#when will they be able to promote the songs properly considering their schedules are slowly getting filled by now for the middle of the year

[husbandohunter]

May I request a Childe X Reader fanfic where the reader has been pushing herself too hard lately and so Childe has to forcefully get her to rest? ty

By my side [Childe x Reader]//Genshin Impact

Synopsis: You were an artist and he was an adventurer. Two people from vast backgrounds and Childe just wants to spend some time of his busy life with you. However, things didn't really go his way...at first.

(Childe x F!reader. Its all fluff)

(A/n): Perfect request anon. I too, would like to have a Childe in my life. Been getting 5-6 hours of sleep on average 😃😁. Yeah kind tossed some extra ideas with artist s/o, its a perfect reason for anyone to be busy.

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Once recieving the permission to take a week off from his diplomatic duties, the first thing Childe thought of was none other than his lovely significant other.

The harbinger knew quite well what lays ahead of his ventures to Liyue. During his quest for the archon's gnosis, he encountered many interesting events, such as meeting the rumoured traveller hailing from afar and a broke yet courteous man who turned out to be the ultimate ruler of this very country he walks upon then there was the battle against a dead god until he revived it using the sigil of permission. All of them were great additions to his story as Ajax the hero, something he always wanted to pursue since childhood. In which, also gave him something nice to write about when preparing letters for his siblings living back home. But little did the harbinger know that he'll one day bump into the heroine. A little too soon. Through your little art shop, he met you, a sweet and audacious woman with plenty of humour. That was how it all began.

While he strides down the streets between Liyue's exquisite buildings, Childe suddenly stops in his tracks and looks up to the sky. There, was painted a scenery of an evening dusk, sun rays relfected across until red and orange hues cast a river stream that led to the ends of the world. He watched the birds follow that streak like it was a path made for them to fly towards. A new adventure. You would have loved to captured this in your pictures.

And then he wonders, what might you be painting right now?

"Hey babe, I'm home~"

In a sing-song voice he calls out to you by your nick-name. You knew that Childe was an active member of the Fatui and that his time was limited, hence he made sure to write to you as well. Of course long distant relationships only makes the waiting more anticipated. When he does pay a visit, you'd run straight into his open arms, leaping off your feet to engulf him in one enourmous embrace. Then his hands will hold against your waist as he spins your round and around in the air, stealing the laughter out of your lungs before planting you back on the floor. Sometimes Childe would consider that being far away wasn't be such a bad idea as long as he was able to experience this, the harder the battle, the sweeter the victory. However...

"That's great."

He was met by a response similar to the wintry grace of Snezhnaya.

Huh?

All the fantasies he had from earlier shatters in the background as he stands there frozen. You didn't even spare a glance to the entrance, eyes still glued to the large canvas displayed at your front, too busy to even care. Childe clicks his tongue between the awkward silence with an uncertain expression. When there was no signs of initiation on your part, he shuffled his way to where you were and observes from behind.

"Well you're particularly quiet today," he muses to himself, placing a hand over his hip, "I guess that painting of yours must be really important then."

It was obvious that he was trying to nudge you into his favour. Something that you've found endearing was how quickly your boyfriend can be when he's in a needy state. So you quickly twisted over to peck him on the cheek before going back to work.

"That's better," Childe satisfiedly grins, "So who is this project for?"

"It's a commission requested by a wealthy family serving the Qixing. They're really influential in terms of the market and can really give me a competitive edge. I have to get it done in five days."

His tone flactuates as he squints his eyes, "Five days you say," he disliked the news of your schedule taking over his own, Childe only managed to take a week off and after that, he'll be away for quite some time, "Why don't you take a break? From the looks of your progress, it seems to me that you've been working on it for hours. I've got plenty of interesting stories to tell and you know, nothing can compare to sharing a warm meal within your company," he leans down to your ear level, "How does that sound?"

Several seconds went by as he waits for some sort of reaction, "Oh. Right," you blurted out and the harbinger only smiles, "I made some food earlier this morning. You can go help yourself if you're hungry."

Today was not his day.

Childe pulls out the wooden chair and slumps into the seat, a defeated huff escaping his mouth as he stared at the crystal shrimp placed on the table. It was hastily wrapped by plastic, most likely cold for a while, just like the romantic evening he had planned in his head. Normally you'll be sitting on the otherside while listening to the many tales he went through along the way. Although painting was your passion, it was undeniable that you also enjoyed his kind of lifestyle if you ever had the choice. He was rather surprised on how someone ambitious like him would end up with such a simplistic person but quickly accepted it as life was meant to be unpredictable, just the way he likes it. As Childe entertains you with his stories, he'll listen to your giggles amidst eating the homecooked meals that you both prepared together.

"I wonder if she ate already," he mumbled to his lone self. You most likely did but Childe knows you well. Artists are obsessed and they can go as far as to neglecting their own health for the sake of their masterpieces. Hence, he made sure to remind you to eat properly through the letters he wrote to you.

The harbinger takes a quick glance around the kitchen. It was a mess. The cupboards were slightly opened, metal pots were still displayed on the stone stove and the stench coming from the sink....

Childe pushes himsel up to see what was the cause.

Not even the dishes were washed.

Running his fingers through his bangs, he sighs wearily, "Old habits die hard huh?" And above all else, when artists are obsessed they also forget how disorganized they can become. Childe begins to roll up his sleeves before taking off his gloves. At times like this he'll have to pitch in and take care of it for you, "Looks like I'll be here for a while."

Throughout three sunsets and three moonrises, Childe had no option but to observe you from afar, minus the few attempts he made to regain your attention again. How you would go to bed much later than him, waking up before he opens his eyes and the effort he put into making your food only left with too many leftovers. It wasn't that you were unappreciative, instead, your mind had become too focused that your body was considered a second priority. Like anyone else, Childe genuinely thought you possessed great talent and supports you wholeheartedly. He loved it when you painted pictures just for him as if they were scenes coming out of his hero story, reminded by his adventures, capturing every detail. However he also needed to learn how to deal with this stubborn side of yours.

"Hey babe, I just finished preparing our dinner. Don't you smell that? Such a rich aroma, you should go eat."

"I'm busy."

Your diet were just small bites, the rest being substituted by coffee. Childe could clearly tell that you weren't getting enough sleep either as there were dark circles forming underneath your eyes and slowly, he was starting to become a little irritated.

Three hours passed midnight but you were still awake in the same place doing the same thing. Childe leans against the doorframe with arms folded, already changed into his sleeping clothes. He clears his throat to break the silence, "Ahem."

Your wrist hangs in mid air by the sound of a strange visitor, it was your boyfriend. Gaze in a daze, you lazily turned your head, "What time is it?"

"Way passed the sleeping hours as you can see," he points with his thumb at the table clock in a half-hearted manner, "You should already be in bed by now and don't think you can coax yourself out of the situation this time," his eyes parted in slits as he added with a smile, "Otherwise I might just have to force you myself."

You shook your head, "Give me one more hour? There's some finishing touches I really want to add so," clasping your hands together, you beamed sweetly, "Pretty please? I'll finish up soon."

"Oh really?" Childe challenges, head tossed back like he was interrogating you instead, "I believe that was also what you told me yesterday. And the day before? Adding up all of those days that would be.....four in total?" He deliberately counts upon his fingers before facing you again, this time his expression was slightly more serious, "As much as I find your determination remarkable, there are moments when you need to consider a sufficient amount of rest and this just isn't going to cut it."

"Four days already?!" You exclaimed, "Jeez, I don't even know if I'm halfway done."

Pressing his lips together, Childe glares in an acutely deadpanned countenance, it was also his time too, "Can't you ask this commissioner to extend your due date to next week? In your case, mora shouldn't be the issue since, well...you're dating me anyways."

It's true. Childe was the main reason why you didn't have to live as a starving artist. He had all your expenses fully covered from the marketing aspect to your residence, you simply chose to work out of pure will.

"I don't want to always rely on you so much," you confessed, "This commissioner could turn my whole career around. If I'm able to gain his favour, maybe I'll get promoted to a court painter for the Qixing! Who knows when there will ever be a chance like this again," pumping your fists, you spoke purposefully, "I'll pull an all nighters if I have to!"

Childe brings his hand to his forehead, you looked as if you were nearly about to collapse and yet still considering the option of an all-nighters? The harbinger should've detained you days prior before.

"Hm? Childe, what's wrong?" He suddenly falls deadly quiet and you watched him walk closer towards you, "What are--"

Hooking an arm behind your knees and the other at your back, your boyfriend lifts you up in one full swoop as he tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

"Guess we'll have to do things the hard way," he remarks cheerfully.

"W-Wait," you flailed your arms and kicked your legs but to no avail. Childe was an experienced combatant indeed, "Put me down! I have work to do."

Your protests fall upon deaf ears as the harbinger carries you to your room. You were oddly lighter than the last time he carried you, the strength less vigor than before, it was obvious that your body was in need of relaxation. He suddenly thinks there was a possibility that you would maintain this habit while he was absent.

I should probably visit more often.

Using his free leg to nudge the door open, he places you upon the shared bed in a gentle manner. You winced at the impact of the soft sheets, surprised by how much it affect you.

"There we go. All done. Man, you really are a stubborn one, aren't you. Makes me a little worried since I can't spoil you all the time."

He quickly invited himself to the empty space on your bedside and wrapped his arms around your figure, pulling you close and feeling you whole. Childe made sure there was no escape once putting his chin above your hairline so that you could feel his warmth as much as possible.

"This is--" you stuttered. His tactic was enough to make your limbs soften and you could almost hear him smirk into the distance, "This is cheating..."

"You think so?" He comments as if pledging innocence, "I don't know babe. Where I come from those who take the initiative are the ones who end up claiming the prize," pulling back, Childe takes the opportunity to observe your pouty face, "I don't make the rules. It's just how it goes."

You wanted to argue back but he suddenly took the bedsheets and covered both of your bodies with, completely trapping you with his presence. He snuggles into you further as if you were a bear made of linen and you felt the drowsiness taking over your mind. The way he gently pats down the back of your head was enough to instantly lull you into a deep sleep.

"Cheater," you mumbled.

He laughs softly, the rumbles emitting through his chest, "I love you too babe."

Even after you've let go of your resistance, Childe continues his actions until he was sure that you were resting. He had been longing to touch you like this since living a chaotic life only made peaceful moments much sweeter, "You're such a hard-worker you know that? I'm proud of you but you have to know when to call it a day," he whispers, "If not, how can I go on trips while knowing that you're still refusing to eat properly?"

You closed your eyes and said nothing in return. All your senses were too cloudy to come up with a reassuring response. Childe listens to the way your breath evens as you intake his scent during the process. It smelled like the soap you used in the showers, lotus leaves mixed with his own unique musk. You could only focus on him. His comforting embrace. His slightly accelerating heartbeat because you were together with him.

Letting out one final yawn, you succumbed to his spell and allowed your energy to drift away.

The corners of his lips tug upwards, "Sleep well princess."

Childe reaches over to your desk drawer and shuts off the alarm clock before turning over to face you again. He couldn't fall asleep immediately, not when he had to consider taking care of the commissioner who gave you an impossible deadline. But that will be saved for another day, for now, he observes in silent serenity.

If he were to quit his job for a year, what would his life be like?

Peaceful. Something opposite of what he was living right now. Something similar to the life he had back home. As you arrange the many paintings in your little home, he'll offer to help you among the places you couldn't reach. Without a doubt, Childe was far taller in comparison. Taking strolls into the streets and trying the new dishes the merchants came up with. Then in the evenings, you'll both go to dinner dates while listening to the storyteller revealing the rumours of the legendary Tianquan Qixing. Although Childe loved the adventurous life he led, he had to admit that your domesticity and family-bringing atmosphere was a tempting idea.

Maybe one day.

He lightly takes a strand that had fallen over your nose and tucked it smoothly behind your ear. The soft snores coming out of your parted lips caused his gaze to melt. And so he steals them with his own, placing a chaste goodnight kiss.

One day I'll be sure to bring my family here with us.

Closing his eyes, he joins you in your slumber, hoping to see all that he envisioned in his dreams.

[ddaenghoney]

chapter eighteen

masterlist link in blog description.

As a successful songwriter, you want nothing more than the acknowledgment that the chart-topping musical pieces are your own creations. But contracts, relationships, and the difficulty of facing the stakes involved head on, keep your mouth shut until pressure builds too much.

Pairing(s): Park Jimin x Y/N, Min Yoongi x Y/N

disclaimer: any characters depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respected idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Chapter-based written fic, Slow-burn relationship(s), Fake-dating, Unrequited love, Songwriter/producer!oc, idol!Jimin, idol/songwriter/producer!Yoongi, friends with benefits, drama, romance, smut, angst, fluff (updated as needed)

Chapter warning(s): physical confrontation as well as mob mentality in that there’s a small group verbally harassing OC in a scene; nothing gets too severe, but the repetitive badgering could make some uncomfortable. OC speaking her mind a lot.

Word count: 6057

if you enjoy please, please let me know!

On weekdays Namjoon’s cafe is generally flocked with business workers in the early morning. An inconspicuous assortment of people walking in only long enough for a to-go order to be acquired before they whisk back out the doors in their commute. With the constant flow and few amounts of people that sit down to chat and relax, you choose it as the location to meet with the leader of a girl group from SoundWave you were quite fond of.

Through a series of overly polite texts, she requested a chat to catch up, and you have a feeling there’s more to it than that. You stir your coffee with the straw, watching the ice go in a circle over and over, while contemplating what the other thing she wants to discuss is. There’s no reason for her to want to wake up before her schedule just to catch up, especially not when her group will start promotion for a comeback at the beginning of the next month.

You have an inkling of why she’s going out of her way, but a large part of you hopes to be wrong. You want to assume you left the artists you worked with with a better image than the one swarming around in your head due to sensitivity. If you’re wrong, it would make you happier, and if you are right you are not sure how you will take her opinion.

“Y/N,” Your head lifts as a voice comes from beside you. Brightly she smiles, removing sunglasses from her eyes and keeping her beret style hat secure on top of properly styled straight hair.

“Jihyo, it’s good to see you.” You can’t help a warm greeting in return, undeniably glad to see a familiar face that you’ve never had a problem with. If the people around the cafe were not rushing in and out so haphazardly, you would even take the moment to give her a hug, but an accumulation of increased awareness lately, causes you to simply gesture for her to follow along as you take your drink. “My friend’s the owner and said we could use this meeting room to talk.”

“This is the place you always brought drinks from then?” She comments as she walks in your trail, giving a sweet smile to Namjoon as the two of you pass him by.

“Yeah,” You nod your head, using the previously claimed key to open the doors. “His coffee’s my favorite. Maybe I’m biased though.”

“I’ll grab some on the way out. I’ve been missing it since you used to bring it for meetings.”

You fumble needlessly putting the keys securely in your pocket, nodding your head at her words as you switch the lights on. Recalling the people-- generally artists gives you a difficult time rationalizing your decision to walk away from the company. If it weren’t for how you were ignored for credit, you really would not have left. Even with Yerin in charge looming over everyone with her calculative manipulations, you could get over that because the coworkers you saw everyday made it endurable. Comfortable.

“I was actually kind of surprised to hear you wanted to meet up, to be honest with you.” You sit in one of the chairs surrounding the table. You leave your glass on the wood where you’re sure to forget it quickly. Jihyo sits a seat away on the same side, simply dragging it out to angle it towards you. “I doubt I’m a company favorite right now.”

“It’s pretty divided actually.” She admits, brushing back her hair from covering the faintest of smiles. “Empathizing or thinking you’re acting insane.”

You bite your lip. Which side of the line she stands on you’re sure to find out soon.

“No one expected the thing with Min Yoongi either,” She laughs slightly, without joy. Ironically. “Who would think he’d put himself out there like that-- get fired because of those songs.”

She doesn’t look at you as she speaks, so the discomfort slipping into your eyes is never seen. Like you expect from the employees of SoundWave, they all still view Yoongi distantly. Granted, his involvement in releasing music with you is still a shocking thing to consider as reality. Moments occur where you still worry if you’ve ruined something big for him, but his excitement about conceptualizing a new company of his own sets you at ease.

“Are you both dating now?”

You look up from your lap, finding Jihyo’s eyes to be tame and her lips curled in a giddy way. As though the conversation really is two people catching up without a more grand issue looming in the background. Accepting this moment of simplicity, you don’t stop your mouth from smiling in return. Your head nods in small, but quick jerks. Still new to telling, but you enjoy that you’re able to say,

“Yeah, we decided to become a couple almost two weeks ago.”

“That’s really cute.” Her words beam brightly like the little bop of her shoulders, finding this news nice. “He always seemed so hard to approach-- I think because of how popular he is, I guess.” She rambles along as her fingers push straying locks from her face. “Then again, I’m sure you both had things in common… Both of you being producers and songwriters and all that.”

Contrasting her initial endeared temperament, the reminder Jihyo’s final sentence seems to instill in the forefront of her mind causes her voice to drift into a quieter murmur. She stares towards your melting drink, a hand atop her thigh squeezing to cause wrinkles in the denim she wears.

Finding her remaining silent, you do nothing to fill in the gap with words. Instead, your eyes remain on her, realizing that Jihyo likely means to say whatever is pressuring her shoulders. Her mouth opens slowly, a word apparently clinging to her conscious and away from being said, but she manages to shove the thought out entirely,

“Are you going to tell everyone about everything you made at SoundWave?”

Your heartbeat feels like it rumbles for a short moment in your chest as she asks. The expression on your face remains poised, and you’re more surprised with yourself that you aren’t shocked by her question than you anticipated. Its presence in the air resembles, to you, a draft. You wish it wouldn’t be here, but you aren’t frustrated. Simply expected this.

Collecting your condensated glass into your hand, you take a languid sip, mulling over a reply to her. Frankly, you find yourself remaining in limbo on the topic. In some ways you want nothing more than to scream about all of your production in songwriting to everyone, but maybe you didn’t need to.

“It really,” Jihyo’s voice chips her phrasing like she isn’t sure whether to interrupt your processing, but she goes on. “Would be so bad for us-- us idols. We,” She stammers as you place the glass back on the table so casually, missing your furrowing eyebrows confused at her suddenly timid disposition, “We never wanted you or everyone to make everything for us, Y/N. So many of us want to make our own music. We didn’t want to take credit for everything you made-- you know my group especially didn’t.”

Your lips purse into a line, spine straightening slightly as her plead completes. Like your contract with SoundWave, every idol you are positive had clauses they should have reconsidered or questioned. Considering the chance of a lifetime in front of the people like Jihyo obviously they would overlook the idea that they would not produce their own music-- most likely satiated with the idea that after gaining experience they would be able to create as well.

You realize this. Undoubtedly, the majority of idols and groups did not ever want to claim your songs as their own, but had no choice other than to do so. Ever since the feeling of unfairness started springing within yourself to receive credit, this factor has prevented you from blindly going to the press with your story. You don’t want to ruin all of their careers.

“Jihyo,” You begin as your fingers curl atop the table, loosely forming a fist. “I don’t know if I’m going to tell anyone about it. I really want to, honestly, but-”

“You’ll ruin all of us!” Your lips clamp shut as she suddenly bursts out. “Y/N, I know it sucks for you-- I really do; but this isn’t about you. This is everyone’s careers!” Your hand tenses further as she groans, rubbing her face with her hands. “Don’t you know how many all-nighters, how many days-off, how much we-- I’ve given up to make it this far-”

“You’ve given up?” You say like a knife in her sentence. Your eyes narrow as Jihyo looks at you with startled confusion at your interruption, her hands pausing from rubbing her neck. “Jihyo, regardless of if I was involved, your schedule was always going to be that harsh as an idol.” Her mouth peeks open uncertainly, but you speak on, “Do you know how many things I’ve given up too? You’re not the only one who pulls all-nighters, and gives up personal time, but at least when you give it up you get rewarded with people knowing who you are, meanwhile I get to watch them all think all the work I put into everything was something you did-- what all of you get to claim you did.”

“I know, but-”

“You never even stood up for me.” Jihyo’s eyes widen as though she can see the betrayal of your statement-- the unhidden spite firing in your irises. “None of you ever tried to change anything. You say you never wanted to do any of it, but you all aren’t ever going to try and change it, are you? Watching me get shut down each time was answer enough.”

“Why should I have to fight for any change?” She shoves her words out in haste, appearing defensive as her arms cross. “If you hadn’t noticed, it won’t work. We all get our careers thrown away if everyone were to find out.”

“Because it’s wrong!” Your words loudly propel you forward, leaning towards Jihyo in your seat as she shifts back into hers. “You know it’s wrong! You’re all lying to everyone and letting me be the dirty secret of the fucking company and I’m just supposed to accept it? I’m just supposed to start over from nothing all because none of you have any kind of guts to admit that I’m the one who made your chart-toppers!”

Concern runs rampant in Jihyo’s eyes, mouth remaining gaped as you stare at her with even, full breaths heaving in your chest. Clamping her lips together, she glances towards your drink for no reason other than to avoid your lingering eyes that blister every nerve of guilt swarming in her mind. Shoulders tensing when she listens to you scoff, she wills herself to remain silent from timid retorts as you speak up once more in a voice barely louder than the sound of the clock on the wall.

“Why is it that I’m the only one ever asked to suffer in silence?”

Jihyo blinks her eyes tightly together, building a wall out of every ounce of strength to refrain from the hollow apologies that she realizes would do nothing for you. All she can do is stay in her bubble, presented on the stage with her members as the image given to them by SoundWave. The liberty you explain a desire for isn’t something she can take hold of, especially if her group’s reputation is smashed to pieces by what you could say to clear your name.

“Y/N, I know it’s never been fair of anyone to use you like this-- to always erase your name from everything you’ve created.” Her voice drips frailty off of words intended to appear sound with reason. Composure is lost on her and you can see it as she talks without reaffirming eye contact. You acknowledge the weight in her throat likely at odds with what she feels convicted to ask of you as well, and it makes you feel sorry for her. “But SoundWave isn’t going to do this anymore-- they’re going to let us write our own music now and credit properly, so it’s over at least.”

Your heart drops like a weight towards the ground, eyes instinctively narrowing at her words. Within moments you feel a tremble ricochet throughout your shoulders, and when Jihyo finally tests a tiny look in your direction you know your reaction is not the one she wished for.

“What-” You stutter out the words, shocked beyond belief that a switch in the company had been so simply flipped. She’s able to tell you this so lightly as if the decision came with ease following your leave. “I,” A ball in your throat feels made of metal, scraping your words into fury as you speak slowly, “That was all I ever wanted from them, and they do that now. They do that after I quit.”

“Y/N-” You stand up cutting off Jihyo’s statement before it begins. Shaking your head, you let out a single breathy laugh as your hands clench at your sides,

“I can’t believe this.” You mutter and start an exit from the room, ignoring the clattering on wooden floors behind you as Jihyo stands up.

“Wait, where are you going?” She asks without the sound of footsteps under her words, and you don’t care to look back as you reply simply,

“Away from here. I can’t take listening to this crap anymore, Jihyo.”

Without missing a beat, you pull open the door and exit back into the main cafe space. Remnants of the morning rush cause a small line to linger along with busy employees completing their tasks. Namjoon catches sight of you as you walk along, but doesn’t attempt any wave of goodbye as he notes the contortion in your eyebrows as you quickly mash keys on your phone. He only bites his lip and continues filling paper cups full of hot coffee.

You have no hesitation in turning left down the street to walk northwards, but no destination is in mind as you do so. All you do is exhale a sigh to release some of the frustration while the repetition of a dial tone vibrates in your eardrum.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice rings clear on the other side of the line along with the clicking tone of a car blinker.

“Hey,” You say in response, crossing your free arm so that your hand can squeeze the opposite elbow. “Were you busy?”

“No, just on the way to pick you up from the cafe actually.” He says easily as you nod your head gently. Walking slowly upwards on the sidewalk you have little time to tell him a new location before Yoongi’s voice gently inquires, “How’d it go?”

“Bad.” You say as the news stings like a dagger in your mind. Huffing, you shake your head, “SoundWave’s going to start letting them all make their own music. Credit properly.”

“What?” Yoongi’s voice sounds baffled and you can imagine his neck tensing rigidly with lips frowning at the implication of your words. You nod your head despite him being unable to see you.

“Right? After all the shit they said about it never being possible for me.” Yoongi listens to the frailty of your words, realizing that this news must hurt you so much to have heard. He bites his lips, hands gripping tighter on the steering wheel as he turns a corner,

“I’m so sorry, angel. I should be there in a few minutes and we can go somewhere to talk about it-”

Yoongi’s voice falters away from your ear due to a swift grip on the back of the arm holding the phone. Instinctively, you pull your arm towards yourself as you take a step away from whoever grabbed you. The sole of your shoe presses flat on the concrete as you turn, facing the face of someone you’ve never seen before in your life.

As words scurry around your head in confusion, you say nothing as you take in the appearance of the girl about your height, then your shoulders tense as movement behind her gives reason to look to another. As your focus collects itself you see more than just the two people, but another onlooker further beyond them as well as a person to your side that startles you as she calls out your name.

“What?” You find yourself responding to her call, another step away from the small semicircle they form around you.

“Why are you using Yoongi-” “You got him fired-” “Use your own talent to get a career-” “I bet you didn’t even do anything on those songs. You just want the clout-”

Between the five people, you can’t distinguish whose words belong to you. Continuing rampantly in bursts of ignorant anger towards you, they simply persist onwards. Without giving you any opportunity to defend yourself, all the voices overwhelm your nervous throat and wildly scanning eyes. You take another step away when one becomes particularly enraged as she speaks loudly and her hand reaches out.

Your hand smacks hers away before it can make contact with your shirt, definitively colliding with her skin to make a loud sound that seems to reverberate throughout the avenue. The quiet ensuing is wholly false, but you find it impossible to actually hear anything from them as their reaction consists of even louder yelling at you. Any lips you take a look at are moving and no one reaches again, but you know they want to force their opinions on you with the fury at which they speak.

And all the words you’re able to visualize assert your disgracefulness. In different ways, with strong enunciations you simply are the target of their blame. Everything they don’t know about behind the scenes of all the trouble you’re finally escaping from, they frustratingly paint you as the perpetuator. The reason that all is wrong. “You’re lying to get attention-”

“None of you even know anything!”

Your voice breaks their flow of thundering rage, silencing them entirely by the brutal and unforgiving confidence of your frustrated exclamation. Just like that they’re startled. The fuel of adrenalin leaves them to course through you as you glare in response to their actions. You reaffirm, “Quit blaming me when you don’t know even a percent of what I do!”

One towards the back of the group glances uncertainly at the others, and the one whose hand you hit away takes a step back. Like they didn’t expect you to speak against them. Your hands clench tightly as you remain erect in posture. Eyeing each of them, you find it almost impossible to stop yourself from blurting out every secret you’re obligated to keep for everyone else except yourself.

“What does that even mean?” A guy pushes the girl at the front of the pack aside, storming in your direction but stopping short of contact as you do nothing to evade him. Instead his shoulders shake from your consistent glare that he felt tense in front of. “You’re causing all the trouble!” He manages to fumble out anyways as he works up the nerve to take another step with his arm rising as well, making you begin to move back.

Before contact ever occurs, his wrist becomes clenched within the hand of Yoongi as he steps in between the two of you. A shiver in your spine nearly shakes your knees to a buckle as the sight of his back shielding you releases a wave of worry building in your head.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Yoongi asks lowly, simply throwing down the arm he took hold of as his eyes freeze the man. Disbelieving calls of his name from the small crowd mumble and gasp, clearly overtaken by just the sight of him. “What were you going to do?”

“Yoongi-” You reach both of your hands to clasp onto one of his biceps as he tries to step closer to them. “Let’s go,” His head shifts to look back at you, dark irises tinted with immense irritation from what he just walked up to. You shake your head as you consider what could go on if you both remain, and your fingertips tremble on his skin.“Please. I don’t want you to do this.”

Yoongi turns towards you, maneuvering his arm as your hands fall away so that he can press a guiding hand to your back. He looks back towards the group as you both only take a few steps. Ignoring the cling of your hand on his chest to continue him along, he speaks up with conviction, “If I find your names, I’ll report this.”

He takes no heed of their instant rebuttals as they call feebly out to the pair of you as you walk along. Instead, Yoongi drops his hand from your back to take hold of yours as he believes you’d prefer. Finding your fingers quickly intertwining with his own, Yoongi sighs, squeezing as the severity of what you leave behind catches up with him.

“Did any of them hurt you?” He asks the moment he enters into the driver’s seat of the car. The door slams beside him and your head shakes as you fumble with the seatbelt to get it latched. “Angel,” He shifts towards you, delicately cupping your cheek as your body freezes in response. “Are you okay?”

Seeing Yoongi’s eyes searching through your own for any of the discomfort you should feel is soothing. His palm warms your skin and in that moment you relish in the sensation despite the heat that remains in the air of early fall. The breath in your chest escapes through your lips, and Yoongi’s thumb twitches worriedly against your cheek.

“Yeah.” You nod slowly, overlapping his larger appendage with your own freely allowing yours to grip softly. “Honestly, I am.”

Yoongi doesn’t completely believe your words, if only because he can’t imagine how terrifying being so arbitrarily surrounded is. He bites his lip, head tilting as though to ask again.

“Nothing really bad happened.” You say shrugging your shoulder, and glancing downwards. “And everything they were mad about is completely stupid-- they shouldn’t have done any of that.” The hand you left atop his own, strays to glide slowly up his wrist and resituated on his forearm, gently guiding him from cupping your cheek so that you can return to holding his hand. “They really don’t know anything.”

“That doesn’t give them the right to act like that, angel.” Yoongi’s hand engulfs yours while he talks, prompting your eyes back up to his. You nod your head, entirely in agreement. The sight causes Yoongi’s brow to furrow slightly.

“Can you drive me to SoundWave?”

“What?” He blurts out on impulse, frowning more from bewilderment than anything else. “What for?”

“I want to talk to Yerin.” You say simply, as the reasonings those people threw at you return to your mind, as well as the worries of Jihyo that brought her to plead with you for the sake of her career, and the voice ripped away from Jimin petrifying him from ever expressing his thoughts to you until it was far too late.

Yoongi’s mouth opens to speak, but he stops from doing so. Your eyes give him the answer before he has to vocalize the question. Instead a small chuckle escapes him more similarly to a grainy breath. “Okay.”

Within the confines of the elevator, Yoongi stares up at the growing number as you both go higher up the building. Between your bodies he starts a tiny sway of your held hands, while he squints in thought before finally speaking,

“Not that I think you’re wrong to go and talk to her, but do you think it’s going to do anything?” He recalls his own efforts of very early on in the merger that subliminally requested a change of his image to represent something closer to himself. Just like the rest of the employees who try to escape the confines of narrowly set paths, Yoongi too was swiftly rejected in few words with only an explanation of there being no need to change something that works.

“Who knows.” You say not realizing until your voice comes out that despite the mellow timbre that there’s a hint of timidness as well. Yerin has always been the greatest shadow in your mind for years now. Someone you’ve never been able to stand across from and feel equal with because of her subdued confidence that showered her veil of control over the entire company. “I don’t think I care if it does anything. I’m just over this.”

“Should I wait out here?” Yoongi asks as you both step out of the opening doors. He ignores the obvious shock in his peripherals from the secretary that likely has no way to gauge how to handle your presence in the room. Everything on Yoongi’s side is practically settled, and you have simply been a former employee for weeks now; not supposed to be returning so high up in the building.

“No,” You squeeze tighter on his hand, turning your head to look up at him as you remain paces from the secretary’s desk. You speak quietly. “I don’t think you’ll have to say anything, but having you there would feel better.” You frown as you think that it may sound selfish to have dragged Yoongi along this far only to tell him he won’t actually do much. “You’re comforting for me…”

“Then I’ll go in with you, sweetie.” Yoongi says before gently pressing a tiny kiss to your temple, as you squeeze his hand bashfully. “I’ll cheer you on-- you can give me inspiration for a diss track-”

“Stop.” You smile, bumping your hip against Yoongi and continue the walk to the desk with him trailing alongside you.

Satisfied slightly that he could at least break away some nerves, Yoongi takes in a larger inhale than usual. Frankly he’s unsure of what you plan to say to Yerin, but considering all of the grief instilled on you so far from her, Yoongi doesn’t doubt it could be definitive. If you find closure from this, then he’ll be content with this choice of a blindsiding meeting, but he can’t help worrying that some emotions could create words inciting angry retribution on the side of SoundWave.

Your collected demeanor as you speak to the secretary, along with the full way you stand with shoulders straight and each leg stood with no slouch gives Yoongi something to relax about. When he thinks about one of the first times he interacted with you, an evident difference in your assurance exists. Where you had bumped into him escaping a meeting room, you’re now choosing to cut into any current schedule to speak to Yerin following the public reaction she’s passively caused.

Steadily, you enter into her office only minutes later, never needing to bother with waiting in a seat. Yoongi follows after you simply standing closer to the door while he watches you stride towards the desk. Yerin sits with relaxed posture, though her eyes go from Yoongi to you with perplexity.

“Should I have the lawyer present for whatever you want to talk to me about?” She asks instead of greeting, letting her forearms rest on the wood before her.

“Doubt it.” You say, not taking a moment in your head to consider where to begin. Everything you would like to exclaim to her flutters violently around, so much so you believe her narrowing eyes to be preparing herself for the eventual explosion. You want nothing more than to get a genuine apology to fall from her lips along with admittance that she was wrong to do everything to you that she has, but your calm heartbeat reminds you of the impossibility of that route.

You know she wouldn’t loosen her stubborn tongue to admit anything of the sorts. You could even assume she has no regrets so far. Watching our reputation’s stature diminish for years is nothing but a casualty in her calculations. Needless to fret about it when the product of your fingers has given so much acclaim to the company. All Yerin’s allowed happen is a choice made to receive the most lucrative result. Whatever happened to you is of little consequence.

“Did you ever think what you did to me was wrong?”

Your question’s candor rings softly in the room. Not timid, but somehow resigned. Almost like a test, Yerin believes as she continues to stare towards you without so much as a waver in emotion from the depth of the question.

“You agreed to it.”

“As a twenty-year-old worried about paying back my college.” You swiftly insert the context, shaking your head so as to not let Yerin detract from the severity of her contract in your life. “You know how much of an incentive working at a company like this would have been to anyone in my position. Any student, or young adult just starting out. You used it against me.”

“You could have walked away.” Yerin reaffirms before sighing as she sits back in her seat. “Considering all of that about yourself back then, what would you expect a company to do for you? That was your chance back then to start in the career you want. Everyone starts small; why would there be an exception for you?”

“You came to me.” You say with an even voice. Yerin’s hand curls on the table, visually reacting slightly. “I submitted songs for a contest, but you came to me with a contract. I didn’t see anyone else getting contracts back then,” You cross your arms and your head tilts with your blunt conclusion. “You saw enough in me to seek out a long-term job, and you didn’t want me to leave when I didn’t re-sign. You can’t try to convince me otherwise of that.”

“Of course I didn’t.” She says with a scoff. “I don’t deny you’re talented-”

“But you denied me from showing everyone else that!” You assert as your arms gesture to emphasize your frustration. “In some ways, I could understand you not giving me credit as a new rookie at this job, but I worked here for five years. I have nothing to show for it anywhere because you wanted me to be stuck here for the rest of my career, and you know what? I probably would’ve stayed for a long time if you would have just given me the damn credit that I deserved!”

Yerin remains quiet as you pause to take a breath and collect yourself from the startling rant. Her jaw tightens along with her fisting hands on the desk and shockingly to you, she averts her gaze to the side. Swallowing down any nerves, you go on without remorse as you attempt to hit every point you can,

“Now I hear you’re going to let the idols produce, and give all the songwriters proper credit. Everything you did to me is going to just be me, huh? You won’t do it again because you know it’s wrong-- you know whoever you trap is going to end up wanting out just like me and you’re not willing to take any chances on this perfect company image getting messed up by some songwriter, isn’t that right?”

“Y/N, I’m not the only person in charge of these decisions. There’s a board. You know that.” Yerin says at a low volume. She still looks from you towards a window overlooking the city that you doubt she’s focusing on. She’s in the wrong. She knows it and you can see her silently admitting it whether she wants to or not. But no responsibility claimed.

“When Jimin, Jihyo, and all the other idols here wouldn’t take my side it was because you’re in charge of the decisions.” You say before scoffing, watching her flinch from the sound and turn to finally face you. “When I come up here to talk to you about it, you say it’s because of the board. It’s always someone else’s fault that I couldn’t be helped. You’re the CEO. If you knew this was wrong, you should’ve said something. It’s your job to look out for the company, but it’s also your job not to be spineless and pass blame around.”

Yerin’s eyes widen at the end of your composed speech. Standing up with intent to challenge your words, she opens her mouth with a glower aiming at you, but freezes as your eyes narrow and you take a step forward to stop just short of her desk,

“I just practically got attacked before I came here because people think I ruined a career just by having my name in the credits of his songs.” You coat your words with convicted resentment. “All of my friends are begging me to stay quiet because their careers could be ruined by me saying I wrote so much of their music. I wouldn’t have to be everyone’s enemy-- I wouldn’t be hated by so many people right now if you hadn’t forced everyone in this company to lie in the first place. Everyone wants me to be quiet right now because all the lying is supposed to stop? I’m supposed to be the scapegoat for this company and be the only one to receive all of the infamy for your unethical crap? That’s not going to happen.”

“What?” Yerin’s voice stutters a shocked response on impulse. Her fingers drag against the wood of the desk, evidently nervous by the implications. “You can’t mention anything about your job here, Y/N. That’s in the agreement.”

“Remove the non-disclosure clause.”

Yerin scoffs in pure disbelief, looking past you to Yoongi as he simply remains a spectator. Clearly unprepared for all that you’ve said thus far, but doing nothing to stop you from continuing. She shakes her head as her eyes come back to you. “I’m not doing that.”

“Then don’t. I’m still telling the press.” You say simply as a shoulder shrugs, and you loosely cross your arm.

“You’ll,” Yerin pauses when she realizes her heartbeats acceleration. “You’ll lose all your royalties. We’ll sue you.”

“Sue me then.” You nod your head once, completely unwavering as you just shrug again. “Really. I’ll just drag the suit out. Let you all show your true colors to the public and then we’ll see if you think it’s worth it to get involved in your fail-safe plan when everyone still realizes how much SoundWave has forced its employees to shut up and lie about.”

The brief wave of silence as you finish feels uplifting on your shoulders. Yerin only looks on at you with indication that she doesn’t know what to say to convince you otherwise. You don’t allow her to dwell, simply dropping your arms from their crossed position over your front.

“You made your choice.” You turn on your heel to start a path towards Yoongi, sparing a glance back towards Yerin as she calls out,

“You shouldn’t do this, Y/N! You’re trying to get back at me, but you’re just going to ruin everyone at this company-”

“I’m not trying to get back at you.” You turn to her as Yoongi opens up the door. “I’m not responsible for this anymore. This isn’t my fault. It was always your fault from the moment you made me sign that contract and never planned to change your ways.”

Without another word spoken you leave the room behind Yoongi, feeling absent of regret and restraint in your throat. As though lighter on your feet you exit the company and with it abandoning all of the fear it has instilled on you for years. No plan of avoidance lingers in your head to save face for the greed of SoundWave’s sake, and even though you’re still unsure of coming days, you don’t feel wrapped in deceit.

Upcoming seasonal winds will begin and you have no doubt the frail veil remaining on your image will drift away into the past as you walk into new days.

if you enjoy please, please let me know via ask, comment, rb with tags– however ! i’d just really appreciate feedback 🥺 i hope you enjoy the series, i’m working really hard on it! : )

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[seasaltmemories]

You Say You Wanna Go to Heaven, But You’re Human Tonight

Rating: T

Summary: And so, Alm added idolatry to the list of his sins.

~

The morning after Duma was slayed, Celica rose at dawn to pray.

The first time, Alm saw this, he had wondered if in her half-awaken haze she had somehow forgotten the events of yesterday.  Such a theory might sound crazy at first glance, but some mornings he imagined himself back in Ram Village.  Memories took a long time to die, so rather than inflict her any pain, he had faked slumber and let her go along her day, before “properly” waking up himself.

In time, he thought, they would both learn to accept the present.  Morning lies always faded away in the afternoon’s bright light.

But as the days turned into weeks and then months, still she continued to pray.  Ignorance nor denial could explain her actions.  She spoke of Mila’s and Duma’s demise with as much certainty as anyone else. Yet as busy as they were with rebuilding Valentia, she continued to find time to converse with those who would never answer her.

It would have been easy to write it off as madness, a quirk she had picked up to survive.  Most of them had strange habits of their own--like how Mathilda always carried a knife up her sleeve, even when the battlefield was far away and she was decked in her court finery, or how Valbar refused to be placed anywhere besides the front-lines, even when he looked ready to pass out from so much marching in his heavy army.  Everyone found their own way to cope, and the polite thing to do was turn away and pretend you didn’t notice anything.

But then Alm’s own idiosyncrasies made that difficult to do.  Like a voyeur, stealing away a moment of intimacy, he woke early to spy on her prayers.  He never let on that he was awake, rather he silently studied her closed eyes and clasped hands, searching for the method to it all.

It seemed faith had little to do with the gods themselves.

It wasn’t as if Alm had ever disliked religion.  Growing up, he had done everything expected of him: attended every religious holiday with a proper tribute of wool in tow, said his prayers to thank Mila for the year’s harvest, even as they dwindled with each famine.  But unlike Faye, whose eyes had sparkled with purpose when she had donned the clock and pledged herself to be Mila’s personal tool, Alm had never been able to understand such devotion.  He couldn’t give himself up for a being he had never even seen before.

The hypocrisy didn’t escape him.  It was because of Duma’s blessing, Valentia had deemed him their Saint-King.  Without Mila’s mercy, he would have been powerless to save Celica, forced to kill her by his own hand.  However it was those very boons that caused him to chafe against the concept.  Because if Duma had cursed him with his dying breath, if Mila had deemed Celica a proper sacrifice that must be made, was he supposed to have just step aside and bend to their will?  Was he supposed bleed himself dry for creatures whose talons had shed so much blood in the first place?

Even if the gods hadn’t been mad, hadn’t deserved to finally have some peace, he knew he would have slaughtered them still if it meant saving the life of one of his loved ones.  He couldn’t understand Celica having done the near opposite.  When they had discussed such matters in the dead of night, huddled together and whispering secrets against the other’s skin, her words might as well have been spoken in another language.

“Of course I rather live a long and happy life, but Valentia is much bigger than just you and me.”  Her red curls had tickled the crook of his neck and she settled in.  “It’s our birthright to take care of it.  My one life was hardly a price if it had really meant peace would return.”

There was no point in arguing with her when the matter was all said and done, but despite their physical closeness she seemed so far away in that moment--so virtuous and good that she was untouchable.  And later on it seemed as if he wasn’t the only one to feel this way.  Already many former clergy members had taken to preaching her as Mila incarnated as a human.  While most days he was glad for her, during lonely, selfish nights the devil inside would want to cut her wings, pin her to the earth, and never let her go.

“She promised herself to me, and me alone!  I’m sorry, world, but you can’t have her!”

Each time such a thought came to him, he followed the same routine.  He imagined himself picking up the thought, examining it thoroughly, and then locking it inside a black chest, never to be considered again.  Such a route was dangerous to travel, placing his love for his own desires over his love of Celica. Still whenever the box rattled and screamed, he cracked it open just one inch.  He allowed him to steal that one moment of privacy with what remained of the gods.

In the last week or so, Celica had finally scheduled a meeting with her new acolytes.  It was useful to have such loyal allies during a change in power, but it was tricky business to keep such a following from getting distorted into an actual cult.  Still it was the first time they had been separated from the war.  Despite knowing she was safe and doing important work, it was difficult to calm his nerves.

She was due to return in the early morning, so he tried to get some sleep.  Still he tossed and turned throughout the night, getting little rest.  He must have dozed at one point, because he ended up waking with a start when he heard the door to his quarters open.

“Hello, darling,” Celica whispered as she entered.  “I’m home.”

“Celica...what are you wearing?”  It was a pitiful response, bu  the outside light haloed her body provided just enough illumination for him to make out that she was wearing a saint’s garb.  Such a choice perplexed him so, he lost any greetings he might have offered up.

“It’s a long story, but the Church of the One Kingdom offered me a promotion,”  She padded across the room to sit at her dresser.  “Even though technically priestesses can’t qualify as saints...I must look ridiculous, don’t I?”

Ridiculous was far from the truth.  She looked radiant, holy, every bit of the heavenly angel they believed her to be.  It made his heart ache like nothing else.

“It’s late, so feel free to go back to sleep.  I’ll tell you about my day in the morning proper.”

“I’m not that tired, I don’t mind staying up longer.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t miss a thing.  I”ll make sure it’s the first thing I do.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

Silence seized the two of them.  Shame compelled Alm to turn away.  He didn’t deserve to look at her after such a blasphemous slight, but there was some enthralling about the sight of her staring at him like that.  Celica had removed her makeup yet still remained gowned.  It was if she was caught between the divine and the earthly.

Slowly, she removed the pins from her hair.  It fell like a curtain across her shoulders.  “You’re right.  I guess I’ve gotten used to white lies in my time away.  The things they expect of me...”

“You’ve earned your stunning reputation though.”  Alm insisted.  “No matter how difficult it is, you’ll always choose the right choice.”

“I guess, absence truly makes the heart grow fonder.”  She undid the tassels flowing from her sleeves before taking off her gloves.  It was strange how much beauty seemed to linger in such a simple motion.  “Although we must be living proof of it.”

“There’s something tantalizing about what you can’t have.” He was trying not to concentrate on the heat pooling in his belly, but he couldn’t stop his breath from hitching as she unfastened her breastplate.  Still he could not look away.

“Where did you get the idea that I am not yours?”  Celica laughed. She made a show of sliding her hands down the curves of her body as she removed her skirts.  “You usually wear green with more grace.”

How odd.  He felt more like a heretic to be called out for his jealousy of the gods than he did after slaying them with his own hands.  “I’m just a fool chasing after a girl too important for his little dreams.  Didn’t stop to consider my competition until it was too late.”

“You of all people shouldn’t put me on a pedestal.”  She shucked the last of her clothes until only her small-clothes remained. “I’m too flawed to survive up there.”

“You don’t think you’ll resent me for dragging you down?”  You didn’t tame envy by fanning its flames, but oh if he could be allowed this moment of weakness.  She had already shed so much of her celestial exterior for him.  He didn’t want to be her world forever, only for this night.

Instead of responding, she slide off the last of her modesty.  From the foot of their bed, she crawled on all fours until she was perched in his lap.  Faintly her tongue traced the shell of his ear.  “As long as you know how to worship me properly.”

And so, Alm added idolatry to the list of his sins.

A.N. Religion is fascinating to me, especially in the context of Celica’s arc where her devotion remains yet she kills a god (and later gets imagined as one in her ending), I also for a dreamwidth event got challenged to write a story with a striptease in it, and this Bastille song has been in my head, so as usual I set about trying to weave together differing elements