#came across my dash as this part of the song hit

[effloradox]

what would you do, if you only knew (that i can see you)

thomas thorne x ghost hunter+fem!reader (set during season 2 episode 1)

synopsis: being able to see ghosts for most of your life almost seemed to force you into being a ghost-hunter of sorts (not that your boss is actually good at his job), it’s only on a trip to button house and a reunion with an old friend from your student days that your ability actually comes into use after a run in with a particularly dashing ghost

a/n: this is massively inspired by the song i can see you by taylor swift, the plot just came into my head after listening to it and here we are, it was meant to fulfil one of the requests i’ve been sent but it went so far from the prompt that i decided to make it a separate fic and do another fic for the prompt

-

If you’re being honest with yourself, you’re not sure how you ended up in the ghost hunting business. It’s not something you even thought was a real job when you were a kid, it seemed like something you'd see people doing in the cartoons you watched. It was only after a close call when you were a teenager that almost killed you that you realised that you could see ghosts.

It made living in London quite difficult, the sheer amount of people who’s spirit hadn’t moved on was difficult to deal with but you managed to set yourself up with the so-called Ghostmaster General and it gave you a steady stream of work going round the country with him seeing if the buildings were actually haunted or not. You’d never explicitly said you could see ghosts to your employer but you could express enough knowledge that he kept choosing you to go on the trips. When photos of a grey lady surfaced on Facebook and Twitter from a mansion in Hemel Hempstead your boss had called on you immediately to join him on the trip.

Button House didn’t seem to be any different than the countless other manor houses you’d seen over the past few years. It's in a worse state of repairs than you're used to but aside from that it seems like every other fake haunted house you've visited. You’d left your boss to sort out whether you were being allowed inside the house, not wanting to drag the many bags of equipment to the front gates if you were going to have to just bring them back to the van. It’s only when he gives you the go-ahead to go and start setting equipment up inside that you grab a few bags and make your way towards the entrance.

It's with a jolt of surprise that you realise you recognise one of the owners of the house. You’d been friends with Alison at university until the two of you had both finished your degrees and parted ways, keeping in touch only to wish each other a happy birthday or similar milestones.

“Alison, hey!” The woman looked your way at her name, and her face bloomed into a confused smile when her eyes fell on you.

“Hey! Oh my god!” She pulled you into a hug as soon as you were within arms reach and you did your best to reciprocate without hitting her with the equipment bag slung over your shoulder.

“This is your house?”

“Yeah, well it was my great-step-aunt’s house and I inherited it when she died.”

“That’s amazing! Much easier than trying to get lucky with London real estate.”

“So how did you end up doing this?” Alison gestures vaguely to the bag pulled across your shoulder. It’s all you can do to shrug your shoulders lightly, trying to look as blasé as possible as you readjust the strap before it starts to slip down.

“It pays the bills.”

You couldn’t help but notice how nervous Alison was about the whole situation she’d found herself in but you chalked it up to nerves about having so many strangers in her home and didn’t think to push it. She’s kind enough to give you directions up to one of the rooms near the attic that your boss has assigned for the thermal camera currently resting against your shoulder. You agree to a cup of tea and a catch up before making your way to the room.

Everything was going normally with the equipment setup until you suddenly heard a voice shouting down a corridor. It immediately pulled your attention from the camera you were setting up, your eyes trained on the closed door to the room you're in waiting to hear footsteps approaching. When silence lay steady, your focus returned back to the camera.

It takes a great deal of self-control to try not to flinch when a figure suddenly comes through the closed door. You try not to let your eyes flicker away from the camera but can’t help but quickly scan the figure. It’s not the grey ghost you saw in the pictures, the man is dressed like a scout for some reason and the only abnormal thing about him is the arrow sticking out of his neck. You can’t help but wince slightly at that, what a terrible way to go. The ghost is talking to himself apparently in a thick northern accent or that’s what you assumed until another ghost steps through the door.

It takes everything within you to not stare at this ghost. He’s clearly from a few hundred years ago based on his attire but he might be the most beautiful man you’re ever laid eyes on. He was mid-sentence when he walked through the door saying something about finding the others but his voice trailed off when he looked in your direction.

“But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and you are the sun.” The way his voice carries the words is nothing short of reverent and you can practically feel the embarrassment rushing through your body. It's not the first time a ghost has found you attractive but normally they're plague victims or half-mad, they don't normally look as though they've just stepped away from a recreation of Pride and Prejudice.

“Thomas! It's not polite to stare.” The scout almost looks apologetic which is quite sweet given that there’s no way he can know that you can see him but his words have done nothing to deter Button House’s version of Mr Darcy.

“And yet we hang the most beautiful paintings ever created in galleries so that the masses may gaze upon their beauty. Would you deny me a similar experience Pat?”

As nice as it is to have someone speak about you like that, you’re aware that it’s going to be very difficult to get through the night if you have a ghost following you and all but swooning over you. Part of you wonders if you could try and feign being sick but also you know how one-track minded your boss will be about this house and there’s no way he’ll be willing to leave to drive you into the nearest town to get a train back to London.

You hear the familiar sounds of the camera as it’s finally finished setting up facing the door and, as you expected, shows no sign of any heat signatures. You decide to leave your other bag in the room for now, choosing instead to go and find Alison. The two ghosts are mid-debate as to whether it’s polite to stare at someone who doesn’t know they’re being stared at as you walk over to the door.

It’s with slightly shaking hands that you twist the handle on the door, opening it as calmly as possible as you try to remember your way out of the house. You can hear the ghosts talking in the room and the voices don’t seem to be getting any further away but the only cohesive thought in your mind is that you have to track down Alison and ask her what she knows about the house.

“Hey, you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Alison laughs nervously at her joke but it does nothing to relax you.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Okay?”

“Outside.” Alison must see something in your expression that worries her because she allows you to take her by the arm and gently leads you to the front door. It's only when the front door is closed behind you and you can't see anyone dead or alive around that you find your anxiety easing. When you stop moving, you make sure to have your back to the front door, if only to put yourself at ease.

“Are you okay?” You’re about to speak when a voice cuts through the silence.

“Alison! You must reveal the name of this fair maiden at once! Her beauty outshines the sun in a way I never believed possible up until this very moment.” You have to give credit to Alison, she's very good at hiding the flinch when a voice suddenly appears from through the front door. It's only from a lifetime of doing something similar that you catch it, and you watch her eyes darting to something behind you before looking back towards you.

“Sorry, did you say something?” To give Alison credit, her voice only wavers slightly after the interruption. Maybe it’s unfair of you but when you speak, you make sure to do so in a quieter tone than you would normally. You have to be sure that she can see and hear him before you say anything and if you can make it harder for her to hear you under the loud gushing of the ghost then you’ll do what you can.

“I think there’s something upstairs.” You try to pay close attention to any reactions that Alison has to your comment but it’s very difficult once the ghost appears by your side. Up close he really is gorgeous. It’s almost a shame he’s dead because if you saw him in public you’d want his number in a heartbeat. It’s very hard to not let your eye wander in his direction, especially when he’s so close to you. He hasn’t stopped talking since he appeared through the door and whilst you’re more than used to a chatty ghost, you can see that Alison is getting more and more distracted by him.

“Alison! I must insist you express how ardently I admire this fair lady immediately or I shall never give you a moment of peace!” The threat, however serious he is about it, seems to be the final breaking point for your friend, whose face shoots in his direction.

“Thomas, stop talking for one second!” Even the ghost seems surprised by her outburst, staring at her with wide eyes and an open mouth. She catches her mistake in an instant, staring at you with an almost mortified expression as she waits for your reaction.

“I’m guessing you have more than two ghosts here then?”

“What?” Alison’s voice is tentative, like she’s waiting for you to either laugh in her face or run away screaming. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“I can see them too.”

“What?!” You don’t blame Alison for being surprised, it’s not something you ever told her during your time as students, not even when you had both had a bit too much to drink and your secrets spilled easily. You’d learned early into your time seeing ghosts that telling people the truth was a quick way to alienate yourself from friends and peers alike. It was much easier to lie and say you were just an anxious person by nature who startled easily than to explain that you flinched every time you saw a particularly gruesome looking ghost.

“Sorry for not telling you. Pat seems really nice.”

“Oh my god.” A beat passes as the news sinks in, and then another wave of acceptance seems to reach Alison and with it comes another shout. “Oh my god! You can hear him?” She points in Thomas’ direction and the ghost in question has the good grace to look somewhat mortified by the idea you’ve spent the past thirty minutes listening to him regale you with compliments that he thought you couldn’t hear.

“I can.” For a ghost that’s just spent the better part of an hour showering you with compliments, he suddenly seems unable to string a sentence together. It’s easy to put him out of his misery though. “You’re very handsome by the way. I’m very flattered.” His face goes red at the compliment and, for the first time since he appeared in front of you, he seems genuinely speechless. Alison seems to be in a similar state.

“Does your boss know?”

“Absolutely not! I didn’t want to spend most of my adult life being ridiculed for something no one would ever believe to be true. Have you told anyone?”

“Mike knows. Kind of hard not to tell him with so many of them.” Mike is quickly making his way into your good books with everything you hear about him and you make a mental note to buy him a nice bottle of wine for being such a supportive husband.

“How many have you got?”

“Too many.” You let out a soft noise of consideration before turning to the still shocked ghost standing beside you.

“Would you introduce me to your friends?” Thomas seems to snap out of his shock at your request, bowing slightly and extending a hand in your direction. It’s a sweet gesture even though both of you know you can’t physically take his hand.

“It would be my pleasure.”

“I’ll uh, catch up with you later?”

“You might want to worry about the twenty-something ghost hunters running amok in your house first.” Alison pales slightly at the reminder of what situation has brought the three of you to where you currently are.

“Oh god. I need to go and find Mike.” Your friend is quick to dash back inside her house, leaving the door open for you and Thomas to follow her. Manly you, since he could just phase through the door again.

“Shall we Lady-uh…” It’s only in that moment that you realise Alison never actually told Thomas your name and you’re quick to correct that.

“(Y/N).” You supply.

“Lady (Y/N).”

“We shall.” Thomas walks towards the house first, waiting just beyond the door for you to follow him. Your only thought as you walk through the door is that you hope you don’t run into your boss for the next thirty minutes or so otherwise you might have some explaining to do.

[booksandchainmail]

Lodestar (not a hugo) Finalists 2024

Impressions and loose rankings of the best children's/YA finalists for 2024. Note that I didn't read Promises Stronger than Darkness, since I didn't like the first book or finish the second book in that trilogy

To Shape a Dragon's Breath, by Moniquill Blackgoose. This was one of my favorite books last year and one my nominees for the Lodestar, and having read the other finalists still my top choice. I'm just going to copy my response from this end of year post: This book was so perfectly targeted to me, I'm a sucker for books where people raise dragons. And the worldbuilding! Such an interesting alt-history, and such a fun magic system that is mostly actual chemistry/physics. This is one where I also got really really invested in the side characters, Theod's arc in particular hit me really hard. But it's also great to have a book (not even a super long book!) where I can say things like "I'm interested in the main character's older brother's girlfriends plotline about inventing long-range airships", and have that level of engagement across a wide cast. Also, this book has the perfect title in ways that become clear partway through.

Liberty's Daughter, by Naomi Kritzer. Remember that article about libertarians going to "seastead" on a cruise ship, and how bad it was? This book is dystopian scifi set in a world where they pulled it off. I think it does a good job of a main character whose been raised with libertarian ideals broadening her perpective, and I have to give props to any book that makes the dashing rebel group in a YA dystopia literally the IWW. More books should contain the line "the Wobblies are here". I think it also does a good job of treading a fine line between "why is this kid in danger" while not stripping agency from her: a lot of tension in the later parts of the book comes from responsible adults not wanting Beck in danger, and then because of it infantilizing her and her pushing back to be respected in her home and vocation

Unraveller, by Frances Hardinge. Just finished this the other day, an excellent fantasy novel. I particularly appreciate the push-and-pull between the two POVs, and how this is a teen novel with a male and female protagonist and there is absolutely no romance. Very nice fairy tale/fae vibes, riffing on general feeling rather than adapting a specific story, which is always a trick to pull off. Nettle's backstory in particular feels like she could be a retelling of an existing story, but I'm pretty sure it's original (though pulling inspiration clearly).

The Sinister Booksellers of Bath, by Garth Nix. I read this when it came out, so my memories aren't strong. I remember being disappointed: I don't know if it's just that I'm older, but the newer Garth Nix books have not lived up to his reputation. I like the lead characters, but I didn't have any particular reaction to the books as a whole. I will say I find it amusing that this is sold as YA despite the protagonist being a university student. This could easily be swapped with the one below.

Abeni's Song, by P. Djeli Clark. I think this book is suffering largely from how broad a category the lodestars are. The other nominees I ranked are all books aimed at older teenagers with crossover appeal for adults, whereas this book is middle grade. It's hard for me to judge, because I feel like I would have liked this book if I was the target age! But it's hard to judge a hypothetical "would I have liked this at nine" versus "I like this now". I think the book should have spent more time on the adventure section rather than the living with a witch section, but probably the rest of the series will even that out.

[dozing-marshmallow]

A BURNING STAR- Chris McLean x Reader

The beginning

Success was a funny thing. Are people born to it or do they make it themselves? Do they burn from the pressure to blow up when least expected or are they sealed under the skin, like of a woman, who walks down the pavement like the normal?

Lightning bolt earrings and pink silk scarf, it had been another wonderful day for (Y/N) at the studio. Though it did cut into some of her studying time as a nineteen year old, nothing threaded life in her veins faster than tying her salmon shoelaces to head out for a morning of singing. Summer was especially motivating, every step surfing like a symphony, where she’d hoped that year she’d find a bigger reason to separate her curtains further.

Passing by the usual shops and crossing the correct roads, a ringing noise builds its way into (Y/N)’s ears, which was not part of everyday. She pauses, not sensing pain, merely strangeness. A make belief she first had was that it came from her place of work, however discovered it to be way up ahead. Naturally, she skipped towards it and clocked what it was- a guitar and...singing. Where was it coming from though? The by passers around her weren’t fazed at all, was she the only one that could hear it? Distant, but longing...

It wouldn’t hurt to get a closer listen, right? Aw what the heck, she had nothing better to do anyway.

So she went, crossing the unusual roads and passing by uncertain shops, finding herself in an alley where the ringing had diverted absolutely into a higher volume of outside music and synchronised voices. She was very close. One more turn and she would practically find the source. 

But she didn’t want that. It sounds like...a boy band, in the middle of a song. Their young baritones enhanced melodiously by a bass and a hitting drum set. Bar lines meant for a rhythmic dream girl, she’d feel not only flustered, but guilty if they found a stranger getting nosey and messed up their performance because of it. Oh, the awkwardness.

Hence why, she peered around the grimy wall as discreetly as she could, and what does she know, it’s exactly as she thought.

I stand against the wall, waiting for you to ask me to dance, my heart is in your hands!

It was quite a thing to come across on a typical day of travelling home. There were four of them, one that proved her attention to bass and another proving the presence of a set of drums true, with the other two being the core singers. Whether it was an instrument, a microphone or a drumstick they held in their hand, all of them had stage presence in a place that lacked quite technically that, with a choreography that flowed very smoothly with the tempo. Even the sun was amazed that the quartet was pulling off a song in a dodgy passageway where anything of nature could happen, through its selected support to fall its gold upon them, ethereal, magical. And while the judgement of the golden yolk that hanged above them was justified, (Y/N) couldn’t help but center her attention around one of the singers, the one with black hair and a clean face...only because he...was also wearing something plaid, a flannel, red too, alike her dress, her nice cozy dress. As he finishes his note, he brings his view down from the sky and presumably reopens his eyes where he freestyles around for this segment, the very man she had been gazing at catches sight of her hem that naturally pulls him into making eye contact with her. 

Oh, uh...! Dang it! Just what I...! Before the warmth of exposure took full effect, she snapped the trance and quickly walked off as though she hadn’t come the particular way to feed her curiosity. She didn’t remember the route being this long...

That vaporised to the least of her concerns when a moving silhouette of a tower dashed towards her from the side. Needless to say, when the light spontaneously disappeared, her mind flashed the worst possible thing to sight, may have jumped or ga-

“My bad,” The thing had spoken.

Huh? She turned around and visibly gasped:

It was that singer?,“Didn’t mean to scare ya, my fault for not making myself known earlier.” He advanced, ironically owning a speaking voice shyer than his consuming shadow sprawling on the ground.

(Y/N) remains silent to take in his figure, now that she was watching from a closer distance. His messy black hair mahogany in the sunlight, ripped grey jeans that were a bit too big for his ankles, right arm used to bear a transducer behind his head, stumbling in continuation,“I...noticed you watching our performance...and I wanted to hear what you thought about it. (This is also my first time meeting a fan!). Sorry, if this was sudden.” The second to last part was mainly for himself, but she’s glad it was external.

Makes it easier to clear up the misunderstanding,“Oh, no... I’m the one that should be sorry. I could have distracted you. I...was just curious.” She had never been more thankful for sunshine,”The music was really nice, so I wanted to check out where it was coming from. I didn’t mean to look for that long.”

But the male wasn’t insulted,”Ohh, I know where you’re coming from. Don’t worry, I wasn’t distracted,” He stops to look at her,“...I know it’s not conventional, having a guy talk to you in a place like this, but if you don’t have anything else to do... Want to talk for a little bit?”

Though he was well built and looked marginally older than her, (Y/N) didn’t have any alarms swirling in her stomach; the sun did flow well on his red, a shade of rose rather than blood.

“Uh...” she hastily looks to the side, not realising that alternative shortcut from whence he came upon her first arrival,“Sure!” 

“Really? Alright then!” He was acceptive of both choices?,“And don’t worry about the others coming in on us, they all go home the other way.”

“G-Gotcha!” Isn’t it wonderful that he who she laid eyes on was he who came for her?

Nothing like a sunny afternoon with a singing stranger surrounded by brick walls dried with graffiti.

“So, do you always come here for rehearsals?” She asked, sitting up next to him on the recycling bin, closing the lid beforehand.

“Nah. We kinda did just start, so we haven’t done this kind of practice in a public setting like this before. Normally, we’d go to one of our garages.” His silver ear piercing aligned similarly to his teeth.

“Makes sense. What’s the name of this band?” 

“We’re Fametown!” His response great with energy.

“Okay Fametown. What kind of genre do you make? Love songs?” She teasingly presumed.

His hand immediately slaps onto the side of his neck, sheepishly confirming it. Aw, who knew! “It may sound cliche, but with the talent of all the other guys in the band, we’ll get a record deal sooner or later!”

That’s the spirit of a fellow singer she likes to hear! The more belief you have in yourself, the sooner you’ll reach your goal!... Albeit, to (Y/N)’s disappointment, the other supposed singer in the alley didn’t reciprocate her enthusiasm,“Actually about that...” he begins, shifting closer to her in means to whisper as though he wanted nobody else to hear,”Don’t tell my other bandmates about this...but I’m actually not all that big about singing.”

“Really?” She blinks. With a voice like that, it was hard to believe he lacked passion.

He nods,”It sounds deceiving, but... I just... I really want to be famous. And singing to me is one way where I can be guaranteed fame, even if, I’m not sure if it’s what I like.”

I see. She had to hold in her sigh. Just when she thought she found an opportunity to connect and befriend another musically inclined soul. At least he was honest with himself,“Then...maybe, if it’s not what you like, you should quit. You can get famous by doing anything nowadays, especially if you love it.”

“Quit?” He repeated, as though it was a bleak suggestion. Man, he wasn’t giving (Y/N) a lot to work with,”But... I want to give it more time to see if it’ll grow onto me. If not, then I totally will.”

What does this man like otherwise?

He looks away with sparkles in his dark eyes,“I’d love to get into acting again...maybe even start my own show!”

“You acted before?” She smiles, interested. Had she accidentally stumbled upon a hidden celebrity?

With that asked, he blew up with excitement,“Uh huh!” He rapidly nods at the same speed as his enjoyment in the conversation,”You know that talking cats movie from about a year ago? I played a huge role in that one!” Almost as though it wasn’t often.

Maybe (Y/N) knew why after hearing his description,“Really?” He wasn’t talking about that movie, was he-

“Yeah, one of many! You know CATostrophes?”

...Yep. He was talking about that movie. The one everyone kept making fun of back in tenth grade... She decided to keep that part to herself.

“Ohhhh! It was you who made that! Wow!” Her false smile slowly returning sincere. Sure, it was terrible- so terrible, it’s funny,“Who knew I’d get to meet the...star of that movie?” Hidden was a lot more appropriate.

“And who knew I’d get to meet such a beauty after my rehearsal?“ He winked, causing her to playfully roll her eyes,“I plan on getting into another, maybe a sports movie!”

“A sports movie?” She repeated in puzzlement, not realising how much correlation there was,”I guess boys like their sports... Are you in any clubs?”

“Back when I was in high school. Are you?” He rapidly redirects the question as though it was a topic he wanted to avoid.

“Just coaching for singing.” She hummed dully. It was only fair.

“Oh, right... How long you been singing for?”

For some reason, she wasn’t expecting him to ask an organic question, so it was relieving that the instinct was false,“Since I was younger, like thirteen.”

“Oh wow... Yeah, you for sure are more passionate than I am...” he sways his feet back and forth,“Did you need to pay for coaching?”

What kind of question is that? Still, she answered calmly,“Normally, you’d need to pay about two hundred dollars monthly, but because my high school provided it as an option, it was free until I left, where my teacher was kind enough to reduce it to fifty dollars.”

“Impressive...” he commented, genuinely intrigued.

How come? Didn’t he go to at least one voice coaching lesson before joining this band?

He was reeled from his admiration,“Not really... Unless bandmates count.”

“Mm,” She’d give the benefit of the doubt,“Relying on the feedback of your bandmates isn’t necessarily advisable for constructive criticism. But you know what, there are lots of singers from around the world that are self taught, like uh...Elvis Presley.”

“Elvis Presley is a generous comparison...” he added, in a way that spoke incomplete attention, not long after he checks his watch,“I better get going now.” he leaps off the bin,“Does the lady want to exchange landline numbers? No pressure, I enjoyed the conversation.”

“Sure! You seem like a pretty good guuuy...”  she dragged out as though trying to recall what his name was. When connected the dots, the man face palms.

“Oh, how forgetful am I! I’m Chris. Chris McLean.”

Has a nice ring to it,“(Y/N) (L/N),” she smiled.

“(Y/N) (L/N)?!” He suddenly jumped back in disbelief,“You’re...that singer (Y/N) (L/N)?”

“Surprised?” She didn’t think it was a big deal.

“O-Of course... I lis- Would it really be okay to get your number...?” Aww!

She isn’t that light!,“Why wouldn’t it!” She fishes out a paper from her handbag to give him, seeming that the contact of it cured him of his shock.

Now over the plot twist, he quickly scans over it and grins at her as a result,“You...just had it on your person?”

She vertically waves her hand,“Oh please! I always carry my landline number on me in case I happen to find a groovy man with a voice as hot as the sun! Nah, I wrote it beforehand.”

“Soooo you were planning on giving it to me way before I asked?” He raised his eyebrows suggestively.

“Don’t get the wrong idea.” She firmly averred.

He gives a light chuckle, then extracted a receipt and a pen from his interior pocket. He looks around for a surface to write it on and ended up leaning over the bin. Two steps ahead in memory.

“Have you given your landline number to a girl before, by any chance?” She smirked as he scribbled it down. From this angle, his attire suited the bricks perfectly.

“Sure I have! To chicks from high school, chicks from the streets...” Straightening his posture, he gives the crimped complete paper to her in exchange,”Call me soon alright?”

“Desperate?” Her smirk not fading. Did he say that to all the others?

“No! Not at all. Just...let me know when you get back home.”

“Sure will.” She made sure he watched her slip it into her purse.

And she did and had herself, twirling the wire and kicking feet in the air, marking meet ups with him on her neglected calendar and lyrics in their flesh. Her house had never felt so empty while her hand was the furthest thing from that. She never would’ve guessed that this relationship she composed with a dreaming guy from an alley would get serious, but despite all these dates and growing intimacy, she never let the case of being another simple chick from the street in his eyes fade from her mind. But their frequent visits and very little mention of other girl names, soon morphed into a question of What made her so special?

“Double doubles are my favourite!” The musician exclaimed, having a jolly sip. Here, they were much more civilised, with napkins on their laps and paying lunch. (Y/N) wasn’t wearing a dress this time around, rather baggy jeans, similar to what Chris had on.

“Meh, soy lattes are way better.” The former one claimed with less spirit, drinking from said preference while sitting in front of her.

“So! You left your band?” She put out in reminder, twirling her fork around her spaghetti.

“Yep, and it was for the best. You should’ve seen how ticked off they were! I mean, I gave it my best shot and that’s how they react? Unbelievable!” He scoffed, gesticulating with knife in hand,“Whatever, I don’t care about them anymore. I’ll find new people, way more awesome than them. And that starts off with a new dream.”

By this time, he had hair prickling all over the lower half of his face and took sensible measures with the hair on his head; gel was never let out of his cabinets again.

“Yeah! Like the badminton movie you landed! And you got the lead role? Doooope!”

“I hope you can be the first one to see it!” He points excitedly.

“Aw, I absolutely will!” Red coloured her cheeks,“You should come around soon you know.”

“Heck yeah I will!” He chimed, slipping a forkful of food into his mouth,”After I’m done filming, there’ll be plenty of time for us to hang out... I still can’t believe I’m talking to someone as cool as you.”

“Aw, give yourself more credit, Chris! You were the one that took the chance to start talking to me.” Her eyes gleamed in its beautiful (E/C),“Could we go to the ice cream palor first? It’ll be so fun!”

“Who am I to reject that? Unless I don’t feel like it that day.”

Only makes sense! It’s his movie they’ll be celebrating after all. He lets her know she has a coffee stain on the corner of her lip, and she’s warm, not from humiliation, but from the enrapture. The pink, purple aura of this diner really did fit with what was starting to sweeten the air- their desserts, of course!

Not only that, (Y/N) would realise, finding herself cooing, a year or so later, to the same ambitious man, tugging onto his collars one day,“You’re as handsome as ever... That stubble looks great on you.”

“What doesn’t!” He twitted, before kissing the tip of her nose.

Chris was now investing time in his show, alongside the adoption of a signature necklace tied around his flawless neck- meanwhile, (Y/N) had finished college and debated on whether university had her best interest or not; she was already doing well with music, and whatever money she would have had was mostly reserved for the apartment they rented together anyhow. Call it a wild decision, to move in with a guy she met in an alley and hasn’t known him for the same amount of time it takes one to be a sixth grader to graduating as a senior, but who cares! It was bound to happen, finding their primary strength relying on that neither of them had ever met one like the other before. It was only a matter of time before her honeysuckle chorus was made real.

“Alright!” He cleared his throat, finger pointing upwards,”Today marks the day of the pilot episode of my cooking show, Keep it Plain with Chris McLean!” 

“What dish did you make for it?” She had faith it would be mind blowing, something she hadn’t heard bef-

“White rice!”

“Just that?” ...She didn’t think he meant it literally.

“Before you go all judge-y, hear me out!” Now that he stopped singing, his voice was at liberty all the more,“I have to start off basic and simple, then I can make my way towards more complicated dishes, like lasagna and poutine!”

She’s a bit doubtful of his way of thinking, but didn’t want it to get in the way of her ability to support him,”Alright! Just...please be careful. I did have to pull strings with the company to make this possible, so if this fails, it also looks bad on me.”

“You worry too much, baby! Just leave it to me, I know what I’m doing!”

...

“A show about watching paint dry would be more entertaining than this.”

“Worst twenty minutes of my life!”

“Did he already run out of ideas to make WHITE RICE?”

“Desperation at its finest.”

“If that’s what he chose to make for the first episode, I don’t even want to know what he’ll make next. Hot water? Peeled potatoes?”

“It was okay, nothing too particularly exciting, but something my grandpa liked.”

“Even my mom with dementia knows how to cook better rice than this weirdo.” 

“I just know someone got food poisoning listening to this.”

“He didn’t even mention seasoning... Yeah, I wouldn’t ever let this guy come into my kitchen, eh?”

“You know the show is doomed when your sister that wants to be a chef turns the tv off whenever this comes on.”

“Sorry man, but this really wasn’t a good way to introduce your show.”

“Honestly, reading all of these reviews on one hand makes me relieved that I’m not the only one who thought this show was embarrassing for McLean, but on the other hand, I feel bad for him.”

“He’d be better off as a commentator because what was this recipe?”

“Just stay an actor, no one wants to see you cook.”

“Man makes dish everyone and their babies know how to make! Yay!”

It hadn’t even been a month since his first episode aired. Shame graced on one harder than a swinging bat. Switching her sight back and forth between the letter and Chris’ reaction, (Y/N) saw the love he had for his show burn. The paper gradually twitched in his hands as more time passed where they should’ve by now reached the final nail in the coffin on how the show would permanently be removed from the network’s listing. He had never seemed so close to tears.

People can be so horrible.

“Chris...don’t listen-“

“It’s fine.” He bitterly interrupts, scrunching the acidic letter up into a sphere,”They just don’t know true art. None of them do. An artist is never understood in their era.”

“Hey... You’re not okay. Let’s go outside, to the park, okay? I’ll grab a few things we’ll need.”

“Whatever!” Without warning, he yelled, hurling the ball of humiliation to the floor with (Y/N) watching from a frightened frame,”It’s just like how people reacted to my first film! Nothing was ever good enough! I am so done with them! What in the name of television standards do they want? I’ve tried everything! Everything!” He was dangerously close to ripping his hair out.

Lord! She didn’t expect him to suddenly lash out! She needed a minute to recollect her senses. 

Once regained, (Y/N) carefully rubbed his back,“That’s why, we’re going to take a break from people.”

A sulking man and a thoughtful woman. For a sunshine day like this, (Y/N) was surprised there wasn’t a lot of families outside especially from the area they lived in. Though, it was probably because it was a working weekday, so she didn’t really pay mind to how empty it was, aside from the ordinary dog walkers.

“You think I’m some sort of kid?” Chris murmured, trailing behind.

That got her attention,“What makes you say that?” he gestured gloomily behind her- the unused climbing frame, set of swings and roundabout that had lived there longer than they had was all the answer she needed,”Huh? You think I chose this park so you can go on the monkey swings? I mean, we can if you want to. Though we’ll have to do it before we eat.” She wiggles her finger,”Can’t have you feeling sick!”

“I’m good... Let’s just find a spot already.” He proposed morose, hands still stuffed in his pockets, obvious that the sunshine hadn’t brightened his mood yet.

“Hm... How about you pick it, dear?”

He seemed taken aback, but soon accepted the idea by taking a hand out to pinpoint one, near a hill, absent of sheltering trees. Not a typical spot, you could remark, but it was the spot he chose in the land of countless spaces and that was enough for her to beam and approach while watching him slowly come out from under the raincloud. 

She set the blanket down and followed him to the ground.

“How did you have all this ready?” He asks, watching her take out a different variety from her basket to the blanket.

“I went shopping yesterday. I was hoping this could’ve been a celebration of your new show... But you know what, let’s still make that happen, while add it on as a way to cheer you up.” She takes out a bottle filled with red liquid,”I noticed you’ve been drinking tomato juice a lot more recently. So I made special note to buy that. Don’t drink anything right from the bottle, I brought cups.”

“Thank you, (Y/N)...” he lets out, watching his finger stroke the body of the bottle,”Y’know, I feel like I barely pay attention to you anymore.”

“Don’t feel that way.” She didn’t want him to be in an even worse state,“Sure, it’s...true. But you’re not doing it on purpose. You had a script to memorise, and you were the host.”

“I know that...but seeing how people are reacting to it, maybe I’m not fit to be on TV, so I feel like I wasted time even bothering when I coulda just been with you.”

A frown collapsed on her lips,“If you really don’t feel like hosting again because you don’t think it’s what you’re made for, I’m in full support of that, not because of a few negative comments. You’ll get those no matter what you do, in any business. Don’t let other people decide what you can and can’t do.”

“But that’s the thing, I need other people’s opinions, don’t I, (Y/N)?” Whether he intended it or not, his interpretation addressed like ice,”I need people to watch me, to have their eyes on me, to give me the worthy name. I need people to praise my work, to praise me. I need the world to go to the stars.”

“Oh Chris...” she responds, rocking her head to him. Besides from occasional pauses of tomato juice, Chris hadn’t touched any of the food,”You can’t make everyone happy. And maybe there were more people that liked your show than you think, but the radio station only decided to include the negative parts in the letter. Besides, you did achieve some of that reputation, didn’t you? Like from your badminton movie you did?”

“A big mediocrity that could’ve gone a lot better...” he was quick to counteract,“The storyline, the setting, the other themes... No wonder why you don’t hear people begging for a sequel like Child’s Play…” he grouches, relying the weight of his ponderous face on his knees,“I’m hopeless. Absolutely hopeless. Is there any point bothering anymore, (Y/N)? Maybe I’m not meant to be famous...”

“My love…don’t say that.” She couldn’t eat after hearing that. Was that really how he thought? The clouds won’t go away easily, will they?,“I think you might just need to breathe…and accept the outcome of your cooking show. All the successful people you admire was in your position once...even I was. They pour their time and heart into something, but still witness it not getting as popular as they wanted.” She scooted closer to him,“Tell me, do you have a passion for cooking?”

He gives a thoughtful glance,“Well... I guess I’m okay at it, but it’s not something I can imagine doing for the rest of my life.”

Figures! She knew from that pace he didn’t,“Now, let me ask you. If it’s not what you’re passionate about, why did you start a show on it?”

“I guess... It just seemed easy. Truth is, I still don’t know what it is I exactly want to do, so I figured if singing or acting wasn’t my feel, I could try hosting. And cooking shows seemed good enough to suck up for... I didn’t think people would see through the pretend if I had thought more about the joy of being famous rather than...” He trailed off, appearing to ingest the messy thought process behind it...

There. She sits up, after leaving a gentle kiss on his cheek,“See? That was the root of your failure. There was nothing wrong with your charisma nor you in general, Chris, but don’t undermine your audience- they can tell if you’re doing something that doesn’t come natural to you. There’s the bigger absence of soul, and we all know what atmosphere a dead body sets. Hearing that you didn’t like it to begin with, I’m honestly happy that it failed. Imagine if it blew up and you were stuck doing it for months, years, just for reputation sake? Why make a misery out of your life when you can be famous for something you love instead?” She takes a munch of her sandwich,”In other words, yes, there is a point bothering. Remember what I said? You can be famous by doing anything. There’s no point wasting it on something that just happened to be convenient. You just have to reflect, hosting, what kind of show do you want to host? Acting, what genre do you want to star in?”

Chris doesn’t respond right away. For a second, (Y/N)’s stomach drops as though she had said the wrong thing- taking sight of the expression knitted on his face, however, she found that it wasn’t the case of searching for a verbal answer to give her- but an answer to himself. In spite of his eyes already being the darkest colour possible, a wide range of heavy thoughts had glimmered from his strange brain in them, taking her word of reflection to the next level extremely.

For what felt like an hour of listening to the wind whistling and strands of hair dancing, the epiphany (Y/N) casted on him was alas put to rest as Chris drops his body onto her lap, groaning,“I’ll think more about it later... Right now, I...think I really just need to take my mind of it.” Guess he realised he had tried exploring so many methods at once, he had forgotten to use himself as the starting point.

Warmly, she locates her accepting arms around him,“Hang in there, baby. Your time will come along.”

After that, Chris got a lot more attention. Better attention, from other actors, singers, producers. He never told her what he did that led to it. Whether he used (Y/N)’s connections or found some of his own, it worked, and now, smiling had never been more permanent on his face.

A pink balloon to her wrist, (Y/N) hopped in circles on their carpet. Even their Venus flytrap was greener for happiness was alive and well, evident by Chris’ current calls for his sweetheart one day, the ecstatic voice followed by rushing footsteps, the more it repeated, the closer it would seem he’s gotten to her, racing with a grand smile carved in his face. Before the woman at urgent request could verbalise, he gripped onto her waist to swing her off her feet out of this pure excitement,��I got it, I got it, I got it! I got the job!”

Who could not have smiled at such an act?! This along with what he said was definitely a time of good news! 

“Woooo! Where, Chris, where?!” She laughed with him as he put her back down.

“Hosting! I’m going to be hosting a brand new reality tv show!” He announced, hand to chest, the words flying out faster than he can think them.

Oh my God.

Her eyes widened.

This really was a miracle.

“Oh my God!” she squealed recklessly loud, her go to tighten her arms around him,”That’s incredible Chris! Oh I’m so proud of you!” No wonder why he was so happy! He was going to have a second chance at one of the best positions in the industry!

“Thank you, (Y/N)! This is totally going to be my breakthrough! No way I’ll get fired now! And...” his voice tones down for a crucial confession,“I want you to be part of it.”

“Huh, me? Meeee? Lil old me?” she had caught her own wide smile, letting go of him. 

“Uh, yes! I can’t have you in the shadows when there’s the whole world to shine for!” He explained as though it was obvious.

“Ohhh I don’t know...” the beloved lady puts a considering finger on the side of her face,“I won’t be as good as you with being on live television, and... Well, I want you to be the centre of it all, not me by accident.”

“Ohohoho...” he laughs, lightly squeezing her face,“Don’t worry, you for sure won’t be stealing my spotlight. Come on... It’ll mean the world to me! And it’ll be my way of saying thank you for believing in me. Pleaaaaaaaaase?” He grasped his hands together in front of his face.

“Hmm...” What was really stopping her? She had the confidence for it and she’d get to really celebrate Chris’ success on landing such a good job by being a part of it,”Alright! If it’s for you, then absolutely! How should I apply?”

“Apply?” The soon to be host with the most repeated, confusion narrowing his beautiful features, before cracking up at such inquiry,”I already signed you up! It was actually the producers’ idea to get someone like you on the show!” He puts his hands forwards, cracking knuckles, no going back,”Prepare for showbiz Y/N, cuz we’re in for the ride of fame!”

[goodbysunball]

Cement mixer blues

A couple more for your March, with Opening Day right around the corner. Four picks, all hits, and more waiting in the wings - but until then:

Thomas Bush, The Next 60 Years LP (Jolly Discs)

Album number three from Thomas Bush, one carving his own path through the history of quietly devastating British folk. That Bush has much to do with "folk" in general is debatable at this point, but there are fractured fragments within his damaged, precise compositions. On The Next 60 Years, he refines his vision further, not solely through reduction (though that, too) but with a bit of surprising bombast on the B-side. "Same Life Flowed" opens the album with plodding pop, the double-tracked vocals opening up just enough during the chorus to complement the harpsichord melody, and runs into the pensively dueling guitars on the accurately named "Pure Intention." As is Bush's wont, the album never keeps a straight course after this beautiful opening; some songs, like "Mulligan" or "Flood of Light," creak like floorboards in an empty house, whereas "Face In the Water" jumps out of the speakers from behind the curtain. I've never pieced together any influence of Talk Talk or Mark Hollis on Bush's sound, but now it's crystal on "Burn Clear," the patiently brushed cymbals and pattering drums pairing with slowly ringing chords, all directed by Bush's carefully delivered vocals. The samples on "Burn Clear" get turned inside-out on "Face In the Water," its booming synth chords leaving backwards bubbling loops in their wake, the distortion becoming ever more prominent as Bush's most clear, confident song unravels over its duration. The synth chords turn green midway through, and the garbled loops run rampant to cloud any pop ambitions with more unease. The album closes with the quietly devastating "Xtrails," a repeated descending progression of guitar notes and scattered synth chords, tying the album together neatly with only the necessary ingredients. In early listens, "Burn Clear" and "Face In the Water" were the highlights, but now tracks like "Thirsting" and "Xtrails" have become my favorites, the ones where Bush takes something recognizable and strips it to a skeleton and makes the bones vibrate with noise, creating a new story for the figure largely free from its past. Stunning, especially during my pre-dawn drives, but potent enough, and enveloping enough, to transport the listener from start to finish anytime. Sold out at the source, but I suspect copies will land stateside soon; if not, All Night Flight is handling the distribution - hop to it.

Contaminated, Celebratory Beheading LP (Blood Harvest)

Amidst a glut of ho-hum, self-referencing contemporary death metal, I wasn't really prepared for the complete onslaught that makes up Contaminated's second LP. I liked Final Man a lot, but things seem to have gotten a lot bleaker in the seven years since that came out, and Celebratory Beheading is the record that balls up collective agony into relentless, boneheaded death metal. It takes all of 15 seconds into opener "Suffer Minutiae" for the band to launch into a chugging breakdown riff, and even after multiple spins I feel as if I haven't captured the right words to describe music so single-mindedly brutish. There are no synths, electronics or really anything resembling a breather across the album. This new-look Contaminated feels like layers alternating between Carcass (pre-Heartwork) and Autopsy, with a dash of County Medical Examiners or other goregrind practitioner. Each song is made up of multiple movements, which is the stupid way my brain's been reduced to describing this record when it's on, but the very basic recipe is to pound with death metal crunch and follow it up with a grinding blast, before pulling back and taking another swing at your head. These parts are masterfully fused together without gaps or any recognizable structure, suffocatingly dense compositions coming one after another. Once your ears adjust, the pieces of the bulldozing sound can just barely be picked apart. The drummer's right up front with the vocals, and the two seem to goad each other on; the guitars, drenched in distortion and as beefy as I've heard (sans exterior electronic noise) in ages, churn out mercilessly hard or dizzyingly fast riffs. "Final Hours" is the point in the record where I finally catch my breath, and by "Apex C.H.U.D." (stands for Circular Headbanging Under Duress, pretty sure) you're stomping around like a sumo wrestler. Imagine running in a sewer tunnel away from a tidal wave of waste, each turn bringing no more distance or relief from the chase; at some point your legs and chest give out and you submit. I haven't looked at the included lyric sheet - the album and song titles are illustrative enough - but this seems to be the soundtrack to intentionally hammering a nail through your finger, pure visceral animal thrill, presented without concessions or interludes. My favorite record of the year so far.

Los Doroncos, Sun and Fireworks LP (An'archives)

There's nothing like the first whiff of springtime to bring me around to an album that made little sense during the dregs of the new year, and Los Doroncos' Sun and Fireworks is one for the ages. Seasoned vets with deep ties to the Japanese underground - members from Denudes, Maher Shalal Hash Baz, Doronco Gumo - but what you get here is a dream dive bar band, playing music both intimately familiar and somehow buoyant, not bogged down with expectations or concerned with much else than playin' hits. If the band set out to make classic rock feel fresh again, they nailed it, taking the scoff right outta my throat and using it to hit another solo. The band rips on the two longer tracks, "A minor" (one of the young year's best tracks) and "Drum," but elsewhere things are downright breezy. Guitars are largely unadorned until solos call for distortion, vocals are charming, paper-thin but hopeful, and the drums do enough to keep everything together. For me, any cynicism is eradicated by the beautifully disarming guitar lines littered about in "LuLu 2," but just as often it's the solo pushing its way through the clean chords of "Tin Ear." I'm in the midst of fixing up my porch, and if I get my way, I will be having a few beers back there with Sun and Fireworks elevating my mundane accomplishment. Come through.

Peg, We Know Who You Are and Everyone Is On the Lookout CS (No Rent)

Meeting of the minds between Cube's Adam Keith and Jackie-O Motherfucker's Dave Easlick, both of whom previously teamed up in SPF. I can't remember SPF's music much, though it may be time to revisit given how much I've enjoyed Peg's debut cassette. The music on We Know Who You Are feels like dub recorded without or presented without permission, as if found on a thrift store cassette, and then given added rhythm by Easlick and Keith's drumming and programming. "Mutual Percussion" is a sterling example, drums fading in and out while viscous treated guitar bubbles and the sound of a breeze or footsteps periodically emerge to confusingly give the feel of a field recording. The album feels sometimes ominous, sometimes sarcastic; the intention feels pure but you're never quite convinced with a track like "Agenda Jazz," either. Beyond sifting through the tape for intention, there's deep enjoyment here, skewering and distorting sounds in a way not unlike Equipment Pointed Ankh, though Peg's got a decidedly more abstract, glowering, smirking result. Hard to pick favorites, but if forced: the slouched strut of "Athletic Posturing"; the disarming "Everyone," all glistening synthesizer and distant drums; and my favorite, "Bog Standard," Easlick letting loose on the kit while a bassy loop and high-pitched noise build towers in the shifting sands. Really feels like these two met each other head-on this round, keeping stakes low for themselves but understanding one another intuitively to create one of last year's best albums.

[it-begins-with-rain]

if you dont mind me asking, when did you get into seventeen? i've been following you for years now (back when i was still into tog/acotar), got into svt just over a year ago, and now find it a cute coincidence that you listen to them too!

Ooo! Maasdom follower who is also SVT fan!!

So... I want to explain something first to explain something second, lmao.

FIRST::

I've had an ear to kpop since about 2008, part of a fandom I will not name but your hint is they are famous for how overwhelmingly toxic they are.

Fell in love with the Korean language and dramas, actually lived in Korea in college and Seoul is the most beautiful city on the planet (I lived in Wonju which isn't bad, but isn't as amazing as Seoul).

And then the group that I had been following entered their... how to say... image-destruction-phase. It was like they were addicted to saying shit that exposed how rude and arrogant they were IRL, one guy just let his homophobia hang out there for the whole world to see and waved it around proudly.

Amidst all of that (the homophobic one actually came out as homophobic a week after this, so it hadn't happend yet but it was the nail in the coffin) I had somehow become a fandom leader against my will, known for being able to play CSI: Fandom (because of an emotionally unstable former friend I had to keep talking off ledges by getting to the root of scandal rumors). It was exhausting and people were fucking stupid. My stance on idols is they’re grown ass adults (mostly). Who the fuck gives a shit if they’re dating someone or whatever? Honestly I was so sick of the bullshit.

Anyways

A former member of the group released a solo album and it just... wasn't my taste at all. I didn't say anything against it by any means, but someone sent me an ask saying they'd noticed I wasn't reblogging.

I said ONLY "It's just not my genre, but I wish him luck" and within 15 minutes I had 12 messages either threatening my life or telling me to kill myself. Because of those words.

That was when I was like "You know what, fuck all of this" and bailed. That was around 2012-ish. I refused to go anywhere near kpop with a 10 foot stick after that. If I saw news, it was because it hit CNN or BBC (so the tragic deaths and the Burning Sun Scandal which was just INSANE, like, omg). But that was it. And btw I still dont' listen to that group I used to listen to. I fully will not touch their stuff.

SECOND:

So that was a big ass mountain blocking me from being willing to even consider kpop. But a dear friend of mine was very much into it and just like once in a blue moon I'd notice a post on my dash that was kpop from her, but I ignored it.

In mid-2020, a fuck ton of bad shit went down even on top of all the COVID stuff. Like, at one point I genuinely considered driving into a wall (except I was buried alive under responsibilities) and it just got incredibly hard and incredibly dark. My personality- I can't ask for help. I just can't. IDK why, it's a huge block for me.

So that friend, my darling Sarah, who reblogged kpop stuff I rarely saw, a GIFset came across my dash that I was just so exhausted and defeated I didn't even have the energy to scroll past and decided to read it. It was Seventeen in that group blitz episode of Going Seventeen where they hit the inflatable obstacle course.

And it made my heart feel not quite as heavy for a few seconds. Maybe I even cracked half a smile.

I kept dragging myself on, and I saw the GIFset again and in another defeated day, I looked it up on Youtube (had to play it at 70% speed, those psychos talk FAST) and watched it.

And... it made me genuinely smile.

So I watched all of Going Seventeen over the next several months. Then about 6 months in I decided to listen to one of their songs (Hoshi- Spider) and loved it. Started listening to more of their music, found out Carat are actually extremely chill and extremely dorky, the opposite of the fan club I'd been part of before.

So I joined Carat formally (i'd never done that with the Fandom That Must Not Be Named, Carat is my first fanclub :) ) and I just... enjoy them.

They got me through some really incredibly dark times, just being able to watch something lighthearted and simple and funny. Like, I know it’s cliche to say, I know they'll never know that, they probably wouldn't give a shit, they probably hear it 150,000 times a day. It doesn't matter. The dumbassery helped me a lot, and I'm grateful for that.

And this year I got to go see them live in concert with my darling Sarah, the same week I got the news that my mother's cancer (which we were told was terminal) was in full remission and she's one of only a few cases her doctors have ever SEEN to go into remission, and just...

That was way more info than you were asking for, but that's it. Their dorky, probably-licks-bus-windows charm was just simple and yet funny enough that it helped me breathe when that felt impossible, and so I like them :)

[weaversweek]

28 "Closer to fine" - Indigo Girls

writer Emily Saliers

"I had graduated from college and I was thinking a lot about the insular world of academia, and how the one thing I learned in school is that you can't believe everything you read or hear."

Part of the UncoolTwo50 project, marking the best singles from 1977-99.

How do you make your life a little better? Whatever way works for you.

Emily Saliers and Amy Ray met while still at school in Decatur Georgia, and started recording music together while at college. They write separately, record together. Theirs is gentle folk rock, strumming guitars and lilting melodies, the sting is in the arrangements and especially in the lyric. Being from Georgia, they've had influences and a bit of a leg-up from the B-52s and R.E.M., and they've proven as enduring as their peers.

"Closer to fine" was the lead single from their eponymous second album, and almost turned them into stratosphere-level pop stars. American college radio was all over it, pop stations got interested in another Suzanne Vega / Tracy Chapman. The gals played significant dates across Europe, supporting 10,000 Maniacs at the Albert Hall.

And they did a lot of press - interviews in the New Musical Express (Incorporating Accordian Times) and Snouds were de rigeur, pieces in The Times and Het Grauniad came as no surprise. But pop mag Smash Hits? The Indy (a cross between The Independent newspaper and John Craven's Newsround)? Someone wants the Indigo Girls to be huge.

The world was at their feet, and they chose not to pursue superstardom. Rather, Amy and Emily stayed true to their own values, made the music they could make, built their close-knit fanbase, and slowly grew into pillars of the lesbian community. (Compare how modern Sheffield troubadour Lucy Spraggan chose not to be a mega-pop-star.)

It takes bravery to turn back from superstar status, and courage to use star power for controversial causes - Southern Poverty Law Centre, pro-choice campaigns, indigenous rights, boycotting the erstwhile Michigan Womyn's Music Festival over its trans-exclusionary policies.

"Closer to fine" won the Grammy for Best Contemporary Folk Recording. They lost in the Best Newcomer Grammy category (sponsored by Memorex) to Milli Vanilli. They won in the 2023 Barbie movie, being sung in context at the film's pivotal moment. Director Greta Gerwig noted, "'Closer to fine' is just one of those songs that meets you where you are, wherever you are. It has spoken to me throughout my life, like a novel you revisit."

What is the song about? There is no simple answer. That's the answer: there is no simple answer. The lyric twists and turns, has melodic point and counterpoint, tuneful tonic and a dash of gin, always building to the singalong chorus. It's the traditional closer to Indigo Girls concerts, let the audience leave happy and contented, a massive group hug.

If there is such a thing as the lesbian national anthem, this may be it.

[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 

.

.

CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY 

.

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. 

[baepsaesbae]

Taming Temerity

Pairing— Min Yoongi x reader 

Genre— SMUT +18, incubus!Yoongi, demon au, Valentine’s Day au 

Warnings— Dom!Yoongi, brat!reader, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, hickies, shibari, tickling huehuehue, swearing, explicit unprotected sex (use protection when fucking a demon), ass slapping, creampie 

Word Count— 4.3k                                                                                    

 /təˈmerədē/: excessive confidence or boldness; audacity || You try explaining Valentine’s Day to Min Yoongi, your incubus boyfriend that feeds on your sexual energy. At first he doesn’t understand the point, but if it’ll make you horny then he’s willing to do anything.  

A/N— This fic is part of the Valentine’s Day collab Be My Bangtanvine with @kimtaehyunq @ppersonna @ughseoks @jinned @joontopia and @feliix​. Make sure to check out their stories too! 

“I never understood this holiday. You know it’s just a corporate scam for suckers like you, right?” Yoongi expressed his disdain as his gaze fell on the extravagant Valentine’s Day section in the grocery store. 

“So you’ve mentioned, Mr. Party Pooper,” you rolled your eyes, “Some people just like getting chocolates and flowers from their partners. I don’t see any problem with that.”

“Do you want chocolates and flowers? I can get them for you any time, just say the word,” Yoongi offered.

“That’s the point, it should be a little surprise. I wouldn’t have to ask you to do anything,” you tried to explain.

“At that point you’re already expecting something, doesn’t that just defeat the purpose?” your companion was genuinely confused.

“You know what? I don’t expect a demon like you to get it,” you were getting frustrated.

“No need to throw the ‘D’ word around like that. I’m an incubus sure, but we specialize in lust, not love. However, I’m always down to try new things. You of all people should know that,” he ended suggestively. 

You started to think about how your relationship started with Yoongi. Your body went on autopilot mode on the drive back home as flashbacks flooded your mind. 

It all started about six months ago when you randomly started to have sleep paralysis consistently. You’d foolishly open your eyes and see a dark figure in the corner of your room that gradually came closer before settling on top of you. The extra weight on your chest made it hard to breathe. Once it got to that point, your eyelids would close and you’d be whisked away to a sensual dream. You’d wake up refreshed and energized, completely forgetting about the terrifying events that led up to your wet dream. 

One night, you miraculously were able to break the cycle. As soon as the dark figure approached the bed, you threw a pillow at it. At that point, you weren’t sure if you were in a dream or not, but you dashed to turn on your bedroom lights. The light revealed a man standing frozen in place by your bed. You remember screaming for help and shouting things about a pervert stalker. 

“Help! Somebody help there’s an intruder! Someone please--” suddenly your mouth refused to open.

“Well this is awkward,” the man rubbed the back of his neck, “Let’s get a few things out of the way first. I’m not a pervert or a stalker. In fact, I’m not even human, I’m an incubus. A new one at that.”

Your eyes widened in horror at the mention of a demonic entity. You backed up into a wall trying to get away from him while muffled screams desperately tried to escape from your sealed lips. 

“I’m sure you have a few questions. Normally I would just put you to sleep but you’re wide awake now and honestly I don’t have the kind of mana to deal with all that. So we’ve found ourselves in quite the predicament,” the demon sighed as he sat on your bed. With a wave of his hand, your mouth was finally able to open again. 

“What the fuck do you mean you’re a demon? This must be a dream right?” you were bewildered.

“Come sit by me, I can show you that I’m real,” the demon patted the bed.

“Trusting a self proclaimed demon is probably a bad idea but this is just a weird dream anyway,” you reasoned out loud as you sat beside the intruder. 

The man raised one of his hands to cup your cheek; you shuddered at his cold touch. Something changed when you looked into his eyes. Suddenly, you felt like kissing this total stranger. In fact, you felt a lust that you’ve never felt before. Before you knew it, you were straddling the man, rubbing your crotch against his as you passionately made out.   

“Lay back and take off your pants, dear,” he commanded. You did as he said without hesitation.

The man licked his lips as he spread open your legs. He slowly dragged a finger along your covered slit. Pulling your panties aside, he dove in tongue first, causing you to shudder at the warm and wet sensation. His tongue flicked around between your folds as his thumb began to circle your clit. Pleasure coursed throughout your body as your hands entangled themselves in his hair. You felt two hard protruding bumps atop his head...horns?

“Reaching for my horns already? Naughty girl,” the man smirked as he inserted a finger into your wet pussy. You squirmed at his action. It wasn’t enough, you needed more.

“Oh? What’s wrong?” he asked with fake innocence as he slowly finger fucked you, “Is one not enough? Do you need more?” You silently nodded in response.

“Nuh uh, I need to hear you say it,” he teased.

“Please, I need more,” you begged as you helplessly tried to grind against his one finger.

“Hm one finger isn’t enough huh? How about two?” he added in his middle finger as you moaned, “Or do you want three?”

His ring finger slid in with ease. Finally, you felt full; lewd sounds escaped from your lips. Your back arched as he picked up his pace, curling his fingers into you with every pump. Something tight wound up in you, indicating that you were close to your high.

“Keep going. Faster,” you panted as your legs began to shake.

“Your wish is my command,” he obliged. You cried out as your orgasm hit you. Waves of euphoria rippled across your body as he slammed his fingers into you a final time, leaving his fingers pressed up against your g-spot to prolong the event. 

You focused on catching your breath while the alleged demon smiled down at you. It wasn’t a creepy smile, it was one of triumph. His fingers were still inside of you.

“You can pull them out now,” you said weakly.

“I tried. Your tight little pussy is clamped onto them. See?” he showed you how your lips stayed gripped onto his fingers, “If I can’t pull them out, I might as well go back in.”

He pushed his fingers back in, making you gasp. You were still extremely sensitive, any movement of his would push you over the edge yet again. 

“If you do that-- fuck-- I’ll come again,” you warned him.

“Let’s see how many you can handle,” the man challenged as he picked up his speed yet again.

You came three times that night. All just to his hand and occasionally his mouth. The demon looked satisfied with his work as you laid blissed out before him. He slunk down beside you, laying on his side with his head propped up on his arm.

“These got bigger,” you observed as you reached for his horns. The tiny black stumps had grown longer and had a more defined horn shape. They felt cool to the touch and were ridged, similar to those of a ram. 

“They’re not the only things that got bigger,” he winked, “This is where my mana is stored. Essentially I get stronger when I consume energy.”

“Consume energy? Are you going to eat me?” you questioned with intrigue. You still believed you were in a strange dream. 

“Already did. I told you, I’m an incubus. We feed off of sexual energy. I rather enjoyed the meal. It’s too bad this will be the last time I can see you though,” he pouted.

“What? Why can’t you visit me in my dreams like you normally do?” you could get used to having dreams like this.

“Because you know that I exist. After tonight, you’ll forget all about me and I’ll get reassigned to a different human,” he answered nonchalantly.  

“Does that mean I’ll get another incubus demon?” 

“Not exactly. There are many different kinds of beings that dwell in the underworld. You could get any one of them. Most of them aren’t as fun or as handsome as me though,” he tried to lighten the conversation. 

“I don’t want to forget you, nor do I want this dream to end,” you admitted.

“Silly girl, you still think this is a dream? There actually might be a way to have me stay with you. All you have to do is make a contract with me. Interested?” the demon offered.

“A contract? Am I gonna be selling my soul to you or something? I would prefer to keep that if possible,” you tried to joke.

“I’m not that kind of demon. The contract would simply bind us together. You let me consume all of your sexual energy and I give you the best orgasms you’ll ever have. Seems like a fair deal to me,” he explained.

“So I’ll basically have a demon boyfriend? I don’t mind that, sign me up,” you nodded. You were groggy at this point and your eyelids were getting heavy.

“Boyfriend? I suppose you could put it that way. Let’s seal this deal with a kiss,” he suggested. He leaned in to your already puckered up lips. He paused mere centimeters from your face, “I’m Yoongi by the way. I apologize for not introducing myself earlier.”

You pulled him in for a soft kiss, “Hey Yoongi, I’m ___. I guess I’m your girlfriend now.” 

“Whatcha thinking about?” Yoongi interrupted your thoughts.

“About the night we met,” you answered as you pulled into your driveway.

“That was a good night. You were so cute when you called yourself my girlfriend,” he smiled.

“Shut up, I thought it was all a dream,” you said defensively as you unloaded the groceries.

“I was thinking about Valentine’s Day as you were driving in silence. I wanna give it a try. I don’t get the hype, but if it will make you happy then I’m willing to go along with it,” Yoongi stated. 

“Really?” your mouth opened with excitement, “Do I need to plan the date or are you taking the reins on this one?”

“I’ll start doing my research now,” Yoongi gave you a thumbs up. 

“Rise and shine gorgeous~” Yoongi sing songed as he opened the blinds.

You retreated back under the covers to shield yourself from the light. Yoongi tugged at the edge, making you even more aggravated. Curling up into a ball in the fetal position was your last line of defense. Once Yoongi flung off the blanket, you were done for.

“To start off your very best Valentine’s Day ever, I present you a bouquet,” Yoongi shoved a bundle of red roses in your face, causing you to sneeze. A few petals violently detached and fluttered helplessly onto the bed. 

“Thanks Yoongi, the flowers are pretty,” you managed to say with a stuffy nose, “I wish I could adore them more but flowers always trigger my allergies.”

“Hm, every romance film I watched always showed the girl loving roses,” Yoongi pondered, “Not to worry, my algorithm is flawless.”

“Are you a robot now?” you joked. The sweet smell of syrup and waffles caught your attention. Yoongi noticed this and excitedly yanked you out of bed. Normally you would bicker about the manhandling but you decided to let today be an exception. 

The living room was filled with pink and white heart shaped balloons. Yoongi dragged you to the breakfast table, where the usual placemats were replaced with red hearts and small metallic heart shaped confetti were sprinkled all across the surface. To top it off, the belgian waffles were heart shaped, outlined with whipped cream and topped with strawberries. The presentation rivaled that of an actual restaurant. 

Yoongi watched expectantly as you took the first bite. Your mouth turned into a smile as you tasted the fluffy waffle. The toppings complemented the dish perfectly, and you were hungry for more. 

“I made eggs and bacon too, though it was hard to get the eggs into a heart shape,” Yoongi sighed as he showed you his attempt to get heart sunny side eggs. The shape was wonky but it was impressive that the yolks were still well intact. 

“I don’t care what they look like, I’m sure they’ll taste great. Thank you, Yoongi, this is incredible,” you showered him with compliments as you continued to eat. Yoongi smiled with satisfaction as he took a sip of coffee, his favorite choice of sustenance from the human realm. 

“Enjoying your Valentine’s Day so far?” he asked from across the table.

“I’ve only been awake for about 5 minutes but it’s been pretty good so far,” you nodded.

“Well whenever you’re ready, go get ready for a day out,” Yoongi winked, “Dress however you want, it’ll be casual.”

You couldn’t help but wonder about what Yoongi had planned for the day. It was still a little chilly, so you put on a cute sweater paired with jeans. You accessorized with a beret and your favorite jewelry pieces. Yoongi waited for you in the living room, and his eyes lit up when he saw you. It wasn’t the usual dark lustful look he normally gave you, but rather one of fondness and genuine adoration. 

“Where are we off to now?” you asked in the passenger seat, which was a rare sight. Yoongi didn’t like to drive, he always complained about how it would be easier to just teleport. You always had to remind him that humans do not simply ‘teleport’ places and you’d surely turn a lot of heads if you did. Regardless, you enjoyed watching Yoongi drive. You admired his delicate features as he concentrated on the road.

“Can’t tell you, that you ruin the surprise,” Yoongi chided. 

Your eyes widened as he pulled into the parking lot of the local aquarium. It had been years since you last visited, and you were thrilled that Yoongi picked this place as a date spot.

“The aquarium! Ah, I’m so excited! But they aren’t inherently romantic, what made you think of coming here?” you questioned.

“I remember you mentioned wanting to come back here someday. I figured today would be a good time,” he shrugged. Yoongi’s thoughtfulness made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. 

Once inside, you took the liberty of pointing out every fish you thought looked pretty to Yoongi. He was amused by how much you enjoyed something as simple as looking at fish. Colorful fish chased each other around their tanks, darting between corals and other underwater plants. You loved watching them go about their lives as they vibed within the aquarium. 

“It would be nice to be a fish,” you said to Yoongi as you stared in awe at jellyfish that were nearly transparent as they carelessly floated around.

“A fish? Why?” Yoongi scoffed.

“They seem happy, and free in a way. All they do is swim around and eat, that sounds like a good time to me,” you explained.

“And worry about getting eaten by a bigger fish. I’d rather be a cat if I had to be any animal,” Yoongi countered. 

  “Okay, that’s probably a better choice,” you laughed as you imagined Yoongi as a cat. It fit him surprisingly well. 

After leaving the aquarium, Yoongi suggested walking to a nearby gelato shop. You were never one to turn down dessert, so you agreed. The air was crisp and the cold made your cheeks go slightly numb, but you didn’t mind. You happily swung Yoongi’s hand back and forth in yours, you couldn’t remember the last time you’ve been on a date that went this well.   

“___?” a voice called out to you. You looked around to see who called you. Out of nowhere, someone ran up and hugged you from behind. You let go of Yoongi’s hand in the commotion as you were spun around.

“What the--” you said in shock. Finally you were put down, and saw a familiar face grinning back at you.

“Oh my god, Jungkook!” you exclaimed as you hugged him back. He greeted you with a kiss on the cheek.

“It’s been forever! I didn’t know you still lived here,” you said.

“I know right?! God, like 13 years or something? I’m here visiting some old pals. We’re all single so we’re celebrating this stupid holiday together,” Jungkook laughed. 

“Aww that's cute. I guess this holiday is pretty dumb, but I’m actually celebrating it with someone this year! This is Yoongi,” you introduced Jungkook to your boyfriend. 

“Nice to meet you, I’m Jungkook,” the young boy extended a hand.

“Min Yoongi,” Yoongi replied curtly as he firmly shook Jungkook’s hand.

“Damn, where are you hiding all that muscle?” Jungkook joked as he clutched his hand.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Yoongi deadpanned.

“How long are you in town for? I’d love to catch up with you on another day,” you interrupted. 

“I’ll be here for a few more days. Is your number still the same? I can text you tomorrow?” Jungkook offered.

“That’s perfect, I’ll see you around!” you waved goodbye and returned your attention to Yoongi. 

You took a hold of his hand and continued walking to the gelato shop. Yoongi was noticeably quiet now, and his demeanor had completely changed. There was an awkward silence between you two as you ordered your favorite flavors. You both sat outside to eat the gelato.

“So who was he?” Yoongi finally spoke. 

“Jungkook used to be my neighbor when we were kids. We practically grew up together. He moved away sometime in middle school and I haven’t seen him since. He looks great, I almost didn’t recognize him. What? Are you jealous?” you teased.

“I almost killed him when he kissed you,” Yoongi said in a tone that let you know that he was not kidding.

“Yoongi! People greet each other that way sometimes. Sure, it was a little forward, but we used to be best friends as kids,” you scolded him. 

“Ready to go home?” Yoongi asked, completely disregarding your explanation. 

“Okay let’s go back you big baby,” you sighed as you threw away your trash.

You hummed along with the radio all the way home. Yoongi didn’t say anything the whole ride. You were surprised by his behavior, you figured an incubus wouldn’t mind seeing affection in public. He had never given you the silent treatment before, so this was uncharted waters.

“Today was really nice, I think you did a good job planning out our Valentine’s day together,” you praised Yoongi as you returned home.

“Glad you enjoyed it,” Yoongi said coldly.

“Why are you being so pouty? C’mere, let me give the big baby a hug,” you reached for him with outstretched arms. 

“You think I’d let you get away with that kind of behavior?” an annoyed Yoongi glared back at you.

“C’mon, it’s not like it really matters,” you teased, trying to push your luck.

“It matters to me. You’re mine,” Yoongi snarled, baring his fangs.

“You’ve made that abundantly clear,” you tilted your neck, revealing marks from his previous feedings, “I can’t leave the house without a crap ton of concealer to cover up your monstrous hickeys.”  

“You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to be my permanent lover,” Yoongi shrugged, his anger dissipating. 

“Who knew dating an incubus would be so tiresome,” you playfully roll your eyes.

“So that random guy kissing your cheeks doesn’t deserve to die?” he asked quietly.

“No! I told you, we’re childhood friends. I haven’t seen him in years. It’s okay to greet close friends with a friendly peck on the cheeks” you crossed your arms, “You’re being annoying. No dinner for you tonight,” you said confidently as you both entered the bedroom.

“Oh? Since when do you call the shots around here?” his voice lowered.

“Since now,” you replied defiantly. 

“Keep being cheeky, see where that gets you,” Yoongi challenged.

You smiled slyly as you pushed him onto the bed. Standing before him, you pulled off your sweater to reveal your bare chest. Yoongi instinctively reached out to grab them but you slapped his hand away.

“No touching,” you tsked as you slowly stripped off your bottoms. 

You turned to shake your ass at him. The gesture was meant to be playful, but Yoongi took it as a wage of war. He instantly pulled you onto his lap; your panties rubbed up against his hardened crotch.

“I’m hungry,” he growled in your ear as he firmly gripped your ass.

“Not my problem,” you snapped, doing your best to maintain your composure. 

“You’ll let me starve?”

“Don’t act as if you didn’t eat me out until I begged for you to stop last night,” you admonished. 

“Enough,” Yoongi silenced you.

He roughly latched his soft lips onto your neck. His harsh suckling caused you to moan and tangle your fingers in his minty green hair. You cupped his chin in an attempt to kiss him, but he pulled away. 

“You think you get to touch me now? Foolish,” he threw you further onto the bed.

With a snap of his fingers, your panties vanished. They were replaced with strict constraints as your hands and feet were bound by an intricate silk rope pattern. You’ve never been tied up like this before. You’ve dabbled in using handcuffs or fastening a belt around your wrists, but this was something else entirely. 

“You wanted to play. So let’s play,” Yoongi cooed in your ear as his fingers traced your sides.

“Oh fuck, Yoongi no,” your eyes widened.

“You’ve been a bad girl,” he smiled deviously.

His fingers dug into your sides. You burst out into a fit of laughter. You wriggled around uncontrollably in a futile attempt to get away from him. Yoongi accidentally found out that you were extremely ticklish, and ever since that day he uses it as leverage against you. It wasn’t fair at all considering that demons aren’t ticklish. 

Tears welled in your eyes when he finally ceased his attack. Yoongi also knew that tickling was a turn on for you. Something about having another person’s hands all over you made you wet. 

“You look so helpless,” Yoongi chuckled.

“Maybe these ropes have something to do with that,” you retorted as you panted.

“Still talking back? You obviously haven’t learned your lesson,” Yoongi ran his fingers along your sides.

“No, please. I can’t take anymore,” you pleaded.

“I think you can,” he smirked before tickling you again.

This time he didn’t stop until you were on the verge of passing out. The bondage made it even harder to catch your breath. Yoongi gingerly kissed your neck as you howled with laughter.

“Will you be a good girl now?” Yoongi asked as he flicked your nipples.

“Mhm,” you managed to whimper.

“I haven’t whipped out any shibari in ages, but I’m glad I did. I forgot how appetizing it makes humans look,” Yoongi licked his lips. 

“I can’t move,” you complained.

“That’s the point, my dear ___,” Yoongi kissed your forehead. 

His hand trailed down your stomach to your exposed pussy. He was pleased to find that you were already dripping wet. He rubbed circles around your clit as he licked your neck. He ferociously kissed over his previous marks as he started rubbing you faster. Your energy tasted exponentially better the more aroused you became. 

Being in such a vulnerable and powerless position turned you on so much. You found yourself at Yoongi’s mercy. Yoongi easily slipped two fingers inside of you. He curled his fingers to perfectly graze your g-spot, causing you to moan loudly. 

“You want me to fuck you?” Yoongi whispered in your ear.

“Please. I need you, Yoongi,” you begged. 

“I know you do,” he kissed your lips gently.

With another snap of his fingers, the ropes moved their position. Now your wrists were bound to your chest, and your legs were already spread open. 

Yoongi dragged his dick along your wet pussy. He loved watching you squirm beneath him as you impatiently waited for him to dick you down. He relished the erotic scene that lay before him. Witnessing you at the pinnacle of your horniess was a blessing. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer.

He thrusted his hips into you with inhuman force. He didn’t give you time to adjust to his thick cock; you didn’t deserve that tonight. Your cries of pleasure were music to his ears. He grabbed your chin as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip. You automatically stuck your tongue out for him.

“Good fucking girl,” Yoongi growled as you began to suck on his thumb, your tongue swirling around it.

Yoongi tugged at the ropes, making them vanish instantly. Your freedom was short lived since he immediately flipped you onto your chest. He propped up your ass, giving each cheek a firm slap. 

This position was his favorite, and admittedly yours as well. He loved the backside view, and you loved how deep he got. You were sure to lose your mind every time he got behind you. This instance was no exception. 

You reached down between your thighs to maximize your pleasure as your fingers easily toyed with your clit. Usually Yoongi wouldn’t allow you to touch yourself, but you couldn’t help it. You were too riled up from being all tied up. 

You came undone all over Yoongi’s cock. The warmth of your juices heightened Yoongi’s lust, causing him to thrust faster. He released his hot load into you, groaning as he climaxed. 

Your chest heaved as you struggled to stay awake. One of the side effects of being fucked by an incubus is that they literally can fuck you to sleep. After Yoongi cleaned you up, it was cuddle time. He ran his fingers through your hair, making it even harder not to succumb to slumber. 

“Full?” you asked with your eyes half shut.

“I’m never satiated, but I can’t complain for now,” he answered.

“Great. Happy Valentine’s Day, Yoongi,” you yawned.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, ___. I hope I lived up to your expectations,” he patted your head.

“You surpassed them,” you nodded in approval.

“Go to bed,” Yoongi stifled a laugh, “I guess it’s not a pointless holiday after all.”

Published February 9, 2021. No editing, copying, translating, or reposting allowed. All Rights Reserved © 2020 Baepsaesbae.

[devilslinks]

# 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔 !

— 𝗖𝗟𝗨𝗕 𝗙𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 | 𝗡𝗘𝗦𝗦𝗔, 𝗧𝗢𝗣 𝗠𝗔𝗟𝗘 𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥.

wc; ( 3.2k )

synopsis; your best friend, raihan and you find yourselves eager to get intoxicated in one another's company. what better place than a night-club, dim lights, the overwhelmin' musk of the various alcoholic beverages; it's every guy pairs wet dream. that is until raihan gets shit-faced and excuses himself to the restroom while he pukes up his spiked guts. only to return to watch his sister take you balls deep, down her throat.

a/n: no brain, only nessa and her magical throat 🤝

warnings. MINORS DNI, NSFW CONTENT, family!au, raihan and nessa are siblings, club sex, intoxication, dirty talk, the name princess, deep throating, oral (m receiving), throat bulge, throat fucking, cum eating, flirty!nessa, jealous!raihan, exhibitionism, voyeurism.

euphoria.

that was the only word that came mind when raihan and you got involved in recreational activities like you did. galar was a go big or go home type of region, and the two of you stayed true to that motto. the itchy, messily thrown together suits that matched all the way down to the type of socks you had on— the overexcessive amounts of booze, and the loud music which just barely drowned out the fits of laughter and discussion littered throughout the packed club. as soon as the doors opened, flooding your senses with nothing but the sickly sweet, aroma of sex and other intoxicating chemicals; that's how you knew the had night begun.

the two of you had been indulging, before you arrived on the scene— time seemed to blur together with head-spinning speeds or come to a full halt at the worst of moments. you don't even know how long you'd been locking eyes with the transparent shapes and manufactured blurbs dancing across the wall a good, twenty, maybe thirty feet adjacent to your seat at the drink counter. the weight of something too heavy for your alcohol infused mind to register until the bar hostess was practically brewing with irritation at your non-compliance with her attempts to have you regain control of your dazed state; sat lazily in-between your pointer finger and thumb, respectively.

hell you don't even remember waddling over to the bar with the company you had brought with you. but you didn't mind, the painfully challenging to recall memories mattered not when there was already another drink swirling around the rim of your shot-glass. raihan's shifty frame wiggling in and out of your peripherals as you tug the half-empty cup to the skin of your lips, craning your head back to knock down whatever liquid remained at the bottom. the delicious burn of toxins coated the lining of your throat, trails of steamy fluid leaving their mark as the mystery liquor made it way down your esophagus. whatever it was, it packed a punch and wasted no time forcing your lips to curve into a bitter sneer— eyebrows shadowing your face in a sour demeanor, as you used the hem of your suit sleeve to whisk away any spilt mixture that tarnished your cherry red lips.

you hardly have the chance to open your mouth for a second time to address the swaying body, huddled closer the counter than it is to your own. raihan is a total mess, loopsy, and feverishly hot skin to compliment— he's stained a harsh, sickly green against his natural melanin tone. doubling over in either pain or the sudden flow of too many drinks pooling in his system; whatever the emotion he was enduring was, he wasted not a second longer before hustling off into the large gathering of people. disappearing before his lips could slur the final word, missing from his dialect.

“hh..h fuck- my stomach is gonna explode, i'll catch you-” his gravely tone churning into the backdrop just as quickly as he initiated the conversation; the familiar hum of lyrics to a song you couldn't quite place your finger on replaced whatever words raihan had previously gargled out before dashing off towards the public restrooms.

your head feels like it weighs a metric ton this late into the night, threatening to tumble forward as if your neck had lost any and all of it's support. your eyelids pulling down roughly over your eyes like window shades before the sudden wave of loneliness hit you like a truck. fiddling with the collar of your dress-shirt was entertaining enough to fill the void that was the now empty stool, where your best friend once resided. but that quick fix subsided rather easily and the once overwhelming presence of boredom had returned to take a seat.

and then, so did she.

“shit, rai- back so soon? you alright?” your vision was foggy and adorned with blurry bits here and there— but it was still evident enough to make out that, whoever was indeed now in your friend's seat, was not the person you had chauffeured to the club with.

“damn, do i really look, that bad? it's me, y/n. the painfully better looking sibling. what did that idiot put in your drink?” the speech is followed by a laugh. it was a warm and inviting chuckle, one that seemed to relax every muscle in your liquor tense body the moment she parted her spit silken lips. you had been in her company earlier that evening, which made it a tad easier for your incoherent mindset to process it. but nevertheless it was hard not to distinguish who the women paying you a visit was at this point, even if you hadn't engaged with her previously; nessa was infamous for those enchanting looks. and in your dumbified state, those gorgeous navy locks tied together by aquamarine highlights were one of a kind and stuck out like a sore thumb amongst the room of normal presenting citizens. though your brain didn't want to pick-up any of your surroundings, you found it quite easy to fawn over her in that ebony dress and the way it hugged her curves in all the right places.

“fuck.. nes' when'd you get so.. so.” you couldn't even find the energy or hell, the words to cough up the remainder of the sentence, you were so taken aback by how stunning she was, even behind your bleary, drunk eyes. but nessa wasn't oblivious— you were sure she had picked up the hint you had layed out so bluntly, and the warm palm slowly inching up your clothed thigh secured that suspension for you.

“not even so much as a greeting? you didn't even buy me a drink first; asshole.”

her words are firm, yet so light hearted at the same time; but just enough to set your arousal over the edge. your headspace so vulnerable to teasing that you're certain she knew what she was doing to your conflicted mind and body. her sly fingers are enough to coax you to shuffle your bar-stool closer to her's— not a single word wriggled around your throat in response, instead the tangy after-tase of alcohol still heavy on your tongue distracted you and you were sure the whole bar could acknowledge your intoxicated musk.

her features held so many different emotions at once, as she pryed you for a reply— trying to tell you each one obscured behind that pretty face, way too quickly for you to decipher. her brows furrowed quizzically, one tilted slightly higher than the other as her half lidded doe-eyes stared up at you like prey at a final stand off with their predator; just humbly surrending their body to the circle of life.

“hah, you're one to.. talk, nes' just because 'm out of it- doesn't mean my numb skin can't feel your heavy hand toying with my waistband.” the both of you swiftly changed direction, heads leering down at nessa's free hand. you were infact correct, you observed as the woman swirled shapes into the expensive leather of your belt. pulling bits between her fingers now and then as she silently struggled with the metalic buckle. your groin swelled tightly, gripping your boxers closer to the fat bulge behind your suit pants; it would take an idiot not to take notice of the wrinkled fabric secured around your aching dick. her skin felt like a furnace, contrasting your slightly cooler temperature— but with her body pressing so desperately to yours, you were sure the warmth from her melted over onto your feverish flesh. the damp, sheen of anxious sweat made the fabric of your suit, dewy. sticking slightly against your hellish skin.

“mm, i guess i was wrong about the greeting part— hello there, you look happy to see me.” not a hint of shame obscured her voice, you're miserably watching nessa shift her weight as she now palms at the mound between your legs. you've seen countless renditions of this night loop in your head, but now that the scenario is a reality; it's agonizing to try to contain your primal urges, face to face. it's a chore not to profess all the vile things you wanna carry out with her, but she's already one step ahead. that glare is dangerous, it makes you feel like she's trying convey that the two of you are already in on something devious.

“let me take care of you.. y/n.”

“let me treat you, nessa.”

the both of you drawl out in what would be perfect unison if your mind wasn't foggy and running slower than usual. you had both finally voiced the elephant in the room, the one which was just positively dripping with thick tension up until this moment in time. you're still squirming under nessa's grip, she can feel you whine and pant everytime she gives your cock a light squeeze between her fingers and it's not long before the two of you are absent from the bar and clawing at one another's linen around the corner. closest to any vacant area within eye-shot. well, as vacant as a small room seperated from the bustling club-life can get.

did you think the night would come to a close with your friend's sister skillfully sucking the soul out of your sloppy cock? not in a million years, but you'd be damned if you didn't want it to end on any other note. nessa fell to her knees before the two of you even made it out of view— planting herself in-between your thighs like she was a trained professional; no flaws in her technique as her tongue slid obediently from her mouth and latches onto the moist fabric masking her mouth's destination. nessa's fingers are long and slender, as they snake up your hips and meet at the belt tangled around your waist. you can feel your cock pumping against the seams of your pants, the uncomfortable sensation making it appear as though you'd rip through the cloth if your cock was imprisoned a second longer.

with the head-splitting atmosphere of the club playlist stretching and stuffing your ears to the brim with fast pitched edm that made your skull pound and jitter. as well as the added hum of the gym leader whispering inaudible nothings against your bulge as she at last pushed your pants down, and past your ankles; material getting caught on the fancy design of your shoes. you felt like you were on the brink of death, but the enticing appeal of hooking up with your best friend's relative kept your iron-will alive long enough to rough it out and pass the irritation that came with being black-out drunk.

your storm of worries fizzled just as quickly as they sprung up, maybe it was the alcohol but you swear this girl had the hands of the divine; you were washed away into infatuation once more. nessa's teeth hike up your boxers until they meet the waistline, pulling down on the hem with a familiar aggressiveness as she relishes in the way your big dick pops to life and looms over her lustful features; all chubby 'n decorated with veins fer' her viewing pleasure.

“shit.. i'm gonna have so much fun with your cock. you wanna make your stupid slut already? my mouth is just asking for it.” the first piece is low and almost voiced as if it was meant for her ears only— but the second half is most definitely directed at you; as she tilts her head to plant a few delicate lovebites along the base of your shaft. fingers looping gracefully around your hilt as she admires the girth you carry.

“fuck..” you hiss, cock twitching violently as you pleaded with sinful eyes. she had barely started her reign over your dick before guttural groans and mewls slid past your lips. the sensation of her tiny tastebuds as they trailed over the little glob of pre-cum that drooled from your cockhead was insatiable. the sudden action sent your hips forward almost automatically, like they instinctively acted on impulse; it felt so right. merely a few inches breached past her lips but there was enough speed and prowess in your thrust to drag a surprise gag from the mouth attached to your dick.

impatience was on the horizon, the buzz from copious amounts of alcohol had knocked down a few pegs. you were now fully aware of the figure positioned at your feet like she was praying for a god, and soon you'd make her chant like she was being fucked by one as well. broad fingers clamped down, squishing both sides of her jaw while simultaneously easing your length deeper, and deeper down her gullet like your dick was her last meal on earth. you throw your head back before letting it fall forward against the wall, watching those desperate dark iris' pool with puddles of lust that seem to be neverending.

“come'on princess, you know how badly you want this-- you gonna let me ruin this pretty throat?” you thumb over her warm cheeks, eyes glossy and threatening to ruin the simple makeup she applied before she arrived. the uncomfortable stretch of her esophagus molding as your cock fills the empty gaps in her throat with every inch you have; is one that isn't unfamiliar to her. dragging your pulsating veins along the dip in her mouth, her tongue greedily laps up any and all of the skin yet to be consumed by her.

“jesus.. fuck, oh fuck. take it, nes'. shit.” your cock fully slips into her, heavy and swollen as it spears her right down the middle; eyes rolling back into her skull as it's just too fucking big. bigger than anything she's previously had inside of her, anyway. your core bleeds with spots of warmth as you take the time to bask in the way every individual wall in her mouth feels as it constricts you almost painfully. sucking you in before she slides you back out of her throat once more; repeating the tedious cylce that has the two of you in a heated frenzy.

despite all the sudden and erratic pain, nessa bobs her head in sync, coaxing you to go as deep as humanly possible. rocking your hips as they snap against her face with every good fuck you give her— watching yourself grow rapidly from the outside of her neck, the moist skin now holding a curved bump near the middle. nessa takes the initiative. removing a hand from one of your thighs, she uses four fingers to lightly push and stroke the bulge; almost as if she was jerking you off while you ravaged her inards.

she knew exactly what she was doing, and it had you riled the fuck up.

you picked up the pace, delirious from the amount of stimulation your precious cock was receiving. with your erection fully encased by her face and your dick bouncing off the gummy walls of her gullet, you could tell her throat was already forming bruises with a throbbing soreness to compliment, time come the morning. your rough hands dig behind the back of her head, hands feeling lost amongst her ocean of hair— beautiful locks just perfect for pulling. you yank her face forward, lowering yours as well to not only established authority but to get your point across to the cockdrunk slut mindlessly slobbering all over your messy shaft.

“mfph-- please, cum.. i want- all!” you can just barely string together what sounds like whines for more— i guess she can sense just how close the knot in your stomach is to bursting because she grips the back of your thighs and tugs them forward with whatever coherent muscle strength she has remaining. just in time for the tension in your core to coil tighter and tighter, the lowerhalf of your body trembling with all the signs of an incoming orgasm.

“does my dumb little girl wanna be fucked, that, bad? hah, fuck nes' what would your brother think?” you mock so cruelly, totally disregarding the fact that there is a slim possibility, raihan is searching for the lost pair. and it just so happens that nessa's poor little brother had been observing for a little over half the engagement. fist wrapped around his pathetic cock, suit collar pulled between his fangs, ocean blue eyes fixated on you; your hip strength, the way you rolled and plunged balls deep into his sibling. his body felt so empty, only riding his high off the two of yours', praying he'd finish before you caught him lurking like a sleaze. it was so unfair, why did nessa get to taste your sultry cock before he did?

you can feel the bass reverberate in nessa's throat as her lips nip at your hilt, impatiently trying to babble out a response adequate enough to your liking. her mind is flying, no correct sense of direction as it attempts to form a reply, but all that breaks past the barrier is a few pitiful mewls. her nose is burried in your pubes and she's lost all feeling in her throat, only motivating her to show off the lump on her neck even more. you watch as your length disappears into the depths of her mouth for the hundredth time that night, hands pushing down the lacy strap of her dress in a last ditch effort to find something other than her hair to latch onto for support. her scalp is on fire and she can only accept the stinging sensation as the roughness of your thrusts increase in magnitude.

the club is filled to the brim with lewd moans and needy pants; those of which included raihan's. every inch of her esophagus is being used— you happily ram your cock down her throat a few more times, your balls were quivering wildly. contracting and spasming, boiling with a fat wad of potent seed all ready to venture inside of her. nessa squeals, feeling a thick bulge travel up the length of your cock, up to the head and straight on her tongue; some spurts flowing down her neck while the rest collected in her mouth. painting her insides a translucent white that would surely stain.

just for good measure, nessa deep throats your empty dick with a few simple strokes; a white, sticky ring forming around the base of your shaft after she detached from your dick. a lewd pop, followed by a line of stringy saliva connected her lips to your bottomed out cock before she ruined the trail by letting her tongue lull from behind her teeth. letting you get a nice overhead view of her empty mouth, watching as the last bits of your load traveled down her throat and out of sight for good.

“god.. such a g'girl. you sucked on my cock so nicely, princess. wasn't that a way to end the night?” a blissed out smile creeps over your face, marveling in the aftermath you caused. you gave the right side of her face a few taps from your cock— dried tears and sloppy makeup tainting her cheeks. cum dripping from the corners of her mouth, as a cocktail of her own spit and your semen coats the back of her throat. it was all one big look of;

euphoria.

[comfyswitcherblanketfort]

IUI - The Way I Love You

bear with me here folks

I know the Idiots are usually soft af. but my lovely spouse/fiance/soon-to-be-fiance and beta @dani-dandelino hit me with an idea and I added a dash handful of angst bc i couldn’t help it

Warnings: feelings of inadequacy, fear of breakup (no actual breakup I promise), miscommunication, drunk af Geralt, past shitty relationships, happy ending tho I promise, there’s tears but they’re happy I swear.

______________________________________

Geralt only ever got sloppy drunk when Jaskier was the DD. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t trust anyone else, it was that he didn’t trust his drunk boyfriend not to goad him into something stupid. 

The last time they’d both gotten fucked up outside of their apartment they woke up with three traffic cones and a “Speed Hump” sign in their living room. When they asked Triss what happened she sent them a video of them giggling as they tried to fit the sign into her trunk.

After hanging the sign in their apartment, they decided it may be best to take turns. 

This particular instance, they’d dropped Triss and Yen off and were on their way home, Geralt’s head lolling against the window as he fought to stay awake. 

“I’m not carrying your perky ass upstairs,” Jaskier laughed, snapping his fingers near Geralt’s ear. 

Geralt grumbled but sat up straight and leaned into Jaskier’s outstretched hand, “Radio.”

Affectionately rolling his eyes, Jaskier pulled his hand away and flipped on the radio. Geralt immediately gasped and started singing along off key and slurred. The first time Jaskier heard Geralt scream along to Taylor Swift he’d been shocked, if extremely endeared. 

“BUT I MISS SCREAMIN’ AND FIGHTIN AND KISSIN IN THE RAIN! IT’S TWO AM AND I’M CURSIN’ YOUR NAME! SO IN LOVE THAT WE ACTED INSANE, AND THAT’S THE WAY I LOVED YOUUUUUUUUU!”

Jaskier turned the volume down to a reasonable level when Geralt cranked it so loud his ears might start ringing. He rolled his eyes when Geralt started singing it to him, taking the shortcut home and trying to ignore the little pit forming in his stomach. 

When the song ended Geralt turned the radio down and picked up his hand not gripping the steering wheel, “Jask?”

“Mhm?”

Even in the car, Geralt glanced around conspiratorially before whispering, “I have a secret.”

Fear flared in Jaskier’s chest but he took a deep, calming breath, reminding himself who he was talking to. His boyfriend thought secrets were fun. Mostly because Geralt’s version of a secret was keeping what he made for dinner a surprise until Jaskier got home. He’d even felt guilty not telling Jaskier he was seeing a therapist when they’d started dating. For all his gruff exterior and suspicion, Geralt really was an open book with those he loved and trusted. Jaskier had a very different idea of what secrets in a relationship meant. 

“What’s that, love?” 

Geralt giggled as he traced the edges of a magnolia on the back of Jaskier’s wrist, “That is the way I love you.”

Luckily for Jaskier’s car, they were rolling up to a stop sign. He had time to loose his breath for a moment and fight back the initial feeling of shame and anger with himself before he pulled his hand away and gripped the steering wheel as he punched the gas. 

Through gritted teeth, he said the gentlest thing he could think of, “We don’t kiss in the rain.”

Geralt frowned, almost pouted at him, “I still love you.”

A part of Jaskier wanted to scream at Geralt, another part wanted to pull over and make him walk home, thankfully the loudest part reminded him the idiot was just drunk. He didn’t know what he was saying and he thought he was being sweet. There was also a good possibility he would cry himself to sleep in the passenger seat if Jaskier yelled at him and last time he tried to carry Geralt to bed his back hurt for a week. 

“I love you too,” Jaskier sighed as he pulled into their parking spot. 

He didn’t sleep well that night. Not because his sweaty, smelly, and fidgety boyfriend clung to him in his sleep, but because he couldn’t stop thinking about the ride home. 

Jaskier had lived in relationships like that for most of his adult life. Hell, even in his teens. They were nothing but all consuming passion with no connection to support it and left both parties jaded and lost. When he left his mentor he’d sat in Yen’s chair for hours and hours, until his arm had gone numb, and the only thing he could think was ‘never again’. 

And now Geralt thought he was being cute. The ridiculously meticulous and serious man was only ever sappy when he got drunk and now instead of reveling in it like he’d like, Jaskier was staring at the clock on his nightstand calculating how exhausted he’d be in the morning as the minutes ticked by. 

Turns out, he was at least in the land of the living by the time Geralt shuffled into the kitchen with his hands in his hair and a pained expression. 

“Feel like shit.”

Jaskier hummed in agreement as he sipped his morning tea and shifted in his seat to see better out the window. 

After popping a few anti-inflammatories and nibbling on a cracker before giving up on food, Geralt lumbered up behind Jaskier and draped his arms over his shoulders, “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing. I’m just being… touchy.”

Geralt pressed a light kiss over the hellebore tattoo on Jaskier’s neck, “I doubt it.”

Tears threatened to spill from his eyes as Jaskier laid his hand over Geralt’s arm across his chest, “I don’t want to lose this.”

“Why…? What makes you think you would?” Geralt was a little slower on the draw hungover, but he knelt next to Jaskier’s chair and rested a hand on his knee as he waited for a response. He only ever looked so worried when Roach had an abscess and it broke Jaskier’s heart. He didn’t want to say it and ruin everything. 

After a deep breath in, he mumbled out his answer, “Do you really love me like that song?”

“What song?” Geralt breathed, his thumb brushing back and forth over Jaskier’s knee.

“The uh, Way I Loved You one.”

Geralt searched his face for a beat, the crease between his eyebrows only deepening, “Of course I do.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier breathed, biting his lip to keep it from wobbling as he forced all the air from his lungs in the hopes it would do something to stop the tears from falling. When it was clear he would lose the battle he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, hiding his face in his hands.

“You… don’t want me to?” Geralt sounded close to tears himself, but he didn’t take his hand off Jaskier’s thigh. 

“No- yes! No?” Jaskier sniffed and wiped at his face but didn’t lean back to look at Geralt, “I- Geralt I can’t just fill a hollow relationship with lust. We ha- I thought we had more? But if you want the- the fights and the hate fucking- I don’t- Geralt I don’t want that. Not with anyone but not with you. Ne-”

“Hey, hey,” Geralt tugged at Jaskier’s arm, gathering him to his chest when the brunette melted into sobs, “I don’t want that. That’s not what I meant. I’m sorry, love. I’m so sorry I let you think that.” He cradled Jaskier’s head to his shoulder, pressing kisses into his hair between softly spoken apologies and reassurances. They stayed there until Jaskier’s tea went cold and his sobs were closer to little gasps. 

Eventually, Jaskier lifted his head and met Geralt’s eyes, “H-how do you love me?”

Geralt licked his lips, his voice barely above a whisper, “Not- It’s not hollow.”

Jaskier squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his forehead to Geralt’s, “Please?”

One of Geralt’s hands came up to cup Jaskier’s cheek as he took a deep breath, “I’ve never loved anyone like I love you… I never wanted to be romantic with anyone until you. You… You make me feel… safe. I’m never bored of you or numb or sick of you. This is the first relationship I’ve had where I bother to fight, Jask. I love you so much it makes me do things I never thought to do and I’m glad and I never want to change anything about us. Never.” 

A shiver ran down Jaskier’s spine as relief flooded his whole body. His throat ached from crying and his shoulders were sore from holding all that tension in a way they hadn’t for years, but he’d never felt so good. Geralt loved him. Him. Not some tumultuous relationship or the sex or the drama of it all. Someone finally loved him for him. 

It hadn’t really hit Jaskier till then. They’d said ‘I love you’, sure, but he hadn’t really believed Geralt, just like he’d stopped believing the string of selfish lovers before him. 

“Thank Mellitelle,” Jaskier laughed, just on this side of hysterical as he tightened his grip around Geralt’s shoulders, “I fucking love how boring we are. And you. Fuck I really really do love you.”

“Even when I smell like my regulars?” Geralt teased, intentionally huffing a little extra and dosing Jaskier in his horrendous hangover morning breath.

Jaskier wrinkled his nose but smiled and kissed him anyway, “Of course.”

“Mhh,” Geralt pulled away for a moment, brushing his thumb over Jaskier’s crows feet in a silent request for him to open his eyes, “Can we go back to bed?”

“The crying does it for you, huh?” Jaskier chuckled, his voice was still weak but his laugh was genuine.

“I’m so dizzy, Jask,” squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head ever so slightly, Geralt plopped back onto his heels. If Jaskier hadn’t witnessed just how much he drank he’d say he was lying, but Jaskier was truly surprised he’d even climbed out of bed this morning.

“Mkay, up. Back to bed then.”

They settled under the blankets and tangled themselves back together. Geralt hummed, closing his eyes and squeezing Jaskier a little tighter.

New, happier tears threatened at the corners of his eyes but he pushed them down, opting to trace the corner of Geralt’s buttercup tattoo peeking out of his shirt, “I love you.”

Geralt took a deep breath in before he sighed out a rumbling, “I know.”

“No, Geralt. Really,” Jaskier laid his hand over the yellow and green ink, “I’ve said these words more times than I can count but I don’t think I ever really understood them until you.”

“Jaski-”

“I love you,” Jaskier’s interruption was far smaller and far more fragile than he had intended. His words just continued to spill out, “You’re steady and calm and I’ve never had that. I don’t know what it’s supposed to be like and I’m constantly scared I’m gonna fuck it up…”

Comforting fingers ran through his hair as Geralt murmured his reply, “Me too,” Jaskier just squeezed his shoulder in a bit of solidarity and a bit of selfish comfort, “But I think we’re doing alright…”

“Why’s that?”

“Well,” Geralt started, shifting so he was practically engulfing Jaskier, “we both still love each other, and...” his boyfriend pinched him when he trailed off, pretending to fall asleep in a way that always mad Jaskier giggle, “Ow- and you use the hooks by the front door.” 

“I do, don’t I?” Jaskier sniffled, “And you used your words.”

“I’d use all the words for you.”

“All of them?”

Geralt really was drifting away this time, his words coming slowly as his arms relaxed and Jaskier felt their full weight over him, “Not well, but I would...” 

[sunflowersoldat]

Kingdom of Fire and Ice Pt. 12

Summary: Something is afoot in the castle, and your heart is torn between your best friend and the man you have to marry. Could it get any worse? Secrets are spilled, but more are hidden right under our noses, will they make or break us?

Warnings: Blood warning, violence, cliff hanger.

A/N: This is hella late I'm sorry! I had a family emergency, but this part and the next one will be out soon! Hope y'all enjoy!

Any time it is 'italicized' with single quotes, someone is speaking telekinetically.

Word count: 1578

Main Master list

Series Master list

Bucky Master list

Loki Master list

“Prince James Buchanan Barnes.” As the swirling magic settled, your gaze was met with Bucky’s, the anger you had last night disappearing, as he stood in front of you. He wore a Black jacket with golden embellishments around the trim, to match Steve who walked behind him. A simple classic golden crown sat atop Bucky’s brow. Hollers of approval and applause erupted in the hall, a triumphant smile on his lips as he bowed to you and your parents.

You looked at your father and Pepper, whose mouths were both hanging open, you stifled a laugh as your eyes landed on Loki, his face absolutely blank, but you could see the anger in his eyes. He may have been able to toss a knight to the side, but another prince, that was another story. Now his stake on your hand in marriage could go out the window if Bucky chose to challenge it.

Bucky stepped closer to you, bowing, and offering you his hand, “Пламя (Plamya)…” his voice was soft, his eyes full of admiration and love, “Would you do me the honors of giving me my first royal dance.”

You took his hand with a proud smile on your lips, “The honor is all mine, your majesty.”

As you placed your hand in his, he kissed it gently, whisking you away to the dance floor, holding you impossibly close to him, his touch warm and inviting. The two of you moved gracefully across the dance floor, he spun you and brought you back to him. “You look like a queen Моя Сердца (Moya Serdtsa my heart).”

You giggled, placing your hand on his shoulder, “You don’t look too bad yourself your majesty, in fact I think you look rather dashing, elven features and all.” A sly smile split his lips,

‘I would kiss you right now, in front of the whole kingdom if I could.’ You furrowed your brows,

‘What is stopping you?’ Bucky gave you a look of disbelief,

‘Your fiancé is glaring daggers at me, I think he might actually kill me if I did that. Remember you are set to marry him, Plamya.’

Your face fell at the reminder. Loki still hadn't properly asked for you hand, and you feared your reaction when the time came.

Lifting your hand to his cheek, you closed your eyes as images from the prior night flickered in your mind. Bucky’s mouth on yours, the two of you tangled together.

‘Пламя (plamya)…’ his voice rumbled in your mind, your eyes snapping open at the near plea. A light blush dusted his cheeks, his deep sea foam eyes savoring you, the need in them making your heart and stomach twist painfully.

Bucky dipped you as the song ended, your leg wrapping delicately around his waist, causing the slit to fall open, exposing your leg, an icy breeze slid its way up, caressing you softly. But a warm breeze that wasn’t yours fought it off, a small smile lifted Bucky’s lips, ‘But I don’t lo-” you were interrupted as all the candles in the hall went out, leaving everyone in darkness.

A green flame lit in one of the candelabra, a booming voice echoed through the hall, Bucky pulling you close to him as he stepped in front of you.

“YOU ALL CELEBRATE THIS IMPOSTER AS YOUR PRINCESS,

THOUGH SHE IS OF NO BLOOD RELATION TO THE KING.

SHE IS NO HEIR TO THE STARK THRONE.

DAUGHTER OF A DOOM BRINGER.

BRINGER OF ASGARD’S RECKONING.

HARBINGER OF CHAOS,

THE LAST HEIR TO SURTUR’S THRONE.”

A ripple of magic surged through the air, hitting you like a blow to the gut, you doubled over, as your glamor faded, the fire in your veins running rampant. Bucky trying his best to catch you as you crumpled on the floor. An intense pain radiated through you as you met the cold marble floor, breathing heavily, eyes squeezed shut.

“LOOK UPON HER,

SHE IS NO MERE MORTAL.

AS DANGEROUS AS A HEATHEN GOD.

STOLEN FROM HER KINGDOM BY A GREEDY KING.

SEND HER BACK WITH ME,

ALLOW ME TO TAME THIS BRINGER OF DOOM.”

You screamed in pain as your magic intensified, “Playma, listen to me, you have to block him out, don’t listen to his words! Use your magic as a shield.” Panic laced Bucky’s words as they broke through the fog of pain in your mind.

“GIVE HER TO ME.”

The magic around you disappeared as quickly as it had come, your fire dwindling inside of you, as an icy blanket coated your mind and soul, the pain dissipating as well. You pushed yourself into a kneeling position, searching the room, there was magic here, dark magic, but you couldn’t pinpoint its source. With a growl, you threw your magic out, all the candles in the room coming back to life. The icy blanket lifting, Loki had made his way to you in the darkness, his hand on your lower back, helping you to your feet. Bucky still stood in front of you, “Bucky I am fine, you don’t need to protect me.”

He glanced back at you, “I am still your knight, Пламя (Plamya), it is my duty.”

You shook your head, “Your duty is to your people first, you are-”

Your eyes snapped to the top of the staircase, the dark magic wrapping around your chin beckoning your gaze, a masked man walked towards you, “You are to be my queen.” He hissed, a chill ran up your spine, his voice was slimy, you could feel it against your skin, like the tongue of a serpent.

With a flick of his wrist, more men emerged from the shadows, crawling from the depths of hell itself, except these men weren’t alive; they were skeletal warriors with glowing green eyes.

“Damn you, Hela…” you heard Loki mumble under his breath.

“Loki find Thor, search the castle for your sister. Don’t let her get away.” You hissed

You felt a his presence next to you disappear, the masked man walked closer, his head snapped towards King Stark and Pepper, “Don’t touch the queen, she holds the true heir to the throne, we wouldn’t want to harm her.”

Your head was spinning. This stranger had come into your home, turned your world upside-down, and now he claimed Pepper was pregnant?! That’s impossible…

Bucky shed his jacket, drawing his sword, arm coming protectively to hold you behind him, “Don’t come any closer! You will not have her!”

A dark laugh echoed in the room, “Is it a duel you want your majesty? I’m afraid you would lose.”

Bucky growled as the man came closer, “Announce yourself!”

The stranger lifted his hand, removing his mask and glamor, revealing a blue face with long pointed ears, long white hair, and eyes the color of ice. “I am Malekith, King of the dark elves..” he gave a mock partial bow. "Or what is left of them..."

“Let me give you a warm welcome then your majesty…” Bucky lunged for him, sword singing as it landed against Malekith’s. You lunged forward, “Bucky, No!” A strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back. You placed your hands on it, pushing your power into the attacker,

“Shit! Princess, it’s me!” the arm recoiled, as you spun around to see Steve holding his arm against himself, shirt burnt. Your eyes widened, “Steve! I’m so sorry! I-I thought…” he shook his head, “It’s okay your highness, I’m okay…”

“I thought my magic couldn’t affect you!?”

He shook his head, “I thought so too… The flames were white, I've never seen you do that before?”

You shook your head, Bucky’s grunt in pain making you whirl around, his pant leg ripped at his thigh, dark red blood coated Malekith’s sword.

You growled, you wanted to interfere, but you knew you couldn’t, Bucky’s honor would go out the window if you did.

You reached out to Loki, ‘Have you found her yet?!’ There was no response.

The hall was too loud, your father’s men fighting with Hela's undead army, your father protecting Pepper, and the heir to the throne. Your stomach churned, you had no claim to the throne now, there was no reason for you to anchor you here, Loki could take you, without a second thought. But you weren’t royalty in Stark’s name, so you couldn’t be a price for a war that wasn’t yours, right?

You turned your attention back to the battle taking place between Bucky and Malekith, Bucky still hadn’t landed a single blow, Malekith barely landed another, the tip of his sword tearing Bucky’s shirt. The red imprint of your hand over his heart peeking out as the fabric gave way.

A couple of the undead warriors tried to attack Bucky from behind, but you stopped them in their tracks, your flames overtaking their bodies, turning to nothing but ash. You stepped closer to Bucky and Malekith, raising your hands, throwing them in a circular motion, a ring of fire surrounded them, keeping any stragglers out of their fight.

You turned your back on their battle, helping Steve fend off the onslaught of skeletons that were coming for you, they weren’t very good fighters, but there were too many of them. You placed your hand on Steve’s sword, sending your magic through it, the blade glowed angrily, taking only a single swipe to turn the enemies to ash.

A blood curdling scream sounded through the chaos, you whirled around to see Bucky fall to the ground, sword falling from his grip, blood pouring from where his left arm would be. You surged forward, as Malekith brought his blade down once more. ~

@texan-tazzy @tianamontag @daiseychaindisaster @silently-killing-you @buckyfan12 @leyannrae @shwetaaaaaaaa @happyt0exist @hailhydra920 @justlovelifeblog @sheadre @austynparksandpizza @njavezan @lokismidgardian @rosefanatic

[taeescript]

29 + 1 (Part Two)

𝔰𝔶𝔫𝔬𝔭𝔰𝔦𝔰: In which Seokjin is the Devil from The Devil Wears Prada, Taehyung is your work Jesus and Jimin is your handsome successful brother.

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: seokjin x reader (squint harder than before for taehyung x reader) 

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: slice of life; ceo!seokjin; a dash of enemies to lovers au 

𝔴𝔠: 7.6k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: language; a plethora of drunk people, maybe a sext, and a ton of lying (possible implication of impending smut?!) 

𝔞/𝔫: this part came out longer than i thought it would be but *shrugs* feedback and thoughts always welcomed. enjoy (:  𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔯: DailyHive is real; this is not associated with it 

part one || part three 

The bright pop music that is blaring from the speakers does little to slow your animated talking. Bodies are packed into the small local bar, and students on summer break fill booths and form a snake of impatient, drunk (and horny) people. A slow trickle of the brazen has started to fill the dance floor as the evening morphs into the night.

  You whip your hair into a ponytail and dab at the sweat that is beading your forehead. You definitely should have worn that sleeveless top rather than this thicker t-shirt dress.

  “So, is he like your sugar daddy or something?” Taehyung asks, “Also drink.”

  Friday nights were usually spent at home, snuggled under the blankets in your pjs binging another rewatch of Friends. After work today, you could no longer hold onto your secret and invited Taehyung out for drinks. His girlfriend, Fei, was supposed to join but had been held back for overtime.

  You tip the shot back with no chase.

  “You’re a monster,” he comments as he bites into his lemon piece.

  The two of you had made a bet at the beginning of the evening: you each chose a pop song and each time it played, the nominee had to take a shot. That was your fourth of the night, and to say there was a bit of a buzz is an understatement.

  “It’s all throat technique, Tae,” you say with a bit of a slur, “Hit the back and swallow. No innuendo intended. Also, why the hell haven’t you had any to drink?”

  “You picked ‘Peaches’ for fuck’s sake.”

  “I told you I don’t listen to pop music. It was the first one playing.”

  “And shouldn’t that have told you something? Justin Bieber of all people?”

  “Shut up. It’s your song.” You nod at the pink-faced barista for another round. She slaps your order in front of the two of you without so much a glance.

You don’t even know what song is playing, but you feel quite satisfied watching Taehyung make a face as he downs it in one go.

  He clears his throat after the liquor has burned its way down to his stomach. “Back to my question: is he your sugar daddy?”

  You bark out a laugh. Was he? Perhaps the fact that he paid for fancy meals at lunch? Those have been his one o’clock meetings for the past two months.

  “I don’t know. I’d rather he buy me a car or pay my rent if anything. A casual 1k a week wouldn’t be so bad either. We just sit in his office and eat in secret, Tae. He’s ‘training me in the art of culinary cuisine’. I think it’s just so I don’t embarrass him by stuffing a shrimp cocktail up my nose.”

  “You do know – ”

“Yes, I know. And I would never. It’s a metaphor. It’s just that the position ‘intern’ is quite loosely defined at DailyHive, don’t you think?”

  Taehyung rinses his mouth with water before speaking. “So let me get this right. Mr. Kim calls you into his office, says he’s going to take you as his guest to the biggest tech event of the year, treats you to lunches and doesn’t ask for anything in return? No secret midnight meetups or shady business deals…”

  You shake your head.

  “Damn,” Taehyung says, resting his arm on the bar table, “Forget sugar daddy. He’s just daddy.”

  Sticking your tongue out, you gag visibly at his comment. “Do not ever call him that again, Tae; ev-er.”

  He laughs and watches you pensively. After a moment’s thought, he says, “Nobody has ever called me Tae.”

  “What do they call you then?” you reply, wrinkling your brows together. A cute brunette across the room catches your eyes and for the briefest of seconds, you wonder what a one-night-stand would feel like.

  He shrugs. “Just Taehyung.”

  The brunette waves in your direction. You are about to return his wave when an equally cute brunette runs up to him. He promptly kisses her before swivelling her around to join his group of friends.

  “Sorry. Do you want me to stop? I just assumed since we were out of the office…”

Oh Fate, how cruel you are. Life of twenty cats and solidarity, here you come. Maybe dogs. You feel like you could be more of a dog person.

  “No,” he stops you, “You can call me Tae. Whatever you want.”

  You turn your attention back on the also cute brunette in front of you. In all honestly, despite his youthful god-like countenance, he looks slightly out of place at this college bar with you in his upstanding business attire and dorkishly adorable thick-framed glasses.

  “Sure. How about Tee-Tee? Or Hyungie? The TaeMan?” You wiggle your brows with the suggestion.

  “God help me.”

  The two of you clink your shot glasses together even though neither of your songs are being played.

  His Apple watch lights up to indicate an incoming message. He relays the text to you, “Fei’s done work. She’s on her way now.” You can’t help but notice a shift in his previously excited demeanor.

  You nudge him with your elbow. “Aren’t you excited? She’ll need a glass of wine or two to destress after work. I might be projecting onto you for this part, but you’re buzzed. So after we get her to unwind I’m sure the overwhelming power of pheromones will get you lucky tonight.” You wink at him to emphasize your point.  

“She’s not a big drinker. She’s probably just going to come and ask to leave in five minutes. Bars like this aren’t really her thing either,” he states. He then unbuckles his watch and tucks it away into the pocket of his pants. Undoing the cuffs of his shirt, he rolls up the sleeves and continues to regard you solemnly. “Okay, next round is one me. Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to switch songs?”

  You notice how nice, long, and slender his fingers are. Plus the thing of girls liking when men have visible veins on their forearm? That had never really caught your attention until now.

  “She’s a bit of a bitch,” you say and immediately regret, “Shit, sorry. That just slipped out. Alcohol.”

  He offers you his water to drink.

  “I mean, she’s a little…uptight at times? But people can be completely different in and out of work. I can only imagine how stressful it is in her position. Working overtime until 9pm on a Saturday night seriously sucks,” you say to try and mend your wrongdoing.

  “Fei in the office is basically Fei at home,” he says softly, “It’s always work with her.”

  “We support career-driven women, yeah?” A smile is offered from you to him.

  He finally lets out a small one and nods. Out of the blue, he reaches over and covers your hand with his. Staring intently into your eyes, he says, “I know she makes you do her reports and occupies your time to do her coffee runs as well. You can say no to her. She may be my girlfriend, but you’re technically my intern, and I will stand on your side no matter what.”

  “Um, okay. Thanks, Tae,” you say. His sincerity has caught you off guard.

  At that moment, the sound of clicking heels pierce its way into your eardrums through the noise of the even busier bar. Taehyung quickly retracts his hand.

  Fei arrives, not a hair out of place in her tightly pulled bun. Her lips are painted a striking red against the paleness of her skin, and her manicured nails dig into the forearm of Taehyung when she reaches them. Even though she is wearing an otherwise drab office business suit, the curvature of her body draws quite a few glances from the younger men in the crowd.

  “It’s like a zoo here,” she sneers, turning away from a sacrificial lamb who had been bold enough step out of his circle of friends to greet her with a sleezy “hey”.

  “Hi, Fei. Busy night?” you greet her first.

  She gives you a tight-lipped smile. “Yes. I don’t know why you weren’t there. Isn’t it the intern’s job to complete reports?”

  Again, a loosely defined use of “intern” at DailyHive.

  You return her smile with a crisp one of your own.

  She turns away from you and regards Taehyung, who looks as if he had been the sacrificial lamb instead. “Teddybear, let’s go home. You know this type of place isn’t my vibe. I’m getting a headache already.”

  You raise an eyebrow at his pet name.

  He turns a little bit pinker, if that is possible under the current alcohol-induced glow of his cheeks, and says, “Um, sure. Y/N, are you going to be okay getting home?”

  Waving him off, you show him your phone. “30% left. I’ve got pepper spray in my bag and enough booze in me to not run from a fight. I’ll call an Uber home soon, don’t worry.”

  Fei has already begun to fight her way through the squirming, dancing bodies. Taehyung glances quickly at her and turns back to you once last time. “Text me that you’re home safe.”

  “Will do, boss,” you smile at him warmly.

  He lingers for just a moment more before running after his impatiently waiting girlfriend.

  You turn back to the bar and order another beer for yourself. And that, ladies and gentlemen, is perhaps the biggest perk of being single.

...

On the opposite side of town, sinking deeply into a soft lounge chair is Seokjin enjoying a rare evening out with his best friend. He has swapped his usual attire for a more relaxed fit of a white oversized crewneck and techwear bottoms. A heavy, exorbitant fur-lined long leather coat hangs on the coat rack beside the door to their private VVIP room. He swirls his glass of Chateau Lafite before sipping delicately.

  Outside, only a handful of patrons sit quietly engrossed in their own conversations. It is a relatively empty night at the high-end lounge. A lady sings sultrily on stage with the smooth background of a saxophone as accompaniment.

  Junho has poured himself another glass while he is talking to Seokjin. Seokjin had since slightly tuned out his friend’s rather elongated rendition of another celebrity sighting to occupy his mind with another individual.

  “Earth to Jin? When did you get so lightweight since I’ve been gone?” Junho waves a hand in front of Seokjin’s nose.

  Seokjin blinks to refocus.

  “The mansion I bought last year or the one I bought last month?” he reiterates. Sensing that Seokjin truly had no idea what the topic at hand had been, he tries again.

  “Where should I do my birthday party this year, man? I thought the mansion from last year since it’s closer to the city, but I feel like it’s been reused too many times. It’s not completely furnished yet, but the property I got last month is significantly bigger and I can probably host more people.”

  “The new place then,” Seokjin answers half-heartedly.

  Junho grumbles something intelligible.

  “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Junho sighs, “Tell me what’s new with you. How’s that little project of yours going? I still can’t believe you won’t let me know who you’re planning to take to the Gala.”

  Seokjin had refused to release even the slightest detail about you to Junho. Letting him know that Seokjin had agreed to one of his plans would be enough to inflate Junho’s ego for at least a little while.

  “It’s been going...”

  Junho waits for more of Seokjin’s answer, but his friend’s attention has been turned to a received text.

  10:17pm “Safe and sound, Teddy Bear.”

  10:17pm “Or should I say Taeddybear? 🥴”

10:18pm “That last beer done me rael godo.”

  10:18pm “Real good**”

  Seokjin raises a brow at the unknown number. He responds back.

  10:18pm “Who is this? I think you’ve got the wrong number.”

  Junho crosses his legs and sits back with a sigh. He presses the button to request for an attendant.

  10:19pm “You know who… Anyways, I just wanted to say thank you for saying you’ve got my back. It’s definitely appreciated.”

  The response doesn’t do much except to further pique Seokjin’s curiosity.

  “Sorry,” he says, sliding his phone back into his pocket, “Rogue text I think.”

  Junho shrugs. “Is that right? Seems to have caught your attention.” There is now a manner of indifference to his voice.

  “It’s going well, by the way – answering your question. I mean, all things considered. It’s not like I have to teach her how not to stuff a cocktail shrimp up your nose.”

  His friend snorts. “I’d be concerned and against this person if it’s who you’re planning to bring.”

  Seokjin’s phone buzzes again.

  10:21pm “Pray for me when I wake up with the worst hangover of my life. I’m going to bed now.”

  A moment of silence.

  10:21pm “I hope I didn’t piss off Fei tonight for stealing you for the evening.”

  10:22pm “Okay I’ll shut up now. Please don’t tell me you’re reading this. You should be getting some 😼💦.”

  The emoji makes Seokjin choke, liquid sputtering from his lips.

  Junho cusses. He angrily dabs at the speckle of red wine that has landed on his pearly white top.

  10:23pm Download attached image. “Just in case, here’s a little something to get the night started 😉”

  “What the hell man?” Junho gets up and makes his way to the bathroom. Luckily, the previously called attendant had arrived in time to escort him.

Seokjin barely notices that he is alone in room as he taps the download button. It isn’t until he has returned home and is looking at the picture one last time before bed that he realizes who his mysterious texter is.

  The employee nametag clipped to the collar of your workday shirt hanging on the arm of a chair can only be found when zoomed in past your painted toes and naked feet.

... 

You cannot hide your nervousness when you arrive at your “lunch meeting” the following Monday morning. All weekend, you had cursed yourself for not better checking who the recipient of your texts were before pressing send. Never had you thought that in your drunken stupor you would mix up “The Devil” in your contact list with “Taehyung Kim.” Curse you and your lack of friends beginning with the letter “T”.

  You balk before, a hand poised in perfect position for a knock. Maybe he didn’t download it? And even if he did, it was just a troll feet pic. You had made sure that it was as pg-13 as possible before you had sent it.

  “Hi,” you greet sheepishly when he has given you the go to enter.

  In a smart plain blue button-up and round frames that are almost certainly for the aesthetics, the CEO of the company and your boss sizes you up and down.

  “I know we’ve gotten to know each other better these past few weeks. But you’d think it’s still common courtesy to at least make eye contact,” he says. You look at him wide eyed without a word.

  He rolls his eyes but does not gesture to your usual seat. In fact, you don’t spy a take-out container in sight. He instead stands up and picks up his phone, walking to the door. He notices you have yet to move.

  “Let’s get moving. You’ve only got a 45 minute lunch.”

  You scramble to match his speed and catch Taehyung’s eye as you grab your jacket at your desk. Taehyung’s gaze follows you as you hurry to leave in pursuit of Seokjin’s coattail.

... 

The restaurant is a popular vegan establishment with a plethora of greenery crawling up its high ceilings and a window-framed overview of the city’s skyline. Waiters and waitresses who may just as well be walking New York Fashion Week serve you brunch mimosas on a golden plate; they attentively wait to the side in case you ever run out of water.

  Common topics are rare between the two of you. Initially, you respectfully kept quiet and only answered questions when asked, but you have never been one for awkward silence. Yes, it’s awkward only if you make it awkward; there is just no denying the hanging suspense that curls your toes each time. Recently, you have started with simple inquiries regarding the company, who they might meet at the Gala and everyday mundane topics.

  “You’re probably wondering why we’re out of the office,” Seokjin says. He continues shortly after taking a bite of his meal and ignores the look of your surprise at his initiation of a conversation. “My office has been getting stuffy with the warmer weather so I thought it’d be nice to get some fresh air. How’s the food?”

You nod, making small sounds of contentment as you chew on the Avocado Lime Tartare. Mmm… tart-y.

  He takes a deep breath in, stalling the incoming conversation. “It’s my friend’s birthday this next weekend.”

  “Oh,” you say, “Happy early birthday to him.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Well… An extra happy early birthday to him.”

  A sigh. “Are you free next weekend?”

  Your chewing comes to a halt and you blink once at his question. Next weekend is the weekend before the Silver Gala. It is also the sole weekend before your birthday the following Friday after the Gala. You had hoped to spend it with Taehyung and maybe even Jimin who had promised to be in town on a long overdue vacation despite your chastising to visit your parents first.

  He senses your trepidation. Quickly, he explains himself, 

“He’s having a birthday party Saturday night. He has a place about an hour north of here. I can have somebody pick you up if that’s more convenient. I don’t have a birthday present for him and thought it’d be nice for you to meet him.”

  “You’re giving him me for a present?” you ask, incredulously.

  He bites his tongue. He never anticipated how awkward this conversation could go.

  “You’re going as my plus one. He really wants to meet you; in fact, he insisted that you be there. He’ll be at the gala too. I have something else planned for his birthday present,” he adds hastily, “Besides, you’re less than qualified as a present.”

  Musing silently to yourself, you wonder if in any situation should a human be qualified as a present. Despite that, you hate yourself as you agree on the spot.

  The rest of the lunch passes by quickly in dull silence. As Seokjin pays for the meal on the company card (and hands you the receipt for reimbursement), you note that there has been no comment made on any strange photos texted to him over the weekend.

  Perhaps being nonchalantly implied as a human birthday gift to a stranger is your karma for sending weird texts to your boss.

  Seokjin stays inside the car as he drops you off at the office after lunch, already preparing for his next business meeting. You nod your goodbye and step onto the pavement through the courteously held open door of the limousine.

“Y/N, try a soft pink. Fuchsia is not your colour,” he tells you as the door is closed.  

He then leaves you standing in front of the large office doors, staring at your chipped, week-old purple toenails.

... 

“I’m not exactly expecting a package in the mail or a dress laid out on the hotel bed – ”

“You guys are staying at a hotel?” Taehyung says over the phone.

  You are standing in your bedroom, an hour before when Seokjin is supposed to pick you up as an offering to his best friend. There are two dresses laid out on your Hello Kitty bed covers: a simple black dress you had worn once when you were a little bit more in shape and your prom dress.

  “No, I’m at home. But I mean, let me play into this movie metaphor.”

  “You suck at metaphors.”

  You have your phone propped up on some pillows so that you can see Taehyung as you debate your fashion decision. He is in a relaxed white tee, hair messily framing his face after a shower and a bowl of popcorn in his hands. You watch as a droplet of water runs down his face from his still-wet hair. He nonchalantly licks it off from the side of his mouth.

  “As I was saying, it wouldn’t hurt to get me something. He made it seem like it was a big deal. Like doesn’t the male lead usually surprise the female lead with a big bouquet of flowers and this over-the-top expensive dress which she wears and makes the male lead fall head over heels in love with her?”

  He chews silently on a kernel then probes, “You want Mr. Kim to fall in love with you?”

  “No,” you hastily correct, “It’s a metaphor. I think you’re the one who sucks at metaphors.”

  There is a beep on your phone to indicate you have another incoming call.

  “Tae, I’m going to have to call you back. My brother’s calling me,” you tell him. The black dress; your old prom dress is way too early 2000s. Black never hurts.

  “Okay. Have fun tonight. Pretend that it’s your birthday party. And then I’ll meet you for brunch tomorrow, my treat? You can tell me all about it,” he says. “Also the black. You look cute in that one.”

  “My party if I was 30, rich and successful. Oh wait, I’ll have one thing in common soon; that’s a start. Thanks though. I’ll call you tomorrow morning once I get up,” you say, then switch the call over to your brother. You had missed the flush of his cheeks as you busily swipe your phone.

Sticking the prom dress back into your closet, you rummage around the meager display of shoeboxes for a pair of high heels.

  “Hey, Jimin,” you greet over the phone.

  “Jesus, I do not need to be accosted by my half-naked sister,” he yells over the phone.

  You turn rapidly, seeing that you had accidentally continued a video call from when you had hung up on Taehyung. You throw a pillow over the camera in your haste to cover yourself up.

  “I was going to ask why you’re dressed like that but on second thought, I think I’ll leave your sexual exploits as your own secret.”

  Despite how disturbed you feel about this comment, his cheerful voice makes you smile.

  “So little sis, the weekend before the big three-oh!”

  “Please stop reminding me.”

  “Where do you want to meet tonight? I just got off the plane, but I can be ready to meet in about an hour. I booked a hotel close to the airport.”

  Shit. You forgot to tell Jimin. These heels will have to do.

  “Um… I, uh…”

  “What?”

  You clear your throat and begin to undress in front of the mirror. You have a sudden conscious thought that the dusty treadmill in your living room seems to be staring daggers at your back. 

  “I’ve got plans tonight.”

  “Plans? I wasn’t even aware you had friends here.”

  “Ouch, Jimin. But yes, I have friends. In fact, I am meeting a friend for brunch tomorrow if you want to join. I’m sure he’ll be okay with it.”

  “He?” Jimin repeats, “Should I put on my big brother boxing gloves? Give him a good talking to in case he’s interested in my baby sister?” Pause. “Was that who you were calling before?”  

You bite your answer back, not feeling the need to go down that rabbit hole.

  “He’s just a friend; A co-worker really,” you say, “He’s also unavailable. And before you suggest anything, his goalkeeper is technically one of my bosses so I do not want to try and shoot past her thank you very much.”

  Jimin laughs. “I wasn’t going to suggest anything. Well if you’re busy tonight, tomorrow morning works for me. Give me a call. I’ll spend the night in watching some good ol’ Netflix and enjoy this vacation time.”

  “Sorry again,” you apologize.

  “Go out and have fun,” he says, “You deserve it.”

  The two of you finish off the call with the usual goodbyes. You have forty-five minutes to dress the part of a sparkly birthday surprise for the co-founder of the company you work for. Throwing on your favourite throwback music, you get to work.

  Once satisfied, you snap a picture and sending it to Taehyung making special care that you have picked the right individual this time.

... 

The mansion is bigger than you could have ever imagined, and the amount of people present are…

  “You’re telling me I can do whatever I want tonight,” you ask Seokjin in the car.

  There is no denying that Seokjin knows how to dress for an event. In a velvety black and white suit, contrasted by his blonde hair which he has elected to temporarily dye for the evening, he looks very much the posh CEO magazines brand him out to be. You are glad you elected for the simple black dress as standing beside this Renaissance statue in a floral pastel yellow dress would be like planting dandelions in Kanye’s sculpture garden (if he ever wanted one).

  “The majority of people won’t recognize you after tonight. They’ll also be too drunk to even register anything you tell them,” Seokjin says.

  He cannot believe that you chose a simple black dress. Did you really not own anything remotely feminine besides the most generic clubbing outfit? Even if you had wanted to make an appearance as a hooker, at least make it an expensive-looking one. Maybe he should have bought you that Versace dress he spotted in the window the other day. Instead…

  “Take this. Your earrings are too gaudy for this event.”

  You touch the sparkly black cats you have put into your ears. Their eyes are made of crystal, and you thought it looked quite fetching in the light. Opening up the box, you see a dainty elegant pair of teardrop earrings that may or may not be of real diamonds.

  “Only Junho will know who you really are and then you can enjoy the rest of your night. I don’t want you to feel like you’re being held here against your will.”

  Putting them on, you note that even this simple change in attire has elevated the entirety of your presence. You felt as luxurious as this gift.

  “Thanks, Seokjin,” you try the first name basis he had insisted upon for this evening, “Not going to lie, I had imagined that maybe you’d send me a dress in the mail or something, but this is still very nice.”

  He snorts and rolls his eyes. “Like in the movies? Please, I run a start-up company. I’m not a millionaire and I don’t think you would appreciate my handouts.”

  You don’t respond, making your second note of the night on the Prada label on the cuff of his suit. “To clarify, I don’t introduce myself as your plus-one tonight.”

  “No. I don’t want you associated with me,” he curtly states. He watches as your smirk twitches and he hits himself mentally in the head again. “It’s to protect you. There are bound to be tons of paparazzi tonight at a party as big as this. I don’t want you to find yourself in the tabloids tomorrow morning. Just be smart.”

  The car pulls to a stop after inching its way up to the front door. People mill about outside in extravagant brands, holding glasses of champagne. The man of the hour is somewhere inside the building, charming his way into new business deals as well as making new friends.

  “Stay close to me. You can leave after we meet Junho. It is his birthday after all,” Seokjin offers a hand as you step out of the car.

  You take it, looping yourself into him so that your hand rests on his forearm. You are only 13 days younger than Junho, and yet this striking contrast in lifestyle hits you like a landslide while the two of you walk up the stairs and into the mansion.

  Inside, it is dim with disco lights flashing to the beat of amped party music. Upon entrance, the two of you are offered glasses of liquor (you take a swirling iridescent drink) to which you are then ushered to where the birthday boy lounges.

  Junho has an even more youthful face than Seokjin does. Where Seokjin’s features exude class and charm, Junho appears mischievous and looks to have stepped out of every girl’s bad boy dream.

  You stop Seokjin with a tug and make him look at you. “Tell me: do I look like a passable birthday offering?”

  Seokjin rolls his eyes and pulls you along with him.

  “Jin!” Junho hollers loudly across the room when spotting his oldest friend. There is a doll-like female magnetized to his side. “This is Clara, my date for the evening.”

  Seokjin shakes her hand and greets them. The female cannot seem to pry her eyes away from this handsome new stranger. He introduces himself chivalrously to her as Junho sides up to you and grips your hands in his. His breath smells strongly of mixed drinks, and you know that in about fifteen minutes the entire night will be a blur for him.

  “You must be Y/N!” he says excitedly, “Jin didn’t tell me that you were coming! What a surprise!”

  “I am,” you greet back with a large smile. “Although I’m also surprised. Seokjin told me that you had insisted I came.”

  Seokjin grits his teeth, annoyed at Junho. Would he ever learn when to keep his big mouth closed?

Laughing loudly, Junho grabs two drinks just as a waiter passes by and hands them to you. “Insist might be a strong word,” he says, drilling another hole unknowingly, “I honestly thought I’d have to play part-time wingman tonight. But I’m glad he’s got someone by his side.” He jabs you a little too hard in the ribs. “Next week’s gala is going to be fun! Okay, now there’s only one rule tonight: there are no rules!”

  The four of you clink your glasses together, while you do your best to hide an embarrassed smile on behalf of the birthday boy.

  “You bet I’m going around as your trophy wife tonight,” you whisper in Seokjin’s ear when Junho looks away.

  He whirls around to look at you, the tip of both your noses impossibly close together. He can taste the acidity of the wine when you breath out with a wicked smile. He barely has time to stop you as you peel yourself away to mingle with the crowds.

  Seokjin is about to follow you but Junho pulls him away, flamboyantly introducing his handsome best friend to a group of international models. He turns on his brightest smile, but his heart thunders in his chest at you calling yourself his wife.

... 

You twirl around in your dress, nobody noticing the small splash of champagne on the front of it in the quickly changing lights.

  “He bought this for me last week. Says it reminds him of the first night we met. Our eyes met across the waters in Tuscany where he was on a business trip. I’ll let you on a little secret, but I was his mistress for a little while.”

  Seokjin cannot make out the words you are saying to a small but growing group of people around you. He stands across from Junho, but looks over the latter’s shoulders to watch as you do another spin.

  “A little while, Charlotte? Are you still his mistress?” an older lady with an exuberant amount of jewels hanging off her body whispers with a keen interest in your expertly spun story.

  Charlotte Dior Laurent, an identity you are pretty sure is an amalgamation of French brands from the top of your mind. You continue to personify this character however.

“Don’t worry. He’s left her since. I know I know, my friends all say the same. ‘He’s already been divorced three times. How can you be sure he won’t leave you?’”

  At this point, you are in way over your head at having told this story to at least two other groups and a multitude of other renditions to whomever you have met tonight. But there is something powerful about liquid courage as it courses through your body.

  The lady lays a hand on your arm. “I don’t want your heart to break. You are still young.”

  Looking up between the heads of your audience, you catch Seokjin’s eyes. They are fiery and it sends a strange sensation up your toes to your abdomen. You give a titillating wave at him in which he does not return.

“He says I’m special and different. How can you say no to that?” you exclaim with exasperation, fully committing to the poor damsel just oh-so in love.

  There is a look of genuine concern on the lady’s face at your statement.

  Before you can dig yourself a deeper hole, you place your empty glass on the table and excuse yourself. You do not know if it’s the drinking on a relatively empty stomach or if the room is really much warmer due to the multitude of bodies, but you head out to the balcony.

  On your way out, you notice that the clock reads twenty minutes past midnight. This gives you a shock at how fast time has passed. Perhaps you should go find Seokjin if you are to get a decent amount of sleep before meeting with Taehyung and Jimin tomorrow. Speaking of Taehyung…

  You pull out your phone and see that there are two unread messages. The first is from Jimin, confirming that he is indeed invited to brunch tomorrow morning. The second is a response from Taehyung.

  11:09pm “Wow. You have me a little lost for words. I had imagined you’d look nice in the dress but… You really are beautiful.”

  Smiling, you type in your response.

  12:21am “Thanks, Tae. You’re up late.” You take a picture of the earrings Seokjin had gifted you and attach it to the message. “What do you think of these?”

Barely have you returned your phone into your bag when it buzzes again. This time you receive an attached image. Taehyung seems to be sitting in front of a monitor, as his face glows with a blue light and contorted into a pensive furrow of his brows.

  12:21am “A little different from your usual style. Are they new? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”

  12:21am “Fei’s out with some friends tonight. She likes when I wait for her to come back before I sleep. To make sure she’s safe, I guess.”

  12:22am “Pooey. I should’ve brought you as my plus-one 😩. Also, Seokjin bought them for me for tonight. He says my other earrings are too gaudy.”

  12:24am “First name basis 🙃”

  12:25am “How is your night going? Having fun?”

  You are about give Taehyung a call for a detailed recounting of tonight’s escapades when someone speaks out from within the shadows.

  “A penny for your thoughts?” He walks into the moonlight. You flush, meeting the eyes of this particularly dashing gentleman, the phonecall immediately forgotten.

  Oh, Alcohol, you make even the smartest of people do dumb shit. And right now, your effects are even worse on this idiot.

  Your mouth hangs slightly open as you watch him puff out smoke from his cigar and offer it to you. He brushes up beside you, his fingers trailing up your hand which grips the balcony. You cannot seem to break away from his gaze.

  “Lung cancer has an increasing incidence rate particularly for females due to smoking. Are you sure you want to be condoning this type of behaviour?” Seokjin interjects himself between you and your Tuxedo Mask, pushing the outstretched cigar back towards its owner.

  There is a small stare down amongst the two men before the latter quietly exits the stage. Your eyes continue to linger on him even as he walks towards another female alone in the night enjoying the outdoor breeze.

  “You’ve just ruined by chance. I could have seduced then blackmailed him with the story of his illegitimate child to play Black Widow,” you whine.

  Seokjin takes the glass that had somehow magically appeared in your hand during the short walk from inside to outside on the balcony.

  “How many have you had since we came?” he asks.

  You sigh wistfully, still in your dangerous daydream. “I don’t know. I’ve lost count.” You turn your attention back to him eventually. “What are you doing here? Did you see me with him and get all jealous, hubby?” you tease.

  He scoffs, drinking from your glass and pulling a face. Once again, there is that twist and jump within his chest, but he attributes it to whatever nasty concoction he had just ingested. He pours its contents over the railing and into whatever shrubbery lies below. “You seriously went with being my trophy wife?”

  You shrug. “Of sorts. You’d better be right about people being too drunk slash not caring about me enough after tonight to remember the things I’ve said. ‘Cuz you’ve been divorced three times, had me along with another as your mistress, I think you’ve sired a few illegitimate children and all in all, a Games of Throne life. Damn, maybe I made you a little too badass.”

  “You’re having water for the rest of the night,” he says.

  You glare at him, contemplating on making a remark about his equally flushed face but decide against it. Instead, you lean onto the balcony and give a cat stretch. A large sigh escapes from you.

  Wordlessly, he shakes off his jacket and places it around your shoulder all the while averting his gaze on the unblemished skin of your upper thighs that had been exposed from your previous movement.

  Your blood feels like liquid fire coursing through your veins. Feeling overheated even in the evening breeze, you give him back his jacket. You note his reluctance to meet you even as you throw what could be a thousand dollar jacket in the air to him. “So what’s it like to live like this every day?” you say in wonder. You feel said breeze return and lean over the balcony to catch its chill.

  “Like what?” he asks. The warm summer night’s breeze blows through, settling his hair in a childish tousle.

  “Like rich,” you say. You sigh again. “Believe it or not, I’m the same age as your birthday boy best friend.

  And everything feels absolutely unreal right now. If I hadn’t agreed to come here tonight with you, I’d probably be at another dingy bar knocking back shots with my brother and friend.”

  “Are you a secret alcoholic?”

  You glare at him. “No,” you state matter-of-factly. “As I was trying to share, this type of lifestyle is something I could ever only imagine. I’m not ungrateful about spending time with them, but at the end of the night I’d go home, sweaty, drunk and gross, and then simply pass out. My bank account might be a couple hundred bucks lighter. Come Monday I’ll be working my ass off just to earn back what I had spent. Then cue the repeating cycle.”

  Resting your chin on your palm, your other hand sweeps your hair back behind your ear.

  “It’s amazing the difference a few life choices can have.”

  Seokjin remains silent beside you. Truthfully, he is at a loss of words. The moonlight plays across your face and caresses your nose down to your lips. You are arching your back once again to pull away the soreness that comes with wearing high heel the entire night. It is just a simple black dress but on you it made you look –

  “Well, you’re Mrs. Kim tonight,” he starts.

  “Charlotte Dior Laurent,” you correct him.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Okay… Ms. Charlotte Dior Laurent. Tonight you get to live like the rich, as you’ve put it. As a rich person, what would you like to do?”

  You ponder his question a few moments for the answer. “Hmm…I think I’d like to play golf. It’s a rich person’s sport. I want to play it on a private golf course, wearing cute golfing outfits and talk about million-dollar deals with a client without a care in the world. I want to order sangria by the gallon.”

  He laughs out loud. It takes a while for him to be able to speak again, but when he does you feel as if the night has been illuminated a few degrees brighter. “I personally don’t have a private golf course, but Junho does here in his backyard if you’re up for it. I can’t promise cute golfing outfits so you’ll have to do with your wine stained dress. And if you’re really up for it I can pretend to make business deals with you, that’s my job anyways.”

  You grin, taking the hand he has offered you. “Call.” The two of you shake upon his suggestion.

As he is leads you by the hand towards the dim gates of said golf course, you tug at him gently. “There’s something missing…” you say.

  He shakes his head and pulls you back in towards the party room. 

“I’ll see what they have at the bar.”

... 

As the hands of the clock continue to spin past another hour, the summer night takes a chilly turn. Seokjin has lent you his jacket but even that cannot stop your fingers from becoming numb. Your hands shake even as they tightly hold the golf club. Seokjin watches you in silence as you prepare to hit the golf ball, a beer in one hand and a few opened bottles littered on the grass beside him. The club hits the ball with a resounding “cling” but does little in propelling it a few centimeters.

  “This one doesn’t count,” you announce, “It’s too dark to see anything here.”

  Seokjin takes a swig as you readjust your position. You sway in the wind and the last tendrils of your hair come undone in its half up half down hairdo. Your hair now whips wildly around your face when another gust blows through.

  “Shit!” you exclaim, missing the ball again. “Why is golfing so hard?!”

  You throw your club down and trudge to Seokjin. The six pack the two of you had been sharing has officially been depleted. Seokjin offers you his half empty bottle. This time, you are the one watching as he goes to your spot and effortlessly swings his target into the darkness.

  He smirks from the spot.

  You grumble. “You’ve had years of practice. Not fair.”

  “You’ve got to do better than that, Mrs. Johnson,” he says, teasing you.

  Your grumble becomes more audible. You place the now empty bottle on the ground and cross your arms against your chest. Since telling him of your other American alias from tonight, he has not ceased to remind you of your strange choice of name.

  “Just so you know, Mrs. Johnson can afford both an affair and the consequential prenup,” you huff.

  “It’s still a stupid last name.”

  “It’s an American multinational corporation with an income in the billions, okay?”

  “Keep telling yourself that if it makes you sleep better at night. Now come on, I’ve got one last ball. Take a swing.”

  Groaning, you shuffle over. You wish you had not suggested golf. You had never been good at sports anyways – bad hand-eye coordination.

  He stands beside you this time, scrutinizing your every movement with hawk-like eyes. “No, not like that,” he says, “Have a wider stance and bend your knees. Better centre of gravity gives you a better swing. Also hold it with a neutral grip.”

  You readjust your positioning following his instructions.

  “Index finger down the center. Good. And three knuckles on each hand. No, that’s two. Okay your hands are just weird now. Three. I said three.”

  “Stop standing there and show me then, Mr. Know-It-All,” you say, your patience in this makeshift lesson also coming to an end.

  He walks closer to you, reaching out for the golf club. He retracts his hands in seeing that you have yet to let go. “You got to – ”

“You can touch me. I did tell you that Mrs. Johnson can afford an affair and prenup. Besides, I’m not going to be able to learn anything if I can’t even see you in this dark.”

  He comes behind you and puts a foot between yours to guide your stance. Wrapping his arms around you, he fixes the placement of your hands to grip the shaft of the club in the way he had previously instructed.

  Perhaps it is the mixture of wine, champagne and beer offered tonight, but being enveloped in the warmth of this embrace intoxicates you. The tingles that are sent down from his soft breathing on the base of your neck, make you shake like a leaf in the wind.

He inhales the sweet undertones of your perfume. The tendrils of your hair brush against his collarbone, sending a sensual kiss onto his skin. Unconsciously, he draws you closer to him, shielding you from another gust.

“Now you just want to swing,” he says, the words a mixture of a whisper and guttural grunt. His chest rumbles with it, passing the vibration through to your back.

  You remain as still as a statue and lean ever so slightly back into him until your entire backside is pressed upon him.

  You can’t stop yourself as you ask him, “Do you want to have sex with me?”

...

[laketaj24]

Serotonin III

A/N: Hey! Here’s the final part!!! I hope you enjoy it! I am working on three requests for Mr. Baker and Part 2 to The Business! My taglists and requests are open! Let me know what you think! Happy Reading!

Pairing: Colson Baker X Reader

Warnings: Language, Nudity, Lowkey Pettiness, Smut, orgasm denial

Inspo Song: Acting Like That : Yungblud ft. MGK, Travis Barker

Serotonin Masterlist,  MY MASTERLIST

Meg: I can’t believe you left me at the club! I was joking with your petty ass!

Colson: you said if I wanted her, go get her. I did

Meg: so you really are choosing her over me?

Meg: hello?

Meg: I know god damn well you getting my texts, you asshole

Meg: Colson.

Colson: who is this?

Meg: real funny

Colson: what you want?

Meg: Are you still coming tonight?

The hours  passed since he left seemed like seconds; maybe you’d fucked up. Overreacted by busting his phone up and making him go.

Shit.

The fact that he left his phone left meant Colson knew you’d fucked it up this time. You tossed the phone on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, and to make matters worst, you couldn’t even text and say come back because you had the phone. You’d fucked up.

Guilt played a weird role in your relationship, making Colson feel guilt, easy as pie. He did shit all the time, and even when he didn’t, his little ass found reasons for him to still feel some guilt. Guilt rarely rested on your shoulders, but here tonight, it rested heavily on your shoulders. You stare down at the text messages, there were several avenues you could take to resolve the issue. The first was just say you were sorry; apologies meant a lot. But a text wouldn’t do; for starters, it wouldn’t do because you had his phone. He wouldn’t see it. Secondly, Colson would eat the texted apology and spit it out in your face if you did that to him. Your arguments had been more than toxic in the past, and you may or may not have told him text apologies were trash. The only actual resolution was to drive over to the house and do it face to face. Unfortunately, that would not be an easy feat either.

You dressed quickly, taking one of his out of the box outside your bedroom. You slide on his purple EST sweatsuit. His aroma still lingered even though it’d been washed. The musky scent of his earthy Cologne intertwined with his weed because the man smoked enough for his whole team. It was a scent you’d grown accustomed to, felt like home, even sliding back into his clothes.

The drive over usual took forty minutes, traffic and all, but today it lasted ten, or it felt like ten, and no matter how many times you rehearsed your apology, it still tasted like dirt when you said it.

“Colson, I overreacted.” You braced a smile in your rearview mirror and then leaned into the steering wheel. “Colson, you’re gonna forgive me because you’re a fucking cheater.” You growled and slammed your fist into the passenger’s seat. “Colson- I am sorry I broke your phone. I will go with you to buy another one.” You laughed and reached for the vape filled with the THC vape. It’d be best to be high talking to him. The vape hits smooth, the fruity flavor hitting your tongue before your lungs, and then a plume of smoke fills the car as you exhale. Fuck.

The knock on your window scares you, but only a little as Slim waves. He points down, signaling you to roll the window down. You do, and the plume leaves with the small gust of wind the fresh air brings. “What are you doing out here Y/N? It’s three in the morning?”

“Shit.” You glance at the fluorescent blue digits on the clock. “Damnit.”

“Yeah, you good?” Slim smirks knowing the answer.

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“I can go get him.”

“No,” you said quickly. “I’ll come in a few.”

“bet, I’m gonna lock this gate.” He laughed as he walked away.

He faded from your view, and you slinked down in your seat, regathering what you were planning once more. Ten minutes passed, and you hit the vape four more times, feeling your body relax and the tension dissipates. It was time; either he forgave you, or you would just sleep in the car until he did. Every light in the house was on, upstairs and down; they never slept at night. They just slept until the next afternoon and started the party all over again. It's the one reason you refused to live with him; your sleep schedule would be fucked.

You stand at the grand doors and knock a few times, hoping they hear you over the loud ass music that played in the room over. It stopped abruptly after a few seconds, and you could hear his long strides headed to the door.

“If you don’t have food, go back home.” Colson’s playful voice came from the other side.

“I-,” You chuckled. “I don’t have food; everything was closed.”

“When I apologized to you, I had fucking food. Go get food and come back. The pizza place on Simmons is open until five.”

“Colson, please.”

“You can call Door Dash or whoever, but the entry fee is food.” The music started back, Dopeman – lyrics raged from the door, and your mouth dropped.

This fucking asshole had audacity and some fucking nerve, You banged against the door, but this time the music did not stop. He was being serious, a food fucking entry fee. Fuck him! Ten minutes passed, and he did not budge. The music continued, and you swore you could hear actual drums being played inside.

Fine. He wanted food; you’d bring him food. It was hard to strip in the back of a car, but you did. You stripped out of your clothes and grabbed the one pair of heels that never left your car. You called them fuck me heels, but it wasn’t because you were trying to get fucked. They were six inches and incredibly hard to walk in; you hated them. The most said was usually FUCK ME, when you wore them. If Colson wanted to be an ass, you’d level the playing field. You liked putting on a show too. You laid on your horn for a minute, knowing it would get his attention, clicked the headlights to your car, and stepped out into the crisp air of the night. He didn’t have too many neighbors but now was their opportunity if they wanted to see you naked. You stood bare ass in front of your car awaiting the jealous Colson. You knew well to show his face, and like clockwork, he arrived.

“What the fuck are you doing!” He yelled, charging from the house. “Y/N.”

“You said to bring food. Well, come eat.”

“You’re not fucking cute.” Colson snapped as he slid out of his jacket. He quickly wrapped your body in the black leather jacket and tossed you over his shoulder. “Fucking spoiled ass. You could have just went and got the motherfucking pizza.”

“It’s late.”

“I know what time it is,” He hissed. Colson entered the house, eyeing his friends. “Don’t even look at her.” He warned as he carried you up the steps; his hand came down on your ass with each step until you two finally reached his bedroom. Colson tossed you onto the plush black comforter and stood in front of you, “Why are you here?”

“You left your phone.” The line seemed innocent enough, but there was little innocence behind it.

“You broke it.” His confused look makes you laugh; cupping your mouth, he smacks. “Don’t come over here tryna laugh at you throwing shit at me Y/N.”

“I thought-.”

“I know what you thought.” He pointed at you, “So don’t try to sugarcoat it. You thought I was dicking  you down and then going back to her. Then you read them messages and realized you were a whole asshole.” He stated matter of fact.

“So, you’re not gonna let me talk.”

“Did you let me talk before you tossed me out? Why are you here anyway? It’s four in the morning. ”

“I couldn’t sleep.” You attempted to kick off the heels, and he grabbed your foot, stopping you from sliding it off.

“That guilty conscience is heavy, huh??” He cracked a smile and shook his head. “Leave them on.”

“You won.” You whispered. “I fucked up,” the omission tumbled from your lips unwillingly.

“Was that an apology?” Colson teased.

“I’m not saying it again.”

“Oh, you gone say that and more.” He laughed. “Sorry, ass apology.”

“Col-,” You giggled, “I’m tired. Can I apologize tomorrow, please?”

He kneeled in front of you, rubbing his hands up your legs, his touch ignited something in you, even if you were sleepy. “Oh and the next day too, shit, I’m never gonna let you live this shit down. So you can apologize all the fuck you want, but you’re not going to sleep right now. I haven’t had you in my bed in months. I wanna fuck you to sleep.”

“ I’m halfway there.” You smiled lazily at him, raking your fingers through his hair. “We have all tomorrow for make-up sex.”

“You the only person that’s doing the making up.” He reminded playfully.

“So you’ve said.”

Sleep found you minutes after you snuggled into his lean frame; you missed sleeping glued to Colson no matter how hot he felt. He nestled into you as well, pulling you against his chest, tracing his long fingers down the line of your back, humming tunes to an unwritten song when he thought you were sleeping. He didn’t sleep much tonight didn’t prove any different as the hues magenta cut across the once dark sky outside the window.

“Morning came fast.” You mumbled.

“It’s been three hours.” He whispered. “Shit, You still tired I can see it in you. You don’t have to get up.” He pulled the cover over your body and sighed. “I gotta be somewhere at eleven.” Colson groaned. “I’m gone cancel that shit.”

“No, do what you said you were going to do. Get some sleep.” You climbed out of bed, pulling drapes closed and bringing darkness back into the room. “It’s no point in missing money.” You said his words back to him.

“Yeah, whatever.” He watched you, his tongue between his teeth. “I really thought you were not coming over here tonight. I was tryna find ways to apologize to you for shit I didn’t do. It’s already fucked up when I have to apologize for this shit I did do.”  Colson adjusted his pillow and waited for you to return to the bed.

“I know I fucked up, damn.” The walk of shame was generally when you’d fucked a one-night stand, but right now, it was walking back to the bed to face him. “I get really pissy when it comes to you. Like—I wanna fight.” You cut a smile and sunk back into the bed, this time angling yourself to face him.

“Why fight me? I didn’t send the text?” He pulled you towards him and rolled himself on you. The weight was comfortable and one you’d craved. “Huh?” Colson exhaled before he leaned down and took your nipple in his mouth. He held the small nub between his two teeth, tugging a little before he began to suck.

“You’re gonna be tired.”

“Man fuck that interview.” He whispered before diverting his attention to the other nipple and repeating the same actions. You were already wet for him; one look could get you ready. Eager for him, you wrapped your legs around his waist, grinding your pussy against his boxers. He could make the foreplay lasts as long as the sex, and you both had things to do later. There was no time for the slow sex; you damn near wanted to be punished – but he wasn’t in that mode.

Colson pushed his boxers down and lifted your waist from the bed, putting you in the perfect angle to take him but instead of slamming into you as you desired, he teased. He stroked the length of his cock down the line of your pussy, soaking himself in you before finding his way to your entrance and stopping.

“Stop playing.”

“I want that apology.” Colson smiled, looking down at you.

Your pussy jumped with anticipation. “I’m sorry.”

“Fake ass apology,” He pushed an inch into you and then pulled out. “Make it real.” He whispered.

You groaned, frustrated, slapping his chest in a tantrum. “I said I was fucking sorry.”

“Mean ass apology--,” he shook his head. “That’s how you wanna play, let’s fucking play.” Colson slammed into you, and your mouth opened in pleasure. His pace was intense, knocking the breath out of you with each stroke, but you didn’t want to breathe; you wanted to cum all over him. “Say that shit as you mean it.”

“I said-,” You scratched down his back halfway, and he pins your hands above your head, thrusting into your harder and faster. “Oh,”  Tremors take over, rocketing through your body. “Yes,” You buckled against him. “Yes.”

“Yeah, keep saying yes.” He pulled out of you, slapping three fingers to your clit. “I bet you won’t cum.”

Your eyes snapped open. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap to your clit, and the pleasure had faded just a small tinge of pain, and he started to fuck you once more, long strokes, hitting your g-spot each time. “I don’t believe that shit; this pussy is just greedy. You wanna cum, you ain’t sorry.” He whispered.

“I am sorry.” You whined as your body climbed back up to the precipice of a release. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” Your swollen clit throbbed, one stroke away from cumming, and he stopped slapping your clit again, bringing pain that made you cry out. “I am sorry.” You cried. “I should not have thrown your phone.” You mewled. “I should have talked to you.” You pleaded. “Believed all that shit you said.”

“Why?”

“I don't know, let me cum.” You pulled at the one hand that had secured both of your wrists. “Please, daddy.” The lustful tone made him smile.

“You can call me daddy all the fuck you want… you ain’t getting what you want yet.” You rolled your hips, coaxing the movement from him, and he shook his head. “Stop being a fucking brat.” He warned. “Just tell me why you’re sorry.”

“Because I want to be with you.” You admitted. “I love you.”

He grinned. “You better mean that shit too.” Colson started back fucking you slow, releasing your hands but making sure he was in control. You flooded with relief feeling him give in to you, gripping your hips to meet his thrusts, all while burying his face in your neck to nip his favorite spots on your body. This is what you had wanted all along, to be with the man who’d somehow drove you insane but simultaneously become an innate piece of your life that brought you a balance you didn’t know you needed. He was, in a way, as your serotonin.

 A/N: I know I described my Meg in this fic, but just a lil disclaimer she is not Megan Fox lol I realized that could be confusing.

Taglist: @taytayize123 @ctrlszn​ @supernaturalvikingwhore​ @jae-writes-fanfiction​ @bigsisbria​ @placeoffreedom​ @kyla-queen​​ @missdforever​​ @gottatoxicattitude​​ @bang-kim-bap​​ @msreshel​​ @blowmymbackout​​ @titty-teetee​​ @strawberry-skyes​​ @mauvecherie​​ @savageiz​​ @luci-her​​ @littlelovebug98​ @babyboy-cody​​ @hellshedevil​​ @daddyavesxx​​ @crystalbaby12 @jeonsblackgf​​ @fangirl199812 @thatonegrl-1 @isyoongi​​ @lifeisabitchandsoareyou​​ @cartoonlover101​ @therandomthoughtsofmsparker​​ @bowwowzer @fandomfic-galore​​ @mayaslifeinabox​​ @lasren​​  @szaplsdrop @heavenly1927​​ @mvrylee​​ @canyoubuymetoast​​ @littlelovebug98​

[babytaes]

Don’t Leave Me

➳ 𝚜𝚞𝚖𝚖𝚊𝚛𝚢:  Over the past two years, the apocalypse has been raging, food has become scarce, and security has weakened. Will you survive as a small town girl living in a small apartment with your college best friend?

❥ 𝚙𝚊𝚒𝚛𝚒𝚗𝚐: hoshi x female reader

❥ 𝚐𝚎𝚗𝚛𝚎: zombie apocalypse au, suggestive/smut, angst, fluff, 

❥ 𝚠𝚘𝚛𝚍 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚗𝚝: 6k

❥ 𝚠𝚊𝚛𝚗𝚒𝚗𝚐𝚜: Trigger Warning- Death and use of Gun. There are some smut scenes so if you are not comfortable please do not engage. Other than that enjoy.- BT

➳ part of the song series

↳ I used to be so happy

But without here I feel so low

I watched you as you left but I can never seem to let you go.

If you had told me that the world will end in a few days, I would have told you that you were insane and that you should stop believing in government-created conspiracy theories.

The looming fact that her life was now ended and her dream was broken would have made old me giggle and shake her head. So much for my desire to be a doctor.

You didn't grow up believing in a zombie apocalypse or the end of the world, so you weren't prepared for this. You would have preferred to go out in a more pleasant manner.

It was wonderful to have some company to keep you sane during the end of the world as we know it, despite the fact that you and Soonyoung had been imprisoned up in this miserable flat for so long.

Today was the day, the one-year anniversary of the beginning of it all. The date is June 17, 2023. You recall the event as if it were yesterday. A day that began unlike any other.

Today was just another day, with loud music booming through the closed doors as you both changed for the day. It was routine: get up, go to work, eat a meal, and return home. There wasn't a lot of variation in either of your days.

There were days when things were entertaining, but life was monotonous in general, and you both wanted something to liven things up!

“Heyyy can you please turn your music down just a smidge, I’m trying to do my eyeliner and it's making my hand shaky.” You laughed at Soonyoung's response as he shouted out to you from the other room.

“Oh, so they're not supposed to look bad,” says Soonyoung. Your basic talent has nothing to do with the music.”

Fluffing out your hair and setting down your makeup brushes you trudge over to his room and rapped on his door, arms crossed and mentally preparing for his cheeky comments.

He leaned against the door frame after opening the door and staring at your stiff physique. You gulped as you examined his toned physique; there was something about his physique that drove you insane.

“Keep your eyes up here, princess.” As you smirked at his movement, he titled your chin. Your brushed past him and landed on his unmade bed, pushing him to the side. He laughed as he closed the door and resumed his preparations.

“So, Mr. Bodybuilder, what's on your plan today?” He spun around in his chair, palms on his thighs, cocking his head, chuckling at your inquiry.

“Well, I have some new dance students to coach until noon, but after that, I'm free.” Jihoon, on the other hand, had requested a meeting to work on various projects.”

As you flung a thumb up, you shook your head, taking in what he had to say and mentally organizing it in your thoughts. You let out a long yawn as you stretched your sluggish body, unwilling to face the day.

Soonyoung coughed and looked at you with an open mouth.

“Since it's just ten o'clock, I had a plan before we took on the world. “Do you think you're up for it?”

As the air in the room became tense, you sat up on the palms of your hands and crossed your legs, watching his behavior.

“You know I'm up for anything,” As you scoot back on his bed, you wink at him. As he lingered over you, Soonyoung stood up from his chair, chuckling.

He kissed your collarbone and ran his fingers over it, absorbing up all the energy you were releasing.

“After I'm done with you, you might have to fix your eyeliner.” You flung your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you because you both knew you were going to wind up in this situation sooner or later.

“This is going to be a lot of fun.”

“Shut up and kiss me,” You retorted

As you hungrily stripped each other's clothes, you both started kissing each other, not splitting lips. His hands flew to your body to assist you in getting naked as quickly as possible. You sat up on your elbow, whimpering under his touch, undoing his belt.

Soonyoung was the sort to take his time when he was praising you, but as he pressed lips lightly on your core, you grew impatient. Thankfully, the time limit was short, so he set right to work, not wanting to waste this opportunity.

As your body jumped, he began to press kisses on your inner thighs while grabbing your breasts and rolling them.

You grumbled, “Fuck Soonyong,” as you pressed up against him, begging for more. As you peered up at him, his tongue touched your core, and he laughed.

“You're already a mess for me; look how drenched you are.”

He checked the dampness within by sticking his finger inside. You nudge him in the stomach as you hit his head, no longer whining.

“So help me, if you don't fuck me already. You're lucky I'm horny; else, I'd have taken care of myself by now.”

“Is my baby needy…?” As he thrashed two fingers in your wet folds, you whimpered as your body reacted nicely. As he pressed his digits deeper into you, your stomach began to erupt as your high drew near.

“Please, a-ah, f-faster.

“Patience, honey, I want you to cum on my dick.” As you felt empty, he pulled his fingers out, and you opened your eyes to find him yanking his underwear off and discarding it to the side.

You cry as he tempts your core before gently pressing into you and allowing you to adjust before proceeding.

Soonyoung grins as he angles himself to drive himself into you.

“Mmmhmm-ah Soonyoung, t-there!” As he repeatedly hits your g-spot, your back arches off the bed.

“Fuck, I can feel you tightening your grip on me. Darling, let me fill you up.”

“Yes, y-yes please.

As soon as he feels his climax coming on, Soonyoung fucks you faster. With a low sigh, he tightened his fingers around you. As he touched your area one time, he moaned out his name.

You gasped, desperately shouting out his name as your orgasm poured over you, forcing you to squirm as Soonyoung held you down and coated the insides of your body.

As you both fell back on the bed panting and relaxing your bodies, your name slipped from your lips. He kissed your forehead as you slowly turned over and let out a quiet groan once you had calmed yourself.

“Wow!”

“I know, speechless; it's one of my many skills.” Rolling off the bed and hurriedly picking up the stray clothing. Throwing his at him, you put on your underpants as you gathered the rest of your belongings and walked towards the door.

You turned back as you approached the door and winked at him before closing it.

He sighed, a broad grin creeping across his face.

“Oh the things I would do for her.”

---

Walking to work wasn't always so unpleasant, especially when you were accompanied by a talkative companion. It made the journey seem more annoying, enjoyable.

“Do you actually believe the government will do something like that? To their own citizens?’’

Hoshi scowled at you through his thick sunglasses as he went to take them off. He rolled his eyes and walked right up to you after opening the door in front of him.

“Unquestionably, the government is capable of anything. Nothing will be able to stop them from achieving their objective if they have one. All I'm saying is that we must exercise caution.”

“You and your irrational ideas. Stop watching Jerry Mason; he's simply fueling your fire.”

 When you arrived at your location, you came to a halt, clocking in and retrieving some files that had been left over from the night before. You sat down and exhaled deeply as you entered your temporary office.

“Do you think this is even worth it?” 

Soonyoung frowned and moved over to you, kneeling to get a better look at your troubled expression. He knew you'd be exhausted, and all he could do was be there for you.

It dawned on you when you were young that you wanted to be a pediatrician. It felt as if you were born to do this. You'd always adored children, seeing their faces light up when you offered them assistance or simply being there for them when they needed it. Despite the fact that you had just completed an eight-year school career, you still had three years left.

Regardless of what happened, you were going to make it.

“Hey, look at me.” As your eyes meet in the middle, he caresses your face.

“You got this; the long night of studying and grieving was for naught-" You smiled as you snickered at his remarks and allowed him to continue.

“This will be a breeze for you; the difficult portion has already been completed. All we have to do now is get through this summer together before moving on to the next level. Okay?”

As you rubbed his shoulders, he tenderly caressed your cheek and pulled you in for a forehead kiss.

“Thank you, Soo.”

As you jumped from your seat, you both heard a cough out of nowhere. As Soonyoung stood up and adjusted himself, you let out an uneasy laugh at your boss.

“I apologize if I interrupted anything, but we need to talk about the intern program with you.”

You coughed and tidied up as you walked to the door with him, shaking your head quickly. As you strolled down the corridor, trekking away to another room, you blew Soonyoung a kiss before leaving.

You noticed a man coughing on his approach towards you as you made your way to the rear room. He tripped towards you and grabbed your arm as he gathered his breath, his face showing symptoms of tiredness and worry.

“So-Sorry” He leapt to his feet and dashed out the rear entrance, out of the building and into his car.

You walked into the room, indifferent to his cries, and said, "No problem." While sitting next to the employers, you shook your head and took a long breath.

Many subjects were explored as the meeting progressed. One of the most crucial was when we would begin exercising our skills. Despite the fact that we still had schoolwork to complete, the boss had opted to get some exercise.

“It won't take long, but I want you to think about why you picked this profession. You understand why this is your calling and are free to write as much as you want about it. I'll be gracious and recommend that only one page be required. I'm excited for these papers, and it's a nice day today, so you may take the afternoon off.”

As everyone walked out of the room, loud whoops and hurrahs swept across the room, signaling that the weekend had arrived. As we were all leaving the room, you came to a halt and gazed out the building's window at a scene.

You saw a major shift in the man before you. As he smacked his head against the frame of his car, he twitched and screamed. You took a step forward, scrunching your brows and covering your mouth.

It all happened too quickly as the suddenly insane man leaped onto the nearest person and began biting them. You shuddered in terror as you hurried out of the room, falling back on your butt.

You yelled out to everyone, telling them about the man and his odd actions. Not only did you notice another woman twitching in the rear, but you also learned on the news that it was starting to happen all around.

*News* “Hello, this is NTC News, and we have just received word that unknown persons have been bitten and are biting others. Please don't stop for these people; we want everyone to get to safety as soon as possible. They are harmful to your health and can even kill you. We implore you once more to ge-”

As everyone gazed in horror, his voice was cut short. You yelled as you noticed a woman approaching the group after a man leapt on him and began biting him.”

“You guys heard him, runnnnn.”

You studied a puzzled Soonyoung as he waved to you, avoiding the crowd. You gently peered out the door, grabbing his hand and some items from your desk, and found it to be secure.

“What is going on, Y/N?”

“When we get home, I'll explain; we've been exposed here.”

As you ran down the corridor, panicked at the sight of the outside world, you took the emergency exit as you exited the back door. It was in shambles; they were swarming everywhere. Soonyoung kissed your hand and dashed through the horde, dodging stray onlookers.

It felt like you and he were in a movie, running and evading attacks and bleeding faces as they wiped out the people in front of you. You didn't know if you'd make it, but you clutched his hand as you rushed up the stairs to your apartment building.

As Soonyoung looked at you, you took your key and held it between your fingers.

“Are you ready for what we'll find when we get in here?”

Shaking your head, you hastily pecked his cheek before sprinting into the apartment complex and towards your room.

(Present Time, 2 years later )

Wasn't it supposed to be a typical day? In our town, nothing strange ever happens. Life had taken a different path and decided to run amok, and it didn't feel right to you or anybody else.

“Y/N, we have to leave; you're coming this time.”

“Yeah I’m coming” Soonyoung was strapping on his utility belt and grabbing his homemade weapon when you shot him a glare. “I know what you're thinking, and you're completely incorrect.”

He threw you the bat and also strapped you into your armor, shocked by your tone.

“We've been in this apartment for a long time, yet you still think I'm wrong. Hmm, it sounds amusing.”

Chuckling at his antics you quickly heard a voice on the other side as you both went silent. The sound of moaning and groaning never grew on you; hearing them reminded you of who they were before they transformed.

Where they are aspiring actors ready to take on the stage or innocent children on their way to school. It wasn't fair.

“This may be the most practical weapon, but it'll look pretty impressive if I can kill a zombie with it.” You giggle as you swing your bat in the air.

“I’m wondering how long I should leave you before I intervene and save your ass — again.” As he held the walkie up to his ear, Soonyoung heard a beep before tapping you.

“On the walkie, we got the all clear Y/N. It's time."

Shaking your head at him, you tightened your grip on the bat and went out the door gently, looking around to make sure no one was nearby. You and him did this on a regular basis when you were out scrounging around for anything. You know signs of life.

You and he discovered a group of survivors in your building as the outbreak was spreading for the past two years. It was a blessing to find individuals alive in this place attempting to survive; even though we only see them when we schedule weekly meetings, it's great to hear their voices every now and again.

“This is GoldenFox on level 6, and there are no zombies on this floor as far as we can detect. It is okay to proceed.”

After fully exiting the room, you placed a finger crossed kiss on the door frame. As you both made your way to the nearby stairwell, you turned around and observed his six.

To Survive a Zombie Apocalypse, Rule 21 is to Avoid Taking the Elevator. Stairs are your best friend.

Soonyoung crept over to the door, slightly cracked it open, and motioned you over after noticing no unusual activity. Shaking your head, you entered the stairwell straight behind him, pointing your bat in the direction of the vacant stairwell.

Slowly creeping up the stair the lights flickered on and off as you saw dried blood stains on the wall. You could never get over the fact that bodies were gruesomely taken as you approached the sixth floor entrance door.

When you walked out the door, you were greeted by a familiar sight.

“Hey guys, it's been a long time since we've seen one other.”

As he strolled alongside the girl, Soonyoung reached for your hand and gripped it tightly. She was escorting us to the survivors' debriefing meeting, or at least the ones who could make it.

“Hey Chae, how are you doing?” As a frightened expression washed across her face, you began to explain.

“Well, it hasn't been good; are supplies are rapidly depleting, and security is deteriorating. Tae-ho will elaborate, but things aren't looking good.”

You drew Soonyoung closer to you when you arrived at the correct door, pushed it open, and saw friendly faces.

“Ahh, here comes the couple; please take a seat; we have some business to discuss.”

You smiled and sat down next to Soonyoung, coughing softly before listening to Tae-ho's concerns.

“Because of a lack of hands and space, our inside and outside forces have been swiftly diminishing as the virus has become more prevalent in our area. We haven't been able to communicate with the military in a long time, and we're in serious trouble. Finally, I convened this meeting because we are in need of volunteers for a job tomorrow. We needed to connect our generator to the electricity grid, but it was out of juice.”

When you look around the troubled faces, you find that no one wants to look Tae-ho in the eyes, which is understandable. Isn't it normal not to endanger your life? Although, prior to all of this, you would have been ready to seize such an opportunity. Whatever it takes to help the community.

Soonyoung raises his hand after only a few seconds have passed. As he looks at you with his tiger-like gaze, you jerk to the right and broaden your eyes.

“What...no one else was willing to help.” Besides, instead of being locked up with you all day, it would be good to get out.”

As you rolled your eyes at him, you gave him a smack on the arm.

“Jerk,” you sneered, before slumping back in your chair and allowing Tae-ho to continue.

“Anyway, Soonyoung, Chan-woo, and Jong-ho have offered. Is there another volunteer who wants to join them?”

“Fine, I'll go,” you muttered under your breath, rolling your eyes and pursing your lips.

Low shouts of cheer rushed in the room as the teams were set for the trip tomorrow.

“Okay great, meetings adjourned. We go after the sun rises since the walkers get up early in the morning. So by ten o'clock, I'd like you to be packed and ready to travel. Soonyoung is the trip's leader, so pay attention to him.”

“Did you actually just call zombies ‘walkers'? God, you're having much too much fun.”

As he stood up, Tae-ho burst out laughing and ordered everyone to scram. Everyone in the room agreed and began filing out of the room, returning to their lowly abodes. You grabbed Soonyoung's hand and squeezed it strongly.

“Ow, what was that for?” 

“I don't know, I guess I just wanted to annoy you.” You rolled your eyes and smirked, your arms crossed in front of his face, pouting.

“Don't be like that, you know I was joking.”

Hiding his smirk he gazed at your eyes before kissing you all over.

“Stop,” you said, flailing your arms in an attempt to free yourself from his grasp. As he sighed, you completely surrendered and let him rest on you.

“Well, at the very least, we'll be going on a mission together tomorrow.” I was wondering whether you were planning on attending. But I'm glad you are.” He looked down at your lovely state.

You wrapped your arms over his neck and placed your hands on either side of his ears, narrowing the distance between you and him.

“Mmmh”

You were both shocked when Tae-ho coughed loudly, interrupting your conversation.

“How long have you been standing there?”

He laughed as he walked out the door, waving his hand in the air and said in a girlish tone.

“Oh, I love you, no, I love you,”  You both laughed as you flipped him off, then grabbed your bags and walked down the stairs to your apartment floor.

Soonyoung arrived safely at your door, opened it, and swiftly shut it while he stripped you and him of your clumsy armor.

“Is this a make-up for the earlier remark or...?” Soonyoung kissed you and dragged you closer to the bedroom, soon shutting you up with a kiss. 

Despite the horrible cries of walkers reminding you of what you were now living in, the night was young. When you glanced at Soonyoung, though, all of your worries and fears vanished because he made you feel safe no matter what was going on outside.

Soonyoung wrapped his arms around your waist and said quietly, “You're more lovely than anything else in this whole big universe.”

“Not more lovely than you, my baby,” you muttered as his handsome face drew you in closer.

Soonyoung chuckled and kissed your lips before resting his brow on yours and closed his eyes.

“I love you,” he said softly.

You grinned and pulled him in for a genuine kiss, saying, "I love you more than anything."

He nipped your bottom lip, eliciting a little whimper from you before sliding his tongue inside your mouth and kissing you hungrily, exploring every inch of you.

As a sticky pool formed between your legs, you could feel his hardening cock pressing against your thigh. You drew him upon you, already undressed, as he teasingly kissed your body.

You looked up at his toned figure, appreciating his abs as you ran your fingers on his solid stomach, your mouth watering because you knew this was just for your eyes. Soonyoung lifted your chin softly as you locked eyes.

“I'm not sure whether you're up for it, but I'm in the mood.”

“When are you ever not horny?” you asked, laughing. “I'm actually fairly hit, but I don't mind helping you feel good.”

The pupil of his eyes dilated. As you opened your eyes and looked up at him, he rapidly flipped you around.

“Oooh my favorite.”

Slowly, you slid onto his throbbing member and began to move; it was almost like muscle memory for your mouth as it went to work right away.

As tears began to collect at the corners of your eyes, you felt his palm on your hand, almost like clockwork, guiding you down.

“Yes, baby...right there,”  As his movement became jerky, he mewled. As you looked up at his trembling form, you chuckled.

Your name falls from his lips as his dick twitches in your mouth one last time before filling you up with his warm seed.

He drew you closer to him and kissed you for the twentieth time tonight when he cooled down.

“Ahh, I'll never get bored of that,” As he tenderly caressed your cheek, he complimented you.

“It is my area of expertise.”

As your eyelids began to drop, you both chuckled. You mumbled into his warm chest as you nestled closer to him.

“Goodnight, my love,” 

“Princess, good night.” He drew the blankets over your nude bodies, blew out the melting candles, and brought you closer to him, pressing one last kiss on your forehead. Allowing sleep to take control, the sound of his heartbeat and soft breath soothed you as you drifted off.

---

Thanks to the large windows, you were both awakened by the warm sun as it crept into the room, bringing the warmth and light needed for the day.

You snuggled closer to your love and crawled on top of him, sighing, as your tired eyes adjusted to the light.

“Hmm honey, we have to get up.” He began to get out of bed as you begged him not to leave you.

“5 more minutes,” you said as you drew his arm back and began kissing him on the arm and neck. He hauled you on his back, dropping you at the bathroom and making his way to the kitchen, smirking at your game.

“Get ready; I'm going to try to come up with something other than canned corn and rice.”

With a shake of your head, you took out the ladle and water bucket and began scooping up water for your shower. You quickly became accustomed to this way of life. You did miss your warm baths and your once-weekly takeout. At the very least, you had Soonyoung to help you get through it.

Stepping into the shower, you cleansed your body while singing a song; today would be a regular day. After a fast mission, the rest of the day would be laid-back, with nothing too serious on the agenda.

“LOVE GUESS WHAT I FOUND IN THE FREEZER, SOME FROZEN KIMCHI.” You giggled as you walked out of the bathroom in a towel, seeing how thrilled he was.

“I'm surprised it's still good; the freezer went out about two weeks ago.” He carefully set the chilly container down and pretended to choke while pinching his nose.

“At the very least, we got rice.”

“You can never go wrong with some fresh steamed rice.”

Before walking back to your shared room and locking the door to get dressed, you kissed Soonyoung on the cheek.

You pulled on some old sweatpants and a worn-out shirt and checked your appearance in the table stand's cracked mirror. You came to a halt as you looked around the once-bustling room, stunned at the extent to which an outbreak can devastate a space.

After giving it one last look, you stepped out the door, sat down at the table, and took a taste of the rice with a fork. Soon after, Soonyoung returned from the cabinet and sat down, smiling.

“I found some seaweed wraps stashed away. I mean, it's not that horrible; it should still taste fine after two years.”

Taking the package from his grip and swiftly opening it, you were greeted by the salty sea aroma as you both savored every last bite.

“Dig in!”

After devouring your meal you and he got prep and dress for your trek this morning. Making your rounds around the house one more time Soonyoung grabbed your hand and exited the apartment. 

“Well, the generator site is 3 miles from camp, and if we get there quickly enough, it will only last around 45 minutes. But that's just if we find another generator; it could take an hour or so.” As you looked around, you noticed your team's expressions as they tried to understand what Tae-ho was saying.

“Finally, the path you're travelling is a back road, which, while riskier than the street, provides more area to hide if walkers are noticed. I believe you can all do it; everyone will have walkie-talkies, so don't hesitate to call if anything goes wrong.”

Soonyoung grinned and shook his head as he counted his teammates and exited through the rear door. Before he left the building, Tae-ho grabbed him and handed him a pistol in case things went wrong.

“I know what's going to be out there, and I just wanted to let you know that if things go south, I won't hesitate to save you,” you said, thanking Tae-ho and pulling Soonyoung to the side. I know you're thinking the same thing, but these folks rely on you and your abilities, and I don't want to be in the way if something goes wrong."

“Don't even say that Y/N we're going to make it back safely all in one piece everyone of us,” he said as he pulled you in for a hug and lifted your face to stare at him.

“If you say so but still-”

“Shh, let's just concentrate on our mission and be ready, okay?” 

As you gathered the rest of the squad for a group huddle, you rested your hands on each other and said a quick prayer before shouting, "Let's go!" Tae-ho waved goodbye to you before closing the door behind you.

There was no going back now; it was now or never.

To ensure that everyone was safe, everyone had their backs covered just in case we were ambushed. You ran following Soonyoung, heavily gasping, as he dodged in and out of the automobiles and debris strewn everywhere. As we neared a small group of walkers, he came to a complete stop and raised his hand, motioning for us to move to the left.

These walkers were not your typical zombies; they had a poor sense of sight but a keen sense of smell and hearing, allowing them to track down humans even when they were not visible. Aside from that, they were normally fast, not lightning fast, but fast enough to put anyone who wasn't lightning fast to the test.

We were wary because we didn't know what kind of zombies we'd encounter. Tae-ho insisted on dousing us in a spray that penetrated their senses and messed with them for a while. Despite the fact that it smelled terrible, it kept us secure for the most part. All we had to do was spray it on ourselves every 30 minutes to keep the aroma from wearing off.

Soonyoung pulls the group around him, whispering, “We have about 2 miles to go until we reach the first checkpoint; we can stop at the old home on the right.” We shook our heads and waited for his next call, pointing to the house ahead of us.

“I want Y/N and Chan-woo to go first, to get to the building, and to keep an eye out for us when we arrive.”

As you carefully rushed to the building, you looked at Chan-woo and pulled him up, afraid of the walkers behind you. The next two were up as they quickly walked by the walkers, signaling that you had made it safely to the house.

“All right, get whatever supplies you can find and meet in the back in ten minutes.”

Soonyoung told the group to look around, and it was common knowledge that we should look for supplies. You left your companion and walked upstairs to get some fresh clothing; yeah, you still have to appear presentable.

When you got to the top, you went through random rooms until you arrived at a room that was clearly a teenager's room, despite the fact that it was blown out with dirt and litter. Not only did it break your heart to see all of their stuff crammed into the same space, but you also knew they were on their way to becoming a walker.

It was difficult, but you had to persevere. You stumbled throughout the room, thankfully discovering batteries, a few shirts, a first aid kit, duct tape, and some pads. Needed at all times.

Nodding, you threw your belongings into your bag and descended the stairs, only to discover everyone going for the back door. You looked around and swiftly moved to the back, where you saw them waiting for you in a defensive position.

“Hopefully, we all got some excellent things, and we'll be able to go through them more thoroughly when we go back. Now that the extra generator is only three houses away, we're into walkers territory, so stay vigilant."

As the group starts out toward the last house on the street, careful of walkers in the route, you tighten your hold on your bat and look about. You and the group make it to the last house, carefully moving across the wreckage and immediately entering the house.

“Okay, we've got a few minutes before they notice we're here, so let's finish packing.” Keeping in mind that these generators were compact, they were suitable for storing in tight locations. You take the tiniest ones and place them in Chan-woo's bag before returning your gaze to the larger ones.

“How about those? Aren't they going to be more effective than the smaller ones?” Soonyoung paused for a moment, staring at the generators while walking back and forth as he pondered.

“That is correct, but we don't have enough people to bring it with us; we can get it later when we have more people, but for now, let's just go with the four we have.”

As we got to the door, everyone glanced around and said, "OK." Jong-ho stepped out the door, completely oblivious to the fact that we were in the middle of the apocalypse. We were greeted by a group of walkers.

As we all rushed at him, one of the zombies grabbed his arms, and Chan-woo kicked him off of him and whacked him with his axe. Looking above, we could see a swarm of them approaching us, and we were all terrified.

“LETS GO.”

As the walkers soon approached us, we grabbed hold of Jong-ho and pulled him with us.

We were quickly losing them, so we paused for a while to gather our breath before continuing on to the automobile portion of our adventure; we were almost there, and nothing could possibly go wrong.

Well in fact everything was just about too. When you turned back, you were confronted by the most scary of walkers, the runners. You yelled out to the group that we had to go right now.

We sped past the automobiles, grabbing everyone's attention and daring them not to turn around. Soon after, Soonyoung retreated behind the group to ensure that everyone was safe. You were almost there; the door was visible. You observed a bunch of familiar faces as the door opened.

Tae-ho kept the door open while telling you to duck, spraying bullets through the air and catching some walkers in the back.

“We're almost there,” you exclaimed as you turned around. Soonyoung was fighting the runner, gnashing his bleeding teeth. You panicked, unsure of what to do, as fear surged through your body. As you yelled, you could see the zombie rip into his skin.

You witnessed the zombie fall to the ground after hearing a shot travel through the air and hit it. You had a worried expression on your face as you gazed at Soonyoung.

“We don't have time to discuss this, Y/N.” You must leave right now.”

As tears flowed down your swollen face, you screamed at him.

“I can't leave you behind...,” 

As he strained to stand, he noticed them struggling and staggering toward us. He yelled again, worried for your safety, tears streaming down his bloodshot eyes.

“Please, Y/N, I'm sorry, but I can't let them take you. You have to go now before it's too late.”

You shook your head and raced towards him, barely hoisting him up, sobbing into your torn up sleeves.

“I’m sorry Soonyoung, but I can’t leave you.”

You watched a couple guys rush up to you and carry you and Soonyoung to the door, which they swiftly locked, not wanting to hear the walkers' cries.

When you saw the big bite mark on Soonyoung's arm on the floor, tears flowed down your face and your throat started to close up. You cried as you fell into his lap as he patted your back.

“You can’t leave me please.”

---

It was going to be a long night, not just for you, but for everyone else as well, and if someone got bit, there were two options. Make the pain less easy or to set them free outside, we couldn’t let the infection spread inside. That's how we survived, but you didn’t know if you could do it.

He was your entire world, and you and him would go to the ends of the earth, yes, even to the apocalypse. Why him? It wasn't right.

You awoke in a cold sweat, anxiously looking around.

“Was it all a nightmare?” As you entered the living room, calling out for Soonyoung, you heard a grunt.

It wasn't a dream in the least. Reality has smacked you in the face.

Slowly approaching the couch, you noticed his sweating face; the virus was growing quickly. As you saw him twitch and groan in anguish, it hurt your eyes. You wished you could just take the pain away for a moment.

You sat crouching at his side, clutching his hand in yours as you kissed it, thanking the guard. As he turned to face you, he felt your touch, and his red eyes met yours as you sobbed as you saw his devastated state.

“Hey..hey look at me.” He gently sat up, tears in his eyes, and embraced you, kissing your forehead.

“It was bound to happen, Y/N; all we have to do now is stick together and get through this.” For the sake of both of us, you must be strong.” You clutched him tighter as you became choked up, unsure whether this was the last time.

“I guess our family has to wait.” You wailed into his chest as tears welled up in his eyes. Fearful of what was to come, he brought you closer to him and kissed your head as he cried.

It happened so quickly that neither of you realized what was going on. What he had asked you to do was unthinkable; you couldn't do it. Was it the virus or him who was speaking?

“Babe I can’t.” As tears streamed from the corner of your and his eyes, the worn-out pistol in your fingers trembled.

“Love, you have to, it's growing worse and I can feel it taking over my body,” he began shivering as he attempted to regain consciousness. "Allow me to spend my final moments with you as Soonyoung.”

As you sat back, he grabbed you and held you in his arms as you flung your arms around his neck, holding back tears.

He gave you one more glance as he crawled up to you and kissed your lips as you drew him back to you, savoring every moment.

“I believe this is it, I love you so much Soonyoung, please never forget and I'm so sorry,” you chuckled as you looked down with a tear-streaked face. You gripped his hand as you silently cursed as you drew him closer. "

You brought the gun up in front of you and pressed the trigger while closing your eyes.

*BANG*

His body slid to the ground, the warmth of life snatched from him by death's icy grasp. Blood gushed from his gaping wounds, tainting the once-pristine earth with the wry wit of someone who had been gone far too soon. His chest lay motionless, with no signs of life or his customary purity in his bosom, indicating that he was dead.

Holding the rifle to your chin as you gently close your eyes, you take another look at his body. Everything was taken from you by the world: your happiness, your source of clarity, and your life. As the bullet flew through your head, you wiped the tears from your eyes and pulled the trigger.

As you fell to the ground, you felt your body's life drain away as you saw it fade from your eyes.

“I won’t ever leave you.” You kissed his hand one more time as your whole body went limp and drifted away into the light, holding his hand closer.

And then, out of nowhere, two lights dimmed, never to be seen again in this messed-up world.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➳ Navigate to the Maze

[countesspetofi]

OK, I'm really annoyed right now, partly at the universe but mostly with myself. Because a post came across my dash this morning, and I thought I'd like to reply to it, but maybe tonight when I had more energy and not so many things to do. So I THOUGHT I hit reply and then saved my blank reply as a draft, but apparently I didn’t. And I THOUGHT I knew who posted it, but apparently I didn’t. So I just spent the better part of an hour searching for it, but couldn’t find it. Apparently I didn’t even hit the Like button.

But since I’ve given it so much thought and effort, I’m going to just post my reply as a new post. Maybe the person who posted the other one will see it, and maybe they won’t, but it will be off my chest either way, which is all that matters. There was an original post and a reply; I seem to recall that one of them was expressing surprise at Han and Leia being apart at the beginning of The Force Awakens, and the other not being surprised. Or maybe neither were surprised?  Anyhow, it wasn’t one of those bitter arguments one often sees about the sequels; it seemed quite light-hearted. All I wanted to add was this:

Even as a kid (and I saw Return of the Jedi in the theater on opening night) I never saw Han and Leia as a "happily ever after, ride-off-into-the-sunset” kind of couple. I just have never seen that as the kind of people they are. I’ve always thought of them as an "on and off for the rest of our lives" kind of couple. They never stop loving each other or love each other any less, but Leia is always going to put the Cause first and Han is always going to get itchy feet every so often. And then they find their way back to each other for as long as it lasts; lather, rinse, and repeat. The first time I heard Jacques Brel's "Chanson des Vieux Amants" (Song of Old Lovers) I instantly thought, "That's Han and Leia." (I especially like the “je t’aime, tu sais”/”I love you, you know.”) 

So no, the sequels didn't feel off in the slightest in that regard to me. If that doesn't fit in with your headcanon, well, that's your deal. I don't engage with most of the TV shows for the same reason. We're not told enough about the nature of the conflict as it stood before TFA to make judgments about who would or wouldn't believe in getting involved in it, and that isn’t what this post is even about, anyway.

The light-heartedness and lack of bitterness that I admired so much in the original post this was meant to reply to has been sorely lacking in the replies; instead, the usual down-shouters have turned out to make sure I’m well and truly scolded for enjoying a piece of media that I thought was smart and well-written because it didn’t fit with their personal headcanon. I guess I’d been lucky so far to mostly only see the nice, friendly, and inclusive side of tumblr.

[resonating-kitty]

Dreambur - Pirate AU fic requested by @peppsta

Using the sentence “You’re too distracting with your handsome face and… your… everything!” (Took a bit of creative liberty to make it work)

I am happy with how this turned out. I've been a bit too critical of my writing lately but I generally like this one. Peppsta I hope this fits what you had in mind with the prompt! :)

I hope you all enjoy!

-

Wilbur laughed, joyous, as the wind hit his face. The open sea was such a wonderful place! His love of its wonders and mysteries and melodies was endless. He was a traveling musician, a quite successful one at that. His music was known all across the world and many lords and kings requested his presence to perform at their castles. That’s what he was doing now, headed back to England, summoned by his Majesty’s request to perform at the annual ball.

“Mr. Soot please get down from there!” The Captain’s orders barked hastily at him had him turning with a grin. He was standing up on the bowspirit of the ship and the Captain of the vessel was standing just behind him, hands on his hip and a growing annoyance in his eyes.

Wilbur relented, his boots hitting the bed with a thud as he hopped down to stand beside the Captain. He fixed the older man with an innocent look and a charming smile, “I do apologize Captain. I love the sea so much that I sometimes cannot help myself.”

The Captain regarded him with a knowing look and sighed, “Just please refrain from doing it in the future. It makes the crew nervous. None of us want to report to his Majesty that his requested musician fell overboard.”

“Of course Captain!” Wilbur saluted, mockingly.

The Captain opened his mouth, no doubt to reprimand the action, but was stopped by a frantic call from above.

“Captain! Captain! Skull and crossbones on the horizon!”

The Captain whirled into action, turning full circle to run to the helm. Curious, Wilbur followed closely.

“Pirates?” He asked, excitedly but none around him seemed to share his enthusiasm.

The Captain shot him a sharp look, wordlessly taking the spyglass that was handed to him. He looked through it, curses falling from his lips.

“It’s the bloody Speedrunner!” The Captain announced, turning for the wheel. He started to bark orders. Raise the sails, all hands on deck. “Mr. Soot below deck!” was the Captain’s last order.

Wilbur protested but the Captain cut him off. “Sir, whether you like it or not, you are under my command until you reach shore and you will do as I say and I’m telling you to go below deck.”

Wilbur was escorted below deck, not before he got a peak at the fastly approaching vessel. The light vibrant green sails of the ship stood in stark contrast to the jolly roger waving above them. ‘Tacky’ Wilbur thought as he was ushered below deck.

-

Try as she might, the merchant vessel was no match for the speed of the pirate ship. The Captain gritted his teeth as soon, his crew and his ship was completely taken over by the ragtag group of pirates.

“Dream,” The Captain gritted out with annoyance, heedless of the gun and cutlasses that were pointed at him and his crew. Dream usually never spilt blood during his raids and the Captain had been at sea long enough, had met with the pirate in these exact situations enough times, to know that the show of aggression was all bluff.

The Pirate Captain wasn’t much. He was tall and slim and didn’t even look or dress like a Captain. He wore dirty ragged clothes, a lime green bandana tied around his head to keep his dirty blond hair pulled back. He also wore a mask over the lover portion of his face, hiding all but his emerald green eyes from view. No one had ever seen his face and if they had, rumors had it they never lived to tell about it.

The Captain had no intention of doing that. He just watched the cocky pirate as he sauntered up to him.

“Sparklez!” Dream greeted happily, throwing his hands out, “what a surprise that we ran into each other again while you were transporting goods!”

Captain Sparklez pinched the bridge of his nose, insisting tiredly, “Just get what you came to get and leave”

Dream was grinning under his mask as he laughed, “Glad we have an understanding Captain,” he turned to a couple of his crew, “Alright boys, you heard the Captain, go see what’s below deck for the taking!”

A couple of the crew, a slightly shorter man with dark hair and a white headband tied around his head, a thin man with glasses and wearing a black, red trimmed, cloak, and another pirate that appeared to be in a full reindeer costume, headed below deck.

Captain Sparklez hoped they didn’t discover Wilbur but his hopes were dashed when muffled shouting sounded from below.

“What the hell?” Dream demanded, going to the stairs to call down, “Everything okay!”

“Look what we found!” Came the replying yell moments before the pirates were reappearing and dragging Wilbur with them. “He was trying to hide behind the salmon.”

Wilbur was pushed before the pirate captain. Wilbur looked up with wide eyes. Dark brown met emerald green. Both seem to freeze.

“Got something you wanna tell us Captain Sparklez?” The pirate in the black cloak asked, suspiciously. He glanced at Wilbur then his own Captain, who was still frozen.

“The boy is headed to Britian. He’s but a musician who hired me to ferry him.” Captain Sparklez answered hastily. He also was looking at Wilbur and Dream. “He is an innocent bystander in all of this.”

The pirate opened his mouth, possibly to ask more questions but he was cut off by his Captain.

‘Who are you?” Dream asked Wilbur, his voice soft and held none of the cockiness it had before.

Both crews, pirate and merchant, looked at the two with raised eyebrows and some with shocked expressions.

“Wilbur. Wilbur Soot.” Wilbur answered earnestly and Captain Sparklez facepalmed and muttered, “Boy, don’t engage with the pirate.”

“Why?” Wilbur asked, glancing at Sparklez, “He’s interesting.”

Laughter erupted from Dream. “Yeah Sparklez,” He said, his voice playful and teasing as he looked at the merchant ship’s Captain, “I’m interesting.”

“Please don’t feed his ego.” One of the pirates, a man dressed in light blue with a pair of goggles covering his eyes, warned in exasperation and Dream whirled around to face him.

“Oh shut up George, he can feed my ego as much as he wants to.” Dream demanded though the grin was evident in his voice. George just rolled his eyes at his Captain. Dream turned back, winking at Wilbur, who’s cheeks colored pink.

“So Mr. Soot, you do music?” Dream asked, conversationally as he leant against the mast of the ship.

“Dream, what about the cargo?” The pirate with the white headband asked and Dream waved him off with an order, “Start loading it on the Speedrunner obviously.”

“Dumbass,” the pirate muttered before motioning to a few of the crew and they disappeared below deck.

“I… I uh… yeah.” Wilbur muttered, “I’m actually on my way right now to perform for his Majestic at the castle.”

Dream whistled, impressed, “You’re Mr. Popular then aren’t you?”

Wilbur laughed softly, shaking his head. His brown curls bouncing on top of his head, “Something like that”

“What are some of your songs? Perhaps I’ve heard some of them?” Dream questioned. A crash was heard and his attention snapped to his crew and the box of produce that was now spilling out over the deck, hollering, “Hey be careful with the goods. We need those!”

“Sorry Captain.”

Dream turned back to Wilbur, “Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Let’s see there’s Jubilee Line, Since I Saw Vienna, Soft Boy, Saline Solution, Maybe I was Boring.”

“I’ve heard that one!” Dream exclaimed, eyes shining, “Maybe I was Boring. It was being sung in one of the pirate owned taverns. The guy singing it was trying to pass it off as one of his own but he didn’t look smart enough to come up with something so beautiful.”

“Yes well, as I’m sure you are well aware, there are thieves in every trade I’m afraid,” Wilbur sighed before he seemed to catch the last part of the sentence, “Wait you think my song is beautiful?”

“That’s not the only thing I think is beautiful,” Dream’s voice dropped as he reached up and closed the space between them. They were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Callahan was standing to the side, he looked apologetic.

“I do not mean to alarm anyone and I certainly hate to break up whatever is transpiring between the two of you, Captain but there is a ship on the horizon. Looks like the Navy.”

Wilbur was left at the mast as Dream stepped quickly to the side of the ship and took the spyglass from George. He looked through it, muttering out a curse before barking, “Everyone back to the ship!”

His crew reached instantly.

“What about this ship?” the pirate in the white headband asked almost eagerly as he headed for the ropes that connected the two ships together, “You said we could start sinking them.”

“What?!” Sparklez’s outraged voice rose up as panicked murmurs rose up from the crew. Wilbur’s breath caught in his throat.

“Not this one,” Dream said, his voice steeled with finality. Emerald eyes met dark brown once more, “Today this ship was saved by a distracting handsome face and everything else. So long for now and Mr. Soot? I’m sure you and I will meet again in the future”

Dream gave a little salute before joining his crew and soon the Speedrunner was just a speck in the distance as the Naval ship approached.

Wilbur stood at the bow of the ship, watching as the pirate ship disappeared in the distance. A soft smile on his lips and his whole body was warmed. The pirate captain certainly was charming wasn’t he.

“Charming?” Sparklez repeated with alarm as the Naval ship pulled up alongside them and Wilbur realized that he must’ve uttered the sentence out loud. A hand fell on his shoulder and the Captain leaned down to speak quietly, a warning, “Son let me tell you something, no matter how ‘charming’ he may be, at the end of the day he’s a pirate and you need to stay well away from him. He’s dangerous, not only in general, but also to your career.”

Wilbur tried to heed Captain Sparklez warning but he couldn’t get his mind off the oddly charming pirate. He hoped that Dream was being sincere when he said they would meet each other again because he was looking forward to it.