage on your leg so that this won’t be quite so unpleasant as before. But you just tell me if it hurts at all.”

Wanting Renault to sleep as soon as possible, you fetched some cool water and a clean cloth to bathe his forehead. He still seemed quite flushed and a bit sweaty, so you wanted to provide him some relief from his fever by just cooling his face down until the medicine kicked in. You knew that it was no fun for anyone to feel feverish and sweaty when trying to fall asleep, and sleep was the most important part of recovery. It allows our bodies and minds to relax, which is very helpful in the healing of our bodies of any wounds, as well as our mental and emotional wellbeing. He closed his eyes and you encouraged him to think of his wife back in France. You wondered aloud what she was up to and told Renault that he was doing a great service by being here fighting for his country. You bathed his face, his forehead, and the back of his neck, all while continuing to tell him that everyone was so proud of him, proud of everything that he did for them. You were all proud, so very, very proud and thankful. He and men like him kept you all safe from your enemies and allowed you to live in peace and safety. He had sacrificed so much and you were truly thankful.

Renault looked to be on the verge of falling asleep at any moment, his eyes drooping and closing before reopening just slightly, but just for a few moments so he could tell you that he was feeling a little bit better. He grabbed your hand and stopped you from moving away when you made to get up. His brown eyes, though tired, looked at you imploringly. He was too drowsy to speak coherently and he slurred his words, but you could tell that he wanted you to stay. Though he knew he needed rest more than anything, he didn’t want to fall asleep just yet. The fever must’ve been making him a bit muddled since he acted in a way as if he was afraid that, if he fell asleep, he’d never wake up again. It’s a behavior you’d seen all too often in patients afflicted by fever.

“Oh, my dear, don’t be afraid. I am never too far away. As long as you can see my lamp, then you know that I’m around and, should you need me for anything else, all you have to do is call my name and I’ll come and assist you. Now is there anything else that I can do for you before I move onto the next patient?”

In a spur of the moment, he held your face between his hands and pulled you in for a kiss. It happened so suddenly that you didn’t have time to overthink it because it was over as soon as it began. With that, he finally closed his eyes and released you, seemingly drifting off to sleep seconds later. Though the kiss came as a shock to you, you didn’t think too much of it. Renault was feverish and probably out of his mind with delirium. The line between dream and reality was probably so blurred that he mistook you for his wife for a moment. You doubted he’d remember it in the morning, so you just washed your hands and took other precautions to make sure he wouldn’t get you sick. The last thing you wanted to do was put other patients at risk. Unbeknownst to you, Renault was still awake, though barely. After a few minutes of listening to the sounds of your voice and your fingers turning pages as you scribbled down notes on his chart, he could’ve sworn he felt you lean over him and kiss his forehead. Maybe he was already asleep and dreaming, maybe he was just imagining things due to the fever, but he thought he heard your voice whisper in his ear,

“Now sleep, darling. The doctor will be back tonight.”

But what nobody knew was that, just mere days later, his world had been turned upside down by a letter from his wife. Although initially happy to receive the correspondance, as he continued to read, Louis realized that the letter she sent wasn’t intended for him. From the contents of the letter, he discovered that Madeleine had been cheating on him with John Stevenson, a family friend from England who joined the British Army. This was only made possible because Madeleine, who had been writing to the two men in secret, had accidentally placed this most recent correspondence into the envelope addressed to him. An easy mistake to make, but a damning one.

The revelation was especially hurtful to Louis because he was the one that had introduced Madeleine to John in the first place. He had frequently seen the pair chatting animatedly at social get-together's but, up until that moment, he had always dismissed these interactions as a close friendship or even motherly affection on Madeleine’s part. In hindsight, Louis realized that he had been foolish to think that. Not only were John and Madeleine closer to each other in age, they also shared many interests. It was only natural that an attraction would develop between them. Once he finished reading the damning letter, he folded it, placed it back in the envelope and safely put it in his breast pocket. He’d probably need it for evidence once he began the divorce proceedings - if he began the divorce proceedings - and he didn’t want to risk it being destroyed. The safest place for it was on his person.

Nearly three years out there in that hell of loneliness, thinking always of her. Thinking he couldn’t die because she’d never know how much he loved her. Didn’t she know what it meant when he received her letter after enduring such a long silence? How he wanted to hurry back to the happiness he’d missed, only to find it gone. Stolen from him, stolen! All for this…this ridiculous notion of calf love. This... Why, he showed her what life was. He showed her love and he gave her understanding. Was this infatuation so precious to her that she could turn her back on understanding? Oh, he knew he wasn’t a youth. He wasn’t a savage, a little wavy hair... Why should he have denied it her?

Although devastated and justifiably furious by his discovery, Louis decided not to confront John nor Madeleine about their affair. That being said, he refused to forgive them either. Louis, not yet willing to give up on his marriage, quietly blamed John for seducing his wife and thought about waiting for an opportunity to not only get revenge but to remove his traitorous friend from the equation. John ruined his life, so he thought about taking his. But these revenge fantasies were intrusive thoughts that only lasted for a brief moment and he quickly thought better of it.

21 January 1916

Oh, this wretched life of mine! Madeleine, the woman I loved and to whom I am married, has been unfaithful to me with John Stevenson, a man I always thought of as a dear friend and confidant. Now I don’t know what to think of him. Or her. Did she never love me at all? Why wasn’t I good enough for her? What does John have that I don’t? From just one letter I can tell this has been an ongoing affair. This wasn’t just a one-time event, a lapse in my wife’s judgment brought on by loneliness and anxiety. That I could forgive. This has been a conscious decision from the both of them. Knowing what they did, I don’t know if I could stand to look at either of them if they stood in front of me now. Maybe they’d be too ashamed and wouldn’t be able to look me in the eye either.

It may seem vindictive and petty to think such things, but a part of me hopes they felt guilty for doing it and were thus prevented from enjoying their first time together in our marital bed. If they felt guilty to the point of denying themselves pleasure and being unable to find that release it would mean that, even in its smallest measurement, they cared about me, about my feelings. They had to have known what they were doing was a betrayal of my trust. Do they still feel guilty? No matter which way I look at it, their deceit cuts me to the core. Now I'm lost. Where do I go from here? What's left for me? I can’t go home once the war is over, can I? No. They love each other. She’ll leave me for him, and they’ll take the house. There will be no home to go back to. Not for me. I know it.

It was a war healer's duty to patch the wounds of the soldiers they encountered. But the war felt endless, almost pointless and, after Madeleine’s betrayal, a certain contrarian Renault enjoyed dashing your hopes. He became cynical, jaded, and defeatist, but you were the only person he trusted enough to confide in about his wife’s infidelity with his friend, so you knew his sudden change in attitude and personality was due to his grieving. You wouldn’t let his pessimism and bleak outlook on life get to you, however. Though he was stubborn and tried to fight you on it, you strictly upheld a fixed limit on how much he could drink and smoke per day. This was an extremely stressful time for the both of you. Renault said some rather nasty things to you that don’t bear repeating, but you stood your ground. You wouldn’t let him recklessly jeopardize his health in his vain attempts to numb his emotional and mental pain.

He could insult and cuss you out all he liked, you weren’t going to give in to his demands. You weren’t going to let him kill himself. Too many good men had died already. You instead helped him find better coping mechanisms during this difficult time. Even if he refused your help at first, you never gave up on him. He wasn’t just your patient, he was your friend. And you didn’t want to abandon your friend while he was hurting. He later apologized to you for what he put you through. His emotions, though justified, were misplaced and he wrongfully took it out on you. You forgave him. You knew he wasn’t a bad person. He was a good man underneath it all.

When the doctor later gave him a physical examination, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary. The swelling and inflammation seemed to have gone down. There were no signs of infection or nerve damage that would impair his ability to walk or run in the long-term, but he still had some healing to do before he’d be able to get up and move normally again. Or at least, that’s what the doctor tried to tell him.

“You're in pretty good shape. For once the Germans failed to shoot par for the course.”

“I wonder why. By now according to the rules, I should be floating in the bay or lying in a mass grave somewhere.”

“Maybe they were horrified at the sight of blood. Why don't you ask your nurse why they didn't dispose of you?”

“I already asked her.”

“And she didn't know a thing?”

“What are you getting at?”

“Nothing.”

“This place has really made you sick. She's actually trying to help me.”

“Last night the nurse came and told me to put you back together again. A woman like her? That's something else again.”

“Ah, you drunken... Doc?”

“Yes?”

“How am I?”

“How are you, or how are you if anyone asks me?”

“How am I if anyone asks?”

“Non-displaced transverse fracture in the right leg. You won't be up for some time.”

“Thanks.”

With that, Louis put on a robe and grabbed a pair of crutches as he got out of bed against medical advice. He wandered the hospital in search of you and, when he found you alone in a supply room, he quickly shut and locked the door. If anyone else saw either of you alone together in a supply closet, you would’ve gotten into so much trouble.

“There’s something I wouldn’t talk about while there was a chance I’d be half-crippled. You have to know I love you.”

“That’s enough, Renault.” You made to leave, but he stopped you.

“No, please wait!”

“I’ve got to take you to the x-ray room.”

“You don’t need an x-ray. I’m telling you the important thing that’s going on inside me right now. That first night here, I remember your face as I went down to the anesthetic. It was your face that smiled at me as I woke up.”

“All patients think they’re in love with their nurses.”

“This isn’t that kind of stuff. Believe me, I know. I’ve been around a lot. I’m glad I have, otherwise I wouldn’t know the real thing now that I’ve met it.”

“I think you better have another nurse, Renault. I’ll speak to Matron.”

“So will I. I’ll tell her I’ll shoot any other nurse on sight.”

No longer ailed by a fever, his mind was clear and he was fully aware of what he was doing as he grabbed you up in his arms and kissed you with such fervor. Though you tried to refuse him and push him away, your resistance didn’t last very long. You gave in and reciprocated his kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck and curling your fingers in his hair. While you both may have thought what you were doing was wrong, your guilty consciences weren’t enough to stop you. Neither of you allowed for doubt or regret to set in because you didn’t want it to. Such thoughts were kept at the very back of your minds. But you still pulled away to admonish him. He shouldn’t have been up and about just yet! He needed more rest! The doctor made it clear that he needed to stay in bed for the time being until his cast was ready to be removed. His wandering around the hospital without at least notifying a nurse first was so dangerous. He could’ve slipped and fell or otherwise hurt himself even further.

But he silenced your admonishments with more kisses. In between kissing you, he teased you that you were a nurse, so this was him notifying you that he was up and wandering the halls. He insisted that he felt better than he ever had before, that he was made of tougher stuff than you gave him credit for. He could survive anything so long as he felt loved by you, even those pains that exploded within, those silent hand grenades. With your kindness and compassion, he could endure it. When you smiled at him you were a bandage that wrapped around his body, heart, and soul, piecing him back together again finer than any surgeon could’ve done.

With his marriage falling apart and the whole world crumbling around his ears, Renault, who wanted you to drop the formality of calling him by his rank or surname and call him Louis, chose this time to fall in love with you. It was you who ultimately helped mend his broken heart and helped him to see from a new perspective. His marriage wasn’t a waste of time nor a failure. Divorce wasn’t an admittance of failure. He wasn’t a failure. He needed to figure out a way to go about getting a divorce from Madeleine so that he could be free to be with you without causing anyone involved in this complicated affair unnecessary pain or hardship. Louis did end up walking with a slight limp after his treatment. However, that was a much better outcome than that which other men had to deal with. There was no loss of life or limb in his situation. You believed that, with physical therapy and time, his limp would be corrected.

“No, really, why didn’t you come?”

“Was it so urgent?”

“Terribly. Can you stand a bit of shocking news?”

“Please, tell me the worst.”

“Are you sure you’re prepared?”

“Yes, sir.”

“All right then. Here it is: I’m well. They’re kicking me out of hospital today.”

“Today?”

“Fit for duty with a week’s leave recommended.”

“You must be very glad after all these months.”

“I suppose I should be glad. It’s your fault that I’m not.”

“Where are you going for your leave?”

“I’m not going. I’m staying here. Do you mind?”

“Why should I?”

“You shouldn’t. You should try to look pleased.”

“Should I? You really ought to go now.”

It was inevitable that you both had to return to your duties, but that didn’t stop either of you from continuing your love affair by writing to each other. Louis made a smooth recovery and was eventually released from his medical discharge, deemed fit enough to rejoin the fight.

It’s at this point in your storytelling that you show your daughter some of the old love letters you and Louis wrote to each other. In those days, you and he just wrote and wrote and wrote until your hands became sore and covered in ink or charcoal. There’s hundreds of them and you’ve kept them all.

19 February 1916

…Do you remember, dearest one, that I once told you of a girl years older than myself who taught dancing, and who I had a calf infatuation over when I was very young? And the father had asked me my intentions!!? Well, she married a year ago a very nice man whose wife had deserted him by going to America at the beginning of the war. The divorce of this man took three and a half years to go through, and had far more uncertainties and difficulties than you could ever have dreamed of, and all the time she and he were longing to marry and wondering if it would ever come true. Well, it did, and they married. He's 45 - she’s 42. They’re terribly happy, and they said that after all they'd suffered, waiting and worrying, nothing could ever again make them unhappy.

He told me all he knew of the divorce laws, and he knows just everything, because I wanted his advice. He said how anxious the whole business was, but they never lost heart. Our wait will only be about a year, but when I saw what they'd endured and survived, I just knew that we too would stand the test, and knew also that, when we finally got there, no power or circumstances on earth could ever again separate us or make us unhappy. Because I know that our love is a really true love of the right kind. So wait for me, my own darling, and when I come back to you, I'll make you the happiest of women that the world has ever known and you mustn't mind if I spoil you all the time. Oh darling, darling one, if I could tell you half of how much I love you, and how completely you are now a part of me. But I think perhaps that your heart does know all this. And now I'm going to stop. All my love, my darling.

Louis xxx

He contacted Lee Gentry, a clever and suave but unscrupulous and dishonest American lawyer who had just come over to Europe with his girlfriend, Katy Costello. He was always saving somebody’s life, so abominably clever at solving other people’s troubles yet so half-witted when it came to his own. Mr. Gentry boasted that he lived by lies, made money by lies, and became famous by lies. His analytical mind was always working on something. A little voice inside that legal brain of his was always whispering to him, walking him through step-by-step of what he should do next.

His life, as he told it to Louis, was also complicated by a love triangle. He began where sensible men left off. Hand-holding and what went with it didn’t seem to be enough. He had to pull them apart and see what made them tick. Overwhelm them with attentions, absorb them. With the result that, when he showed signs of leaving some little thing, she acted like sixty-five wives. Why couldn’t he find some interest other than women? Something normal, like poker or running for Congress. Then he never would’ve been in trouble. Two years ago Mr. Lee Gentry began dating Ms. Carmen Brown. But then he later met and fell in love with Ms. Katy Costello. He was so crazy about her that Carmen became something horrible to him.

Every time he saw her, he had to keep her out of his voice, his eyes, his hands. That hatred, that wanting to turn on her and yell… But it couldn’t be done that way. He didn’t want to leave a woman behind whose grief was going to be a beggar pulling at his and Katy’s elbows. But he couldn’t go on like that for much longer. It wasn’t fair to either woman and it wasn’t fair to him. He called on Ms. Brown with the happy notion in mind of just getting it over and done with by telling her that he didn’t love her anymore. Instead he ended up in such an epidemic of kisses, vows, promises. It was discouraging. Carmen believed they had been in love for two years, that it had all been so sweet and was more than an affair, that he wouldn’t have tried to hurt her in the way he did unless there was some reason because he was too nice for that.

When he came to her room to finally break things off with her once and for all, Carmen was near hysterical, telling him that he couldn’t leave her now. She wanted Lee to tell her about Katy, believing that if he told her about her, she’d have a chance. She wanted so badly for Lee to give her that chance. He insisted there was nobody and begged Carmen to stop. He didn’t want them to go on like that and torture each other. Carmen called Katy a cheap little blonde who was as empty as a paper bag. She accused her of only wanting Lee for what he had, not him. She didn’t believe he could love a woman like that. Not him. Lee still pretended to have no idea what she was talking about. He refused to listen to anymore, but she caught him in his lies. She knew he’d been lunching with Katy at the Royal Hotel. The orchestra leader played there in the afternoons and he saw them together.

Lee finally decided that he had had enough and told her his right name finally. That he loved Katy. He loved her and he was leaving Carmen for her. Carmen was so distraught that she professed that she didn’t want to live. That she wanted to die. That they’d find her dead and fix Lee for it. She fumbled around her desk drawer for the gun she kept there. The gun that he gave her. But it was missing from the drawer. While she was in the other room, Lee was smart enough to take it away, empty the chamber of all the bullets, and stuff them in his pocket. Not trusting her with that plaything, he told her that he was going to keep it. Just like he thought she would, she tried to physically stop him when he made to leave. She wrestled and reached for the gun, but it was unloaded and wouldn’t do her any good even if she had gotten a hold of it. She could do nothing to stop him as he left her apartment.

But then he heard the news that she leapt from the window. He never thought she’d stoop to suicide. He thought her too real, too proud for that. But he was wrong. That tragedy led to a court case where he was considered close to the deceased and a person of interest. During the investigation into her death, he was suspected for a time since he was the last person who saw her alive. That period of being questioned by police and in a court of law was extremely stressful, the most stress he’d ever endured. He was so comfortable with being on the opposite side of the stand, the man who asked the questions. But being called to testify on it and having to give the answers to another man’s questions was nearly petrifying. Ultimately it was ruled there was no foul play and Carmen’s death was indeed a suicide.

No charges were pressed against Lee and he was able to walk away a free man, but he didn’t want a repeat of ever coming that close to the electric chair ever again. It was all much too close for comfort. He moved as far away from that case, from her, as he could go. It was an arduous undertaking that took many years and hard work, but he eventually succeeded in moving his practice area from criminal law to civil law. He was and always had been a genius of the law, but now, instead of calling himself “The Champion Of The Damned,” he was now and forever “The Champion Of The Divorced.”

Their past and present troubles with the women in their lives was something Louis and Lee had in common, but there was an unspoken agreement between them that what Lee told him about his past experience would be kept off the record, a secret between men. There was still the matter at hand.

“Now listen to me. Even after you’ve grown to hate a woman, you can’t pick up your hat and go. You’ve got to do it like a gentleman. I don’t know why. You know, leaving a woman, Mr. Renault, is a long and desperate process. Like wrestling with a piece of fly-paper in a high wind.”

“The trouble is, I’m too nice.”

“Indeed, Mr. Renault. But fortunately for yourself, she’s never been in love with you. So she’s only seen your worst side. In love with another man, you are a monster to her.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that.”

“Believe it or not, it makes no difference to me. Either way, I certainly wouldn’t worry about the what ifs surrounding your soon to be ex-wife. She was no Little Bo Peep from what I gathered.”

“Mr. Gentry.”

“After all, from what you told me and this love letter, this John Stevenson fellow took Madeleine away from you, not dissimilar to how I took Carmen away from Eddie White.” He paused, as if thinking back to how that all turned out, then shrugged. “Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. I’m sure your wife loves him just as much as she pretended she loved you. Your testimony combined with this love letter from your wife to another man should be substantial proof of your wife’s infidelity. It’ll take time, but it should be enough for the judge to grant you a divorce. The process may go even faster if there was evidence of infidelity on both parties. That’s what you should think about when you’re with other women. There are others, aren’t there?”

No. There weren’t others, as in plural. Yes. There was another woman. Just the one.

“That’s not a bad idea.”

After meeting with Mr. Gentry, Louis met you for lunch.

“What's wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“My dear, what are friends for if you can't tell them your troubles? And we are friends, you know. We promised each other three months ago. That's one of the reasons I wanted to see you today. To celebrate the three month anniversary of our friendship.”

“Oh, Louis.”

“Do anniversaries make you sad?”

“No, but... I've got something to tell you.”

“I have something to tell you, too.”

“But I've got to say this now while I'm able to.”

“Yes, my dear?”

“I'm not going to see you anymore.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, it's not the reason you think. I mean, people talking about us. They are, you know. The other nurses on the ward, all my friends.”

“And I suppose the other nurses on the ward, all your friends, have taken it upon themselves to warn you of the evils of knowing a married man. A married Frenchman, at that.”

“Yes. You should hear them. But that's not the reason I'm not going to see you again. I don't care what people think. I'm only thinking of me.”

“You?”

“Well, you see, whatever people do think and say, all we are is good friends, and I can get along without you now. But things would get terribly complicated if I ever fell in love with you. So, before I do, I'm going to say goodbye.”

“All right. You've talked. Now it's my turn.”

“Louis, there really isn't anything more to say. My mind is made up.”

“Yeah, so is mine. Do you think I don't know that people are talking? I'm not a fool.”

“I told you, I don't care what people say.”

“Well, I do care, and I'm not going to expose you to it. And furthermore, I'm not going to let you go.”

“But, Louis...”

“I saw my lawyer this morning. I asked him to arrange for a divorce.”

“Louis. But your wife, isn't she going to be terribly unhappy?”

“No. Not so long as I leave her the house and everything in it. And even if I never saw you again, I'd still want the divorce. Until a few weeks ago I never really knew what love was supposed to be. If I can't have you, I don't want anyone. I love you, my dear. Will you marry me?”

“Oh, Louis. I-I really don’t know what to say. I’m not saying no. I don’t want to say no, but…might I have some time to think it over? I just can’t think about it all until the war is over. I can’t give your proposal adequate consideration until then. So, will you wait?”

“I’d wait forever.”

“I’m not asking for forever. Just another year or two.”

With Mr. Gentry’s advice in mind, Louis Renault, in keeping with the times, wanted to divorce his adulterous wife without bringing shame and embarrassment on her. Even after all she’d done to hurt and humiliate him, he wanted to spare her from that same hurt and humiliation. Ultimately, he orchestrated his own extramarital affair by going through the charade of checking into a hotel with an actress for the night so he could be blamed for the separation.

2 March 1916

…I just sweated blood thinking how on earth I’d ever find someone who could enact the farce with me. If I picked up a common tart, she'd immediately have been suspected when we arrived at a hotel and, worse still, she'd expect to be slept with. If I failed to oblige, she'd smell a rat. If I found someone I knew, who'd be prepared to stop a night at a hotel just out of a spirit of sportsmanship and friendship, she'd run a risk perhaps of being seen by someone she knew, and her fair name would’ve suffered. And anyhow I knew no one I could possibly have asked to oblige. What I wanted was a body who wouldn't mind being seen, who wouldn't expect me to sleep with her, and it was hard to think of who could do me this good turn, without even knowing me. So there was the problem.

[…] But then I remembered that my sister vaguely knew a girl from Paris who was in with all the stage folk, lived on her own, and had just divorced her husband. So when I saw her in town, I hoped to chat her up, take her out to dinner, and then tell her my problem. I hoped she'd be able to perhaps suggest someone who would do the deed with me. Well, I went round to her flat after ringing her up, and we had a drink or two. She said immediately she'd do it, and there we were. So she and I just spent two nights in a hotel about twenty miles out of the capital city, and just slept peacefully in our separate beds! I never even held her hand!

When I left, I tried to get her to accept a gift, as a token of gratitude, but she wouldn't. I gave her a bottle of French wine and ordered a whopping bunch of flowers to be sent to her, and that was that. I’m deeply grateful to her, and my faith in the essential decency and generosity of ordinary people has gone up by leaps and bounds, by a complete stranger who did it for no reward, but just to help a man who was in difficulties. She just went through the whole nonsense as if it was one huge joke. So that was the whole story of my incursion into the realms of organized legal vice! […] Goodnight my most dearest beloved. I love you very very very much.

Your Louis xxxxxxxxxxxx

And that was the story of how he first developed his reputation as a hedonist, a rake, and a womanizer among other, more scathing remarks and rumors.

16 March 1916

…At times I feel a bit weak-kneed at not getting down to work for this but once proceedings have started it will be so much easier to explain things. I'll just be able to say I'm being divorced and that will be that, and inquisitive people won't have the opportunity to speculate and wonder what's up! But, darling, don't worry - if we do find this is a good spot to work and live as usses, I know you'll love it, although I'm sure England or America sound like foreign lands to you. Any part of either country will be a happy part when it's inhabited by you, my own darling, and by me, who loves you so very, very much. And now I'll say good night so that I can catch the post. All my love, my own darling one. And it's a great big piece of love. It’s all the love I’ve got and it’s all for you.

Your Louis xxx

23 April 1916

I loved another bit of your letter when you said you were building some special undies for when our future comes. I'm sure they are lovely and I swear I'll handle you as gently as if you were a piece of Dresden china when you've got them on. And I promise we won't have a ripping time. Quite apart from looking the sweetest and loveliest girl in all the world, you have the dearest, tenderest and most lovable characteristics, a beautiful voice and a dirty mind. I'm madly in love with you and I haven't seen you for a long, long time, and every day that passes seems an eternity, but soon I'll be meeting you again. One day soon you’ll be made to change your name and, when that happens, there will be one man in this world who will just burst with happiness. He'll be the very proudest and luckiest man alive. […] All my love, my very dearest darling, and look after your very precious self.

Louis xxx

29 April 1916

That you should love me in spite of all the dreary snags I've got, just fills me with wonderment. Oh, darling dearest, I do just adore you. Isn't it amazing that a love like we’ve got can actually make one happy though we're apart? I miss you like hell all the time, but the very knowledge that there really is an usses makes me happy in a wonderful deep sure manner. I'm sure no one else has ever had an usses but with us it's a tangible thing. When I think of you, my darling, I don’t somehow think of you as a separate being. I think of you as a part of my conscious self and you and me and usses and it’s always so vivid. It’s all the things we’ve ever said and done, all the sweet things you said to me, all our funny lownesses and the way we look and the smell of you and the way we dance and all I think of you.

All that and heaps more is only just a fraction of what our usses is to me, my darling one. As you said in your letter, the time it takes us to get finally together is a waste, but it’s no longer frightening. Do you remember how afraid we were once that anything could change? Now I know it won't. I've never been so certain of anything in all my life as I am of my love for you, darling, and you will never escape me now. You just very well try, and see how I react! I will deal with you like the young girl who thought she was shrewder. I was shrewder. She thought it was rude to be viewed in the nude (pardon me). But I viewed her, pursued her, and... You will never guess what I did to her when I caught her. […] Good night my dearest, dearest, dearest darling – all my very best beloved. All my love always and always.

Louis xxx

5 May 1916

Darling, I think so much of the time when you return. As you once said, it won't matter a hoot what we do or where we go or what we go in, just as long as we can meet and be together for a little while. My sister is most terribly keen for you to come here and, at the moment, I can't quite visualize how risky that might be. There are all sorts of things that might occur and make the risk unjustifiable. I just couldn't bear for anything to happen to delay our final usses. If my wife got to hear of it, she might get vindictive but I've heard a lot since I returned and she had had a long affair with a man I once knew but hadn't seen for years. I don't blame her for this but she should perhaps have been more honest and said that her change of heart was due to this. Now I am glad it has happened because I think it was due to this that she was so willing to divorce me. Don't think I'm trying to revile her, my dear, or trying to put the blame for the failure of that on her shoulders. I'm not. I now know that neither of us ever had enough of the right kind of love or affection or respect for one another ever to make the thing a success. It would have ended up this way inevitably. The fact that I was overseas for two years merely delayed the final crash for about three-and-a-half years!

And another thing I thought of, darling. Just suppose people saw you and I together here and knew I was being divorced, they might be led to the conclusion that you were my co-respondent and I never want anything like that to attach to us, sweets. Do you remember how I said I never wanted any of usses to be furtive and surreptitious - well, I still feel the same. But there are dozens of ways we can meet openly, if it is not difficult for you. There’s a lovely spot in Switzerland that I know about. We could meet there. […] And that’s all for now, my darling one. All my love, darling, is yours, and there’s a tremendous amount of it this morning. Oh darling, I do love you so very much.

Louis xxxxxxx

13 May 1916

Darling dearest one, what I'm really trying to say is that from the point of view of my divorce and so on, it wouldn't matter at all how much we met, or how often we were seen together. The only risk would be that she might hear of it and turn vindictive, feeling that I had given her evidence on which she could divorce me because I wanted to marry someone else. As you and I know, that is only a small part of the truth. So don't feel, my dear, that you must stay overseas as long as possible to keep the way ahead clear and safe. Once you were in France, we'd soon think up ways and means of being together often and there would always be a wonderful feeling when we parted that we could meet again soon. And every time we met would be just a little nearer the time when we never have to part again. And if all goes normally from now, it shouldn't be so very long. If the decree nisi comes through in the autumn, the whole business maybe finished next March or April. […] I love you very much, my darling, so come home soon so that I can whisper it into your ear and tell you all the other things about you that I adore so much.

Louis xxxxx

20 May 1916

…Now that proceedings have started, it's wonderful how happy my sister and her husband are that there's you, darling. They were so certain that my life was going to be made so miserable and they are terribly pleased about the divorce, but much more pleased that there is a happy future to look to. All my love darling one, every bit of it.

Louis xxxxxxx

24 May 1916

Oh darling, I get so torn. Sometimes I feel like begging you to try and come home as soon as you can. Then I realize how selfish this perhaps is from your point of view. Because until I'm free, we'd have to be a wee bit careful in our meeting, and I never want any meeting of ours to be furtive and guilty. It was never that way with you and I, and never will be. From the point of view of my people, there is no need for any kind of secrecy because they know about us, and are so happy about it. As I said before, the only risk we'd ever run would be that anyone might see us and tell her, and I'd hate it ever to be thought that you were a co-respondent to me! But when you come home, darling dearest one, I know we'll manage. We were always a pretty resourceful pair, and we'll get around all the snags.

Darling, try and answer this one straight from your heart when the time comes and I'm free and you can tell your people about usses, would it be a frightful shock to them? Will they be so prejudiced about my having been divorced that they'll be afraid I wouldn't make you happy? When I sometimes worry about what a shock it may be to them, I just console myself with the knowledge that once they see us together, they are bound to realize that we were made especially for one another, but I often wonder if this aspect of it worries you, darling one. But all of these things will come right when that wonderful day arrives and we know I'm a free man. The relief felt by a liberated country will be nothing compared with the feeling of relief we'll get. There'll be just no holding us. Darling, I've just been looking again at those last snaps you sent me. I love the one of you sitting, smiling in your blinkers. I'd like to take them off to see les yeux but you look very sweet. Darling, your hands in that snap are lovely. I told you once how much I loved your hands. I love their shape and I love the way you do things with them. […] All my love, my darling.

Your very own Louis xxxxxx

25 May 1916

I've got no great news, but since I can't talk to you, I just can't stop myself writing. Darling, it's so marvelous that there is a you in the world for me to love. Until we met, so much of my future life seemed dreary and empty, and I thought I'd go through it all, and at the end l'd still be feeling that I had missed all the things I hoped would happen to me. Inside myself, I had a very clear picture of how it could feel really to love someone. I made the one big, dreary mistake and realized it so very soon as a mistake but, as long as I was overseas, it didn't seem to matter. I knew a future to be faced and I knew it didn't come up to anywhere near what I felt the future should, but it was all somehow so remote and unreal that I couldn't visualize it, and so I didn't worry about it. Then, after that awful leave, it suddenly became very real and very worrying and something that had to be faced, and it looked so absolutely blank and hopeless that I nearly lost heart, but I realized I could never be ever contented until I was clear of it.

Darling, I just don't know what would have happened if I hadn't met you. I'm sure it was a kindly fate that brought us together. The divorce would have occurred anyhow - but, darling, it would have been so infinitely more bleak if we hadn't found our usses in all my worst moments. Since coming home, I felt you all around me, comforting me with your wonderful, wonderful faith and, above all, loving you has made me realize how very much worth living this life is, and how everything - work and career and enjoyment of friends - depends on feeling happy. Darling, before I loved you, I never believed that continuous happiness was a real possibility. I've often been happy before, and most of the time contented, but all our time together and our time apart, I feel a positive glow of happiness. You are a wonderful person, my darling, that you can do this to a very ordinary but very loving old Louis. […] Good night my own darling. I love you very, very much.

Louis xxxxxxxx

30 May 1916

…I want to see you so much that some days I am so miserable that I don't know what to do with myself. But sweet one, I have promised myself that I will try and stick it out until September, by which time everything should be well on the way and everything so much safer. It's only another three months. Oh, but darling, I do so want to see you. I long to drop everything and just run straight home to you but I know for both our sakes and our future usses this is the unpleasant part that I must play and I must try and do it as well as you have done all yours.

Sweet one, you asked me to tell you honestly if it would be a shock to my people when they heard that I was going to marry someone who had been divorced. Well, I don't really know how they will take it. I think they will be all right once they realize that my mind is so completely made up and nothing they could possibly say or do will change it. I am pretty sure my sisters on the ward will be with us and I know that once they have seen us together and meet you outside of being a former patient, that they will be all for it. Actually, this never worries me at all because the one thing above all the matron admires is someone who can make up their own mind and stand on their own feet and I am sure once she sees how determined I am, she will agree and I am quite confident that once they have met you, all will be well. […] All my love my dearest darling for always and always.

Your sweetheart xx

18 June 1916

…Darling, do you remember, the evening before I left, when I just said goodbye to you by the door and we were walking down the stairs, you suddenly looked back up at me and said, "Darling, I do love you,"? I think it was then that I realized suddenly how big and great our love for one another was, and I don't think after that moment that I ever feared you would cease to care for me. And now that things have gone so well, my beloved, I will just never give you the chance of caring any less, because I mean to live with you beside me for ever more and if you try to resist, you won't stand a chance. And do you know what I'd do, my angel one, if you tried to get away? l'd just seduce you, firmly and deliberately, but very tenderly and lovingly, and l'd give you a baby and you'd have to marry me then, d'you see? Gosh I'm a dirty old devil, aren't I? Darling, I love it the way we can always be so low with each other, but we never seem to be smutty or dirty, like so many other people. I think it's because in spite of our lowness, we are rather a nice couple.

Darling, perhaps when the time comes that you can tell your people about us, it won't be such a terrible shock to them after all. It occurred to me that after a dear friend of mine had his divorce and everything, perhaps they won't think too badly of someone else who has been through it. Anyhow, it may help to soften the blow a bit and they may not feel I'm such a terrible fellow after all. My own darling, this 'ere brooch is the one I got in Bern. It isn't terribly nice and I wanted to try and find one with a much smaller badge on it, but they didn't seem to make them. But I never got you a present from a jewellers before and I felt I wanted to, just as a prelude to that wonderful day that will soon come when we can go together and find a ring to slip on that third finger of yours. Darling, I will just be incoherent with happiness when I'm doing that. […] Good night my very own very lovely darling and promise me you will never forget how much I love you.

Louis xxxxx

25 June 1916

…Oh my own lovely one, it's going to be such fun, doing everything with you and having you to talk to about everything and to help me to decide things. When we've got some money, darling, it will be such fun going perhaps to the Motor Show and deciding on what car we want. But the most fun of all will be our house. This part of the world has heaps of old antique shops among the small villages round about. When we are here to stay with my sister, we'll have great fun stooging off on our own in the car and snooping around them all, and we'll pick up bits and pieces and they'll gradually accumulate.

Darling, when my final decree comes through, how soon shall we get married? I'd like to marry you the day it all comes through, but then when I think of this, I think perhaps people would, or might, imagine you were my co-respondent! And I don't want anyone ever to think that. I don't mind any number of gossipy tongues wagging about me and my divorce - actually very, very few people know of it, but I don't want anyone to associate you, my darling, with anything that is sordid. Probably the best way will be for us to announce our engagement in the ordinary way in The Times and it will be so easy to say we'd met vaguely overseas, and that after I was free, we just happened to meet again in France and fell in love, and there we are.

Darling, won't it be wonderful when we actually see it in print, that you are engaged to be married to me? Darling, we're going to have a wonderful life together. When I'm with you, everything seems so clear and easy. My work seems to go smoothly and I enjoy it, and people I work with seem to be nicer and more interesting, and I don't get the urge to be curt and irritable with indifferent theatre sisters! At least, not as much. Do you remember that poor old girl I used to be so unkind to? But she really was the pits. […] Goodnight, my very own dearest lovely darling. Never stop loving me, because I love you with all my heart. In fact, I love you very much indeed.

Your very own Louis xxxxx

27 June 1916

…And all the legal paper work for this divorce business is now absolutely complete. Yesterday I received an enormous affidavit concerning my means, which I had to take into a solicitor's and have it sworn on oath. They do word these things in an archaic manner - it was full of, "I verily believe that etc., etc.," and I was supposed to be saying it! […] Good night my own most dearest adorable beloved darling.

Louis xxxxxxxxxx

7 July 1916

…Darling, did you think I looked too fat in the last snap?! I didn't send you all those snaps because I fancy myself as a pin-up boy but I want to keep you posted on my changes of contour that occur so that you won't think I've been blown up with a bicycle pump when we meet. But I won't get any fatter, my lovely one; that will be your job when we decide we want some little usses, all exactly like you. You'll be so sweet and tubby and I'll adore you and tease the life out of you and look after you so very carefully. […] Goodnight, my dearest dearest darling. And don’t ever forget how very much I love you, you adorable, lovely darling one.

Your Louis xxxxxxx

11 July 1916

…Lee Gentry was there and I got him away for a while from the crowd - ostensibly to show him something, but I wanted a bit more briefing on my problem and he really seemed to think it's quite likely that the hearing will be expedited. Of course, he had his lucky piece, an old Mexican peso. While he’s not one for superstition, others might say he would’ve lost the whole case without it. So I'm keeping my fingers crossed for us. I also asked him what it’s best to tell people and he said definitely to stall people off until it’s all over and then just tell them that I've had a divorce. If they get inquisitive and ask who did what and to whom and with what, the answer is for them to mind their own hemorrhagic business. He also said it's most unlikely that it'll feature in the headlines. The undefended suits go through at the rate of about a hundred a day and they don't make news. […] Darling, I’m so very, very proud that you should care for me and I love you so very much. All my love, my beloved sweet darling, for always and always.

Louis xxxxx

31 July 1916

This morning your sweet letter arrived with those marvelous snaps of you. Even if you haven't got a colossal opinion of yourself as a pin-up girl, I've got the most enormous one and no pin-up girl in all the world to me could be lovelier than you, my dearest. Darling, they are so good and I love them so much. Darling, you are so very pretty and you've got the dearest, sweetest, loveliest face that I have ever looked on. Did I ever remember to tell you what a lovely shape you are? Darling, I think that’s the sweetest picture of all of you and it's so like you that it's almost alive. Thank you, my darling dearest one, for sending them - they have made my morale soar to unprecedented heights. When I think that a person as wonderful as you, and who looks as wonderful as you do, can even care for me a tiny bit, I know I'm the luckiest man in all the world. As I'm writing this, I've got the snaps spread out all around me on the table and I feel you are very close to me. Darling, I do love you so much, so never stop liking me, will you? Darling, you've got such a sweet face - I could just eat these snaps. You look so fresh and young and lovely and I just can't believe that one day soon we'll both belong to each other for evermore. […] I love you darling with all my heart.

Your very own Louis xxxxxxxx

3 August 1916

…I’ve got all my favorite snaps of you inside my wallet and each day I can put a different one on the top and I can look at it through the transparent celluloid. It keeps you from getting scratched and dirty. It’s a tremendous luxury to have you so easily available all day. Whenever I feel I need you, darling one, I just pull you out of my pocket and I can look at you long and lovingly. Darling, I’m most terribly in love with you and you are so very easy to look at. […] Goodnight my very own darling. I love you very much.

Your Louis xxxxxxx

5 August 1916

…I'm so glad you like the snaps, darling, just as well you like me, my dearest one, because you are going to have to be with me and wake up every morning and see me for the rest of your life whether you like it or not. […] Darling, I seem to be rambling on so much tonight but I did so want to chitter to my love. But I must have a look at my patients, poor devils. I’ll write again tomorrow. All my love, my very dearest, dearest darling.

Your sweetheart xxxx

5 September 1916

…Darling one, I'm never going to let myself get so busy that it prevents us living the kind of life together that we want to and if you do try to keep me in our bed in the mornings, I'll just never be able to get up and won't I love it? Darling one, we always felt so very cuddleworthy early in the morning, so heaven help us when we find ourselves tucked up together in our warm bed. Darling, however small our house may be, we must have a ginormous bath with oodles of hot water and if you are feeling terribly lazy, I'm going to bathe you whether you like it or not. Darling, I ought to be horse-whipped for making such improper suggestions in a letter to the girl I love but, darling, you always gave me an urge to be terribly improper so you've only got yourself to blame for being so lovely and so very cuddleworthy. […] Good night, my darling dearest best beloved and very adorable one.

Your very own Louis xxxx

10 September 1916

…Darling, when we are married to one another you'll never have to sit in bed with a scarf around your shoulders to keep you warm because:

A. When we're usses there'll be very little time or necessity to sit up in bed and to write letters and

B. I'll take the place of your scarf and wrap myself so snuggly round you that your shoulders will be warm anyway and

C. You won't have to write me letters any more because we'll just lie close together in our warm usses bed with a soft pink cloud for a mattress and we'll love chitter to our hearts' content.

And now, my little honey lamb, back to our plans. Even if you feel like strangling me, darling one, for going over it again, here we go just the same, and I'd love you to try to strangle me because both your hands would be engaged in trying to throttle me which would leave me with both my hands free to get up to the most terrible mischief. […] I must go now, my very dearest darling one. Never forget how very much I love you.

Your own Louis xxxxxxxxxx

16 September 1916

…Perhaps I got it when I laid a gentle kiss on your last letter, my love! But I much prefer to take your colds off you by kissing you on your own darling soft lips and that is the technique I'll employ in the future - in the very, very near future. Whenever we caught a cold from one another it was such enormous fun, my darling. When we're usses together again, you'll find me an awful nuisance. I'll put you in a hot bath and then I'll put you to bed and make you inhale and drink hot whisky and aspirins and then, in case you feel cold and shivery, I'll hop into bed beside you, my darling. I'll curl myself tight round you and you'll just have to forget all about your cold. Darling one, I hope it's all settled by the time this reaches you.

D'you remember, my darling, when you had a temperature with a cold? And I made you stay in bed and you were so angry and I came to talk to you in your room - the room next to your real room - and darling one, you looked so sweet all tucked up in bed and I loved you very much. […] Look after yourself, my darling, and never forget how very much I love you, because I love you more than you’ll ever know.

Your own Louis xxxxx

Louis was elevated to the rank of Captain in 1917. He knew how worried you were for him while he was in the trenches or out on patrols for the Western Front, so he kept you up to date with everything that was happening, how he and the men in his regiment were faring, etc., while filling his letters with declarations of his love for you and the occasional racy passage. On 14 January 1918, he gained command from the General and received instructions for a reconnaissance mission into enemy territory. It was very clear that this particular assignment was an extremely dangerous, bordering on suicidal operation. He knew it was doomed to fail from the very beginning, a particular detail he hid from his subordinates. Captain Renault’s fellow officers noticed a change in his demeanor. They put aside their concerns, however, since such behavioral changes weren’t unheard of, given the stressful nature of their situation.

The relationship between French and British soldiers during World War I was complex and evolved over time. At the beginning of the war, there was a sense of camaraderie and solidarity between the two armies, as they were united in their fight against the common enemy. However, as the war dragged on and the death toll mounted, tensions between the two armies began to surface. One source of tension was the language barrier between French and British soldiers. Many British soldiers didn’t speak French, which made communication with their French allies difficult. In addition, the two armies had different tactics and strategies, which sometimes led to misunderstandings and disagreements.

Another source of tension was the perception that the British were not doing enough to support the French war effort. French soldiers still resented the fact that the British hadn’t fully committed their army to the Western Front until 1916, and they believed that the British were more interested in fighting in other theaters of war, such as the Middle East. Despite these tensions, the French and British soldiers did work together closely during the war, especially in major battles such as the Battle of the Somme and the Battle of Passchendaele.

Many soldiers on both sides formed close bonds with each other and exchanged gifts and souvenirs. Overall, while there were certainly challenges, the relationship between French and British soldiers during World War I was one of mutual respect and cooperation. Stevenson and Renault were coincidentally members of the same regiment and decided to play a friendly game against each other. Whatever game they played didn’t matter. All Renault remembered was that they gambled to determine which of them would go out on patrol that evening. Whether he cheated or not was up for debate but, either way, his opponent lost.

Not only was Stevenson of lower rank and serving under Renault’s direct command, he had known him for so many years that he considered him to be his best friend, their bond like that of brothers. Renault insisted that he needed a man that he could trust to carry out the task, so it didn’t take much convincing, regardless of whether Stevenson went willingly or if Renault persuaded him to go. Whatever the case, he eventually left the trenches on Captain Renault’s instructions. His assumptions about the mission were proven correct, and Stevenson failed to return from his patrol.

Renault didn’t know the time but dusk had fallen and still, of course, no word. When he asked any of his men, they shrugged, as if he was asking about when it might next rain. Those fools around him, laughing, drinking, arguing... Did they know what he’d done? Did they suspect it? Renault felt they must’ve all been guilty of something. And yet...they laughed, drank, argued... God knew what he’d done. He wondered if His judgment could be worse than his own.

Renault later found unsent letters in Stevenson’s tent, tucked between the pages of his journal. One was already in a sealed envelope, addressed to his unborn child with instructions printed in big, bold letters that it wasn’t to be opened until his son or daughter turned eighteen. Oh, God. Madeleine… Was she…? Louis didn’t want to disrespect John’s wishes, so he didn’t open the envelope. He put it in his breast pocket for safekeeping. The other letter was addressed to Madeleine, but was unfinished, only taking up half a page and abruptly cut off midway through a sentence near the end. John had to leave it incomplete. As his eyes darted across the words of the half-written letter, a terrible, black pit formed in Louis’ stomach and nearly made him sick. That terrible, black pit only grew bigger and bigger the further down he read. Madeleine. She was. She was! His throat became dry and tickled. He felt bile stirring up, threatening to expel itself from his body. He stopped himself just in time and held it in until his stomach settled. He didn’t feel any better.

Stevenson was writing to her. He was clearly pressed for time based on how uncharacteristically messy some of the letters looked, either smudged or too close together, but it was still legible. In just a few words John expressed that he wasn’t proud of their affair. His feelings for her were genuine, there was no mistaking that. Every word he wrote in his letters, every word he whispered in her ear while they shared a bed were of the utmost sincerity. But he didn’t like deceit and Louis didn’t deserve it. While he knew she and Louis had just recently divorced, he wanted to come clean sooner rather than later. He hoped Louis could forgive them and be happy for them eventually. He hoped they could part as friends or, at the very least, amicably. Regardless, he was excited for their upcoming baby.

14 January 1918

…My darling Madeleine, I have suddenly realized that I’ve never made a will or anything like one, which seems pretty feeble for a soldier who could die at any minute of any day, and you being pregnant makes it even more irresponsible. I’ll do it properly when I get back and tear this up before you ever see it but I’ll feel easier that I’ve recorded on paper everything that I wish to leave to you in the event of my death. I cannot know if our baby is a boy or a girl but I do know it will be a baby. I understand my family cannot know of our baby until we are safely married. But should anything happen to me, you must take charge. You must think of the child, protect them from the scrutiny of society. I don’t want my son or daughter to grow up a bastard, subjected to public shame and ridicule that—

John’s mention of a child being conceived from the affair made Louis feel even worse. He made love to his wife more times than he could count and, while he paid special attention to her reactions and made sure she was more than satisfied, she never became pregnant from any of their unions. In the back of his mind, he wondered if she had been secretly taking something or doing something to ensure she wouldn’t get pregnant from him, but he’d never voice these thoughts and accuse her of such an act.

Next to the journal and unfinished letter was a will, listing everything that John wanted to leave to his immediate family and everything he wanted to leave to Louis and his wife. He worried that if he left anything just to Madeleine, then his family would become suspicious and make inferences about the affair. By including Louis in his will, he deliberately made it appear as if he was being a very good friend who thought of the couple as an extension of his family. He thought ahead and put a safeguard in place in an effort to spare himself, his family, his lover, and her husband from becoming local pariahs. Both letters were written with the intention of being sent only in the event of his death. John hoped they’d never have to be sent, but he had no way of knowing what the future would hold for him. Louis couldn’t let anybody see the unfinished letter. He thought about burning it to ensure nobody would ever read it. But just as he was about to flick open his lighter, he thought of Madeleine and what she would want. If John was truly dead, she’d want to hold onto any surviving piece of him that she could. She’d want to read what could have potentially been his last words to her. So he folded it up and hid it in his breast pocket with the envelope. He left both the journal and will on the desk so that they could be found and sent to John’s family in case worse came to worst.

Whether or not he intentionally sent Stevenson out on patrol to his death, whether or not he was actually at fault, Renault became guilt-stricken and headed out into the battlefield to search for his friend himself, hoping against hope that he was alive somewhere. Following a brief shootout in which Renault stealthily killed three German riflemen with his revolver, he found Stevenson trapped, pinned down in a trench or crater of some sort. He made him drink some of the remaining water in his canteen to revive him. Whatever was pinning the wounded Stevenson down, adrenaline gave Renault the strength to push or pull it off of him and haul him over his back like a sack of potatoes. And then he was running, or at least trying to run, through the battlefield, attempting to get himself and Stevenson back to the barracks, back to safety. Despite trying to hide and duck under cover, both men were spotted by the Germans. An artillery shell landed outside a parapet and blew Renault against the wall, rendering him unconscious.

Captain L. Renault admitted to medical treatment following events of 14 January. Personal effects held in storage locker. Patient remains in weak vegetative state. Will respond to stimuli, but only for brief periods of time. When last roused, he reported no memory of recent events, had trouble recalling even his own name. Most likely due to severity of initial head trauma. Potential cause for concern is patient’s risk of slipping into a coma. Will continue to monitor. If status does not improve in a week's time, recommend transfer to St. Etienne for neurological tests.

Signed - Dr. Florbelle

Renault spent several days comatose in the recovery ward inside a hospital. When he woke up, his memory from the last few days was hazy due to the resulting head trauma, and he had no memory of his wife’s affair, his divorce, or how he even got to the hospital. He didn’t even know its name nor what country he was in. Was he back home in France? Did he get lost and accidentally cross the border? He was so out of it and all war hospitals looked the same to him, so he couldn’t be certain. For all he knew, he could’ve been anywhere in Europe. He’d been heavily sedated, or so it seemed. His mind and body felt heavy and lethargic.

Renault suffered a non-fatal head injury, which was officially diagnosed as a concussion of the brain. This resulted in retrograde amnesia and, while the hospital staff hoped it was only temporary, there was no way of really knowing. But Stevenson was fatally injured due to the damage to his lungs caused by the blast. The doctors determined that he didn’t have long to live. They thought it best that they didn’t tell Renault the truth about Stevenson right away, fearful that doing so would exacerbate his already volatile condition and send him into shock. Instead they told Renault that he ended up in hospital because Stevenson threw himself in front of him in order to save him from the enemy shell and couldn’t take any visitors because he was still recovering from emergency surgery.

A mortally wounded soldier was lying in a cot next to him. The dying man knew his fate was inevitable. There was nothing more to be done. All they could do for him now was numb his pain to the best of their ability with drugs and keep him in a state of sedated relaxation, ensuring he was comfortable as he died. His lungs were failing and beyond help, so he pulled out a fresh cigarette and lighter. He wanted to enjoy one last smoke before he succumbed, but he couldn’t light the damn thing himself due to the extent of his injuries. Renault, not recognizing the man, lit it for him. Once he finished his cigarette, he thanked Renault and asked him to deliver a mercy kill, wanting to be put out of his misery. He’d prefer to die a quick, clean death at the hands of a friend, rather than suffer the pain of a lingering death from an enemy’s shell blast.

Not wanting to be charged with murder, he obliged by smothering the man with a pillow. The man didn’t struggle and, within five minutes, he was dead. He looked peaceful, as if he died in his sleep. Just then, Nurse Haydon, Renault’s assigned nurse, entered the room. She announced the soldier’s time of death and had her fellow doctors and nurses on the ward take his body away. They immediately got started on making preparations to transport his body for his funeral and burial, and had a message sent to the War Department to inform his family.

He wasn’t sure why, but Nurse Haydon reminded him of someone else he met. As Haydon conducted the eye exam, he stared at her. There were so many things about her that felt familiar to him, as if he’d seen the same features or mannerisms on someone else. But when he thought hard about it, he knew it wasn’t his wife he was thinking about. But if it wasn’t her, then who was it? Though he couldn’t remember your name, he remembered your face. He told Haydon that he found it hard to read, so she asked him to just look straight at her as she examined his eyes. She grabbed a light and shined it in his eyes, telling him to let her know if it hurt at all. She asked him to look up for her, then look down and from side to side. She asked him questions along the way, some of which he didn’t know how to answer.

Did he have any pain in his eyes at all or any discomfort when he moved his eyes or if he read? When he said that he was having trouble reading, did he mean that it was uncomfortable to read? Did it cause him strain on his eyes and make his head pain appear worse? Did shining the candlelight cause him any pain? Or did the pain radiate into his head? He didn’t know. It was hard to tell because of his head wound from the shell blast. Did he wear glasses? No, he didn’t, but Nurse Haydon believed that if he was having some trouble reading, he might’ve needed glasses. But there was no way they could provide him with such things there. They just didn’t have the resources. But she told Renault that, once he got home after he was nice and recovered, she knew a good doctor who would be able to prescribe him with some. According to her, his eyes seemed to be working well and appeared to be in good healthy order, apart from his sight problems.

Although, who was the nurse responsible for putting this bandage on? It wasn’t up to standards whatsoever. She asked Renault if he remembered her name or maybe if he could describe her. When he hesitated, Nurse Haydon assured him that the other nurse wouldn’t get in any trouble, but she’d have to be reprimanded. Though the nurse’s name escaped him, he was able to give Nurse Haydon a detailed enough description of her that she knew exactly which nurse he was talking about. She explained to him that the reason she was so upset with the other nurse’s shoddy work is that the hospital had a very strict code of cleanliness on the ward. It was very important to make sure that all bandages and instruments were of the utmost cleanliness and that they were fit to use on the patients. He felt as if he’d had this kind of conversation before, but when? With whom?

Looking at it, she noticed that Renault’s blood was seeping through the bandage. She decided the best thing that she could do was to take it off completely, clean the wound thoroughly and then reapply a nice fresh clean bandage. But first, before she did any of those things, she took great care to wash her hands. She didn’t want to get any dirt or debris into the wound because that would cause further infection. She was gone again for just a few moments before she came back with some fresh bandages and some ointment. She tried to be as gentle as she could be while unwrapping the wound, but it seemed to be quite wrapped up and it was tricky to find where the bandage started and where it ended. Once she got it, she told Renault to tell her if he needed her to stop at any point and if he had any pain or discomfort in any way.

Whenever he hissed or seethed through his teeth, she apologized and stopped, patiently waiting for him to tell her when she could keep going. He was doing very well and was very brave while she disposed of his old, bloody bandages and took a look at his wound unobscured. It seemed to be very sore and very red, so she just allowed the air to get to the wound so it could breathe for just a few moments to help it to dry out a little bit. Just to make it a little bit more comfortable before she put the new fresh, clean bandage on. It was quite the nasty head wound that he had. Even in the twilight the gushing blood glinted red under the lamps of the hospital.

She prepared the ointment and explained to Renault that the bottle she held in her hand was an astringent which was going to help clean the wound and also to help prevent any infection. She poured some onto a clean cloth and, luckily, didn’t need an awful lot. But she warned him that it was going to sting and recommended that maybe he should close his eyes and count to three. No matter how high Captain Renault’s pain tolerance was, he still winced as she counted to three and applied the astringent to his wound. She didn’t want to put too much wrapping on his wound. She still wanted the air to get to it and to allow the wound to breathe. Once she finished rewrapping his head with a clean bandage, she asked him how it felt. Did it feel too tight or loose in any way? Did it feel comfortable? Good. Just before she came in, Nurse Haydon overheard someone talk about Renault’s hearing, so he told her that he was finding it difficult to hear in one ear because of the blast and he was afraid that he was losing his hearing permanently. She was able to assuage his fears, however.

“Don’t fear. I have known many soldiers to regain their sense of hearing once they were back at home. Yes, sometimes the damage can be permanent. But, other times, it’s not so permanent. So I’m going to test your hearing just very, very briefly to see to what extent you can hear. Can you obviously hear my voice now? You can? Every word of it? Most of it. All right. So I’m going to whisper a word in your ears and I want you to repeat that back to me.”

He struggled a little bit in one ear. He could hear her voice but not what she was saying. To him, It was all very muffled like he was underwater. In that case, Nurse Haydon believed his hearing loss could be temporary. She told him that once he went home, had some nice rest, and spent some time with his family, his hearing should return to normal. The last thing she needed to check was his heart and lungs. The hospital had some very complicated equipment, state of the art and only the best for the French and British armies. She explained to him everything she was doing so that he wouldn’t be alarmed. The instrument she used allowed her to hear inside his body and she could determine whether or not his body was working correctly and in the most functional way. He didn’t need to do anything. All he had to do was just sit there peacefully and calmly.

“You have a very strong heartbeat. Very strong. That’s good, yes. Now can you take some nice deep breaths in and out for me? Deep breath in and out, deep breath in and out, deep breath in and out. One more time. Have you been coughing in the night and have you been bringing up any mucus or fluid? Well, it sounds like there’s a little bit of congestion on the chest which isn’t a bad thing. It’s awfully chilly in here and, with your head wound, there may be a little bit of infection in your lungs there, which is nothing to worry about. We’ll just keep an eye on it.”

He asked her to read to him until he fell asleep, even if he didn’t use any words and only communicated by his eyes flickering over to a bookshelf. He had a stack of books next to his cot and not the strength to read one for more than a minute at a time. With the pain it was hard to focus and follow the plot, anyway. He remembered being in hospital once before. A woman would sometimes visit him in the evening and pick up his favorite novel to read to him until he fell asleep. Were you another nurse he knew? When he awoke you always left a note to say when you’d return, signed with love followed by your name. Your name. What was it?

“I suppose I have a little bit of time to do that. Seeing as you find it difficult to read at the moment, then I’ll be more than happy to read you a few pages from one of your books. Any book in particular?”

Louis later found a sealed envelope in his breast pocket of his uniform jacket, which had been kept in a storage locker. The envelope was blank except for the bold, black words that read, “To my child” and “DO NOT OPEN UNTIL 18TH BIRTHDAY.” He stared at the words and fiddled with the envelope between his fingers. Why did he have this? It wasn’t in his handwriting and he didn’t have any children. Who did this belong to? Why was he holding onto it? When he dug further into the pocket, he found a half-written letter. It was crumpled up a bit and the ink was smudged, but still legible. Unlike the other one, this letter didn’t have an envelope to protect it. As he read it, he began to remember. His memory was fragmented and came back to him in bits and pieces over time. It was difficult to make sense of the images that were flashing through his mind at first and he often suffered from severe headaches and migraines. Notes. You left him notes. Notes. Letters made brief. Letters. He wrote letters. To his wife? Yes. And to you, also. Where were they? He had every one that you wrote him kept in a drawer somewhere. At the barracks? In a locker? In a tent? Where were the ones he wrote you? Stuffed in your dresser drawer at home? In a make-up bag in a storage locker to make sure the cleaners didn't throw them out while you were doing your rounds in the hospital? The letters he held in his hands were from John. John who was dead. In one of his hands, Louis held an unfinished letter from a ghost to his lost love. In the other, Louis held a finished letter from a ghost to his unborn child. Louis’ ex-wife, Madeleine, was John’s lost love. And she was carrying his unborn child.

Upon being medically cleared and completing his service, Louis was given an honorable discharge and was awarded with the Legion of Honor, the highest French order of merit for military and civil merits, the 1914-1918 Inter-Allied Victory medal, for serving at least three months in the war zone, and the 1914-1918 Commemorative war medal, for his service in World War I. While you and Louis knew that nothing that happened between you was meaningless, after John’s untimely death, you both made the difficult decision to go your separate ways. Life was pulling you in two very different directions, but you promised that you’d find your way back to each other someday. Due to the circumstances that were beyond your control, goodbye was where your relationship had to remain, at least for the time being. It wasn’t farewell, it was only goodbye. Louis assured you that no matter what happened in your time apart, nothing could stop him from loving you. Until you could be together again, you’d still write to each other whenever you could. When Louis was demobbed and returned to France eight months before the war ended, you stayed on.

You sent Louis some pre-written letters so that he’d still have something from you to read while he was on the train and back home in France, until he could spare the time to sit down and write you again. During the war, you wrote to each other almost every day while you were apart, your missives often decorated with hand-drawn love hearts and always sealed with kisses. With the war nearing its end, it’d be an adjustment for the both of you to not correspond as often. Your constant endearments and promises of love were sprinkled with other, more risque declarations in your letters. Most of your letters revealed a young woman who was faithful to the man of her dreams, despite the attention of other servicemen posted far from home. You eagerly awaited Louis, counting down the days to when you could be together at long last. At one point you wrote that you were so glum and ill-tempered living without your love, adding mischievously,

“Darling one, it's just as well you aren't here as you would probably have to spank me hard - but what a heavenly spanking!”

However, you only show your daughter letters that are “clean” and don’t have such risqué remarks. She’s an adult, yes, but she doesn’t need to know everything her parents got up to when they were young. The very thought of your child reading about your and your husband’s sex life, no matter how “mild” it’s considered through a modern lens, while you and he are still alive, is so embarrassing. You’d rather not be around when she reads those letters. So the more “intimate” ones you’ll keep private for now, between just you and your husband until you both are gone. Nevertheless, the letters you do allow her to read offer an extraordinary window into life during the World Wars. After the end of World War I, men and women put their lives back together and strove to fulfill the dreams they had of a happy future. They did the same at the end of World War II.

[saltysplayt00ns]

Reblogging and pasting what I commented on DA ( Deviant art )

Remember guys, Rhov is the same dog that had ONE argument with Jahla despite having years from Asmundr to Home relation and later broke up with Jahla just to argue with Feaf who only know a few months, almost THREE TIMES ( 1, 2, 3 ) and immediately mate with Feaf in the broad public of the borders of Whispervale . At this point I see this as Karma cause Rhovanion hoped to evade parenthood JUST to deal with parenthood in the most nonsensical way possible.

Rhov waited seasons with Jahla and didn't want anything from Jahla’s end and neither did he. Which would’ve been a good show of relationships where people just don’t want or are not ready for kids yet and want to focus on the relationship and their careers as a team. People have done it where they plan and pre/advance plan.

But now we have this plot of a red flag/toxic situation where Rhov is now ready to deal with interspecies war, raising a hybrid, being a “good “ father with no indications of proof to a feline who knew for a month(s). Feaf and Rhovanion didn’t go through a crisis situation compared to Jahla; one went bittersweet and the other not so much.

PLUS integrate the child in a world who would report others just to raid them, But knowing kiq. It’ll be like Nordgard ( meteor tribe ) having a big army to be taken down by a small group by deus-ex-machina and making the opposing teams dumb down to make it possible.

——-

If the Golden Lioness ( which is not golden, (I did a rework of the golden lioness on my tumblr blog ) nor does anything pertaining to what she does ) was seen as mischief good and not benevolent would not have this Red flag.

The Golden lioness didn’t come to Feaf in a dream nor showed up after Feaf questioning what she saw. If she did, Feaf can discuss with Nubia ( her mother ) and Rhovanion if they’re ready and what comes with being the ambassador under the Lioness for the Hybrid. The deer spirit did it with Rogio who has every right to deny him cause Rogio didn't follow the rules He doesn't even have the PIECE OF ANTLER that had been told. most have asked for permission or accepting the deal but somehow pregnancies there is none.

And How Feaf wanted cubs, how a feather is enough proof she wanted it when she practically and possibly doesn’t know the inclination and if Feaf knew WHY SHE DIDN’T TELL RHOVONION!!! she literally baby-trapped him into a relationship, ya know the same one who Gaslight Rhov three times for him wanting to be with Jahla. Rhov would not be happy about all this like AT ALL!!!.

What did she even mean that ‘ the Goddess had been fighting species coexist since the beginning ‘ ??!!! Instead of helping the Cats advance in immunity, language barrier, intellect/charisma, their physics or fertility or maybe even blending better in their environments?? No, instead she gave them bow and arrows ‘ death from afar ‘ to kill dogs faster which didn’t do anything and caused more separation between the species.

The golden Lioness didn’t protect her Forngrym people, WHO ARE ALSO FELINES and don’t excuse them of not doing prayers or interactions. Feaf didn't ask for kids and the Lioness literally just tricked her into having them.

and the only thing that comes out of Rhovanion’s mouth is that he’s ready, like that gives me a whiplash I don’t know to be shocked, appalled, disgusted or all of the above. He’s not showing any emotion except a smile, not even worrying about the whole process or conflict - just accepting it.

If he was ready, he would’ve been fine being with Jahla and having pups with her cause literally a wolf x Dog pup is just as heinous and a hybrid then a cat and dog. and knowing kique it’ll just be a copy + paste of Feaf or Jahla in species and/or design. cause if its not something easily traced he'll just used a pre-made variant or place rules/laws and then claim the ideal to be his own.

——

And Nubia has the audacity to state not to worry and are protected by family when we are shown Aedra would literally tear the planet apart for anything primitive, the slightest inconvenience, or not a Dog, Heck they would even Do it to their own kind as well with no hesitation.

Adding that Rhovanion didn’t even leave for 2-3 months to help Ronja he abandoned the journey as well as his step-Nieces(??) to lay around and fool around with Feaf??, must I remind ya Marduck just attacked the Rabishu and glow cats and demand adoration. Not something to lollygag around.

Also the capital is not one of bloodshed??? ‘ fighting with blood is not their style ‘ WTF !!!???? YOU'RE A BOUNTY HUNTER. THAT IS LITERALLY YOUR JOB. You just went to Southspear and killed dogs there and the Capitol approved a genocide to Forngrym, forcing them to the cold deserts of the mountains ( evidence 1, 2 ) . You don’t even disband or help those of tyrant leaders, you let MT cause havoc for almost 30+ years. You’re just as guilty not doing anything then doing something of bloodshed.

' Racism ' didn't even become prevalent until ghouls was forgotten, which they should not cause ghouls are still roaming around and are many cause many dogs died and animals died. If it was prevalent then it should've been done the moment meteor went after Zilas or Axi showing traits on Feaf. and vice versa on the cats of Shiverfall with Rhovanion.

You're fooling yourself to think that as well as to the audience for spewing such idiocrasy. But I forgot Nubia was the lioness that slept with two males that were also brothers that caused a decline in their bond that had her running in hiding in the Capitol.

This literally sounds like a dang Cult like legit a cult telling someone naïve and not knowing what they’re getting themselves into.

👏 NON-CONSENT 👏 IS 👏 NOT 👏OKAY 👏 AT 👏 ALL. PERIOD.

---

Ps. I added links to those pages in case people need a jolt on their memories. I also want to add arguments are not usually screaming, most of the time it can become a disagreement that can get heated, hurt etc.

Ok! So finally page 869 have released. longest wait of my life because I really wanted to rant? or whatever about this page. There are just several things wrong with it. so starting off, Feaf's mother ends up visiting her and rhov at asmundr territory and feaf is telling her mother that oh she feels sick and has been getting these weird symptoms on and off. so then the mother tells feaf that she's probably pregnant. rohv and feaf are in shock (for like a mere second), anyways then her mother is like we you should put aside the differences of canine and felines and tells her it probably was the golden lioness because she's been fighting for their species for peaceful "coexistent". Again, in my honest opinion this whole species "racism" thing was like another 180 slapped into the comic, there was no indication in earlier pages that canines and felines were struggling to accept one another. since feaf was part of an all guild dog group minus herself being the only feline and cause Axi is the biggest ass. but maybe we could of given hints that she disliked feaf or something from the beginning or saw her as lower class compared to a dog. it would of at least shown the readers that "oh yeah these dogs are racists btw" because the main focus for the longest time was the ghouls and MT which for one the ghouls are pointless and are the most non threatening thing on aedra and but was so important too basically rent land to burn bodies on MT land when they also knew about their past brutal ways. but sat on their butts and shrugged shoulders about it. Moving on... so then feaf mother tells her that if she doesn't want to have the kids, she can take herbs to pretty much terminate the pregnancy. you can take that how you want since it's referring to abortion. and well, in my honest opinion I kinda wish she did take the herbs only because it would save injustice for her future kids but also rhov and feaf barely know each other. but kique is an idiot and no longer has purpose for rhov and forgot about going back to ronja. she then claims that she's "dreamed" of always wanting to start a family with rohv? like feaf what?? when? you two only officially hooked up together from gaslighting each other, then rhov chimes in and says it is a bit sudden (because it is) but says he's ready if she is. I wanna point out that feaf's mom reaction is so emotionless and she's just chill about like its been a common thing. but it's really not, if anything this is history in the making and the reactions are so poorly done by the entirety of the page. creating a potential new spices of hybrids. which spoiler alert, no hybrids, kique claimed and is so damn lazy. but the offspring will most likely be a mix of pups and cubs I guess apparently drawing hybrids will be too hard to trace off of or something. though if he willing to he could get creative with it, plus there was a cat mixed with dog hybrid back in asmundr shown or I think mentioned. he wont draw hybrids but is adding bears in his new comic, doesn't make sense too me but alright. another thing, you all remember when rogio went to the elk spirit to cure his pretend trauma?. I am mentioning this because she's her own spirit. but she gave rogio the opportunity to speak with her personally instead of just getting thrown into the void land or something. I dont what that was called. but if rogio was allowed to speak to him, why couldn't the golden lioness talk to feaf and i dont know ask her permission to impregante her? would of made her look less of an asshole. welp unfortunately this keeps getting worse as newer pages come out.

[celestial-depths]

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Mehness

(SPOILERS FOR DOCTOR STRANGE AND THE MULTIVERSE OF MADNESS) I was really expecting to love Doctor Strange And the Multiverse of Madness, but I didn’t. It did contain fun moments of splashy camp horror, but as a whole it sorely lacked soul and emotion, and the pacing was very much off.

Here’s a long-ass post detailing the problems I had with the movie:

1. Previously, in the MCU

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness relied way too heavily on references to previous installments of the MCU in place of genuine plot and character development. Instead using the tools of filmmaking to set up the story and building emotional beats that lead to a pay-off, the movie just sort of vaguely waved its hand at its cinematic past and expected it to be enough.

The problem with this isn’t really even about some of the audience not being caught up (though that is not not a problem). I’ve seen all the previous movies and series, and I was nevertheless annoyed with the way the movie used references to other movies as a substitute for work it should have done for itself. Hence, the movie was missing many of its vital organs.

Example: Instead of taking the time to establish the concept of the multiverse and, most importantly, Stephen’s attitude towards it, the movie just skipped this whole part by quickly referring to the events of the recent Spider-Man movie. It’s perfectly fine for the movie not to pretend like the multiverse is a thing Stephen isn’t already very much aware of, but what the movie ended up throwing away with the bathwater was Stephen’s point of view.

How does he feel about messing with the multiverse with Spider-Man? Does he regret it? Has he learned something? Did this experience warn him against doing it again, or is he even more curious about exploring the possibilities multiverse?

We don’t know. The movie never allowed him to go there and show us what he thinks of his past actions.

2. According to the legends...

I bet that this movie went through many, MANY rewrites because it can’t seem to commit to a plot point long enough to turn it into something that matters. I felt like I was playing a game with way too many time-wasting side quests and a main object that never delivers.

The characters keep running from one mystical thing of utmost importance only to abandon it for the next mystical thing of utmost importance, and all that only ends up diluting the significance and muddying the meaning of these things in the process.

Meanwhile, the movie was sorely lacking in moments that do feel meaningful. Moments when character grow, when they bond with each other, when their conflicts clash, when they make crucial choices that tell us who they are deep down inside, when they just feel their feelings. There wasn’t any time for those, with the next big action sequence or the next magical ritual just around the corner from the previous one.

This is also a pacing issue. The movie had very few peaceful scenes, which also hurt the action and the excitement. It’s hard to remain invested in what’s essentially a two hour chase sequence when you’re allowed no moments to take a breath and reflect. Even Mad Max: Fury Road had pit stops.

3. Quo Vadis, Stephen Strange?

Marvel movies tend to work more often than not because the studio has had the good sense to focus on building strong characters who keep all the spectacle grounded.

Spider-Man: No Way Home, which premiered not long before this movie, is a very good example of this practice. That movie was full of hyped-up crossover appearances, mind-warping dips into the world of magic and multiverses, and maximalist action sequences, yet the movie worked because it was all anchored in Peter’s emotionally resonant character arc and the relationship he had with the people he loved. 

Multiverse of Madness lacked that emotional anchor, and it showed. Stephen Strange didn’t have a well-defined character arc of his own in this movie, and his relationships with the other characters in the film were barely fleshed out. There was a hint of a theme in him being sort of unhappy about not ending up with his ex and a highlighted yet disconnected line about his obsession with being in control, but the movie didn’t spend enough time exploring those inner conflicts long enough for them to truly matter.

I do feel like there’s a story to be told about Stephen’s hubris going wild in the multiverse when things don’t go his way, and that story was already told in one of the better episodes of What If...? Somehow, the Multiverse of Madness ended up doing so much less with Stephen than a single episode of a mediocre AU animated series did, and that’s telling.

I’m honestly not sure if anyone in charge of this franchise knows what to do with Stephen. He seems kind of lost and unmotivated in the beginning of this movie and ended up pretty much the same way. What’s his story, where is he going? Why is he the main character of this movie? I know that seems like a superfluous question because the movie bears his name, but being the main character requires more than just standing in the spotlight. We need to know what drives Stephen into what direction and why we should care, and I feel like this movie just didn’t do the work on that front.

Doctor Strange shouldn’t be a stranger in his own movie.

4. Wanda Why?

Wanda’s motivations in this film were strongly established, yet simplified to a fault. She was the best character in the movie thanks to Elizabeth Olsen’s magnetic performance, and because she got to be the centerpiece of the most memorable scenes of the movie. Sadly, it all came at the expense of Wanda’s complexity.

Gone was the layered character Wanda became in the brilliant WandaVision, in which she gained power and learned a valuable lesson about dealing with grief and loss, and in her place was a flattened villain who has completely forgotten that lesson and incapable of thinking past her most primal instincts. This was explained in the movie by her having been corrupted by the Darkhold, but that felt like a lazy excuse to get out of coming up with more interesting a way of turning her into the relentless yet soulless monster the story needed her to be.

What a force of nature she would have made had she been allowed to be the villain of this movie while still retaining the depth, the heart, and the mind she had when we last saw her.

Now, this is also a problem I have with the way the character is sometimes written in the comics, but it just really annoys me that Scarlet Witch falls victim to the sexist tropes of a) the woman who goes crazy because she has too much power for her pesky female emotions to handle, and b) the woman who goes crazy when she loses her children because motherhood is apparently an all-consuming identity that leaves women no other reason to exist.

I was kinda hoping that the MCU version of Wanda would not go there this hard. Wanda could still struggle with her mental health, love her children fiercely, and do very questionable things without being this unhinged.

There’s also an ableist angle here: this whole concept of “going crazy” and what it entails. As a personal with a long history of mental health issues, I care a lot about how all sorts of mental health struggles are portrayed in popular media, and one of my biggest annoyances is the way they are often treated as something that inevitably turns people into unhinged murderers. Even if this movie is just a bit of light entertainment, it still shapes the attitudes towards mental health issues, and I would rather not see yet another piece of media that equates “going crazy” with becoming a violent killer. 

5. And Why Are They Here?

The other characters of the movie felt also more or less empty.

America Chavez was allowed to be little else than a passive plot device who spend way too much time standing around and looking scared instead of making conscious choices or emotionally resonant contributions to the story. We barely got to know her personality and she never developed a meaningful bond with Doctor Strange, which hurt the climax of the movie. They ended up being just co-runners-away-from-scary-things with no personal relationship.

This was no fault of actor Xochitl Gomez, whose performance left me looking forward to seeing her character again. In fact, the cast was overall very good, and they all felt more or less wasted in thankless parts that either gave them nothing to do or too little depth.

Rachel McAdams is way too good an actress to be here just as Dr. Generic Love Interest. I am eternally confused about why the movie kept putting such an emphasis on the importance of her relationship with Stephen while also having zero interest in exploring it the slightest. Chiwetel Ejiofor returned as Baron Mordo and once again gave too much to a part that gave him nothing in return.

As for the parade of Marvel cameos, it was a mixed bag for me. Live action Captain Carter made me weak in the knees, and just a few minutes of Lashana Lynch as Captain Marvel convinced me that Maria Rambeau should have the title in the 616 universe as well (sorry, Carol). I don’t usually care about Black Bolt, but the two scenes that showed off his power were some of the highlights of the whole movie for me.

Meanwhile, I wish that Sir Patrick had not walked back his previous decision to let his appearance in the tremendous Logan be his last round as Xavier. As much as I love seeing him, I just feel like his presence here was unnecessary and not good enough a reason to bring back his beloved Xavier. I hesitate to use the phrase “this cheapens the legacy of the character” in a world where Wolverine: Origins exists, but yeah, that.

John Krasinski as Reed Richards was the biggest bummer for me because I was still hoping that Marvel was going to cast someone other than him. I am always happy to see Charlize Theron, but her mid-credit scene was probably the laziest and least exciting mid/post-credit scene to date. Seriously, guys, if you’re not even going to bother, just cut the scene and grant her the dignity of getting a proper introduction scene in another movie.

Even though I really enjoyed seeing some of these characters on screen, this aspect of the movie just seemed like the worst kind of audience pandering. Marvel cameos and crossovers are great when they lead to fun team-ups or emotional reunions. This didn’t work (beyond Captain Carter and Captain Marvel getting to kick some ass together; petition for a new Disney+ series plz) because Strange doesn’t have and didn’t end up developing a meaningful relationship with any of these characters. He didn’t care, so I couldn’t care either.

6. Some Credit to Sam Raimi

I’m not sure who to blame for the failings of this movie, but I have a feeling that it’s not director Sam Raimi. Whenever the movie did work, it worked because it felt like a good old Raimi movie.

Raimi is at his best when he gets to deliver dark humor, campy horror, and inventively gruesome imagery. He turned Scarlet Witch into a spectacular movie villain and made her seem truly terrifying whenever she got creative with her deadly powers. My favorite scene in the movie was Scarlet Witch’s first dreamwalking scene, which conjured up psychedelic images reminiscent of trashy horror movies from the 60′s and 70′s.

Raimi allowed Strange to have his moments, too. There was some real magic in the sight of him entering the haunted house version of his home inhabited by his darkest alternative version, and the image of Zombie-Strange wrapped up in the souls of the damned was nothing short iconic.

But all those cool images and atmospheric moments were not enough to save this movie from the weak story and undercooked characters. It’s just garnish on the top of a heap of hot air.

There are directors who are all style and no substance, but Raimi isn’t one of them. His Spider-Man movies are great examples of superhero movies that manage to find a balance between character development and action (yes, even the third one; it’s not good, but at least an attempt was made).

That’s why I am wondering whether this movie is yet another victim of studio interference instead of a failure on Raimi’s part. Disney tends to hire visionary directors with bold visions and then tying their hands because they’re too afraid of taking creative risks, so I wouldn’t be surprised if that explains what went wrong here.  

7. Summa Summarum

Doctor Strange and the Multiverse of Madness is far from the worst MCU movie to date, but for me it’s probably the biggest letdown so far. I feel like it failed to live up to the promise it had, and it fell victim to the worst patterns this franchise has.

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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[my-makeshift-masquerade]

Why Most Child Characters Seem Shallow and How to Avoid It

Ah, kids… They all develop at different rates and display unique characteristics. Yet, when you look at media of any medium or any age demographic, do you feel that child characters are a little…flat? Annoying even? Do you see the same kid character in multiple stories just with slightly different appearances? Are they more like plot devices or objects than fleshed out people?

I find often in writing child characters many creators (the vast majority of which are teens or adults) get trapped in the constraints of cultural ideas about how children supposedly work. I understand most people aren’t going to be able to know every aspect of developmental psychology, and that’s fine! Yet it’s ironic, since we were all kids at one point ourselves. Still, media of all sorts is tempted to group kids into categories based mainly on how they impact the rest of the cast, rather than the child’s developing personality and what factors are influencing its trajectory. I am aware that there are exceptions to every rule and I have seen many great well written child characters. However, in this post, I want to discuss what causes the majority of them to seem shallow, and how to avoid it in your writing!

1. Children Don’t Exist in a Vacuum

Children’s behavior is often framed by society in the lens of how it affects others, rather than considering the valid reasons a child may have to behave in that way. For example, a kid screaming and crying in a public place is seen as a brat throwing a tantrum…until someone realizes they’re hurt or being abducted. As a child, you’re damned if you do, and you’re damned if you don’t. No matter what you do, or why, or how, if you cause inconvenience, adults will likely on some level take it personally. They think to themselves that there were many other reasonable ways this kid could’ve gotten their needs met, but they chose to do this annoying thing.

In reality, kids rely on others reacting to them to get food water and love. That’s why children (who haven’t been abused) do whatever it takes to get their caregivers to pay attention to their needs, and their tactic is dependent on how the caregiver and their environment reacts. So ask yourself, why would this child character you’re writing be behaving in the specific way they are? Has this been the best way for them to get their needs met with their caregivers in the past? Are the characters around them going to understand this, or be annoyed? How does that make the child feel?

2. Kids Aren’t That Stupid

I can’t stress this point enough. Naive or innocent are not just other ways to say unintelligent or unaware. Kids notice almost everything around them, as they’re constantly absorbing information. They can have difficulties focusing on one thing for that reason. A lot of things are going through those little noggins of theirs, so please don’t go to making your 10 year old character act like they have the awareness of a toddler. I understand that maybe this character you’re writing is one you want to come off as innocent, but this isn’t the way to do it.

Child characters, though maybe not having as much experience noticing certain things, will usually notice the feelings of those around them. Kids can tell when adults don’t take them seriously, or when they’re being brushed aside. Don’t fall into the trap of making your child character oblivious to everything going on around them, or limiting their vocabulary to basic words even as they get to school age to make them “sound like a child”. They know more than you give them credit for, so don’t hesitate to let them be a bit more involved in what’s happening.

3. Tiny Human Problems are Real Problems

So, you may think children overrreact to the most trivial things. That’s hindsight talking for you. Kiddos don’t have as much frame of reference as an adult, so they react intensely to things adults may scoff about. This can either be natural because the child doesn’t know what to expect and is a bit spooked, or taught by how extremely others have reacted to similar things around them. A toddler may not know how to react to spilling their drink on the new carpet, and look to others. If someone freaks out over the mess, the child is likely to start crying themselves, and will feel panic if they spill something in the future. When put to a broad perspective, spilling something is not the end of the world. It’s an accident, and it can be cleaned up. But a child won’t know how that it’s not a big catastrophe unless someone else shows them they can remain calm in the situation.

In fact, as a general rule, extremely young children tend to see everything as revolving around them. This isn’t the same as selfishness. It’s more like they haven’t developed their full sense of “me” yet. Instead, everything is framed as “we”. The child and the world are one in the same. Problems for them are problems for the whole world. We are hungry. We are tired. We want that candy bar, etc. They cry and react so extremely because to their developing brains, this isn’t just their problem, but literally everyone else’s problem too. Keep in mind this also means when someone gets upset for a reason that has nothing to do with them, most children believe subconsciously they did something to make it happen. That belief can stay with them even well into adulthood.

[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.