#n that fear of losing her is just as tenfold

[sexysilverstrider]

i bring my kieran thoughts to you once more but this one involves arven. i think its *so funny* when people do a love triangle with kieran, arven, and juli because they always portray kieran as this super jealous guy and arven as a clueless sweet himbo. i dont believe that. look back at how hard arven asserts in area zero that HES your best friend and NO ONE ELSE and you have SUCH A GREAT BOND. (1/2)

personally i see both arven and kieran to be clingy and easily jealous but each have their own way of jealousy.

like arven asserts his friendship with aoi. yes. but he doesnt realize how deep his feelings are for aoi until like later/when the situation calls where aoi is talking abt romantic feelings to another person. yes hes clingy to her but clingy in a way like 'THIS IS MY BEST FRIEND. SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND. MY BESTEST FRIEND. MY BEST FRIEND. DID I REMIND YOU GUYS THAT SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND. SHES SO COOL. MY BEST FRIEND.' like man went through so much grief in his childhood that the trauma has shaped him without realizing it. aoi has always been there for and with him BUT he also sees her bond with penny and nemona and besides him calling himself aois bestest friend he thinks nothing of it.

until kieran comes into the picture

arven gets jealous. definitely. but his jealousy is. safer in a sense. he gets anxious and nervous and just the fear of losing someone dear again really can make a grown man panic. he'll realize his feelings and tries to win her before its too late.

now kieran. kieran is literally the blueprint for any yandere trope. he was obsessed with ogerpon. he then got obssessed with beating and wanting to be like aoi. we have literal dialogues about how he got aoi in the brain. aoi became the sole reason he made a 180. aoi changed him in the worst way possible.

of course flash forward to the post dlc. he definitely lets it all go (as he said) but i see it as he slooowly gets over the process. hes taking a leave of absence after all kieran baby come back so he needs to therapy time to think back and redeem himself. hes slowly reverting back to his timid sweet self but heres the shtick: only to aoi

hes gain a reputation to be ruthless and cold. while hes not that anymore people still either fear or respect or hate him. hes calm at best or indifferent at worst. but to aoi? thats when people gets to see his sweetest. and to people flirting with aoi? thats when people gets to see his worst.

he still has that obsessive tendencies. he still has possessive tendencies. kieran will definitely assert his dominance over aois attention. sometimes subtle. sometimes not. im not talking volo levels of obsession of course but hes still a cunning boy and the best part is he doesnt even realize it. he loves aoi A LOT and he will not make the same mistake that causes him to lose her or this new bond they share.

anon i hear you aois bond with arven is way stronger and meaningful but kieran doesnt know that. and even if he does he does not care. aoi was kierans first love and its love at first sight. shes everything he ever wants to be and now shes everything he ever wants

[marvelmymarvel]

World On Fire

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Skywalker!Reader

Synopsis: Trying to stop your baby brother before it was too late resulted in a very worried Obi-Wan and an even angrier Anakin.

"Anakin please" you cried out, tears streaming down your face as you took in the yellow eyes of your younger brother. Part of you wondered what you should have done differently, how could you have stopped this?

"Join me, Y/n. The power of the dark side flows through you. I can feel it"

You shook your head at him, lips trembling as you fought the urge to caress your growing stomach for comfort. You weren't sure how he'd react if he found out you were pregnant, but you didn't want to find out. Not here. Not now.

"Anaki-" your words cut off as pressure was applied to your neck, causing you to gasp for air as he choked you with nothing but the dark force surrounding him. "If you won't join me, sister, then I will have to kill you. You know too much about me"

You shook your head, hands scratching at your neck as you fought off the assault. The red atmosphere was started to grow fuzzy and the fear of dying coursed through you. Tears streamed faster down your face, was this the end for you?

Dark spots filled your vision and before you could once more try and mutter out his name, you dropped to the floor.

But you weren't dead, not yet. Anakin wanted to kill you a different way. He ignited his lightsaber as Obi-Wans ship began to descend into the fiery land. He wanted to wait for his dear Master to come out. So that Obi-Wan can see the death of the only person he dared love.

You.

The bridge lowered. Obi-Wan flew out of it and towards you in worry. He ignored Anakin and instead knelt beside you. Reaching out, he closed his eyes and gently rested his hand on your stomach. A sigh of relief flew from his lips when he felt both your force and the child's. It took Anakin a second, but once he connected the dots his rage grew tenfold.

"You dare preach to me that love is not the way of the Jedi... Yet go and have a child with my sister?" His anger was suffocating, even for the older man who had somehow grown accustomed to the darker side of people. He hated this, part of him wanted to try and save Anakin, and the other part wanted to protect you. The vow he took meant he always had to obey the first one.

But he didn't care anymore.

He stood swiftly, blocking your body from Anakin's as he too ignited his lightsaber. "I won't allow you to hurt her, Anakin" Obi-Wan whispered, his heart clenching at the thought of losing both you and Anakin. But he most definitely could not lose you.

Anakins smile grew sinister.

"Then I guess you'll just have to try and stop me... Master. Because she will die and it will be all your fault"

[longjohnsilverfish]

This Looks So Bad!

❤️A Karlach/Astarion Story❤️

[NSFW/18+] My first fic! Hope you enjoy!

A/N: I suggest the ship name be “Bloodfire”. Also everyone is in the character origin clothes.

For @moonselune. You did my dumb asks, so I thought I write you a fic for thanks.

^_______________________________________^

As the fireflies danced in the air, Karlach felt her infernal heart leap with quiet joy as she watched her friends converse amongst themselves. The night air cool against her mahogany red skin, tickling her ears as it brushed wisps of hair from their place.

All had quite changed in the few months she and her beau had been gutting and massacring the imps and cambions of Zariel’s forces.

So, so much.

Gale was a teacher. Minthara was regaining her power in the Underdark. Lae’zel and Shadowheart, married of all things—with a child, no less! Minsc and Jaheira were off on their on, having many stories to be shared. Halsin had returned to freed Shadowlands, and all was regrowing and reliving. Wyll—well, Grand Duke Ravenguard—was making Baldur’s gate better than ever.

And all that was left, was Astarion and—

“Oh, Karlach darling~.”

The red tiefling popped her head upwards from her thoughts. Sitting in the large golden, red cushions allowing the large woman to just rest, her fiery amber eyes stared around the party for the voice of her vampiric lover.

At least she thinks she did.

Am I losing it already? I could’ve sworn I heard him.

And just as the muscular tiefling thought as much, two cold dainty hands covered her eyes from behind. Even as gentle as they were, the palms were calloused from grim and dark warring, and the smell of charcoal and soot once more invaded Karlach’s senses—a driving memory of what tomorrow would bring, away from their moment of heaven.

“Oh! There you are.”, Karlach said with a grin, slowly taking her hands upwards to cup both pale, slim hands in her own red ones—cold and warmth purring together as they melted into a warm embrace together, fingers knitted and palms pressed.

Karlach stared upwards, as two eyes as red as her skin stared back.

“I’ll always be here, my love.”, Astarion purred.

It was a rough six months—so much action, blood, sleepless nights. It was Avernus, but it seemed that it was tenfold that last few days. It was a good thing Withers got them when he did.

Perhaps now, they could rest their backs and ease their muscles without any fear. “I was thinking…”, Astarion said suddenly. Karlach jumped back to the present, seeing the vampire look away slightly, biting his lower lip with a single fang just lightly, their intertwined right hand coming to rest upon his cheek.

“Ooh, scary.” The woman teased, earning her a nip at her wrist as Astarion locked his gaze with her. A tiny bulb of red grew from her wrist, a small sting growing.

“Hush, you.” He chided, kissing the blood away.

“Were you hungry?” She asked cocking her head to the side. “I’m sure we could find something for you.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure.” He dismissed, looking off without care. “But.”

“But?” Karlach furrowed her brow.

Astarion looked down, a twinkling amusement in his eyes.

”Well, we have an entire night to ourselves.” He began, kissing her wrist once more, his hand now holding the back of her own with a gentle touch, sharp nails grazing her skin in a babe-like touch. “No imps to carve, no devils to gut—just you, and me.” He grinned, baring his fangs. “And with that heart of yours now stable, I think it’s time I taste that forbidden red, hm?”

Karlach’s eyes widened, her body shifting in the large chair—that seemed to grow warmer each second.

And as each second passed, the red tiefling’s smile grew larger, her cheeks growing hotter. Her grip in his left hand tightened just slightly.

Karlach felt Astarion’s hand tighten around hers.

”I won’t hold back.” She said softly, her eyes not hiding her raging love.

“I would hope not, being that we’ve been through the Hells together this long.” The white-haired man bent downwards—nose touch nose.

“And I hoped the “Fury of Avernus” wouldn’t just want to talk and fall asleep after months of…pent-up anger, yes?”

…Well, when are we going to have another time?

•••••________•_________••••

“Now, get comfortable, darling.” Astarion ordered with tone of playful haughtiness. “This is our first time, after all.”

“I can take a bite, ‘Starion.” Karlach assured, snuggling into the grass.

As her arms cuddled within the soft blades of green, the strong tiefling felt a wave of calm wash over her—a growing fire in her core melting into a hot pool of molten magma. Her clothes rustled against her rough skin, hair tickling her nape as the soft breeze ushered her into its embrace.

This is the spot he first asked me, yeah? Karlach had glances around her surroundings. The trees stood tall and quiet, the leaves swaying in unison, the moon shining down upon the both of them. This looked like the spot, if not very similar.

How different it was, months ago. And yet Selûne’s bright beauty still looked so gracious on him.

Gods, he glows. How could anyone look so heavenly?

The sound a shirt plopping to the ground made Karlach stare to the small purple pile. A blush came to her face, as the tiefling was now lying down upon the grass with her vampiric lover standing above her—shining like diamonds, well cut and beautiful.

“Hm. Now let’s see…” Astarion spoke softly, looking down with his hand on his chin. A moment passed before the elf snapped his fingers in eureka.

“Oh yes!”

With a cough, Karlach watched as Astarion did a twirl. As he body faced her once more, he outstretched an hand to the beautiful tiefling woman, his eyes half-lidded and voice dropping an octave into a seductive, hungry voice.

“There you are. I’ve been waiting.”

Karlach smiled as the imposing man slowly approached her, his eyes growing more rabid and fangs glowing in the moonlight as he walked forward.

“Waiting since the moment…”

Karlach’s heart raced faster as the vampire crouch to her, slowly climbing over her body as he continued his monologue. Her teeth bit her lower lip as he approached.

“…I set eyes on you.”

As the elf now was eye to eye with her, their breaths intermingled just as their bodies, a soft cold hand came upwards to capture her cheek. Karlach’s raging fire shined through her eyes like a light in the darkness—a hope, a life, and love that would endure for ages.

“Waiting to have you.”

Waiting no more, both man and woman surged for a kiss. A flavor, a feeling, a fluttering sense of heat that Karlach would always want for as long as she’s lived.

Slow and passionate, tongues and teeth lashing and dancing, huffs of pleasure leaving their maws in wanton lust was making Karlach more burned than her own heart ever did. Her strong arms slowly wrapped around Astarion’s back, pulling him deeper into her hold. Just as the red woman found her paving, Astarion pulled away in a pant—a long line of saliva connecting their lips. Both Karlach and Astarion panted in heat and exhaustion, their fires of want more brighter than ever.

“As much…as I like to kiss you,” Astarion heaved, his brow slightly moist. “I haven’t ate.”

“Then eat, fancy boy.”

Astarion grinned and bent down to Karlach’s exposed neck, turning her head to the left with a touch of his fingers.

“I shall, fire girl.”

A sting. A burn. A seeping calm that flowed through her body.

Karlach gripped Astarion’s back, sighing in a high-pitched wave of unfamiliarity.

Unfamiliar, yet welcome.

Gulp after gulp, Karlach felt her body heave and still. Her heart no longer raced in anticipation, but instead was calm beating that no longer worried.

No Zariel. No blueprints. No Hells.

Just her and Astarion, and her forbidden red he could finally taste.

Her eyes began to drift—first to her lover, who dutifully drank his fill, hand caressing her face in praise. From his white curls of snowy mountain peaks, did Karlach’s slight fleeting perception take note of her lover’s position upon her.

More accurately, how…odd it looked.

Several months of anxiety-filled fights and non-stop running from hordes of imps had left Karlach and Astarion shockingly no time to sleep together.

And it seemed, Astarion had forgotten—or didn’t care, most likely—to position himself normally.

Normally, Astarion would intertwine his leg with Karlach’s, and his body would be stretched out as far as he could over her muscled body.

At least, that’s what Karlach think he’d do. They hadn’t exactly ever tried. When would you find time in the Hells, exactly?

Whatever the matter, case, or whatnot—it was supposed to be hot.

Astarion—hunched over the tall, giant woman like a tiny goblin hoarding gold greedily, body hiked upwards to her chest with his knees on both sides of her chest, and overall looking extremely smaller than her, was not hot. His entire body was rocking in an air hump on her breasts, and his demean had the same energy as a little quasit in heat.

And as he suckled her neck desperately, the whole scene dawned on Karlach in a sense of hilarity. And as she slowly realized this, the large tiefling woman began to laugh uncontrollably.

“Ha-haha. Hahahaha—!”

“Hm? Karlackk?”

“—ahahahahaha! Haha! Hahaha—!”

“Kar—gah—Karlach?”

“—HAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

Karlach felt her entire body quake with a feverous joy. The image in her head was quite a sight. So much so, the woman shut her eyes and continued her plaguing laughter until she felt two hands hold her shoulders and rock her slightly. Even still, the woman kept her laughter loud and proud.

“Darling? What is the matter?” Astarion looked down, his brow furrowed and his eyes amused, blood slightly smudged on his lower lip.

“Y-you! You!”, cried Karlach, squeezing her eyes shut to not look at Astarion and cease her voice—to no avail.

“Me?”

“Yes!”

“What did I do?”

“This looks so bad!”

“W-what?”, laughed Astarion incredulously. “How?”

“You’re hunched like a damn chihuahua trying to mate a Great Dane!”

A second wind came, and this all but empowered Karlach’s lungs as she heaved and gagged on her own breath. A sudden shift in weight made the strong woman turn onto her back, all while her arms—no grabbing nothing—held herself as she threw a giggling fit.

“I-I’m sorry! But I couldn’t stop myself from thinking it! You looked so weird!”

Just as Karlach began to cease her laughter, drying her tears with the back of her hands, head turned to see her lover. As she calmed, Karlach’s watery eyes caught the sight of Astarion—slowly removing the rest of his own outfit.

And as the echo of Karlach’s laughter ended, did Astarion’s start to be heard.

“A chihuahua mating a Dane, hm? That is quite ridiculous.” A mischievous tone was in his voice, and the sound of a belt being rattled and moved made what magma was pooling in Karlach’s core now erupt like volcano.

Now seeing more clearly, Karlach saw Astarion walking towards her—belt in both hands wrapped tightly. He was no gloriously naked—slim, hairless body that held his curved manhood like a trophy on display for all of nature to marvel at.

With no time to react, the elf crouched behind the tiefling woman and tied the belt firmly around her wrists together in a bind. It felt powerful against the tiefling, and albeit very weak—yet Karlach knew she didn’t want to break free.

“Well, you know what they say…”

The clap of Astarion’s palms on Karlach’s leather pants made her shiver, his sharp nails digging under the elastic of her trousers and undergarments.

“Every mountain top is within reach, if you just keep climbing.”

Swiftly, the lusting elf pulled both off and to her creased knees—just revealing her absolutely soaked cunt to the air. Karlach looked over her shoulder the beat she could—ass and tail in the air, almost seeing the slight mist from her hot core against the cool air.

“Ha-ha. Ha. Cold. Co-O-old-ah!”

A single digit dragged its base upwards and downward the puffy slit of Karlach. Teasing, playing, like a child does a new toy. Slowly down, starting tight at the large clit that pulsed throbbed. The path of thick pink lips and shiny hot flesh was surrounded by soft dark curls that were soaked in sweet fragrant lust that condensed into leaking excitement—all pouring from a soft, small hole that begged to be touched inside and out as Astarion’s finger continued its journey.

“O-oh! Oh, Star! Ah-Astar—!”

A loud, cold smack came to Karlach’s ass, quick and short lived to think about as the hand dragged across the roundness of Karlach’s buttox—making its way to the base of her wagging tail. The tiefling groaned in happiness of the sensations—from not being able to even hug, to now having her womanhood teased and tail touched? “Ngh. Ngh. Ngh.”, huffed Karlach as Astarion drafted his hand down her cunt, just as his second hand gripped her tail and slowly stroked it up and down—the ridges and bumps making the sexual stimulation all the more craving. “You like it, darling?”, Astarion cooed gently.

“Yes…”, Karlach whimpered in glee.

“Yeah?”

“M-mhm.”

A hard smack came down upon Karlach’s stimulated cunt, like a farmer would do to his hefer’s rear. The tiefling howled in pleasure, squeezing her legs together and pushing her ass upwards. Her claws dug into the grass, holding for some kind of stable ground to keep her from climaxing right then and there. The woman’s tail flailed wildly, before being gripped in place in silence.

“Tsk. Tsk. Tsk. Now now, what would the others think if they heard us?”, the elf tutted, smoothing his palm over the reddening clit, smearing Karlach’s lubricant all over her now engorged clit.

”Fuck me.”

“Fuck you? You’re much too big. What was the analogy? A chihuahua mating A Gr—?”

Karlach took a breath and heaved herself backwards, now falling on top of Astarion’s naked body—cock riding upon her back. With slight resistance, and a lot of maneuvering, Karlach scooted upwards and now hand her lover’s erected manhood right against her cunt.

This is it! We’re going, to do it! “Ready, baby?”, Karlach turned her head, smirking with lusting eyes to the elf beneath her, his arms the only way he could communicate his answer. A thumbs up was raised, and Karlach laughed.

“Can you breath?”, she snorted.

Thumbs up. “You lying?”

Thumbs up.

“Okay, okay.”

Karlach hoisted herself up upon her knees, freeing Astarion’s upper half. Meanwhile, Karlach had her womanhood raised above the throbbing tip of the vampiric elf. The red tiefling woman looked back to her lover and smiled.

“Gods I wanna ride you ‘till you see stars.”

“No more chatter. You’ve waited long enough.”

Yeah, I have…

And in a moment, Karlach slowly pushed her hips down—taking all of Astarion inside her. It was hurting, at first. While Karlach wasn’t a virgin, it had been a very long time since she had been with another. Now, she was taking Astarion whole. With each inch she descended, more of the girth filled her walls. With each second, the throbbing tip pulsed inside her walls, pushing them apart after years of no use. It was like Karlach’s belly was filling up like a water balloon—too much, sloshing around, and heavy in the palm.

The palm, in this case, being her core.

“Ooh! Oh, Astarion!”

“Gods! Karlach, yes.” Astarion purred from behind, his hands smoothing up her back, his tight stroking up her tail—each ridge being dragged and traced by his long nail.

“You’re doing so well, darling. Keep at it.”

Karlach nodded, slowly moving her hips in a slow fashion, moaning with each new curve and crease. “Mngh.”

“Too much?”, he teased.

“No. Just right.”

“You’re just right.” Astarion jeered playfully as he attempted a thrust, to no avail because of the sheer weight of Karlach.

“Oh Gods. You’re huge.”, Karlach groaned out, feeling each inch slide deeper within her as she pushed her ass back to collect more of her lover within her womanhood.

“Heh. You don’t need to perform.”, Astarion cooed gently, stroking the woman’s tail in encouragement. “Just relax.”

“I-I’m not. It’s been so long I-I!” *Karlach heaved and cried out, falling over to the grass in an earthquaking orgasm. Her whole body shook in pleasure. Her cunt clamped down upon Astarion, and her juices gushed out upon his cock and stomach—a puddle of heat all around them in a circle.

Karlach froze, her body recovering from itself surprising orgasm. It had left her unexpectedly, from left field.

“Oh Gods…” Astarion huffed, patting her ass. “You were incred…Karlach?”

Karlach looked back, wiping her eyes quickly. “Yeah, ‘Star?”

“Karlach, what’s wrong, darling?”

And Karlach came crashing down, sobbing in her hands. Hiding her face, the tiefling woman let out small choked cries of embarrassment, of shame, and of realization.

They had run out of time. Tomorrow, would be another battle. Another gutting. Another massacre. Another day, where her heart was stable, but still broken just as day it was made.

“I-I can’t. I don’t w-wanna…”, sobbed Karlach pitifully. “Astarion..”

The strained movements beneath Karlach made her realize they were still connected. With a swift move, Karlach moved herself off of Astarion, and the naked man crawled over to sit upon his knees, taking holding her hands in comfort.

“Shh. It’s alright, my love. Let it out.”, he soothed, taking a finger to wipe away a large tear.

Karlach sobbed with a soft smile, nuzzling into Astarion’s white hair—soft, curly, and smelling of soot and charcoal.

“You didn’t finish.”, she said, muffled by the puffy curls.

“That doesn’t matter. This was about you.”

“But we’ll never have—.”

Astarion placed a hand at Karlach’s mouth, staring deeply into her eyes with an emotion of unknown origin. And yet, it was welcomed.

“Somewhere. Someday. And as long as I live, I’ll wait.”

Karlach gave a weak smile and pushed the hand away, kissing Astarion with gentle lips. Soon, it was like before—a passionate kiss, that ended with Karlach on top, and Astarion on the bottom.

And just as they pulled away, Karlach looked down and began to laugh.

“This looks really bad.”, she laughed.

Maybe he’s right. Maybe someday, we’ll have our moment. I’ll ride him, he’ll ride me. That works, right? Yeah, yeah. Just be patient.

Yeah, I can be patient.

———————

I HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDXXDD

[pollenallergie]

the favourite

Word Count: 4k

Description: Ralph checks in on his favourite maid.

A/N: as always, all credit for Ralph’s canon surname goes to @mypoisonedvine!! <3

CW/TW: nothing to see here, just good ole fashion comfort fic. some brief mentions of vomiting/stomach issues, but that’s all. just good ole wholesome fluff. reader is referred to as a woman, and she/her pronouns are occasionally used to refer to her… i’m sorryyyy i really meant to make this more gender-neutral, but there was some wording that sounded really clunky when written to be gender neutral, and i couldn’t find out how to get around it, so i caved. i’m sorry :/

Ralph paces outside the maids’ quarters, fretting about what sort of state you must be in. He’s not seen you all day, and that, in and of itself, is quite unusual.

From the moment he’d noticed that you were missing at breakfast, he’d begun to worry. However, his anxiety only increased tenfold when he’d overheard a couple of the other servants discussing how you’d fallen ill in the late, late hours of last night. Now that Ralph knows the true reason for your sudden absence, he debates whether he should pay a visit to the maids’ quarters to check in on you.

On the one hand, he cares for you deeply, probably more than a man should care about one of his maids, and wants to support you in your time of need. However, on the other hand, Ralph is quite squeamish and he worries that he will not be able to handle seeing you in such a compromised state. Or, rather, he fears that any reaction he may have to your sickly plight will only make things worse for you.

“Ralph,” his sister, Victoria, shouts from the other room, “Would you stop pacing? I can hear your feet pitter-pattering, it’s driving me mad! And you’re creating a draft,” she scolds him harshly.

“R-right, of course,” he stutters, now forced to make a choice. Shall he go in and check on you or should he simply wait for you to come out on your own, once you’ve recovered?

Suddenly, it occurs to Ralph that you may never recover, that this mysterious ailment may well be fatal. Should that be the case, then Ralph would lose you forever. That thought stirs an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

It’s decided then, Ralph thinks, I must go check on her.

So, he peeks down the hall, ensuring Victoria is far enough away that she won’t notice him sneaking into your room. Once he’s confirmed to himself that his sister is too far from him to be aware of his clandestine activities, Ralph slowly and quietly opens the door to your rooms, calling out your name to ensure that he won’t startle you.

“It’s me, Ralph. Are you decent?” He inquires politely.

“Yes,” you hum out pathetically as one of your cold hands snakes under your duvet to gently cradle your aching stomach. At this point, you can’t tell if your chills are the result of the frosty winter weather that roars on just outside the thin glass of your bedroom window or of the illness you’d awoken with last night.

At the sound of your pitiful tone, Ralph swiftly enters your room and softly shuts the door behind him. He then promptly makes his way over to you before coming to kneel at your bedside, his brow furrowing with concern.

“Oh, dove, what’s happened to you?” Ralph asks frantically with his eyes flitting back and forth as he takes in your sallow appearance. Your heart thrums at the term of endearment he’s used.

Perhaps it should be concerning that one of your employers has invaded your space, the only comfort you are owed as a domestic servant, this realm of so-called privacy that you share with two other young ladies and one very pious older lady. Not to mention that he’s referred to you in such an inappropriate manner. However, you’ve come to expect such behaviour from Ralph, who has never much bothered with upholding social customs.

Surprisingly, he frequently pays even less mind to cultural standards than his twin sister, Victoria, a woman known far and wide for her eccentricities. Victoria, for example, certainly doesn’t make a habit of fraternising with the help beyond the typical daily exchanges that take place in the home. Ralph, however, is quite chummy with all of the staff of the Penbury House.

Though, recently you’ve become his favourite, most likely because you indulge his odd little whims more than the others and more than you probably should. Although, now you’re hardly in the right state to properly accommodate such spontaneity.

“My stomach,” you pathetically whimper your response as you look up at him with sorrowful, glassy eyes.

Ralph feels his heart break at the sight. Only then does he notice the empty bin positioned precariously by your bed, and he begins to feel a nervousness flutter about in his belly.

“Are you- Have you gotten sick?” He asks, his voice having gone up an octave from all of his worrying.

You nod before attempting to provide verbal confirmation, only to then be cut off by a sharp, cramping pain shooting through your abdomen. You wince at the horrid feeling, causing Ralph to frown.

“Is it painful?” He asks softly.

“Yes,” you whimper out, an unintentionally adorable pout taking over your features.

You cannot help but feel ashamed. A member of the household staff should never make their discomfort known to their employers, even if your master did ask you directly. Perhaps, if anyone overheard you, you can simply blame it on your fever-addled mind. Certainly that seems reasonable, right?

You’ve heard of men at war having delusions of grandeur as a result of incredibly high fevers, caused by infected wounds, warping their minds. Certainly then it must be reasonable to suspect that your mild fever is at fault for your current inability to properly think things through before you say them aloud.

Oblivious to your mental plight, Ralph lifts his hand to rest near your temple, the tips of his fingers gently stroking the damp, wispy strands at your hairline as he coos, “Oh, poppet, I shall call for a doctor at once.” It’s a comforting touch accompanied by words that speak of a kindness someone like you simply will never deserve from someone like him, you are well aware of that, yet you cannot help but lean into the touch all the same.

“I’ll be alright, my lord,” you reply, giving your polite, indirect refusal.

Ralph tsks in disapproval, “Sweetling, you know that I will not know peace until you’ve recovered. Please, let me help you,” he begs sweetly.

You sigh, your resolve swiftly melting under the heat of the pleading gaze that his coffee brown eyes fix you with.

“Thank you, my lord,” you say, simultaneously accepting his aid and articulating your gratitude for it while your lips curl up into a small, shy smile.

In turn, he rewards your reluctant acceptance with a big, beaming grin. He then gingerly takes one of your clammy hands, the only one which is not currently cradling your aching stomach, into one of his own before placing a chaste kiss to the back of it.

“Rest up, dove. I’ll be back shortly,” Ralph informs you giddily, oddly excited by the prospect of caring for you. He then swiftly departs, rushing off to ring up their local physician.

Only an hour or so later, you're suddenly awoken by the sound of the door to your quarters opening with an eerie creak. You huff and roll over without opening your eyes, presuming it to be one of the other maids.

“Darling, I have returned,” Someone calls out in a singsong tone as they enter your room, “I apologise for being away for so long. You would not believe how difficult it was to get in touch with our family’s physician.”

“Ralph?” You ask, momentarily forgetting your manners due to the lingering exhaustion, as you roll over and open your bleary eyes to look at the person.

“Yes, ‘tis I,” he confirms theatrically, just as energetic and campy as ever, as he sets down a glass of water and a cup of tea on your night stand.

Ralph then gracelessly plops down on your bed, a canvas bag filled with various bits and bobs still loosely tucked into the crook of his elbow as he comes to sit just by where your feet rest under the blankets.

“Oh, how I do love it when you simply call me by my name,” he remarks cheerfully as he gently boops your nose.

“It’s improper,” you grumble, “I should always refer to you by your title.”

“Perhaps it is, but I love it all the same,” Ralph replies, still sporting his cheerful smile as he busies himself with setting out all of the things he’s brought with him on top of the wooden trunk that sits near the foot of your tiny bed.

Now that Ralph thinks about it, he really should arrange for you to get a bigger bed, maybe he should arrange for all the staff to get bigger beds; he can’t imagine these are very comfortable. You’re a grown woman, a lovely, amazing, kind, unfairly beautiful grown woman, you deserve to sleep in a bed befitting a grown adult.

“Now,” Ralph begins to explain once he’s arranged everything to his liking, “It would seem that Dr. Wycoff has already stepped out for the day, so he won’t be able to come until tomorrow morning. However, you needn’t fret, for I had one of our footmen go out and fetch you some things that might ease your discomfort, at least until we can get you proper medical attention.”

“My lor-” you attempt to interject, most likely to remind Ralph that his fretting over you is both completely unnecessary and entirely inappropriate, though the attempt is in vain as your master continues with his ramblings.

“Now, let’s see, I’ve got some ginger tea to help calm your stomach, a hot water bottle for the cramping, a glass of cold water with some mint leaves in it, a couple pieces of toast, and a collection of poetry that I can read to you. What shall we start with first?” He asks eagerly, looking at you with those wide, kind eyes of his. There’s a spark of determination present in his warm gaze and it lets you know that any further attempts you make to refuse his care, whether they’re for propriety’s sake or otherwise, will be futile.

You huff out a breath, the sound of it is something between a humorous chuckle and resigned sigh, before smiling up at him fondly.

“Perhaps we could start with the hot water bottle and maybe the book of poems as well,” you suggest.

You don’t know how it’s possible, but, somehow, his smile seems to become even bigger and brighter than before. “Marvelous idea, poppet,” He says sweetly as he grabs the hot water bottle.

Rather than simply handing the item to you, as you initially expect, Ralph simply lifts the linens away from you, revealing your form to him, so that he can place the hot water bottle on your aching stomach himself. The moment he registers that you’re in your nightdress — your white cotton nightdress, which is surprisingly thin and not doing much to conceal your form from him — he realises his mistake.

Ralph gingerly, yet hastily places the hot water bottle on your stomach, his fingertips able to feel the warmth of your skin through your nightdress as he does so. His cheeks and the tips of his ears burn with a warm blush as he aids you. Ralph then promptly rights the linens back in place so that you’re properly covered, before swiftly rising to his feet, turning away and attempting to disguise his flusteredness by clearing his throat.

“I apologise,” he exhales a shaky breath, still refusing to look at you, “for erm- well- I only meant to help. It was not my intention to erm- to violate you. I would never want to dis-”

“My lord, it’s quite alright.”

“-respect you or to- to, erm, to dishonour you.”

“You haven’t, my lord,” you attempt to interject, though it seems nothing you say will halt his spiraling.

Oh, well, drastic times call for drastic measures.

“It was certainly not my intention to force myself onto you or to, erm, to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state. Truly, I only meant to help you, to care for you, because, well, I think I might l-”

“Ralph,” you interrupt.

The sound of his own name finally captures his attention as he turns to face you once more, mostly out of shock; you hardly ever call him by his first name, despite the fact that he’s made it very obvious that he wishes you would only ever refer to him by his first name, his name, not the name held by his father and his sister and every other Penbury who’s not him.

You reach out to gently grasp one of his hands in one of your own, clammy, hands. “It’s alright.”

He looks down at your intertwined hands, then back at your face, focusing on your eyes which look up at him so kindly, and then down to your lips which are curled into a soft, shy smile, one that, in his wildest dreams, he lets himself believe you reserve only for him.

“It is?” He asks, his tone still wavering with worry.

“Yes,” you reassure him before patting the spot he once sat in, silently encouraging him to sit back down, to be near you again.

Ralph obliges your wordless request and hesitantly lowers himself to sit back down on the edge of your bed.

He’s quiet still, too quiet, especially considering that neither of the Penbury twins are ever quiet. You worry that he’s still lost in his own mind, panicking about propriety, much like you always are. You don’t like seeing him worry.

“My lord, I do believe you promised to read some poems to me,” you remind him, not truly wanting to boss him around, but rather wanting to give him something to focus on other than his recent misstep.

“R-right, right, of course, I, erm,” he pauses to clear his throat, looking down at his hands as he wrings them together, deciding whether he should speak the next words allowed given how he’s already disregarded your boundaries today. Ultimately, he sighs and decides to take the risk.

“I’ll, erm- I’ll read them to you but only,” he whispers before pausing briefly to let out a shaky breath, “only if you promise to stop referring to me as ‘my lord’ when we’re alone. I’d,” he pauses once more, summoning the courage needed to speak his next words aloud, “I’d much rather you call me Ralph when it’s just the two of us.”

He’s told you this many times before and you’ve never been outright offended, but still, he worries.

Although, you’ve recently, within the last few minutes, called him Ralph all on your own, making that the second time that you’ve referred to him by his name today. Twice is certainly the most you’ve ever called him by his name in a day as you almost never refer to him as anything but ‘my lord’ when addressing him directly and ‘Lord Penbury’ when referring to him in conversations with the other household staff members; conversations he really shouldn’t eavesdrop on, but that he always does, at least, when you’re a part of them.

Certainly your seemingly waning hesitance to call him by his name must be a good sign, right?

You reply, “Maybe I shall call you Ralphie.”

It’s a joke, one that shouldn’t be said aloud, one that you didn’t properly think over before you said it aloud, one that has entirely too much truth behind it, one that really wouldn’t seem like a joke at all if not for your humorous tone. Ralph certainly doesn’t seem to think it a joke.

He smiles brightly, some of that characteristic Penbury enthusiasm returning to him in that moment, as he genuinely replies, “I would love that, sweetling.”

“Now,” Ralph continues, “as for the poems, this book is from my own personal collection. It’s the selected poems of John Keats. He’s one of my favourites. It’s a shame tuberculosis took him so young. Thankfully you don’t have tuberculosis, or, at least, I’ve got no reason to think that you do. I believe tuberculosis is the one with all the coughing, and you haven’t a cough, just an upset stomach, right, darling?” He rambles as he digs the book out of his bag and then thumbs through it in search of his favourite poem.

“Right,” you confirm, “no coughing.”

He hums at that, offering mere acknowledgment as he’s already moved onto another subject entirely. Usually you’re one of the only ones who’s able to keep up with him in conversation, whenever you’re actually afforded the opportunity to indulge him in it without getting caught by the housekeeper, the woman in charge of you and all the other female servants. However, today it’s difficult to keep up with his rapidly shifting focuses, likely due to your current state of ill health.

“Are you familiar with his work?” Ralph asks suddenly.

“Hmm?” You question, too lost in your own thoughts to remember who he’s talking about.

“John Keats. Are you familiar with any of his poems?” He asks again, not at all bothered by the fact that you seem to have lost focus for a moment there.

One thing you’ve learned in your time working here at the Penbury estate is that the younger of the two Penbury twins is exceedingly patient, whilst the elder is exceedingly short-tempered.

“I’m afraid not, erm,” you heistate before calling him by his desired nickname, still reluctant to let go of propriety, “Ralphie,” you reply, giving in to the temptation to please him, to make him happy by calling him something far more personal than his title.

It’s the first time you’ve actually used that nickname when addressing him and the sound of it sets fireworks alight in his chest.

“Oh, how dreadful! I suppose we shall start with the classics then, yes? This one is called ‘You Say You Love’ and it’s easily one of my favourites of all the poems I’ve ever read,” Ralph explains before leaning in close to tap your nose with an audible ‘boop’ before assuring you, in a tone that’s much like the one he uses when he’s cooing lovingly, “you’re going to positively adore it, sweetling, I’m certain of it.”

He sits up again, opening the book to the correct page before suddenly remembering the tea he’d had the kitchen staff prepare for you.

“Sweetling,” Ralph calls out to you.

“Yes, Ralphie?” He can’t help but smile at the sound of your sweet voice uttering his preferred nickname, this time noticeably less tentative than before.

“Do remember to drink your tea before it goes cold, my lo- my dear,” he clears his throat out of embarrassment before reaffirming, “erm, j-just dear. Dearest, even!”

She’s not yours, Ralph, you blasted fool! He harshly reminds himself.

You bravely rest one of your hands atop his own, knowing he needs the comforting touch to ground him and help him avoid another spiral. “I will,” you assure him.

“R-right, erm,” he clears his throat, “let us begin.”

You hum your approval as you reach over to carefully grab the cup of tea from where it sits on the trunk by your bed. Ralph can’t help but smile as he watches you take a sip, all while still clutching the hot water bottle to your tummy.

“You say that you love,” he begins, immediately channeling the energy of a romantic poet, like John Keats, waxing poetic about unrequited love, “but with a voice chaster than a nun’s…”

You sit back, resting against your thin, floppy pillow, sipping your ginger tea whilst you listen to him recite one of his favourite poems in a tone of voice so soft and intimate, that it begins to lull you to sleep.

It’s not long before you’re sound asleep, but, even then, Ralph doesn’t stop reading his poems; mostly because he’s so engrossed in the works of his favourite poet that he fails to notice that you’ve fallen asleep.

Once he does notice, however, he sets his book aside so that can help get you settled. He carefully eases the cup of tea out of your clutches, lest you spill it on yourself in your sleep, and sets it aside. He takes great care in gently tucking you in, careful not to wake you as he makes sure you’re sufficiently covered by your bed linens.

Thanks to your lack of consciousness, Ralph even finds the courage to lean forward and press a gentle, chaste kiss to your forehead. Though, he soon realizes that might have been a mistake as your forehead is very sweaty, no doubt thanks to your fever, and now your now-cold perspiration is on his lips. He grimaces at the gross feeling as he harshly wipes your sweat off of his lips with the sleeve of shirt. He also indulges in a sip of your tea, just to make sure that your sweat is well and truly gone.

“I shall remain right here as you sleep, sweetling. I won’t leave your side, not for a moment,” Ralph reassures your sleeping form.

He makes good on his word, sitting at your side and watching you sleep, memorising the slope of your nose and the roundness of your cheeks, reading poem after poem to you even though you aren’t awake to hear them.

Ralph even replaces your hot water bottle when it goes cold, handing it off to Langley — who’s been dutifully waiting outside the door to the maids’ chambers ever since he discovered his master was in there — so that he can have the kitchen staff rewarm it for you. He still blushes and flusters when he lifts the linens to take the now useless water bottle from you, he still feels wildly guilty about crossing any boundaries, even though you’re in too deep of a sleep to notice. Ralph even finishes your tea before it goes cold and then has Langley order the kitchen staff to prepare some more for you.

Speaking of dear Langley, the Penburys’ head butler whose current, steadfast presence by the door to the maids’ quarters, a place he’s never been posted outside of before, gives away Ralph’s presence in your room to anyone and everyone who walks by.

Luckily for Ralph, Victoria would never set foot in what she colloquially refers to as the “Help Hall,” a hallway lined with doors that lead to the various rooms the staff of the townhouse reside in.

Still, he can’t imagine that the women with whom you share your room are at all happy to have their master lingering in their space. So, when the evening draws to a close, and he hears the murmurs of other staff members going off to their rooms in that same hallway, Ralph reluctantly leaves your side to avoid causing any offense to the other maids, who’ve never been anything but kind to him.

Nevertheless, before he leaves, Ralph places another soft kiss on your forehead, and this time, he has the forethought to use his handkerchief to wipe away most of the sweat before he presses his lips there. He holds his lips there a bit longer than last time, hoping that, even in your sleep, you can feel the warmth of his affections pouring through the gesture.

When Ralph pulls away, he whispers to your sleeping form, “Unfortunately, I must take my leave now, but I will return tomorrow morning so that I may continue to look after you in your time of need. I shall return every day until you are well again, dear heart, this much I promise, and you must know that a Penbury always keeps their promises,” Ralph pauses, his brows furrowing as he thinks over his words, “Or, at least, I always keep my promises. If memory serves me correctly, I’ve not broken a promise yet, and I most certainly do not intend to start doing so now.”

Suddenly, Ralph sighs; it's a solemn, dejected sound that perfectly conveys his reluctance to leave your side. His eyes rake over your sleeping form once more, hoping to memorize the sight of you in the hopes that you might appear in his dreams tonight.

“I know you cannot hear me right now, sweetling, and m-maybe that is for the best, but,” Ralph trails off, interrupting himself to take a deep, calming breath. He then uses his handkerchief to wipe off some of the sweat on your cheek before leaning in to plant a gentle kiss there. When Ralph pulls away, he moves just slightly so that his lips hover near your ear, and then softly whispers, “I love you.”

[luchicm04]

The scent of the forest

Masterlist

Summary: Just by making eye contact... That pair of amber crystals was both innocent and beautiful. Will Toruk Makto know that he is the cause of two Na'vis falling into endless lust?

Pairing: Jake Sully/Tonowari

Word count: 2.8k

Overall warnings: non-con, mature, violence, rough sex, blood, angst⚠️🔞

All characters belong to Avatar, and all rights are reserved to the original work whose author allowed me to translate it.

A/N: This took so long... Normally, I only write drabbles and short one-shots, but considering that this was composed of two scenes, I decided to devide it in two chapters and now I’m totally spent😭Hope you like it <3

posted on ao3

The first time... 

Tonowari didn’t really feel very comfortable the first time he stared into those beautiful, sap-like eyes. The humility on his face, begging for shelter, made the Metkayina chief feel strange... 

His slender blue ears twitched, and amber eyes met his. The Olo’eyktan's mind was restless; meanwhile, the tip of his large tail wagged silently in a daze. The Tsahìk gave his husband a small glance before letting out a sigh and nodding in agreement. 

Sky blue eyes sparkled for a moment before opening his arms to welcome the Sully family, who had fled thousands of miles from their home. 

──

“Do you... have feelings for him?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Answering questions with more questions to a pregnant woman is not a wise idea, Tonowari.” Ronal looked up from the cooking and bared her teeth with an angry expression. The chief’s ears drooped before he let out a soft cough. Clear sea blue eyes looked outside the marui and saw the bodies of a family outside. The forest Na’vis were chasing each other in the distance. 

“I’m not sure.” 

“I see. When your eyes met Toruk Makto, you got distracted. Your mind became scattered,” she said in a calm voice. The Tsahìk, owner of a long and wavy mane, didn’t care that her mate would never lust after her. Why would she? Even though they were husband and wife, having sexual relations with another was not prohibited by their tradition. 

“...” 

Her thin, light-colored hands were busy skillfully cooking dinner. Soon, her and Tonowari’s children would return. She really didn’t want to listen to them complaining from hunger. Especially during long periods of hunger like this. They might chase and attack each other. 

Especially during this period of her pregnancy, where the hormones made her rage increase tenfold. She might end up chasing them out and sending them to sleep somewhere else without eating. 

“Whatever you decide to do, do not waver... I believe Jake will give you a satisfactory response.” 

Judging from how he looked, he appeared humble and with no intention of wanting to cause any problems. It was enough to know that Jake Sully would try to be a good resident, even though the rest of the Sullys didn’t seem to want to stay. 

“I do not want to force it.” 

“Even Eywa can’t help you with these things, Tonowari. You yourself know what it’s like when you lose patience.” 

“Ronal... about that-” 

“I can only hope nothing like that time happens again, as you fear. From complicity to violation.” 

The tip of the clan chief’s large tail flickered slightly because of the displeasure that she had brought up with those memories from the past. Ronal heard him growl faintly but chose to ignore it. 

Originally, Tonowari was not a calm person. 

However, because he had to become the leader of his tribe, he inevitably had to tone down his impulsive nature. However, she knew that as soon as the foreign Na’vis arrived at their home, it would only be a matter of time before the Olo’eyktan of the Matkayina would relapse. 

──

It wasn’t long before the headaches came to a head. The bodies of the forest Na’vi and his son were covered in bruises and stains. The two-colored eyes of the young boys turned towards each other, barking out a snarl at the moment the grownups did not seem to notice. 

The figure of an older forest Na’vi rushed towards the marui with a distressed expression on his face before looking down at his two sons who were standing up in front of him. Lo’ak didn’t dare make eye contact. Jake hissed at them, baring his teeth.   

The Olo’eyktan continued to look at the father and sons silently. Nevertheless, what he was interested in was not the two children, but the sweat that ran down the body of the adult Omatikaya man who had rushed there after learning about what had happened from his eldest daughter. 

“I apologize on their behalf. I’ll make sure this never happens again.” 

Jake turned his head to look at the silent patriarch with an uneasy expression. The blue ears were drawn back, and the tip of his tail drooped. The wild cat was so frightened that it was adorable. 

If others saw Jake like that- 

Stop, Tonowari. 

“Father...” 

“Quiet!” The father turned and barked at his eldest son who tried to speak up. This caused Neteyam to secretly flick his tail, a little displeased at being yelled at. 

“Do not worry. This matter is just a quarrel between children.” 

“But that ugly seal was bothering our sister first.” 

“Lo’ak, keep your mouth shut.” 

Scolding the older boy seemed not to have been enough, so he was forced to do so with the younger one as well. Deep down, Jake felt proud of his sons’ victory... but he shouldn’t let it show right there, because that might give the impression that he approved of their actions and appear rude. Especially with the leader of the clan standing in front of him. 

“It’s fine, Jake Sully.” 

“...” 

Even if he put it like that, Jake did not feel relieved in the slightest. 

“Really, I want to apologize for them.” 

“Still, I’m real sorry this happened.” 

The two young Na’vis who were behind their father only shot disapproving glances at Aonung, who had just played along with his friends. Both of them were looking daggers at him. Even though most of the glares came from Lo’ak, some of them belonged to Neteyam, which didn’t stop him from feeling a little guilty. 

“Aonung, you are to blame too,” Tonowari lowored his voice and looked at his son, who was beginning to feel sunken due to the criticism. 

“I’m sorry...” 

The drooped ears suddenly straightened up. That behavior was caught just by Tonowari’s eyes. It looked like Toruk Makto himself would also like an apology. However, because of the altercation, he inevitably came to an agreed compromise. 

“Go take your children to get their wounds healed.” 

“Ah, thank you for not taking offense.” 

The sea Na’vi nodded before the three blue figures disappeared from view. When they were alone, Tonowari turned to his own son. 

“I told you to care for them. Not to mistreat them.” 

“Father... I’m really sorry.” 

“It’s good that you learn from your mistakes. If this happens again, there will be consequences.” 

Aonung nodded before his younger sister, Tsireya, walked in with medical herbs to heal his injuries. She frowned, complaining endlessly about her troublesome brother. 

“You are acting more like mother day after day.”  

“Aonung, you need to stop being so stubborn and listen to what you’re told.”  

The two siblings whispered softly but when Aonung looked up, he found that his father’s tall figure had disappeared. 

“Where did he go? It’s getting dark.” 

“He probably went to find the Sullys... maybe father wants to reassure them,” Tsireya commented while her small four-fingered palm gently pressed and kneaded the bruised area. Aonung rolled his eyes. He felt annoyed when he heard the last name of that weird family. 

“What’s so good about them anyway?” 

“Are the words ‘Toruk Makto’ not big enough for you to understand?” 

“I mean his children.” 

“They’re good people.” 

They kept debating the topic until finally Aonung chose to keep quiet and let his younger sister continue to heal his wounds. 

──

Jake walked outside the marui after leaving Neytiri to teach the two children a lesson. Even though he said he would do it himself, she seemed willing to give both Lo’ak and Neteyam the earful of their lives. 

The tip of his long, slender tail waved calmly. Despite the fact that his age began with the number three, Jake still acted like the same mischievous little boy from long ago. 

The faint salty smell of the sea made the forest Na’vi relax after a long day. Because, in addition to waking up earlier than usual, he also had to learn new things every day such as searching for food, repairing a marui, or even riding a Tsurak. That stubborn mount would soon be his. 

Jake dropped into the freshwater stream after walking away from the beach for a bit. He thought about coming out and chilling for a bit. It was not the first time he had managed to fall asleep in the middle of the night anyway. Moreover, Neytiri did not forbit him from exploring. She was aware of his curious nature that forced him to want to explore and see every aspect of their marvelous world. 

Splash!  

The end of his legs swept the water up until the surface rippled. Jake looked at the strange plants under the water below his waist with interest. Surprisingly, most of the aquatic plants there glowed... Plus, there were so many fish-like creatures that they were easy to catch and eat if you are skilled enough. 

The tips of his ears twitched. Immediately, the former Toruk Makto became alert. Glowing golden eyes turned cautiously towards the source of the noise, but the familiar face of the newcomer made Jake relax. 

“Olo’eyktan...” 

“No need for formalities. Please, call me by my name.” 

“Tonowari. What are you doing here?” 

The wild cat swayed his tail curiously. The large man looked at his blank expression and he felt his breath hitch. Forcing himself to control his urges. Looking into those amber eyes, Tonowari adverted his gaze toward the waves that reflected the night’s firmament on the surface. 

“I was just enjoying the atmosphere,” he replied briefly and walked over to stand next to him, with Jake sitting with his legs dangling in the water, glowing brightly from the effect of moon’s, Pandora, native plants. 

“It’s difficult to see a picture like this back in the forest.” 

“Your home also has beautiful wonders that none of us have ever seen.” 

Jake smiled widely. Stretching his body, he turned to face the Olo’eyktan, who hadn’t paid much attention to him these days. He approached the chief, hoping to make friends with him. After all, he and his family must always depend on the other party from now on, whether today or in the future. 

The fragrant body odor was messing with Tonowari’s mind. His big tail became restless, waving back and forth until Jake took notice of it. 

“What’s wrong? Are you sick?” 

The more he listened to the man’s talking, the more anxious he became. A slim, five-fingered hand, different from a normal Na’vi’s, slowly reached forth and grabbed onto his strong arm. All of a sudden, sea blue eyes flickered towards thin lips that were parting, asking for reassurance- 

-but they were suddenly closed and captured. 

──

Jake Sully. 

Former Toruk Makto. 

A brave warrior. His fame spread throughout the land. A beautiful face that became fierce when fighting... Those amber-colored eyes made him look naive, like an innocent baby. 

However, he was stronger than anybody else. 

“Ah! H-hard...” 

A sweet and mesmerizing voice. His indigo body was covered in sweat and his strong back, which used to be wrapped by a cummerbund, ley spread out on the grass, cool because of the dewdrops illuminated by the eclipse. 

Tonowari’s hand was big enough to easily encase the palms of the avatar. Jake Sully shook his head with tears in his eyes, tingling with pleasure every time his body heated up against his will. Thick lips rested on his soft chest, biting and burying their owner’s fangs until a large wound was left on that lovely surface. 

“Ma’Jake... ah.” 

One free hand grabbed the crook of his thin leg and lifted it before slamming his body all the way in and pulling out, successfully eliciting tortured moans from the person beneath him. 

“No, stop. Tonowari, ah-! Stop!” 

He considered his refusal right at that moment extremely disappointing. His body crashed into his as if he were punishing him. The little wild cat whimpered. 

Jake hissed and groaned relentlessly, especially when the sensitive parts inside him were pressed to the point of crying. Small fangs bit into his shoulders as his entire being was heaped up to sit on strong tights. 

The Olo’eyktan kissed the soft folds of his neck and collar bone. With his own free palm, he took possession of the soft member that had turned hard and right from the friction, caressing the skin of the wild cat. This caused Jake to tremble until the sweet milk flowed out. The half-Na'vi in his lap must have been a good breeder. 

The plump tendons froze, allowing Jake to catch his breath. Meanwhile, Tonowari examined his face, his eyes, and his seductive lips. 

The gorgeous amber orbs were soaked in tears, and Tonowari could not understand the other’s feelings. 

Was he satisfied? 

Sad? 

Or angry? 

The only way to find out would be to give his body a lot of warmth. 

“Ah!” 

Forgetting the people waiting for him to return that night, Jake didn’t even have the courage to resist when the larger reef Na’vi’s actions began anew. The violence made the sensuality as raw as that of a wild animal. 

The sound of flesh slapping together alternated with even louder, wet sounds. Jake hugged tightly his neck like a man looking for a place to hold his heart; his beautiful eyes shining with excitement. He came in many times. Tonowari gripped Jake’s hips with both hands, forcing Jake’s body to swallow him. 

“Ha... a-ah! Aahh!!” 

The Olo’eyktan’s big tail wagged happily, differently from the smaller one that moved and twitched loudly due to the excitement. Their emotions, that had reached their peak, caused both of them to gasp. 

This period of sexual intercourse felt unbearably long for Jake. Nevertheless, Tonowari took advantage of the sweetness from his body. Exquisite. Beautiful. Insatiable. 

Pump it deep and then pull it out... and repeat. Round and round until Jake could only moan hoarsely. 

“Ah-! Ma’Jake... Ma Eywa.” 

“Uhmm... Mmm-ahh!” 

Ocean-hued eyes squinted and stared in fascination at his smooth and soft body... the waist was narrow enough to fit in one hand, and the face was tingling and damp with sweat. Even the moans made him act like a furious beast. 

Beautiful. 

This man was carefully created by nature. Like he was resting on Eywa’s arms as her favorite child. 

Ah, Ma’Jake... 

Why are you so beautiful? 

──

Lips kissed the entire body, sweet and fine. His lower half moved and pressed against the warmth until dawn, leaving it with a pleasant smell and full of cum. 

...but if he had stopped his hand at that moment, he would feel that he had missed an opportunity and would do nothing. 

“It’s a shame you can’t give me a child. But if you keep it in your body, maybe Eywa will have some compassion for me and give us her blessing.” 

The ‘it’ that Tonowari was talking about was the cloudy semen in his swollen abdomen. The Olo’eyktan caressed his soft belly so lightly that the body twitched. Just by pressing a finger against the lower region, a thick, white liquid overflowed from the sweet and eye-catching hole. 

“Nnhg... n-noo...” 

The wild cat was breathing heavily. A turquoise hand rose to completely cover his face, as if he were trying to forget everything that had happened. 

“Jake,” a kind voice called out gently, completely different from the hot tempered one from just a moment ago. Two big hands hugged him, picking up his limp body and sitting it on his lap. Tonwari grabbed his chubby leg and placed it in front of his left leg before bending down to give a sweet kiss on the side of his temple. 

Hiss!!  

The little cat in his arms bared his teeth as tears welled up in his eyes. Sharp fangs bent down and bit on the thick, strong shoulder until they sank, making him look like a frightened kitten. The Olo’eyktan just rubbed his head comfortably, ignoring the many drops of blood that had flowed all over. 

The sound of sobbing mixed with Tonowari’s soft voice, trying to console him. 

“Ma yawne, please stop crying.” His hand rubbed his back, bruised from lying on the rough ground while also grasping the hand-printed, slim waist tenderly. 

The sky, that was beginning to brighten, swallowed the tiny light under the water until it disappeared. 

“Skxawng, bastard...” Jake cursed the man in front of him, his voice shaking. His ears drooped and his long fangs were borne as a threat. 

The wavy-haired man’s mouth placed a kiss on the thin, bloodstained lips. Pressing sweet, comforting kissed until the forest Na’vi began to sob softly again. 

“I’m sorry.” 

Sniff... 

Tonowari admitted that everything had gone wrong, but the smaller person was still dissatisfied. The firm little tail rose up and hit the ground with a loud thud while he made a growling sound in his throat. 

Eyes the color of sap and clear water stared into the Metkayina’s sea-surface ones with a somber expression. 

This caused Tonowari to suddenly lighten up- 

-No matter how much is released. Every time he met those beautiful eyes, it was definitely not enough. 

Jake Sully... 

The cause lies with you... and I myself am not satisfied. 

Vocabulary list: Olo’eyktan (clan leader), Tsahìk (head shaman, high priest, interpreter), marui (pods built in the giant mangrove-like trees alongside the shores and are protected from crashing waves by giant reef barriers), Toruk Makto (great leonopteryx/last shadow rider), tsurak (Skimwing), yawne (loved one, beloved), skxawng (moron, idiot)

Part 2

[yun-fangz]

2:17 a.m. | C.JH

pairing(s): jongho x fem!reader

wc: 2.2k

warnings: HEAVY ANGST? Mentions/descriptions of severe injuries, almost death, cursing, crying... lots of crying, hopeful ending, hurt/comfort? idk if i missed anything lmk

a/n: hiii here's a quick little blurb i wrote after crying really hard ❤️‍🩹 i was projecting a lot so im sorry 😭 also said event is not mentioned so feel free to imagine any near death experience.

THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD (it's 5:41 am im not doing it..)

if you can read, you can rb so please..

feedback is encouraged (pls)

tag list: @earth-to-leiki unable to tag: @vanafics

Jongho couldn’t breathe as he sprinted into the hospital.

lungs burning as he frantically pushed himself past people, desperately trying to find you. He halted a reception, stumbling over himself, asking a million questions.

“Sir, I'm going to need you to calm down. Take a deep breath, please.” The nurse told him, not able to understand the panic-stricken man. He stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and taking in a shaky breath.

“I-I’m looking for y/n..” he finally said after a couple of breaths, panic still evident in his voice. “I need to see her… please.” he pleaded, getting agitated as the nurse was taking her time.

After a couple seconds too long for Jongho’s liking, the nurse finally spoke up once more. Her voice was almost monotonous as she replied, “I’m afraid you won't be able to do that sir, she’s not in a stable condition.”

Jongho felt his heart drop to the floor, the panic in his body only multiplying by a tenfold. “What do you mean? Is she alright? what’s wrong?” He was almost spiraling at this point, mind overcome with too many thoughts of what could possibly be going on.

“I’m sorry but I'm not allowed to relay any of that information to you without confirming your status with the patient.” The nurse replied, an expectant look on her face as she waited for jongho to tell her who he was to you.

“I’m Choi Jongho, her f-finance.” he stumbled over the lie. It wasn’t a complete lie though, he has been planning on proposing for a long time. The nurse simply gave him a curt nod at that, Gathering some paperwork in her hands before standing up and gesturing to jongho to follow.

Immediately he trailed the nurse, letting her lead him into a conference room separate from the public. He entered the room and sat in one of the chairs, the nurse closing the door before she read back one of the papers.

“She’s in severe condition, the doctors don't know if she’ll make it.” If jongho weren’t sitting, he’s positive he’d have fallen to his knees at this. He simply sat there, a grim look plastered on his face as he waited for the nurse to continue.

“She was completely unresponsive when we found her, she was cold. Her heart had stopped for 7 seconds… it's a miracle she’s still alive.” He almost couldn’t breathe, your heart stopped. it fucking stopped. For 7 seconds, and he wasn’t there, wasn’t there when it happened.

He couldn’t stop himself after the first choked sob escaped his lips, the nurse only giving him a sympathetic look as she took a moment before continuing.

“Our doctors are doing everything they can to get her stable once more. If you’d like to stay and wait, you’re more than welcome to Mr. Choi..” She said, standing up and placing the manila folder on Jongho’s lap, turning back to the door.

“It says in the report there’s still brain activity, it seems your fiancé is a fighter Sir. Please don’t lose faith.” The nurse finally excused herself, leaving jongho and the medical documents to their own accord.

It was then where jongho fully let his emotions overtake him, once small sobs evolving into all out cries. Cries of desperation, of fear, of grief. He didn’t know what to feel. He was utterly terrified at the thought of losing you.

He placed the folder on the chair across from him, unable to open it and read the contents inside. He just sat there, cries shaking his body up. He couldn't help but have his mind wander, what happened? Everything was ok? Why did this happen to you?

He couldn't fathom what could've led to this, a seemingly normal day turned horrific. He still remembered the call he got while at work, a bit on edge as it was an unknown caller id. Little did he know, it was the local hospital, informing him of the identification of his girlfriend, unresponsive, and how she was currently on her way to the emergency room for treatment.

He didn't believe it at first, thinking it was just an April fools prank; it was December 30th. Immediately he dropped what he was doing, nearly sprinting out of the building and into his car. He knew he was speeding, almost pushing 90 in a 55 zone. He didn't care though, too worried about you and your well-being.

that didn't matter now though, he was here now, tear ridden as he waited for any update on your condition. He sat there, for hours, not moving from his seat. He listened for any sounds, any sounds of someone approaching the door.

Eventually it opened again, the same nurse from earlier showing herself. A water bottle and a pack of gummies in her hand. Silently, she placed the items by the puffy eyed man, the same sympathetic look from earlier gracing her features.

“Here's a bottle of water and a pack of some electrolyte fruit gummies, you’ve lost quite a few these past hours.” she starts, keeping her distance from the disheveled form on the chair.

“We haven't received any updates about your fiancée, but once we do we’ll led you know right away Mr. Choi.” Unable to trust his voice, he simply nodded his head as an acknowledgment. She took that as a sign to leave, giving a curt nod and exiting the room once more.

Some more time passed before Jongho finally reached over, taking some of the gummies and drinking down the water. He took this time to ground himself as well, telling himself that everything will be ok and not to worry..

God he wished everything would be ok. He wished this never happened to you, that it was him instead. You didn't deserve to go through this, you didn't deserve it at all.

He let himself wander again, getting lost in the guilt until a door slammed open, causing him to visibly flinch as the nurse who was there not even 30 minutes before stood there. Eyes wide and she stared at him.

“It's y/n-” Jongho immediately shot up, fear coursing through his veins at the mention of you.

“What? What about her? Is she alright?” he asked frantically, eyes pleading.

“Please Mr, Choi calm down, s-she's stable now.” The nurse said, stumbling over herself. Once more, jongho broke, a sob of relief tumbling off his lips.

“Oh my god, oh my god..” he wailed, his footing suddenly feeling weak. He felt like he could collapse at any moment, the relief washing over him like waves thrashing in a storm.

“Is there any way I could see her? Please, I need to see her… i need to see her please..” he said through tears, not caring about how he looked. He just needed to see you’re alright.

“Yes, you can see her. Not for long though, the doctors must take her into surgery before her current condition becomes worse.” she replied, but jongho had stopped listening. He was too focused on the fact you were ok.

‘you're alive, you’re alive, you’re alive…’ is all he thought to himself as the nurse led him to another floor, passing many hallways before stopping in front of a room with the door closed.

“She’s right in here.” the nurse said, gesturing to the door. “I'm not sure how much time you have before she goes into surgery so please, don't take too much time.” she finished, stepping back to let jongho enter the room.

The moment he saw you he was unable to move, knees finally giving way as he saw your tattered and bruised form. He stood there on his knees just watching, almost unable to recognize your body with all the bruises and bandages covering your form.

He was snapped out of his trance seeing movement and a wince leave your mouth. He bounced right back up to his feet, rushing to your side, fully taking you in.

“y/n..” he said quietly, as if speaking any louder would break you.

He panicked a little bit when you didn't respond to him, calling out to you a little louder. It was then when another wince left you, eyes fluttering a bit before cringing in pain.

You don't know where you were, but your body was in so much pain. You could hear a voice calling to you but you couldn't recognize who it was, you needed to open your eyes and look but the room was too bright..

“t-to brigh-bright..” soy wheezed out, feeling as if someone had just gutted you moments ago. Jongho was stunned for a moment, unable to move at hearing your voice before he scrambled to turn one of the lights off, rushing back to your side right after.

He sat there patiently as your eyes fluttered once more, eyes not cringing as much. You were awake, my god you were awake.. Jongho tried to suppress the shaky sigh that left his lips, you heard though, trying your best to move and see where the sound was from. You winced as you moved, craning your neck as far as it could go to see.

You sat there for a moment, a confused look on your face as you tried to register who you were looking at. Jongho couldn't help but grow worried once more, why did you look so confused? Did you not recognize him? He opened his mouth to speak but before he could, your hoarse voice spoke up once more.

“J-jong-ho..” you stammered out, bloodshot eyes glossy as you finally registered the man sitting next to you. “Jongho..” you repeated, tears finally falling down your bruised and scratched face.

Jongho broke, he couldn't take it. His head immediately fell to the bed as sobs racked through his body, unable to hold his composure any longer. He sat there by your bedside, sobbing as you stared at him, unable to move and comfort him.

It was a little while before he looked up again and when he did he was met with a tear stained face, fresh ones still flowing. He reached up as he delicately cupped your cheek, gently wiping your tears.

“shhh, it's okay. I’m here, I’m right here darling. Please don't cry..” Jongho said softly. This only made you cry harder, the weight of everything you felt earlier crashing down on you. You sobbed into his palm, the feeling of his warm palm against your skin almost too overwhelming.

“Jongho..” you said in between cries, “i was so scared..” Guilt nipped at him at your words, you were scared, and he wasn't there to save you…

Tears welled up once more as he continued to wipe your tears. “I know… i'm sorry, i'm so so sorry” he couldn't stop apologizing, he felt so guilty.

He moved closer and pressed his lips on your forehead, giving you a slow and reassuring kiss. “I'm here now, I'm not letting you go okay?” he said while pulling away, becoming eye level with you once more.

All you could do was nod, unable to speak as you cried and cried into his palm. He let you stay there and sob, not asking any questions about what happened and how. all he needed to know was that you were safe, he could worry about everything else later.

The soft moment wouldn't last long though as a group of doctors and nurses almost busted through the door, startling you and your lover. The doctors stopped upon seeing his presence, almost as if they weren't expecting him to be there.

The room was silent for a moment or two, before one of the doctors cleared his throat and introduced himself as Dr. Ken.

“I'm so sorry to interrupt but we need to take Ms. Y/N into surgery now.” he said curtly, other medical assistance entering the room and working on getting your bed moving.

Jongho panicked for a bit, he didn't want you to leave him again.. what if something went wrong? As if on queue, he felt you grab his hand still resting on your cheek, bringing it to your lips and giving it a kiss and using all the power in your body to give him a reassuring squeeze.

“I'm g-gonna be ok-kay..” you wheezed out, almost unsure of yourself. However, you stood strong as you held his hand, his gaze still worry-ridden.

He held your hand throughout the trip to the other side of the hospital, stopping once you arrived at the surgery wing. This time it was him that gave the reassuring squeeze, looking at you once more.

“You’re going to be ok.” he reminded, searching your eyes for any sign of nervousness. You didn't say anything to this, only nodding and taking a deep breath.

“I love you.” you said, voice wavering slightly. Taking a deep breath, Jongho bent over to place a delicate kiss directly on your lips, lingering for a moment as if he wanted to engrave the feeling.

“I love you more..” he replied, taking a step back as the nurses rushed around, preparing for the oncoming surgery.

He watched as they wheeled you past the operation room doors, staring as long as he could before they closed. Once you were out of his vision, he let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

As he made his way over to the waiting area, he couldn't help but worry some more.. Was the surgery going to work? no, the surgery was going to work, you’re going to be ok.

You’re alive, You're alive, You're alive..

i hope you enjoyed <3

© 2022 yun-fangz All Rights Reserved.

[aerynwrites]

Mysterious Man || Part 8

Mob Boss!Boba Fett x Female!Reader

A/N: the next part is finally here!! I only anticipate there being about 2-3 more parts depending on if I do an epilogue. Hope you all enjoy!

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: kidnapping, reader is in handcuffs/trapped, Mentions of fear of dying, angst, so much angst, cliffhanger.

Ice clinks softly against the glass held in sturdy fingers. The dark amber liquid swirls smoothly inside as Boba twirls the glass in his hand. His buzzing phone is the only other sound in the room, no doubt notifying him of more messages or calls from you.

He can’t face you. Not after being a fool like he was.

It had been days since your argument. Since he accused you of turning against him and talking to the police. The look on your face felt like a punch to the gut - the way your eyes filled with unshed tears as if he had physically hit you.

Getting told your partner doesn’t trust you can do that to people.

He sighs, taking another long sip from his glass, avoiding the withering glare Fennec gives him from across the room.

“I don’t need any more lectures, Fennec.” His voice is firm as he speaks, but he avoids her gaze.

The woman scoffs. “I told you what I saw, and you’re still ignoring her. I’m just trying to figure out-”

Boba cuts her off. “Figure out what? Why I can’t bring myself to speak to her? Why I can’t call her back and pretend everything is okay? I fucked up Fennec, worse than I ever have before. I can’t just-”

The dinging of the elevator arriving stops him in his tracks, and he’s thankful for it. The anger he feels towards himself remains simmering beneath the surface and Fennec doesn’t deserve for it to be taken out on her.

He just needs time to figure out what he is going to say to you. How he’s going to apologize and make up for the mistakes and assumptions he’s made. He’s never felt this strongly for someone before, and maybe that scares him.

But losing you scares him even more.

Fennec leaves to go see who came up the elevator, so Boba takes another long pull from his glass, the burn of alcohol a pleasant distraction from the thoughts racing through his mind.

His solace does not last long.

Fennec comes back into the room, Din on her tail - both of them with grim looks on their faces. Boba doesn’t speak, he just holds his hand out when he sees an envelope in Fennec’s hand.

She shakes her head. “Boss, I don’t think-”

“Give it here.” His command leaves no room for argument and Fennec hands the parchment over.

Boba doesn’t feel dread often, but when he sees the mark of The Hutts stamped on the front of the envelope, he can’t help the pit of fear that settles deep in his belly. The envelope has already been opened, so he lifts the flap up and pulls out the contents inside.

There’s a letter, folded in threes. And when he moves to unfold it something slips from between the parchment and onto his lap. His eyes fall down to where it lands and all the air is sucked from his lungs. His world narrows down to the delicate gold chain and pendant that he reaches down slowly to retrieve.

It’s yours. It’s the necklace he gave you for Valentine's Day, he would recognize it anywhere.

The chain digs into his palm as he clutches it in a tight fist, eyes now moving towards the letter in his hand. He reads it in record time before reading it again, and again and again.

They have you. The Hutts took you and are asking ransom for your safe return.

‘Or else you’ll be getting more than just pretty jewelry delivered to your door.’

Glass shatters against the marble floor as he stands, knocking his drink off the side table. Everything is tinted red, his rage now tenfold at the blatant threat to your safety.

“Get your best people together,” He says, looking at Fennec and Din.

They don't need to be told twice. Din rushes off immediately, cell phone already to his ear as he barks orders to someone on the other end. Fennec moves to do the same, but stops and turns to place a firm hand on Boba’s shoulder.

“We’ll find her,” She says, determination in her eyes.

Boba just nods, and watches as Fennec turns to follow Din.

They will find you.

He will tear the whole city apart if he has to.

He looks to the necklace in his hand one more time before tucking it away inside his jacket.

I’m coming for you, princess.

—-----------

The room they threw you in is cold and reeks of mildew and stale water. You had just barely awoken from your unconscious state when they dragged you from the car and into your prison, cuffing you to one of the many pipes protruding from the wall.

Your shoulders ache from being stretched up for so long, and your wrists burn from where you struggled against the cuffs. You haven’t even seen anyone since they put you in here, no matter how loud or long you screamed for help.

At first you were afraid of the men who kidnapped you, but the sudden thought that they may have left you here to die scares you even more.

You want to cry, but you can’t even do that. You cried for, you don’t even know how long, when they brought you here, there’s simply nothing left.

The cuffs clink gently against the metal pipe as you adjust yourself to lean against the wall, resting your head back and closing your eyes. At this point you don’t even care who comes in here, you just want to know what the hell is going on. Why you were taken, what they want from you…anything.

It seems as if your silent pleas are answered when the only door to the room swings open and a man you’ve never seen before walks into the room with two of the men who took you following behind him. You sit straight up as his eyes land on you, and he acts as if he’s laying eyes on a fancy new car for the first time.

“There she is!” The man says.

His voice is deep and rough, and matches his appearance to a T. He’s very large, both in height and weight, with a face that looks like a snowman melting on a hot day. His cheeks sag, his eyes droop, and what little hair he has is so greasy it lays plastered to his head. He looks exactly like you’d imagine a kidnapper would, minus the expensive three piece suit that looks two sizes too small.

You don’t respond to his remark, both unsure of what to say and fearful of interacting with him at all. He takes this as a sign to approach you and continue.

“I thought we’d never get a chance to talk, what with Boba Fett hanging around you like a bad cold.” The man chuckles at his joke. “But it seems…there’s trouble in paradise, no?”

You can’t help but react to the words. It’s the same thing Detective Solo said to you the day you were taken. Did everyone know about you and Boba? The police make sense if they have been keeping tabs on him but…

“Who are you?” Your voice comes out weak from all your earlier screaming, but the man hears your question.

He smiles, revealing disgusting yellow-brown teeth, some of which are missing. He lets out a rasping laugh, one that seems genuine with the way his cronies laugh with him.

When he’s finally done he casts you a questioning look. “You must be joking!” he laughs again. “Boba’s girl doesn’t know who we are. Now, that - that is something you don’t hear everyday.”

“It’s not funny!” You finally cry out, your patience runs out as the tears you were searching for earlier finally return. “I have no fucking clue who you are or what you want from me! I just-” you have to fight back a sob.

“Please, let me go. Please.” You can’t even be ashamed that you’re begging these people, more scared of what they’ll do to you rather than worry over your pride.

The man standing above you regards you for a moment, before snapping his fingers at one of the men behind him. They pull a key from their pocket and move to unlock your handcuffs. You barely have time to panic before the cuff on one wrist falls away and he is hauling you to your feet.

“No, no, please!” You don’t even know what you're begging for anymore as they pull you out of the room and into a different one.

“I don’t know anything if that’s what you want.” You tell them, recalling how the detective was convinced you knew something about Boba. “I swear! I’m telling the truth-”

Your words are cut off as you are roughly shoved into a chair at a table in the new room they brought you too. The man who uncuffed you quickly attatches you to the table instead, ensuring you won’t go anywhere.

The leader, as you’ve decided to call him, stands across from you, a small smirk on his face. “I believe you’re telling the truth,” he says, pulling a cigarette from his coat pocket and bringing it to his lips.

He produces a lighter from his other pocket, and the ‘snick’ of him igniting it sounds deafening in the otherwise silent room.

“But that doesn’t mean we can’t still get to Boba, through you.”

Your brows furrow, confused at first and then fearful as the man finally introduces himself.

“They call me Jabba. I’m the leader of The Hutts, and I think we’ve had a run in before. A run-in that involved one of my men, an alley, and Boba protecting a pretty waitress.”

The man chuckles, and bile rises in your throat as his eyes run over you. You say nothing, letting him continue instead.

“Let’s just say…Boba and I had an…arrangement. An arrangement that was going quite well until an associate of mine ended up in the Kamino River. That very same associate who just so happened to pick you as his target that night.” Jabba points jabs his finger towards you, a faux thoughtful look on his face.

Your mind races to put together what this man is saying and the picture he is starting to paint is one that you desperately want to remain unfinished. But your mind flies to the conversation you overheard in your apartment the night Boba saved you, the conversation he explained away very prettily the next morning over breakfast.

You shake your head furiously. “No, he wouldn’t - He’s not like that! That man attacked me! It’s not…” you trail off, a headache starting to bloom behind your eyes.

Jabba chuckles. “Sweetheart.” The nickname gets your attention, and the looks the man gives you sends shivers down your spine.

“You don’t know Boba Fett at all.”

———

The longer you’re in a room with no window, the more you start to realize that time doesn’t make much sense. You know it’s been less than three days, because they haven’t given you any water and you’re still alive. But the gnawing in your stomach leads you to believe it’s been at least half a day or more. You really don’t know.

And at this point you don’t care.

They eventually took you back to the original room you were in, chaining you back up to the pipe and leaving without so much as a word. Not that you would have much to say. The silence is comforting, it lets your mind wander. Wander to different things, but mostly your desire to go home and…

Boba.

You want to cry all over again when you think about him. Your brain wars with itself, but right now you can’t help but want him to hold you. To show up like he did that night in the alley and save the day and look at you like you hung the moon and stars.

You just want to go home.

You can feel sleep tugging at your eyes, willing you to get some rest. You’ve been fighting the urge for a while now, afraid of them coming in here while you’re unaware. But it gets hard with each passing second, and you're just about to give in when you hear a distant ‘bang!’ followed by far off shouting.

The noises sap all sleep from you, panic coursing through you as the sounds get closer. The bangs come more frequently now, and your foggy mind realizes they’re gun shots. Blood rushes in your ears as your heart feels like it's going to burst from your chest as the sounds get louder. Closer.

They’re right outside your door.

It’s deafening now, echoing around the room as the door bursts open and one of the cronies from earlier comes running in, eyes set on you and a gun pointed your way. The scream rips itself from your throat before you can stop it, and your eyes slam closed, bracing for the pain that’s to come.

Three gunshots sound and it feels like the air is punched from your lungs. You can’t breath. Everything is ringing. A pair of warm hands cradle your face and it feels like your whole body is buzzing as you finally peel your eyes open.

Boba.

It’s him. Kneeling on the floor and casting a panicked gaze over you as his thumbs rub soothingly over your cheek bones. His lips move but you can’t hear him as your eyes fall to the body behind him. The man who was rushing at you lays in a pool of his own blood, three bullet’s in his back.

It’s then, when you realize that it wasn’t his gun that went off, that you manage a gasp for breath.

You aren’t dead. You’re alive and Boba’s here.

It feels like everytime you blink time has passed.

One. your cuffs are gone, you're on your feet.

Two. You’re walking up stairs. Bodies litter the ground.

Three. Your ears stopped ringing. You can hear a familiar baritone whispering comforts into your ear.

Four. Cool air hits your face, moonlight casting shadows in the dead of night.

Five. Leather slides against the backs of your legs, soft fabric is draped over your shoulders.

Six. the car lurches forward, and the world comes rushing back to you.

Your name. Someone is calling your name.

You finally look to your left to see Boba by your side in the car, Fennec driving smoothly towards the city. He looks the same as you last saw him, except this time he looks at you softly, instead of with contempt.

That look used to comfort you. It used to make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It made you feel safe. But now…

He’s calling your name again, reaching out to take your hand gently in his own.

“Are you alright? Please, talk to me.”

His voice is gentle, but you rip your hand away like you’ve been burned. All of the images from before play in your mind. The blood. The bodies. The piles of money. The stories fed to you.

You shake your head, pressing yourself against the car door, as far away from the man beside you as possible.

“Don’t touch me.” The words are feeble little things, barely a whisper. But in the silent car, you could have basically shouted them.

You can see the hurt flash across his face as he searches for answers. “Princess, I don’t-”

“They told me everything.”

Your words are cold. Like a knife slicing through the air, and you can practically feel the other two people in the car freeze upon hearing your words.

Immediately you are met with questions, both Fennec and Boba asking you what you mean, what you were told. But you don’t hear them. Tears stream down your face, and your hands come up to cover your ears, wanting to drown out the lies.

No more lies.

They were right. You don’t know the man sitting next to you…

You never did.

[sapphire-dreamsky]

Beware of the sea

Starring: Poseidon | Reader | A Random Deity | Zeus | Hera | Dionysus | Aphrodite

Pairing: Poseidon / Reader

Warning: Extramarital affairs are mentioned | Strong Language | A Possibly very OOC Poseidon but I want Poseidon to be a softie for his wife so 😜

Synopsis:

“Marriage made him better, eh.”

Never had Poseidon ever been so irritated that he felt like destroying a thousand temples in the name of sheer irritability. And yet, there he is, fuming, plotting for the murder and the destruction of a minor Greek god amidst a banquet organised by his younger brother. 'How dare he?' That was all that he could think of as he stared down at the god from a distance. If it was any other gods, the offender would cower in fear. However, this god must either be incredibly courageous and strong, or incredibly stupid. Poseidon leaned on the latter. His mind was filled with one thousand ways to kill the god as he chatted idly like a young boy with a poorly hidden crush, with Poseidon’s wife. 

If you are wondering what the offender did, it was actually very simple. The minor god did not offend Poseidon directly; he did not insult his person. He is not that stupid. He had survival instincts after all. Although he might want to sharpen his instinct a bit because that instinct is not warning him of the immediate danger he is currently exposing himself to voluntarily. But who could have warned this fool about the burning jealousy, possessivity that the Ruler of the Seas hid impossibly well beneath his ice-cold facade? Not Zeus anyway! He was enjoying this situation a bit too much! He was ready to bring out the popcorn and watch his normally stoic, detached brother fume with anger!

To every bystander who was acquainted with Poseidon (and those who were not acquainted as well), his face didn’t betray his murderous anger. In fact, even if you were to observe his facial expressions intently, you wouldn’t be able to find any cues which would warn about the impending storm reading towards the minor deity. He was calm. Maybe a bit too much. But he was relatively serene anyway. Poseidon was not one to start fights out of nowhere. But if the god is betting on this fact to protect him from the wrath of the sea, then he might as well bet on Zeus remaining faithful to Hera for more than one month.

In all Olympus, gods and nymphs alike knew very well how temperamental Poseidon could be. If he is not insulting you, he is staring down at you like you were a mere insect that dared to cross his path. There was only one person that the god did not dare to insult; that was (Y/N). She was one of the lowest-ranked deities in Olympus. By a streak of luck or bad luck - the gods were still arguing about this to this day- she miraculously attracted Poseidon's attention to her. Her gracious smile and kind spirit was something that set the Ruler of the Seas at peace. She calmed him down whenever he felt like he would lose his temper. It was no surprise really that the god of the sea married her. However, it was a surprise to even Zeus, to see how much more peaceful Poseidon became after marriage. Zeus for one, neither his sons nor the nymphs, could claim that marriage made Zeus a better person. In fact, his promiscuity seemed to have grown tenfold after his union with Hera. No one knew if the god of the sky was unfaithful out of pettiness, or if he really couldn't resist the temptation of a mortal woman. Everyone waited with impatience each year for a demi-god to claim Zeus to be his father. Everyone loved the drama that this sort of announcement brought. It was a nice change from their routine. Seeing the god of thunder run away from his furious wife always brought entertainment to the gods. As Dionysus once said himself, "who needs plays when you live in Olympus? Just wait for Hera to hunt Zeus! This is the best play you will ever see!" And indeed it was. No one could make Zeus run that fast as Hera. Her fury (‘and she has every right to be furious,’ the gods would murmur) was not one which you can easily escape from.

And while everyone knew Poseidon was not one to glance at women and nymphs (‘‘they are not worthy of his attention,’’ he claimed to his wife one night), they expected him to have a few affairs here and there as was usual with gods. ‘‘After all,’’ would the gods claim, ‘‘we have the gift of eternity! Why limit yourself to one partner? This sounds like a waste of such a gift!’’ That would spark anger in Hera as the gods dismiss the principles of marriage as if they were dust in their eyes. But Poseidon had no affairs; he had no need for such things. ‘‘Do not dare group me with the likes of Zeus.’’ 

And while Poseidon knew his wife would never look at another god, he couldn’t help the irrational thoughts to invade his mind. The what-ifs were loud and he hated it. He hated feeling inferior to another being. And yet, as he watched the insect make his wife laugh, Poseidon couldn’t help but think, ‘she never laughs like that with me.’ With a huff, he turns away from the pair. ‘If she wants to go with him, then she is unworthy of being called my wife.’ But despite this claim, his heart squeezed at the thought. To Zeus’ surprise, Poseidon did not murder the deity. He simply turned away from the scene. ‘Is my older brother that emotionally constipated?’ Zeus wondered. Even Aphrodite was ready to strangle the god of the sea. She tries to make a sign to the oblivious (YN) who was politely listening to the deity bragging about yet another feat. The queen of the sea swears silently in her mind. ‘If you are as strong as you claim, then why do you have to brag about it?’ She couldn’t help but think that if it was her husband, then he would never have the need to brag about any of his victories. The others would be the ones to tell the tale of his power. ‘That is how strong Poseidon is!’ 

Upon noticing Aphrodite making weird hand gestures at her, (Y/N)’s attention was stolen from the uninteresting conversation. ‘What?’ She cocked her head to the side, mind racing over the meanings of these signs. It wasn’t until Aphrodite, while rolling her eyes, pointed at Poseidon’s retreating form that (Y/N)’s eyes widened. ‘Oh.’ 

Poseidon’s mind was still reeling despite his seemingly uncaring attitude. Despite his own wishes, he couldn’t help but think about the worst-case scenarios. And despite knowing that (Y/N) would never leave him for some wanna-be, he couldn’t help feeling insecure. He reeled at the newfound emotion. Never before did he ever feel insecure about anything. He was born perfect, if he is insecure, then it must mean there is a flaw in him! And this, he cannot accept. But the words of others, gossips which would usually mean nothing to him, rang loud in his mind.

‘‘Damn, I feel bad for (Y/N). Being stuck with him out of everyone else!’’

‘‘The poor girl must have been too scared to refuse his advances!’’

‘‘Who can even love him?’’

‘‘His appearance must help! I can’t imagine anyone falling for him with that personality!’’

“His appearance and his power! As the wife of the god of the sea, (Y/N) is the safest god in all Olympus! No one would dare cross her or else her husband will be impaling you with that trident of his!”

‘‘He is like a wall! I bet he is so boring that we will hear (Y/N) has had affairs while married to him!’’

‘‘And would you blame her? He does not deserve her.’’

How bold of them to gossip about him and his wife like that, Poseidon used to think. But now, his mind can’t help but agree with them. Zeus told him many times before that if he did not try to change his personality he would end up alone. No one likes a boring partner. ‘But she married me!’ He argues back to his brother in his mind. 

(Y/N), ever so polite, tried to cut the conversation short. Poseidon’s form was retreating quickly. She did not want to spend the rest of the evening speaking with this deity! All he does is brag! If it wasn’t for courtesy, she would have quickly shut him down but since her husband is Poseidon, she was the one who needed to mingle with the crowds. She had to keep a good relationship with everyone for her husband’s sake. Despite his claim that gods did not need help, having some allies if ever a war was to break out, put her mind at ease. She would feel better knowing that her husband was not fighting alone despite him being repulsed at the idea.

But the deity was annoyingly clingy. 

‘‘It was a pleasure to know about your feats. Perhaps you should share them with the other guests? I am certain that you will entertain them! If you will excuse me.’’

But the deity couldn’t let her go just like that. Aphrodite briefly wondered if he thought he had a chance with her. This would certainly explain the audacity of the fool as he grabbed (Y/N)’s arm as she was trying to join her husband.

‘‘Come on! You haven’t heard of this one yet!’’ And then, more lowly, ‘‘Are you trying to run to your husband? He is boring. I am confident I am more interesting than him! I mean, have you seen his face? He did not even look twice your way before leaving!’’ 

The deity did not expect to be suddenly sock by (Y/N). She was positively seething. ‘‘How dare you insinuate such a thing! I will have you know that my husband is a much better god than you.’’ And with that, she stormed away from the deity. His right eye was turning into a purplish colour as the surrounding guests laughed at his dumbfounded expression. 

‘‘That’s (Y/N) for you!’’

The commotion attracted Poseidon’s attention to the scene. His eyes darken as he saw the whole affair. ‘That insignificant little piece of shit.’ Zeus watched as Poseidon made his way to his wife. ‘Oooh! Now this will be interesting!’ Despite (Y/N) socking the deity in his eye, to Poseidon, it was not enough. He dared to lay a hand on (Y/N) after all. The world will be damned if Poseidon does not put him back in his place. 

‘‘Poseidon!’’

(Y/N) tried to tug him away from the expecting crowd as the offending deity paled upon seeing the look on the god of the sea’s face. It didn’t put his mind at ease when the crowd parted ways for Poseidon. ‘If he didn’t realise his mistake yet, then he must be stupid,’ the crowd decided at unanimity. ‘He better beg on his knees to be spared.’ No one wanted to help the fool. They didn’t want to antagonise Poseidon. Despite his awful personality, he is a great ally to have. That is, only if their plight was worthy enough of his attention.

‘‘You.’’

The deity trembled as Poseidon addressed him. 

‘‘How dare you lay your insignificant hand on my wife?’’

The deity was too shocked to realise that his knees gave out automatically. The sheer raw power emanating from Poseidon was suffocating. He demanded the whole attention of the room. 

‘‘I-I am so-so-rry!’’

‘‘Come on Poseidon. I already made him regret it. Let’s go.’’

The emperor of the sea glanced at his stern wife’s face. Wordlessly, he turned away, holding her hand in his tightly. She squeezes his hand, hoping to calm him down. She was not delusional; she was well aware of the fact that he was still fuming. But for now, he will let it go. It will be useless to start a fight for now. But the face of the insignificant fool who dared touch his queen is etched in his mind. There is no telling of what would become of the god if he ever had the misfortune of crossing the path of Poseidon again after this incident. Zeus sighed as his entertainment disappeared once more. 

“Marriage made him better, eh.”

[cupofteaguk]

switching my positions

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

pairing: yoongi x fem!reader

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

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

word count: 40.1k 

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

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

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CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY 

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You’re late. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course,” Seokjin replies with a nod. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Was Yoongi about to faint right now or what. 

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

Yoongi takes it wordlessly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi nods. “He did seem nice.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi nods. “Thank you.” 

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

.

.

CHAPTER 2: THE REQUEST 

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook simply shifts his gaze between the two of you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you stop?” You squeak. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi grumbles something under his breath. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “Right.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He really should say something. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Okay, he’d probably say no. 

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

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

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

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

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

You nod. “That’s valid, I guess.” 

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

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

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

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

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

.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hope you don’t regret this.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

. 

CHAPTER  3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT 

. 

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

HELLO, WE ARE KSJ RECORDS. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to your intertwined hands. “Wow, you guys are committed,” He comments. 

You seem to remember that your soul has returned to the body that is still currently holding hands with Min Yoongi. Alarmingly, you take your hand back. “Y-Yeah, Yoongi thought it would be a good show for the people outside! No biggie—just a simple hand holding technique, people do that all the time!” You realize that you’re rambling. 

Yoongi, oblivious as always, raises an eyebrow. “You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah,” You manage. “Why do you ask?” 

Yoongi is about to answer, before an intern shyly approaches the three of you with an iPad in hand. 

“Are you all under Mr. Min’s team?” She asks, fishing out some badges when you nod in confirmation. “Okay, so make sure to take these so everyone knows who you are. Mr. Min? I can lead you to the studio you’ll be interviewing in, if you’ll follow me—did you need me to grab a soda for you?” She begins listing a series of questions about his well-being, leaving you and Jungkook behind in the hallway with your newly acquired badges in hand.

Jungkook, observant as always, gives you a look. “What was that all about?” 

“Huh? I-It was nothing…” You trail off looping the badge around your neck, meeting Jungkook’s eyes and realizing that he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. The same kind of grin that Taehyung gives you when you’re standing too close to Yoongi. Your eyes flare. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW?”  

Jungkook laughs. “Calm down, calm down, Taehyung and I gossip a lot on the side—hey, what the fuck, don’t hit me—we’re in a public place!” 

You relent your aggression, but only slightly. You lower your arms as well. “Just—don’t tell Yoongi.” 

Jungkook levels with you a dry look. “Do you think I have a death wish? C’mon, let’s head over.” 

With a hesitant sigh, you relent and let Jungkook lead you down the halls of this studio, until the pair of you find a door with Yoongi’s name written on the white board. There’s a darkened LIVE light panel above the frame, indicating that Yoongi’s radio interview hasn’t started yet. There’s some people lingering about, who nod and open the door for you when you present your TALENT badge at them. The inside of a radio booth is similar to the recording booths Yoongi has found a home in as of late. There’s people in this current room, headphones on and monitoring what’s happening before them while being surrounded with sound panels and laptop screens. On the other side of the glass is Yoongi, and the main hosts of the radio station, Jung Hoseok and Im Nayeon. 

From your side, you can hear their conversation amplified through speakers in the studio. They’re all currently joking around about external matters—it makes sense too. Yoongi has been on this particular radio show a handful of times. 

“Okay, okay, you guys,” Hoseok speaks after a few more minutes of playful banter. “Today, we have a very special guest with us today. He’s fresh off the tour of his first and most recent EP, we have Min Yoongi in the studio! Yay!” He claps. Nayeon follows suit. 

Yoongi stops his clapping sooner to speak into the microphone in front of him. “Thanks for having me back.” 

“Thank you for deciding to hang out with us for the afternoon,” Nayeon says. “Especially since you’re a big hot shot now.” 

Yoongi laughs. “I wouldn’t say that… I just finished my first tour, Nayeon, no big deal.” 

“‘No big deal’,” Nayeon quotes him. “As if your EP didn’t chart into a top 50 list or anything like that.” 

The conversation trails like this for a little bit. Yoongi is scheduled to spend thirty minutes doing a segment, which is meant to be uploaded onto Youtube later, so it gives the three of them a lot of legroom to play around and play off of each other. The purpose of the interview is to discuss the tour, the progress of the album, and (if anyone dared venture there) the status of his relationship—! 

“Well, moving on from the album—which I’m sure is going to be a huge success, by the way,” Nayeon continues on, bringing you back from the daydream that you’ve slipped into. “Seriously, it’s a very highly anticipated release.” 

Yoongi manages a nervous smile. “I’ll make sure not to let anyone down.” 

Nayeon nods. “I think it’s a good time to ask about a recent development that has occurred with you as of late.” 

“And, that is the announcement of your relationship,” Nayeon carries on. She glances at Yoongi from across the table. “We’re allowed to ask you questions about it, right?” 

Yoongi nods, choosing his words very carefully. “I’m all ears for your questions, Nayeon.” 

Nayeon brightens at that. “I just think that a lot of people want to know: how are you guys doing since the announcement?” 

He takes in a breath. To the general public, it’ll probably look as if he’s steeling himself to finally come clean about a relationship he’s been hiding for three years. But to you, you know it’s because he’s just trying to figure out what exactly to say. 

“We’ve been doing well,” He says with a nod of assurance. “It was a little stressful at first, and it still is because of how recent the news is, but I am glad we decided to make this call. Y/N has been with me since the beginning and has supported me and has been the inspiration for a lot of my music—and I’m at a point in my life where I want my fans to know that rather than drag them along and just make them assume these parts of my life.” 

“That’s so sweet,” Nayeon gushes. “So Y/N wasn’t always just your manager, even back in your Youtube days?” 

Yoongi shakes his head. “Actually, she was my girlfriend before I decided to upload song covers.” 

Nayeon swoons a little. “Can you tell us the story of how we met? You can be brief, of course.” 

Yoongi laughs. “We shared a class together in college, and she was probably the funniest person I had ever met—of course, we were friends for about a year before we started dating. But Y/N was always very supportive about me pursuing music, even when it was just a hobby. When I did start my Youtube channel, she stayed up to help with editing and just letting me know how some lyrics I had written would sound. She was a business major in college, so it felt right to let her have the reins on scheduling my appearances—and now she’s my manager. Besides just being my girlfriend, we work together really well.” 

You huff out a breath, something you hadn’t even realized that you were holding. You didn’t think Yoongi lying straight through his teeth could cause you so much anxiety. As if there are people around this radio station to fact check everything leaving Yoongi’s mouth. 

Nayeon hesitates for a moment. “Alright, I want to ask one more question.” 

Yoongi gestures for her to continue. 

“You write a lot about being in love and all these little moments of stability and that feeling of contentment—but what is your experience with love? How did you know that you were in love?” 

Your lips part in shock at the question, having not expected it. After all, Seokjin didn’t quiz Yoongi on this answer. And to talk about love in such a personal manner—would Yoongi even have an answer for everyone? 

Your gaze is trained on Yoongi, watching them through the glass separating you from him. It seems as if the entire room is silenced in anticipation. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze hot on your back, clearly trying to gauge your response—but you try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. 

“It’s actually funny,” Yoongi speaks up after a moment. Your heart lurches, thinking that he’s going to divert from the question. But you should know him better. “I always thought love, when it came to romance, was supposed to be this big explosion of fireworks and what not—like in the movies. You see someone and there’s this feeling in your gut right away, you know, this whole concept of love at first sight. I used to think that was how I was going to fall in love. It was going to be dramatic, but everything I wanted right away, and I was going to be whisked off and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. I thought that I’d meet someone, and they’d be everything I wanted them to be right off the bat, and that I’d know right away they’d be the one. 

But the truth is, through my relationship, I realized that it’s not like that. I didn’t know Y/N would be the one right away. It took a long time—because we liked each other, but that’s not the big explosion of fireworks I was promised. We liked each other, but it was never love at first sight. And truthfully, she wasn’t even everything I wanted right off the bat. I’ve realized that love is more about these adjustments you as people have to make to fit, and it happened so subtly with me that then I didn’t realize it was happening until I just woke up one day and knew. 

I knew because one morning, I woke up in a fit—I had fallen asleep at my desk again trying to get through some of the music arrangement of this one video I was working on, or something like that. I was always working on music and editing—so I actually don’t remember. Anyways, I woke up and my head was resting on a pillow, and there was a blanket over my shoulder, which I didn’t remember fixing up the night before. I got out of the little makeshift studio I had in my apartment, and there was breakfast food from this cafe I really like around the corner at my table. It was a little cold, but Y/N had taped a little note on the bag with heating instructions and what not, just telling me to do my best—really nice and supportive things. I had assumed that she had gone back home, because she knew I was pulling another all-nighter for work. That’s what I thought, until I look into the living room and find her sleeping on my couch. More than that, her hands were still on her laptop, where she had been in the process of still editing one of my videos. She still had her headphones on and everything. We had been dating for a little less than a year at that point, so it wasn’t like this was a rare thing. It was a pretty normal thing for her to do—wrap me up in blankets and buy me breakfast food the following morning, even falling asleep on the couch was a weekly occurrence. But I just saw her sleeping on my couch and I felt this wave of warmth and contentment. Like I always knew that she’d be on my team. I think that was the moment I really knew what love was.” 

It’s a long story, one that ends with a stunned silence—like no one had expected him to give out such a detailed answer and make it sound poetic at the same time. That’s the songwriter Min Yoongi for you, you supposed. 

Quickly, both the studio and the booth give out a chorus of aw’s and ooh’s, gushing amongst one another over the charming nature of Yoongi’s story. But you are still trapped into submission, staring straight through the glass with millions of questions still going through your mind. The spike in your heart rate also points to the rush of adrenaline flowing through you. Because you know this story that he is telling. He’s not lying through his teeth. You remember this night. Or, one of the nights, at least. Like Yoongi had said, you giving out blankets and food like air was second nature in your friendship. So was you falling asleep on the couch. 

Did those situations hold as much weight for him as they did for you? Or, was he just making up his feelings? After all, the key to lying was skirting as close to the truth as possible. That kind of situation may work for Yoongi, as the liar, but it wasn’t as comforting for you. 

You watch the way Yoongi laughs at the gushing Nayeon does, the way he smiles brightly and continues to reinforce how important you are—and you recognize his facade better than anyone else. Of course he’s lying, and you reach their realization with a bit of downfall in your stomach. There’s no way he would be telling the truth, especially considering the situation the pair of you are now in where Yoongi’s career is dependent on his ability to tell a proper lie. 

You allow yourself to sink a little deeper into the studio, near the back where the producers of the radio station can discuss amongst each other. This puts you with Jungkook, who has been watching the situation closely the entire time. 

“Yoongi can be quite the actor,” Jungkook mumbles. He has this unreadable expression in his eyes, but you know that Jungkook knows that situation Yoongi is describing. It had been Jungkook’s apartment as well. He glances at you, but says nothing. 

You continue to stare ahead. That pensive silence continues as Yoongi is released from the radio interview, and thanks Nayeon and Hoseok eagerly for their time and energy. Nayeon returns the gesture, waving to you through the glass when Yoongi points you out. You weakly return the action. 

It isn’t until you get into the car, where the pair of you are safe from the wandering eyes and careful ears of the entire world, that one of you elects to speak up. “So, what did you think?” Yoongi asks. 

By this point, you’ve recovered swiftly from your disappointment. You smile like it’s your only shield. “As your manager, I’m glad that you were able to make love so poetic—just on brand for you. As your fake girlfriend, I also really have to congratulate you for your storytelling. I even remember those nights too, so it was definitely a good memory to lie about.” 

Yoongi flushes a little at your comment, looking pleased with himself for a moment. You smile at his expression, before turning to train your gaze out of the window. The gesture makes you miss the way the smile slips off his face, the way he glances over at you. A good memory to lie about—right. 

.

Yoongi’s radio interview goes viral, and so does any hope you have in trying to forget the tale he had spun during it. Granted, you are happy that people bought his story. You just wish that it wouldn’t have muddled up all your thoughts and feelings along the way. 

Naturally, Seokjin is excited about the good press and the fact that the pair of you completed your first assignment well enough. At least, that’s the display he’s presenting when you walk into his office two days after the radio interview. Yesterday was spent looking over social media to see the public’s reaction to Yoongi’s speech about love, and if you as his manager would need to do any damage control. Luckily, you do not. As his manager, it leaves you in good spirits. 

But as someone who actually has a crush on Yoongi, it’s less so. 

That dejection only furthers itself when you see how excited Seokjin looks, like he’s already plotting the next steps to his little project. 

“Ah, Y/N!” Seokjin greets carefully. “Hi, hi, congratulations on your first successful outing with Yoongi! Per the reports I’ve been seeing over social media, you guys did a very good job.” 

You sigh, placing four coffee orders onto the table and sliding into the seat in front of Seokjin’s desk. “I didn’t really do that much,” You admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Yoongi did all the talking. I just waved at Nayeon through the glass window.” 

“Aaahh,” Seokjin hums, opening up his laptop and turning it around in order for you to see what is on his screen. “Seems like you did a little more than that.” 

Your gaze flints down to the big, bold words across the screen: THE INSIDER REPORT ON MIN YOONGI’S RADIO INTERVIEW: Employees at the K-IM Radio Station detail their experience meeting Yoongi and his girlfriend following the announcement of their relationship. 

That piques your interest, and you scoot forward in your chair slightly in order to reach out and see what Seokjin is talking about. It’s not a very lengthy article—there is a summary detailing Yoongi’s interview, of course referencing his grand speech about love—but that’s not what takes up the most space. 

Your eyes continue to skim over, almost not even believing what you were reading. The intern that first greeted you and Yoongi is in here, talking about how the pair of you were holding hands “in such a loving way, and the way they looked at each other before I led him to the radio booth was so romantic!” (The intern’s words, not yours). There’s even some excerpts from the employees and producers inside the radio booth, the same room you had spent the interview in. Surprisingly, a lot of the accounts are not talking about what Yoongi said. It’s all about how you looked when Yoongi was telling his story. 

“It was such a powerful speech, I couldn’t help but look over to Y/N to see her reaction, and she was staring back at Yoongi in such a way that I knew immediately that the genuine nature of their love was a two-way street.” 

“... a definite softness in her gaze, like she was reliving that memory with him.” 

And so on, and so on. 

Your face feels a little warmer when your eyes as you push the laptop away, glancing up to see Seokjin’s staring at you. “See? You did good. The small gestures you do can go a long way—especially when you don’t notice you’re doing them.” 

You close the laptop, as if that can physically distance yourself from the assurances of those who had been around you. “Right…” You manage weakly. 

“Well,” Seokjin hums, already moving onto the next point of the conversation. If he senses something fishy in your response, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anyways, Yoongi is in the studio right now with Namjoon, so I just want a little update report on your relationship with Yoongi. As in, how is it going between the two of you?” 

You ponder this for a moment, thinking about how he took your hand in the car, how he recounted such a personal story to explain the details of his love, the look he gave you when you congratulated his storytelling abilities—like he knew something that you did not. 

At the same time, it was such a minor appearance that you didn’t get much of a feel about the romantic aspect of this fake relationship. This is why you sigh. “I’m not too sure. We had such a minor acting role together that it’s hard to say. I will say that right now it feels pretty much the same.” 

“Alright, fair enough,” Seokjin approves with a nod. “So you don’t have a problem if I want to plan some informal hang-outs for you and Yoongi? Just as a way to keep your guys in the public eye enough times that fans don’t start doubting your relationship.” 

You smile weakly. “Of course. That’s what I signed the NDA for.” 

Seokjin laughs, finally waving you off. “Okay, sure. I’ll look into where I think your relationship will make the biggest impact and will update you and Yoongi when I’ve made my decisions.” Finally, he looks over the multiple cups of coffee you had brought over on your cardboard tray, and fishes out the one with his name on it. “This one for me?” 

You lean over, flickering your gaze from the cup to his face. “Well, at the very least, I know you can read now.” 

His relaxed expression morphs into a playful scowl. “Get out of here brat.” 

Your laughter echoes through his office as you take your cardboard tray of three coffee cups and reemerge back into the hallway of the record studio. You walk the familiar path until you reach the door to the recording room—pulling open the door and letting yourself in. Inside the booth, Yoongi is rapping away into his microphone, as his low voice fills the tiny space of this studio. You place the tray down onto one of the tables, picking up your own before sliding over to take a seat on the couch. 

As you continue listening to Yoongi wistfully hum about a desire to cross an emotional distance, about how he tells the truth because “it’s you, it’s always been you”—you cannot help your mind wandering into what Seokjin has in store for you over the course of the next few months. 

.

. 

CHAPTER 4: TURNING POINT 

. 

Yoongi’s first full length album is set to release in two months. 

At least, that’s what KSJ records claims after uploading a quarterly report of Yoongi’s schedule. At first, you don’t think it’s a big deal for Yoongi’s label to post a tentative update about his music progress, but his fans are extremely observant and catch on immediately. It’s good to draw up the hype, you suppose. 

Anyways, at the rate that Yoongi is working on the songs for the album, you won’t be surprised if he manages to follow the schedule down to a T. The boy lives and breathes music, and last time you checked the album would consist partly of songs from his EP and new songs—meaning that it cuts down Yoongi’s usual workload into half. Not that he minds, at any rate. 

“Okay, Min Yoongi,” Seokjin starts up, standing at the head of the meeting room which only consists of three people. Normally, with meetings with the head of KSJ records himself, there’s a lot more people around to discuss schedule, promotions, and the likes. The fact that it’s just you and Yoongi tells you exactly what you’re doing here. “It’s been a few weeks since your radio interview, and I know that you’re doing well in your progress of the album—but I think it’ll do you well to take a break.” 

Yoongi huffs. “It’s nice that you’re reminding me about this, but I’ll rest when the album is released.” 

Seokjin snorts. “When did I say rest? I just meant take a break from your album work. Plus you need to get some vitamin C, or whatever shit you get from the sun.”  

“It’s vitamin D,” You interject gently. 

“Pish posh,” Seokjin waves away your interruption. “Anyways, like I was saying, there is a way for us to kill two birds with one stone. So that you.” He points to Yoongi. “Can get out of the studio for a few hours and you.” He points to you. “Can play into a relationship that’ll help us kill two birds with one stone.” 

You raise an eyebrow. “What exactly are you proposing?” 

“Well,” Seokjin continues, leaning over his side of the table to get a few good at his laptop, where it appears that he has a few notes written down regarding the direction of this meeting. “In order to continue generating curiosity about Yoongi’s upcoming album and maintain the public’s constant queries about your relationship, I want you two to go on public outings. I have a few specific places I think would be good cornerstones to touch on, but I’m also willing to let the two of you figure out where you want to spend your time.” He glances up at the two of you. “That should be okay, right?” 

You and Yoongi glance at each other. Come to think of it, the pair of you haven’t talked about nor reviewed the events at the radio station since it happened and the underlying questions you still have about his side of the story feels vaguely like a weight hanging over you both. But Yoongi smiles at you, and you think that you can continue to do what you’ve done for years: hide away your feelings. 

“Yeah, that should be fine,” You speak up first, smiling back at Yoongi. You turn to Seokjin. “What did you have in mind?” 

The question is how you find yourself in a car with Yoongi a few days later, your hands in your lap and your mind spinning with nerves. The radio interview had been one case, but a limited one at that—your role had been very minor and your interaction with Yoongi had only been seconds long. They had definitely been a lot smaller than this new role that Seokjin has assigned to you. 

For today, Seokjin has directed the pair of you to the streets of Yoongi’s old stomping ground—the same shopping district with the same corner Yoongi spent all his nights performing in from a time period that seems so long enough. Not long enough, apparently, as Seokjin thinks it would be a nice nod to be ‘accidentally’ discovered walking along a place that holds so much memory. 

“I just want you guys to walk around—be happy, but be close,” Seokjin had noted just a few hours prior to you and Yoongi’s departure. “Just look like the pair of you are on a date. Hold hands, smile at each other, all that jazz. Nothing too serious.” 

Too bad it actually was kind of serious for you. 

You and Yoongi make minor conversation, making some jokes here and there that do well in helping to ease your nerves. You don’t think Yoongi would take notice, but he can be strangely observant. Perhaps the way you keep bouncing one of your legs helps let him know that something is up. 

“Are you okay?” He asks. 

You stop bouncing your leg. “It kind of feels like I’m about to perform, or something—it’s that same kind of rush.” 

Yoongi stares at you for a moment, before he looks out his side of the window. “Well, technically speaking, you are about to perform. You know, with this whole relationship being an act and all.” 

“Very true,” You say, nodding your head. “Do we need a game plan?” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I thought that we’d just wing it. We held hands back at the radio station so, uh, I’m assuming that you’re still comfortable with doing that?” 

“O-Oh yeah, of course!” 

“Then, we can do that. And walk around. Improvise while we do so—just see how the day goes.” 

You nod. “Okay, true, true. That sounds good.” You can’t help but give him a sneaky smile. “Look at you, Min Yoongi, you’ve become quite the performer. Improvisation used to be something you were never too good at.” 

Yoongi flushes a little, smiling back at you. “Give me a little credit. You gotta have backups for your backups, especially in situations when your sound gives up on you in the middle of one of your sets.” 

You laugh, because this reminds you about one of Yoongi’s first live sets along the very street the pair of you will be approaching shortly. His speakers had just given up, forcing Yoongi to go entirely acapella. In a way, that mistake ended up garnering him more fans who grew to respect his craft and talent for music and singing. But as they say, hindsight is 20 20. 

You and Yoongi continue to laugh about that memory for a few minutes before Taehyung arrives along the outskirts of the shopping district, pulling up along the curb. The car is on the other side of this bustling area, just a few feet away from the pedestrian walkway that is littering with people going to and fro. 

Taehyung turns around in his seat to give the pair of you a look. “Now kids, I want you to call me whenever you’re ready to get picked up.” He’s grinning around the words though 

You glare at him. “Sure thing dad,” You bite back, already opening the car door to take your leave. Your feet land onto the concrete of the sidewalk as you pull yourself into a standing position. Yoongi joins you shortly after, standing close to you. “Bye,” You say, slamming the door into Taehyung’s face before he can get in one last snarky reply. 

Yoongi looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh for Taehyung’s benefit. But it’s an act he can only hold together for so long, because he does start to laugh as soon as Taehyung and the company car turn the corner and disappear out of sight.

After a second, Yoongi turns to you and gestures towards the pedestrian walkway just a few feet ahead. “Shall we?” 

You nod, taking the hand that he extends out to you. Just an act, you tell yourself, you allow him to lace your fingers together. Nevermind the fact that the weight on your hand feels entirely too reassuring and comforting for the current context. 

Ignoring that feeling, you squeeze his hand and let him lead you towards the walkway, where you cross the street with no problem. Since Yoongi nor Seokjin had announced Yoongi’s presence at this plaza for the day, you can only hope that too much attention won’t be drawn to you. 

It’s a thought that you are able to entertain for a few minutes. Yoongi may not have the star quality status of mainstream celebrities (yet), but he’s still someone who has been on the radio, has done a country-wide tour, and has a youtube following of a couple million people (four now, the last time you checked—subscriber counts tend to zip by after a person hits a million). That small list of accomplishments is more than enough to drag in a few wandering eyes. Okay, maybe a little more than a few. 

You think that you’ve kind of developed a seventh sense to knowing when Yoongi was being recognized. It’s shown in the double-glances some people start shooting at him, at quick whispers behind closed hands, and craning necks over shoulders. 

You’re okay with people knowing about Yoongi’s current location, but the memory of his tours and even the crowd problem that came up during his street performances flashback in your mind. You don’t think you want to deal with that situation right now—secretly preferring if people just observed from a distance. 

Without thinking twice, you tighten your hold on Yoongi’s hand long enough to lead him into one of the stores along the sidewalk—an accessories booth with fake glasses, rings, earrings, the likes. 

Yoongi watches you, a touch of amusement in his eyes like he knows what you’re thinking. Still, he asks. “What are you doing?” 

You rummage through the wide selection of glasses, fully aware that one or two people have spotted the pair of you and are lingering near the entrance to catch a glance at what you two are doing. From the looks of it, no one is going to stir up a commotion. You still want to make sure. 

“You stand out,” You explain vaguely, finding a pair of circle glasses in black-rims from the pile before turning around and more or less smashing the glasses against his face. It’s difficult to try and put glasses on another person, you miss his ears a few times and almost get him in the eye, but Yoongi strangely enough lets you manhandle him. 

In the midst of your last few attempts you step forward and scoot even closer to him to try and get the glasses more properly situated on his face. Due to the proximity, Yoongi’s hands fly up from his side to avoid being pressed uncomfortably against his chest, choosing to rest at your waist. At first, you don’t feel the weight of his hands, you’re too focused on making sure the fake glasses you’ve selected can fit in place. 

As soon as you’ve properly aligned the glasses to his face, you lower your hands from his face. The action makes you suddenly hyper aware of the current position you’ve put yourself in. It’s not very often that you get handsy with Yoongi, it’s a side of you that comes out when the pair of you are in a hurry, but hardly during candid moments like this. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s hands feel like warm flames tickling your skin, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of his position, of his closeness. Your eyes flicker up, seeing his face with those glasses you’ve just shoved onto him sitting nicely at the bridge of his nose, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. The stare he’s giving you only heightens the gravitational pull you feel towards him. 

You don’t know how long the pair of you are just standing in the middle of the store, staring at each other, until you feel the weight of a third party approaching the pair of you. 

You practically shove yourself away from Yoongi, trying to make it seem as if you’re just stepping back to get an overall look at his face (Yoongi featuring glasses). Yoongi lets you go. 

The third party is an employee of the accessories booth, smiling widely. “Sorry to interrupt,” She says, looking over at Yoongi. “Sir, I just want to say that those glasses look great on you. And just to let you know we’re having a sale on that collection so it’s a buy one get the other one half off so maybe you two can match if you’re up to it…” 

You tune her out after a second, realizing that you can’t really keep up with what she’s saying considering the current firestorm that’s going on inside your head. Why couldn’t you have just asked Yoongi to put the glasses on himself? You curse yourself for letting your guard down—sometimes you try to do things of your own accord, and today you were paying the price.

When you don’t speak after a few seconds, Yoongi smiles at the employee. “Got it, thanks a lot.” He waits until the employee returns back to rearranging some earrings on a nearby shelf before turning back to you. “How does it look?” 

He does look good, but you play it down by tilting your head and settling with a shrug. “Well, you’ve looked better—but this’ll have to do.” 

Yoongi laughs, before he does something that catches you off guard. He steps closer to you. “So you think there are times when I do look good?” 

You try not to look too bewildered at his gesture. You can tell that he does feel a little nervous about the fact he’s testing the waters so boldly without any practice, but it’s all part of the act. Just as Seokjin said: be happy, be close. 

So you place a hand on his chest, pushing him slightly with your own little teasing smile. “I said better—that doesn’t always mean you were ever good to begin with.” 

Yoongi makes a noise of protest, and without warning just swings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his side. “You’re breaking my heart everyday!” 

“You must like the abuse, you’re still with me,” You bite back playfully without thought. For a split second, it doesn’t feel like you’re in a store with people who vaguely recognize Yoongi’s appearance—for a split second, it feels like just you and him, and everything you’ve ever wanted. 

Upon Yoongi’s lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Good job, I think the group of girls outside caught our picture.” 

That dreamy fantasy where it was just you and Yoongi and nothing else mattered came crashing down, squaring you right back into reality. It’s not a disappointing feeling per say—just a vague extra hammering of your heartbeat, a vague guilt that you let your mind let its guard down like that. “Right,” You say. “Uh…” You try to think, which proves to be a difficult thing to do with Yoongi’s weight pressed up against you and everything. You clap your hands together. “Okay, let’s grab a hat and then we’ll be on our way.” 

You make sure to be a little less handsy when it comes to hat selections, but you knew there was only so far you could escape given the current context of the situation. Yoongi seems to know that, because he stays close to you as you’re both shifting through hats, and even when he pays for his hat and glasses combination before exiting the booth. The pair of you pass through the two girls that were lingering outside of the booth, where Yoongi gives them the smallest wave and hello before carrying on with the rest of the trip. 

With the hat and glasses combination, it definitely draws less attention to Yoongi’s classic fluffy black hair and gummy smile—especially if you’re using what was going on in the beginning of your trip as a baseline. This means that you and Yoongi can carry on with the rest of your outing with feeling the obvious heavy weight of gazes on your shoulder. 

With intertwined hands the pair of you first stop by one of the local cafes and sit right alongside the window to enjoy some pasta and soda combinations. You roll up the noodles onto your fork and clink utensils with Yoongi before slipping the noodles in your mouth—tomato sauce with flavor slipped into every side piece of noodle. It’s amazing, and you cannot help but gush so as you smile brightly around your fork. 

You’re too busy stirring your fork around yet another string of pasta that you fail to see the softening look of the boy across the table from you. It’s a look that disappears by the time your gaze glints back up to resume the conversation. The pasta is considered a snack above all else, so it doesn’t take long for the pair of you to finish up your meal. Leaving a tip behind on the table, Yoongi walks over to you just as you’re straightening up from your chair. Silently, he offers his hand to you. 

Knowing the routine by now, you take his hand, silently lacing your fingers together and letting him lead the way out of the cafe and back onto the sidewalk. The later afternoon shows itself in the steady increase of people, which is good because it makes you feel as if you can blend into the crowd either. There are still the occasional phones out, trailing after you and Yoongi as you walk along the sidewalk, but nothing that ever makes you feel as if you need to call Taehyung. 

“Actually, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” You grumble to Yoongi quietly, a comment that he laughs at. 

“I’m not that famous,” Yoongi jokingly teases you. “And my fans are just being respectful—give them a little credit.” His voice dies down shortly after, however, but it only takes you a few seconds to realize why. 

The pair of you, in the midst of your simple ‘walk along the sidewalk’ plan, have arrived at a very familiar street corner. The sunset means that arriving performers who work best once the sun leaves are just beginning to set up their stage—laying out equipment, testing out sound systems, saying hello to some passersby who recognize the artists getting ready. You can read the signs of these interactions very easily. After all, it’s what Yoongi used to do a year ago, at this very spot too. 

In front of you, a new performer, a singer, is setting up her own equipment—guitar in hand as she practices her strumming. You inch closer to Yoongi, your arms molded against each other. “Hey, hey,” You whisper at Yoongi. The boy leans over to better hear you. “She reminds me of you.” 

Yoongi laughs. “What do you mean? How?” 

You glance over at the girl again, not noticing the way Yoongi is still staring at you, quietly awaiting your answer. “You guys have the same drive,” You eventually note. “And the same determination. It’s easy to see in her, just as it’s always been like that for you…” You trail off, looking over to realize that he’s still looking at you. 

“You noticed those things, huh?” Yoongi asks quietly. 

His gaze is too enticing to look away from, pulling you in through a situation not unlike what had happened at the accessories shop earlier that afternoon. “I-I mean, of course I do…” Yoongi’s gaze feels like hot magnets that are just pulling the next words out of you. “I always notice with you.” 

The world seems to quiet down at that, everything slowing down as you feel yourself mentally curse yourself out for those words. Why would you say it like that? 

A million thoughts go through your head at once. You weren’t really lying or trying to play a part. You were being honest. You do always notice with Yoongi. And since he clearly only sees you as a friend that could participate in whatever scheme he can get himself into, then he would obviously hear your statement and think of it as nothing more than a friendly complement. Right? RIGHT? 

Except, Yoongi is still just standing next to you, staring at you, not making any sort of comment whatsoever. He has that unreadable expression in his gaze, a look he always gives you when you let the cracks slip in your facade, but it’s something he never talks about, never explains to you—just like right now. 

The silence grows tense, so tense that it begins to feel like weights on your shoulders, like a coil wrapping itself around your heart, because why isn’t he saying anything? 

Yoongi hums, low and throaty and that coil around your heart drops into your stomach. “Is that so?” He inquires softly, continuing to gaze at you. 

His gaze drops down to your lips, and that coil is replaced with butterflies all around you. It starts are a flutter in your stomach, in your heart, and your mind starts to race because what the fuck is happening?

Around you, the growing number of people means that someone accidentally bumps into you, driving you forward right into Yoongi’s chest. The pair of you stumble, effectively dissipating that cloud of tension that had threatened to curl through you. You cough, taking a small step away from Yoongi so that while the pair of you were still holding hands, that was the only thing connecting the pair of you. 

You and Yoongi don’t have another run in like that for the remainder of the date, as that late afternoon sunset fades away into nighttime and you and Yoongi spend that time trying to enjoy each other’s presence whilst also not engaging in too much physical contact. Your fingers remain loosely intertwined but it never tightens as if the small air of space between your hands can hide away the nerves and tension you feel yourself trying to contain. 

Even when Taehyung comes to pick the two of you up, and you no longer are under the obligation to hold hands, that air of space still feels heavy between the two of you. 

.

The overwhelming positive response of your first official public date sends Seokjin through the moon, as well as provides him with a drive to arrange and send you and Yoongi out on more dates. All of which, fortunately for you, don’t come nearly as close to the level of tension experienced from the first date. Partly because you know your limits, and go into each planned date with a level of expectation for yourself as well as rules that you’ve internally programmed yourself to follow every time you and Yoongi step out of the car. 

At the museum date, you make sure to keep your distance, using your intertwined hands with Yoongi as the only signal of your relationship. The pair of you joke around about the art pieces, whispering between each other about how many fans have taken pictures of the pair of you lingering about the museum, as well as relay information to each other about various rooms that you are interested in. But in a way, it definitely feels more like a typical friendly hang-out rather than a date. 

The same idea can be applied to the next date Seokjin sends you on—a casual date at one of the local botanical gardens, each garden filled with a different culture to serve as the theme for its layout and plant growth. Some gardens have little cafe booths and grassy fields to buy some snacks before sitting down to enjoy the sunlight, which is an idea that Yoongi suggests that the two of you do. He points to one of the ice cream shops along the outskirts of a garden, and claims a seat on one of the benches so the two of you can enjoy your treat. The current summertime weather emits a warmer heat and breeze that curls lightly through the air throughout the day, making for a perfectly comfortable season to wear a sundress. It’s also the kind of undetectable weather for ice cream to melt down the cone, onto unsuspecting fingers curled into the dry waffle texture. Yoongi makes that well aware by poking your cheek with his sticky finger, garnering several pictures of the encounter. 

Seokjin has even tried to implement studio life into his constant narrative to keep up the facade of your relationship with Yoongi. While the pair of you go on these occasional dates, Yoongi also has a deadline to fulfill with his album release. On the days where dates are not planned out, he’ll be in the studio—rearranging songs to fit in with the music beats that have more or less been tapered down to perfection. As his manager, sometimes you find yourself staying past your allotted time slot of being at the studio, before sneaking into the recording booth way past midnight to see what Yoongi and Namjoon are up to. 

Just as it follows: you straighten up, craning your neck backwards a little to allow for slight muscle extensions after sitting at a desk for an extra hour too long. With Yoongi’s album steadily approaching, there are interviews that need to be arranged, magazines and newspapers and radio shows alike all reaching out to you for the opportunity to cover Yoongi’s growth as an artist. Albums also equate to tours to help promote the album, and with the close call from Yoongi’s last experience with such, it means that you need to book more locations—or the same location across multiple dates. 

Overall, the growing pile of work means that you and everyone else at KSJ Studios are just as anticipated for Yoongi’s album release as the general public. It seems as if his collective fanbase are hoping and waiting under the same parameters: was the album going to be as good as they were expecting? 

You shoulder your purse, stepping out of your office and shutting it behind you. You navigate through the hallways, glancing sideways to peek out the long glassway of windows, all overlooking the city skyline, the multicolor lights flickering ahead in the distance. You quirk a lip. 

Your usual brisk pace dies down when you pass the studio you know Yoongi and Namjoon are recording in. The soundproof walls inside mean that hardly any music ever seeps out from between the cracks, only heightening your curiosity. Your busy schedule recently has made it so you have hardly been able to hear what Yoongi and Namjoon have come up with. 

You glance down at your watch. It was nearing midnight. Well, you think to yourself, a little peek wouldn’t hurt. You reach over to grip the door handle, pushing it down and pushing it open. Inside is the usual scene: Yoongi behind the glass, his fingers curled around the headphones as he speaks into the microphone. His voice filters through the main studio area, where Namjoon sits behind computers and music panels, capturing every single second of what is going on. 

Further driven by curiosity, you find yourself pulling harder at the door to let yourself in. Namjoon turns at the sound, but softens a little when he sees that it’s you. 

“Burning the midnight oil?” You tease, standing next to Namjoon at the table, watching Yoongi’s closed eyes as he loses himself in the song. 

Namjoon grins back. “You’re not gonna tell us to stop, are you?” 

“Hey.” You bring both arms up in a sign of surrender. “I’m off the clock on this one. Just wanted to see what you two were up to.” 

Suddenly, Yoongi calls your name from behind the glass, as the noise is amplified through the studio. You jump slightly, having not expected to be noticed so soon. Yoongi waves. “It’s late!” He calls. “What are you still doing here?” 

You lean forward to press the button that opens the two-way communication. “I’m not sure you heard, but there’s an artist in this studio that’s working on an upcoming album—it’s causing a lot of pain for the rest of us.” 

Yoongi laughs at that. “Touche, touche.” He brightens up slightly. “Hey, we’re wrapping up on this song, so if you stick around I’ll drive you home.” 

This is a natural offer for Yoongi to make, considering the extent to which you’ve spent long nights here. Brushing it off as nothing more than Yoongi just being a good pal, you nod and flash him a thumbs up. “Sounds good, sounds good. But take your time. Don’t let me get in the way.” 

You turn around, allowing the music of Yoongi’s song to refilter back through the studio. You park yourself atop the couch at the back, settling into the soft cushions. Come to think of it, falling asleep definitely isn’t the worst thing in the world to do—especially on this couch. And you’re exhausted, what with scheduling events all day and having to burn through your social battery by making one too many phone calls with various people within the industry. 

The last thing you remember is Yoongi’s soft humming that fades away into a quiet static. 

You jerk awake after what feels like a few minutes—but judging from your new position on the couch (horizontal this time, instead of vertical) and the blanket that has been tucked under your chin, you realize quickly that this few minutes has actually been a few hours. It might be hard to believe that, because the world around you still seems very similar to what it had been when you fell asleep. The lack of windows in the studio make it very difficult to distinguish time—although Yoongi’s voice sounds much closer than it had when you first fell asleep. 

You sit up. 

Namjoon and Yoongi jolt at your sudden movement. “Woah! She’s awake now,” Yoongi teases. 

Blinking for a few seconds, you turn your head to find Yoongi out of the recording booth and instead sitting at one of the tables in the actual studio setting. Surrounding Namjoon and Yoongi looks like an entire McDonalds family meal: chicken nuggets, $1 menu burgers, lots of french fries… 

You let out a breath to help further situate you to your new surroundings. “Min Yoongi…” You start, voice hoarse. “You said you were just finishing up.” 

“I was,” Yoongi explains, looking vaguely guilty. Only vaguely though. “But I had this sudden epiphany, like holy shit you really had to be here—it was crazy.” 

“I was here,” You choke out. 

Yoongi waves you off. “You know what I mean—here here. Anyways, yeah, we realized that we couldn’t leave, especially when I got Namjoon on the same page. He was just as excited as I was!” 

Namjoon slaps his hand. “Don’t drag me into this!” 

Yoongi ignores him. “Anyways, it’s like two in the morning and we got hungry. McDonalds is the food of champions, after all. You hungry? Here, have some water first.” He grabs a bottle of water from the table and unscrews the cap. Suddenly, he’s standing up and making his way towards the couch. He sits down next to you, offering the water to you. “Here. You must be thirsty.” 

You are. Still heavy-lidded too, but you try your best to blink away the exhaustion as you blindly reach for the water and manage to grab it after Yoongi adjusts his own angled arm. He watches you as you tilt your head back to down some of the water, accidentally drinking a little more than your mouth can handle. Some of it slides down the corner of your lip, making you angle your head back properly and remove your lips from the bottle head. 

Yoongi softens a little at your clumsy nature, tugging the sleeve of his long-sleeved forward in order to pat the corner of your mouth. “Aw, look at my tiny little baby, can’t even drink water properly,” He coos. 

You flinch slightly away from him, trying for a glare that comes out more like a pout. Yoongi laughs softly at the sight. “There are no cameras around us, Min Yoongi,” You grumble out. “You don’t need to be so attentive.” 

“Nevermind that, I’m just trying to be a friend. You want a french fry?” He reaches across the space separating the couch from the table, and grabs the box of salty french fries. His voice carries that usual positive disposition from previously, but the light in his eyes has died down a little. You don’t notice it, too busy looking at the french fries and realizing that you are actually a little hungry. 

The remainder of Yoongi and Namjoon’s break is dedicated to finishing up the family meal, before Yoongi looks at the clock and claps his hands together. “Hey Namjoon, I think I should take my girl home before we get back to working. Is that okay?” 

Namjoon’s eyes flicker between the two of you, but he relents. “Of course.” He utters your name. “Have a good night.” 

“I should be saying that to you,” You return teasingly, more of your senses have returned since putting food into your stomach. “See you tomorrow, Namjoon.” 

So Yoongi takes you home, driving through the darkened streets, making light conversation with you, completely ignoring the fact that he has just addressed you as his girl, before your phone starts to buzz in your lap. It’s a notification from Instagram, saying that Namjoon has tagged you in a picture. Raising an eyebrow, you tap the alert, which takes you to a picture from just a few minutes ago—you and Yoongi at the studio, Yoongi tapping gently at your face with his sweater paw. The caption burns into your mind: three am company, ft my favorite artist and his favorite girl. 

His favorite girl. 

His girl. 

.

.

CHAPTER 5: HIS GIRL 

. 

Yoongi’s album is entitled Y2, and it releases in the autumn, when the leaves are colored orange and the breeze has called for cozy jackets and big sweaters. It’s the perfect attire to wear as the earphones get plugged in and slipped into ears—curled up by soft cashmere and Yoongi’s luring voice. He’s got about sixteen songs on the album, a sweet mixture of loose beats and soft vocal voices that seem to simultaneously battle the drawn out harsh tone of stories extended across various three minute arrangements. The stories cover the low point—passive aggressive fights, of late nights, of “holding your hand, being so close, yet feeling so lonely”. But the songs also touch on the high points—coming back together, of soft morning light, of “being with you, wiping the traces of exhaustion from the corner of your lips, so close yet so far away, and still knowing you’re all I [he] could ever want”. 

At least, it is what one article touches upon in a Y2 review, where the journalist gives high remarks to Yoongi’s album. She calls it a refreshing interpretation of music, continuing in the era of singers actually singing about their feelings. More than that, an era of storytelling in music. Of anything, of life, of the highs and the lows—the sadness, the happiness, the softness. 

Safe to say that Yoongi is very excited to read this review on his phone, along with the surplus of positive things people have to say—from highly regarded journalists who belong to highly regarded newspaper companies, from social media, from his friends and family. Most especially, from you. You: whose hand he holds underneath the table as the numbers of listens start pouring in from various streaming websites. 

He’s been nervous about this. He’s put his blood, sweat, and tears into the creation of this album, every song has been nailed down to perfection. His name, and his heart, is back out into the world. 

The night of the album release is the launch party. 

“Dude, it’s supposed to be a chill night,” Jungkook calls from the hallway, and you can’t help but laugh at how exasperated the boy sounds. “Would you just calm down?” Jungkook emerges from the aforementioned hallway. Despite his mention of this ‘chill night’, he’s still wearing something vaguely casual chic. “You’re his manager. Manage his overthinking tendencies.” 

You laugh, watching as Jungkook plops down into the empty spot next to you on the couch, immediately leaning back into the cushion. “You know as well as I do that I don’t have that much control over him.” 

Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “You probably have more control than you think.” 

Before you can ask more questions, think more deeply into what the fuck Jungkook means by that, his eyes land on the hallway entrance before straightening up in the cusion. Your eyes follow Jungkook’s movement, where Yoongi is now standing in the once vacant space of his apartment. But his stance isn’t what gets you to stare, what makes your breath feel like it has just caught in your chest. Although he’s following the ‘casual chic’ dress code that Seokjin has ordered, there’s something about a white t-shirt that hits differently when it’s paired with a coat and dark jeans that highlight his long legs. 

Yoongi gestures down at what he’s wearing meekly. “What do you think?” Although it appears that he’s addressing both you and Jungkook, his gaze is almost entirely fixed on you. 

Trying hard to ignore the racing of your heart, you straighten up and somehow manage to make your way over to him without snapping your ankle on your chunky platform boots. Doing your best to pay attention to his outfit over his face, you reach over to straighten out the silver necklace he’s got dangling at his chest. “You look good,” You settle calmly. “And Jungkook is right—it’s supposed to be a chill night. Seokjin just invited people from the label. And some of your friends as well. Relax a bit, will you?” 

Finally, you force yourself to level your gaze with Yoongi’s, fully confident that he’s just staring at you and probably wondering why you aren’t making eye contact with him. But when you do manage to glance at Yoongi’s face, you realize quickly that he’s not even staring at you. Instead, he’s staring down, at the curve of your throat. 

Without warning, your cardiac system seems to pump itself too hard, because your breath of surprise comes out through your nose, effectively bringing up and lowering your lungs so fast that anyone would be able to read your vital sounds now. This proves to be true, because Yoongi’s gaze darts up from your neck to your eyes so quickly, that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had you stuck around without looking at his eyes. Doing that, however, might have saved you from this now tricky situation. “Sorry,” Yoongi manages, eyes flickering between yours. “I, uh, didn’t hear what you said.” 

You realize the gravity of your position—your fingers now curled around the lapels of Yoongi’s jacket and one of his hands curled around your waist. That gravitational pull from every single one of your dates with Yoongi comes back again, curling around your neck and seeming to push you closer, closer—! 

Jungkook coughs loudly from behind you. 

You and Yoongi tear your gazes away from each other, as you uncurl both of your fingers from around Yoongi’s coat. “I-uh,” You start. “Was just saying that you should relax a little. You don’t have to try and impress anyone tonight.” 

Yoongi sneaks one last glance at you. “We’ll see,” He says, before stepping away from you and brushing past Jungkook to make his way towards the door. Jungkook turns to look at you, wide-eyed and mouthing the words ‘what the fuck was that?’ 

To which you shake your head, very sure that you don’t want to get into this tonight of all nights. This was supposed to be a celebration for Yoongi. Just as you’ve done for the past few months, you can continue to keep your emotions in check. Easy-peasy. 

Except it’s not easy-peasy because you see Seokjin at the club that he’s reserved for Yoongi’s album release party, and you realize that this is not a chill event for you—you still have to keep up the facade of your relationship in front of everyone. 

Yoongi seems to realize this at the same time you do, because he inches closer to you and laces your fingers together. From afar, Seokjin nods in an unspoken confirmation regarding your behavior. 

The beginning of the party starts with the trickle in of the various guests Seokjin has invited—from the friends he has made in the business, to others signed under the KSJ records label, to you, Jungkook, and Yoongi’s personal friends from college. The onslaught of new people fills you with the usual sense of excitement after not having attended a party in what feels like years. Working as a manager for a budding new artist is a lot less about the parties and more about the hustle. 

The first hour of the event is dedicated to the mingling of people—of free food and conversations around the bottomless cocktails that every guest rushes to the bar to take full advantage of. It’s nice to be able to catch up with the friends that you and Yoongi haven’t spoken to since graduation—which is the group you and Yoongi first approach, as Yoongi is slinging his arm around one Park Jimin. The latter whose eyes widen and lips curl up into a grin at the sight of the two of you. It’s nice to see an old friend again, it almost brings you back to a time where you and Yoongi were both in-tune and surface-level friends.

“Hey, congratulations on the new album release!” Jimin exclaims brightly after the three of you have acquired some drinks from the bartender. Jimin raises his drink first, to which you and Yoongi follow suit. 

As the glasses clink into the air, Jimin adds in another thing that reminds you of the fact that you and Yoongi are not back in college. You are here, in the present, with a fake relationship on the line. 

“And congratulations to your relationship announcement,” Jimin continues. 

You cough on your drink at that, lowering the glass immediately, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Jimin, I know what all those reports have been saying…” 

“Don’t worry,” Jimin brushes off. “I read through some of them. You guys have been dating for three years, right? I’m honestly surprised I never saw it. In hindsight, it makes sense.” Jimin takes a longer sip, gesturing towards Yoongi with a noise of acknowledgement coming from his throat. “Hm—I guess because you guys are dating now, I can let the cat out of the bag—but, Yoongi liked you from the first moment he met you.” 

Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to choke on his drink, his chest heaving as he coughs into his sleeve. “Jimin, ah, you don’t need to talk about that—!” 

Jimin laughs, naturally assuming that Yoongi’s choke was done out of shyness and not something deeper than that. “What, you think just because this happened when we were at college, I wouldn’t have said something all these years later?” 

You can’t help but smile at their exchange. Although Jimin’s comment about Yoongi’s crush definitely piques your interest. You turn to Yoongi. “You had a crush on me back then?” 

Yoongi opens his mouth, but Jimin beats him to it. “Oh yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about you—said that you had this smile like starlight and were super easy to talk to.” 

“You have a great memory for someone who almost flunked college algebra,” Yoongi bites out hotly. 

Jimin, clearly oblivious to the situation, laughs out loud. “I agree. Normally I would have forgotten all about that. But.” With Jimin’s fingers still curled around the wine glass, he is only able to point an index finger out at Yoongi. “I’ll never forget that look in your eyes. Like you saw something you were never going to let go of.” 

You know Jimin is the one talking, but you cannot help but look at Yoongi as you feel your world spinning slightly around you. You blame it on the alcohol—as small of a sip as you have taken so far. Jimin, unlike a lot of the other parties you’ve been spending your time with, is not in on the joke of your relationship with Yoongi being a PR cover story. So there has to be some merit to it. Right? 

Right? 

Before you can even think how to phrase the billions of questions flying through your mind, the soft beat of a hand against a microphone sounds through the bar, as the original music that has been pounding through the club gets lowered to show that someone is trying to command everyone’s attention. 

It’s Kim Seokjin, situated at the stage, with the microphone in hand. “Hey everyone! Before we actually start unveiling the numbers that Y2 has hit so far, I just want to say a few words. First of all, thank you everyone so much for joining us tonight as we celebrate the anticipated release of Min Yoongi’s album.” 

Lots of claps sound from the guests, several cheers, one of you and Jimin join in just for the sake of embarrassing Yoongi. If he’s flustered with the attention, he’s gotten a lot better at hiding it. 

“Actually,” Seokjin continues. “Why don’t we have the man of the hour join us? After all, my words don’t mean shit up here—I wasn’t the one who just released new music. Yoongi, come on up!” 

Lots more claps and cheers, and the music volume increases dramatically just to give Yoongi some sort of platform to enter on. It makes you laugh. Seokjin is clearly having fun with his role. So you watch, sticking by Jimin, as Yoongi emerges from the crowd to step onto the stage. Seokjin pulls the microphone away from the pair of them as he leans over to whisper something into Yoongi’s ear, where the latter nods a few times before accepting the microphone that is now being extended out to him. 

Yoongi clears his throat, speaking over the lowering music. “Hi guys, thanks so much for coming out,” He starts, laughing a little when there is another round of cheers. “As I’m sure a lot of you know, this is my first full length album that’s being released out into the world and it’s basically everything I ever could have dreamed of. One lesson that I’ve learned is that making albums of both the cover songs I did and the original songs I would produce in my shitty college apartment is a completely different experience than getting professional equipment to do a lot of the work for me.” 

You laugh at that, the memories floating through your mind. 

Yoongi smiles a little at the feedback he gets. But he continues. “And of course a lot of that professional equipment was able to work in my favor because I had helped. Seokjin of course, deserves a thank you for letting me learn and experiment with new sounds, and for letting me take a risk by trying out beats and stories that a lot of people might have turned down. And Namjoon.” He seems to spot Namjoon from the crowd, because he delivers a nod. “For being more than my favorite producer, but also my mentor and my guide. We had a lot of lightbulb late nights together. And finally…” His eyes land on you, and you feel yourself self-consciously straighten up. “Y/N—my Y/N. For those of you who don’t know, my girlfriend is my manager and we recently made our relationship public. I thought the transition from private to public would have been the hardest thing of my life, but she made it so easy. Just as she’s always made it so easy to inspire my music, to be my best friend—and to love her.” 

Love. 

You suddenly feel like you’re seeing the world through a small lens, unable to believe the words you are hearing and the sights you are seeing. Yoongi is staring right back at you, with all this love and adoration in his eyes, lips quirking up as a result of the coos from the audience. 

It’s a vague kind of spotlight anxiety from seeing so many people looking at you considering the circumstances. It’s a feeling that only heightens when Yoongi opens his mouth again to continue speaking. “Actually, honey, why don’t you come up here, so I can thank you properly.” 

The whoops and cheers sound again, and Jimin has to nudge you in the ribs to get you to move. Your initial thoughts are one of panic, suspicion, and curiosity. One glance at Seokjin’s direction conveys the high influx of questions that are flowing through your mind—what exactly are those two boys planning? 

Yoongi’s hand extends out to you, helping you up onto the stage, as you turn around to face the crowd of people Yoongi has just been addressing. Of course, you have less experience hiding your general shyness around crowds, so the most you can muster is a smile and a wave. 

Yoongi laughs into the microphone. “Don’t worry baby, I didn’t call you up to embarrass you. I just wanted to show you that all of this…” He gestures to the whole club, the crowds of people who have taken time out of their schedule to show support, the sounds of his album now filtering through the speakers. “All of this was possible because you believed in me, you supported me, and agreed to help me work toward my dream. This is all as much yours as it is mine.” 

Then, he surprises you by leaning forward to brush his lips across your cheek—a gesture that further incites a bigger reaction of positive cheers and hoots from the audience. You turn your head immediately towards him as soon as he pulls away, your eyes wide with surprise. After all, you and Yoongi have never discussed the rule on kissing before, have never brought up any sort of lip contact to any degree. His boldness is something that takes you completely off guard. 

And judging from the uncertain look that dances behind his eyes, a flicker that only you can see and decipher, you can tell that he hadn’t been expecting that from himself either. 

You’re about to pull away, maybe walk off the stage and take another drink to whatever the fuck that was all about, before Jimin’s familiar voice sounds off from within the crowd. 

“You call that a kiss, Min Yoongi?” Jimin calls, close enough now that it’s easier to see him. “C’mon, kiss your girlfriend like you mean it!” 

The rest of the crowd immediately catches onto what Jimin is doing, and they play into it immediately. Suddenly, shouts of “KISS HER, KISS HER!” sound throughout the guests. 

The new direction that this has taken over the span of just a few seconds seconds you into another wild onslaught of differing emotions. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never agreed to actually kiss Min Yoongi. Obviously, the internal choice has been made for a handful of reasons, none of which you can explain to Yoongi or Seokjin without digging yourself further into this hole where you would truly have no way of escaping.

Which is why you clearly can’t say anything of protest right now. Everyone thinks the pair of you have been dating for years, and that kissing has become a natural action for you both to do. Of course they would play into Jimin’s game, thinking nothing harmful of it. 

Your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you shift your gaze from the crowd of people before you to Yoongi, who looks equally as stunned by the request as you. He plays it off a little bit, however, smiling as he brings the microphone close to his mouth again. “I’m not sure you all would want to be subjected by some PDA, especially you over there, Park.” 

Jimin makes a noise of disapproval. “It’ll just be this one time! I’m sure people don’t mind! Spread the love, Min.” 

Other people from the guest list add on that they don’t mind in between their laughter and giggles, probably writing off you and Yoongi’s shy disposition as just that: a shy, private couple who is still getting used to the watchful eye of the general public. Nevermind the fact that you and Yoongi have just never kissed each other before. 

Yoongi then turns to look at you, microphone down to his legs so that it can’t pick up the small whispers the pair of you start exchanging. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you up here…” 

“No, no, it’s fine, I understand why you did it…” You trail off. “Kissing my cheek, on the other hand…” 

Yoongi groans. “Yeah, that’s my bad. Seokjin said I could consider doing it but I wasn’t thinking when I leaned over. I completely forgot that Jimin is a menace to society. I’m gonna kick his ass after this.” 

You want to continue this private, side-lined conversation, but it is overrun by the louder voices that keep repeating the same two lines over and over again: “KISS HER, KISS HER!” until the echoes of it start ringing in your ear drums. 

Yoongi switches topics to the more pressing one at hand. “So, uh, I guess we should…” 

You exhale quickly, nodding. “It seems so…” 

Yoongi inches closer to you, his breath fanning your lips as your eyes instinctively close. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, the final thing he says to you before he kisses you. 

Now, let’s backtrack a little. You’ve liked Yoongi for years, so to say that you’ve never thought of this moment would just be a lie to yourself. Of course you’ve thought about kissing Yoongi. Or, at the very least, you’ve caught yourself staring at his lips when he would go off on another spiral about his passions. That type of talking is very hot, so what? 

But you never thought you would be able to experience it, to kiss the lips you’ve flickered your eyes to more times than you’re willing to admit. So as soon as you feel the weight of his mouth against your own, your brain goes haywire. Suddenly, all your senses are hyper focused on Yoongi—from his lips, to the warmth of his body wrapping itself around you, to his fingers curled around your wrist. 

You hardly hear the cheers from the audience, too busy allowing your heart to melt into butterflies as he presses harder into you, moving his lips against yours. You part your lips as well, curling your wrist to gather the material of his shirt into your hands. 

It feels like time has stretched out before Seokjin claps both of you on the back, forcing you to jolt away from Yoongi. He actually looks flustered this time—pink cheeks and reddened lips, his eyes are fixated on you, chest heaving. You feel like you’re in a similar state of shock, especially because kissing Yoongi makes something dawn on you. A realization of ice cold water. 

This isn’t just a crush you’ve harbored on Yoongi for the past few years. This isn’t just some small schoolgirl crush living out a fantasy, or something you can easily brush off, or simple butterflies you can squash everytime he reaches out to hold your hand. This is love. You’re in love with your best friend. And you have absolutely no fucking clue what to do about it. 

If the audience is taken aback by this long-term couple in front of them looking zero point two seconds away from devouring each other in a frenzied passion, no one settles long enough to comment or stare upon it for too long. Seokjin does well to grab the microphone from Yoongi and bring the attention back to the actual party on hand. He mentions another round of free alcohol, which are two words that can take anyone’s attention away. 

“And Yoongi, uh, I actually need to borrow for you a moment,” Seokjin murmurs in a low voice. “So I hope I’m not taking away from…” He trails off, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you. “Whatever this is…” 

“Oh no!” You interject quickly, taking a step away from Yoongi. “Not taking away at all.” 

Yoongi gives you a concerned look. “Maybe we should, uh, talk about that…” 

You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, seriously.” You shrug a shoulder. “Just part of the act, right?” 

Yoongi’s concern melts away into something that might be hurt, but it’s gone just as quickly as it had come. “I’ll try not to be long then.” 

You nod. “Yeah, no problem—no need to rush or anything… I’ll just be hanging out with Jimin…” 

Yoongi gazes at you for a few seconds longer, before he lets himself get dragged off the stage by Seokjin. Rather than immediately go out to seek your old friend, you find your gaze following after the two of them, trying to see where exactly Yoongi is getting roped into. 

You continue to trail after them in the club, until the two of them are pulled into a booth—the person opposite of them makes your lips part in utter shock. 

. 

“Yoongi, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” Seokjin starts as he and Yoongi dive deeper into the thrones of people. Yoongi feels himself being directed towards a corner booth, currently occupied by two people. “She wanted me to introduce you.” Finally, the pair of them stop at the head of the table. “This is Lee Jieun.” 

Right off the bat, Yoongi is vaguely insulted that Seokjin thought that someone like Lee Jieun needed an introduction—because who wouldn’t know who Lee Jieun? 

Lee Jieun, like Yoongi, is a singer-songwriter with a sweetheart reputation, who weaves stories and experiences through her music. But unlike Yoongi, who got his start through Youtube and built himself from the ground up, Lee Jieun signed into a record label at the age of 15. As one could tell, she was that talented. Still is, as a matter of fact. Her albums are continuously winning awards, establishing herself in the charts, connecting with people all over the world. He would know—when Yoongi finally discovered Jieun in the midst of his Youtuber days, it was the catalyst that served as the biggest influence towards the release of his original songs. The fact that they’re both the same age only makes Yoongi even more in awe of her. 

Yoongi being able to see Lee Jieun, in the flesh, is a powerful enough sight to leave him speechless. 

Lee Jieun sits at the booth, looking all prettied up with her big eyes and red lips. Everything about her seems regal, from the smile she flashes Yoongi to the hand she extends out towards him. 

It takes a second for Yoongi to register what he needs to do. Hastily, he steps forward and takes her hand in his. Despite her delicate nature, her handshake is firm as the pair of them move their joined hands up and down once. Honestly, considering their status difference, he feels like a handshake is too casual for them, but he doesn’t speak of it. He just basks in the moment, until he lets go of her hand. 

Afterwards, he joins Seokjin in the booth, sliding into his seat. 

Jieun smiles brightly at the two of them. “Thank you for going out of your way to come talk to me. I hope I wasn’t disrupting your night.” 

Yoongi shakes his head immediately. “Oh, god no. Of course not. I’m just—I’m really honored to see you here. I-I had no idea that you were friends with Seokjin.” 

Jieun laughs. “Oh yeah, we go way back—we were actually signed under the same label. Seokjin left to pursue management a few years ago, but we’ve always kept in touch.” She reaches over to take her glass of soda from the table. “He told me when he signed you, you know. He said that you were doing street performances a few cities down?” 

Yoongi flushes at that. “Oh yeah—my origin story.” 

“I mean, everyone starts from somewhere,” Jieun brushes off, laying down her cup again. “So I’ve honestly been looking out for your name since Seokjin signed you. I heard about your tour, but knew that I wanted to wait until your first full length album just to make sure your reputation was a little more fleshed out before bringing up my idea with Seokjin.” 

Yoongi blinks, switching his gaze from Jieun to Seokjin. The latter nods, as if to let him know that Jieun would be the one providing information. So Yoongi turns back to Jieun. 

Jieun continues. “Since it seems that we’ve both developed a songwriting, storytelling reputation amongst the music industry, I was hoping that you’d agree to do a collaboration with me. Just one single, both of our names attached to it. It’s been awhile since I worked with another artist, and I’m sure that doing this will only further put your name out there. It could also be a really good learning experience.” 

Yoongi almost cannot believe his ears. Lee Jieun wanted to do a collaboration? With him and his inexperienced ass? 

Yoongi coughs out in wonder. “Wow.” 

Jieun smirks. “Not what you were expecting?”

“No, no, not at all!” Yoongi reassures, but then he backpedals a little. “I mean, it’s not that I was expecting you to ask for a collaboration—I just—!” He cuts himself off, exhaling heavily to calm his nerves. “It’s just, you were a very big reason I even wanted to sing my original songs back when I was street performing. So the fact that you’re asking me to do a song together is honestly so crazy to me.” 

Jieun grins. “I’m honored—so are you agreeing to my request?” 

Almost on instinct, Yoongi turns to Seokjin. It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t want to do the collab, it’ll probably be the single most greatest thing to happen in his career, but Seokjin was technically his boss and their contract had it so Seokjin usually had to final say in what he believed would be best for him. 

And for the briefest flicker of a second, Yoongi’s mind switches to you. More than Seokjin’s approval, he finds himself seeking your praise the most. After all, you know how much he admires Lee Jieun. He wants to share this moment with you. 

Instead of jumping up to go find you, he forces himself to stay rooted to his seat. “I-I think I would be the one who feels honored. T-That is, if Seokjin says it’s okay.” 

Seokjin holds his arms out. “Of course it’s okay! The collaboration was also partly my idea. Anywho.” He turns back to Jieun. “We’ll have to run through Yoongi’s schedule with his manager just to see when he’s available. But after that, we can get started.” 

At the mention of you, Yoongi’s manager, Jieun’s eyes brighten with her smile. “Oh yes, your girlfriend.” She sits a little straighter, trying to seek you out. “She’s here at the event right? I’d really love to meet her, if that’s okay?” 

Yoongi nods immediately. “O-Of course!” He also sits up a little straighter, moving about in his seat to try and locate you. He finds you near the bar, seeming to have ditched your hang-out with Jimin, as you take an occasional sip of your drink. “She’s over there.” 

With a nod, the three of them move out of the booth and towards the bar, where you’re still slouched over, scrolling through Instagram on your phone. You seem to notice their approaching presence, because you take a quick glance over to acknowledge them, before doing a double take when you realize who else is in Yoongi’s company. 

“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim, immediately sliding out of your bar stool, your gaze fixated on Jieun. 

Seokjin laughs at your starstruck reaction. “Y/N, this is Lee Jieun—but I’m guessing you already knew that?” 

You seem to realize your behavior, because your shyness comes back. “I do. Um, hi! It’s really nice to meet you.” You reach over to offer your hand. 

Jieun takes it, shaking for a second. “The pleasure is all mine.” 

Your gaze immediately flints to Yoongi. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me that you were acquainted with Lee Jieun herself!” 

Yoongi waves you off. “Actually, Seokjin is the mutual party.” 

Your lips part in shock, as you nod once, twice, in understanding. “Well, uh, in that case, I hope you’re having a good time tonight, Jieun.” 

“It’s really a wonderful launch party,” Jieun praises. “But I do admit to having ulterior motives. I actually came by to ask Yoongi if he wanted to work on a collab song with me.” 

Your lips part, and Yoongi feels a vague sense of pride swell up in his chest when you turn to look at him, eyes brighter than they have been all night. “Yoongi! That’s so amazing! I hope you agreed.” 

“I did, actually,” Yoongi says with the nod of his head. If you notice that he’s puffing his chest out a little as your words go straight to his head, you don’t comment on it. “We’ll definitely have to go over my schedule with you, pick some dates where Jieun and I can have some writing sessions, and then the recording sessions, just to name the big picture stuff that’ll have to get done. But we should all be good to go.” 

As Yoongi continues to list everything that’ll need to be done in order to create music together, your gaze shifts between Yoongi and Jieun occasionally, taking in their equal excitement and passion for the long project ahead. It isn’t until the end, when you and Yoongi leave the launch party, after having collected praise and much more from the many friends and connections that have been gained throughout the night, you enter the car wearing an unreadable expression—like you’re pondering something that threatens to break you. 

. 

To be frank, you aren’t surprised that Lee Jieun asks Yoongi to collaborate together. Sure, maybe she came a little earlier than you had expected, but you always knew it was a matter of time before the pair of them met. Their reputations are too similar, their personalities too good together; you’re sure that fate would have lined them up at some point. 

It just feels like maybe the universe made them a little too perfect for each other—and it’s something that becomes glaringly obvious as a month of songwriting goes by without a hitch. Every few days, Jieun would turn up to KSJ Records, bright-eyed and always looking so, so pretty. Every few days, Jieun and Yoongi would sit next to each other, conversing about the story of their song, both bright-eyed with unbridled affection for what they were writing. And sure, Namjoon would be a part of these songwriting sessions. But that’s not the point. 

The point is that as Yoongi gets bigger and success becomes a more natural occurrence in his life, the more people he’s going to meet with whom he shares a common interest and dedication for. People he would probably (most definitely) get along with a lot better than he could get along with you. Friendship is nice and all, but it can’t substitute for the powerful combination of passion, intimacy, and commitment that comes out of romantic companionship. 

And you see it in his eyes: the excitement he gets when he’s surrounded with like-minded people. You’re Yoongi’s manager, sure, and one of his best friends, obviously, but there’s only so much you can contribute to conversations about the actual music. Truth be told, when it comes to editing, you just do whatever Yoongi tells you to. And don’t even get you started on the music arrangements—you can’t even lift a candle to what Yoongi himself can do. Or Namjoon. Or especially Lee Jieun. 

And although you know that Yoongi means no ill-intention, it feels as if he takes every opportunity to remind you of that fact. 

“I mean, she’s amazing.” He’s sighing dreamily over his bulgogi. The pair of you are at a corner booth in a Korean barbeque restaurant, on another fake date Seokjin has prearranged for you. It’s not the first date you’ve been on since Jieun entered the picture, and it’s definitely not the first time Yoongi is bringing her up. And although this isn’t even a real date, and although this isn’t a real relationship, there’s only so much you can take—both as a friend and as someone who is starting to feel the curl of jealousy in your stomach. 

Still, you refuse to let the cat out of the bag. So you sigh, picking up your chopsticks and digging into your meat. The only thing you can manage is: “I bet she is.” 

But Yoongi doesn’t stop there. “You should have seen her today, she was on fire. Songwriting abilities, obviously. We were stuck on this one part of the song, but then she just swooped in with this perfect one-liner that made my heart drop. Seriously, it was so cool. I don’t know how her mind works, but I want to keep hanging out with her to learn more.” 

You almost drop your meat completely into your salt dish, but you recover quickly with a cough. The noise helps cover up the fact that your heart feels the white-hot burn of frustration and confusion. “W-Well, you guys do make a good team. You know, being on the same level talent-wise.” 

Yoongi laughs at that, completely oblivious to your state of mind. “Talent-wise? I wouldn’t say I’m anywhere near the level Jieun is at…” 

As he trails off, you dare yourself to flicker your gaze up to him, seeing the pink flush that dusts along his cheeks. Interpreting this as shyness for the internal praise and fondness he has for Jieun, you look away and pick up the plate of raw beef brisket to dump into the grill. 

Yoongi notices what you’re doing, and immediately reaches over to take the plate from you. “Here, let me do it.” 

A part of you wants to fight about it, but you know doing so will just lead you down the path of no man’s land. So you let go, offering the tongs to Yoongi as he takes it to scrap the meat into the grill between the two of you. He takes the silence as an opportunity to further gush about Jieun, and how he can’t wait to work on music arrangements with her, how he’s excited to record the song with her, so on and so forth. 

How could you even contribute to a conversation like this? He’s talking to you about a girl in a way that reminds you of your college days—back when the pair of you were strictly friends and nothing more, and he would talk to you about girls he thought were cute. It feels a little bit like right now. Yoongi and Jieun do make a good team, they get along together, and have formed a closeness within such a short period of time that anyone passing by the studio would assume they’ve been friends for years. Or, even further, that they were dating. At the very least, Yoongi speaks highly enough of Jieun that one could assume that she was the one he liked, and not you. 

It feels a little bit like being left behind—it’s a thought that only continues to fester. 

.

It takes a few more weeks, but you eventually draft up Yoongi’s tour schedule. It’s a few sheets of paper that detail the duration of the tour, the cities, the locations, the dates of each location, the size of the venue, how ticket distribution will work, on, and on, and on—all information that Yoongi has insisted on knowing about ever since he was signed into KSJ Records. The man just likes to know what his fans have to go through in order to see him, and you respect that. 

However, before you can officially create the tour post that’ll be up on the KSJ Records social media account, it needs to go through a final approval: from Yoongi himself. And because he likes to take notes with paper and pen, like the old-fashioned songwriter he is, he’s asked you to print everything out for him. 

This is what leads you to stand near the printer in your office, waiting for the last page to print and slide into your awaiting hands. Once all the pages come out, you flip through them to make sure that every city on the tour is accounted for. You turn back to your desk, collecting some magazines that have been stacked on top of your table. 

Along with getting the setlist for the tour, Yoongi had also asked you to get a hold of some magazines and articles that provided reviews from his first tour. Something about wanting to read any critiques people might have had for his show.

You gather the small stack as well before sliding it into your bag and stepping out into the hall. It’s surprisingly early for you to be leaving your office, the late afternoon, but there’s a part of you that just wants to give the document stack to Yoongi and dip out for the rest of the night. By now, the doubts of Yoongi’s affection for Jieun has dug itself deeper into your mind and letting yourself be around Yoongi for too long brings up too many questions that cannot be good for your mentality. 

Questions like: If he could, would Yoongi prefer to date Jieun for real? 

Was Jieun better than you? 

And the best one of them all: Were you just holding Yoongi back from better relationships? 

You continue to walk down the hallway of the building, your pace a little slower than normal because of the cloudy thoughts that threaten to overtake your mind. Finally, you stop outside of the studio you know Yoongi and Jieun are recording in. You take in a deep breath, forcing your usual cheery personality to shine through as you pull down on the handle and let yourself into the studio. 

As soon as you step inside, you almost wish that you had just slid the documents under the door. The sight of that would probably have been easier to process than the one in front of your eyes right now. 

Namjoon, as usual at the desk surrounded by music panels and laptops, playing the recently finished music through the recording booth situated on the other side of the glass. Behind this aforementioned sheet of glass are Jieun and Yoongi. With headphones on, they’re standing next to each other behind the microphone. Their shoulders practically touching, you don’t miss the way they both keep sneaking glances at each other, the corner of their lips turning up, looking like they’re having the best time together. 

You try not to slam down the door behind you, but your grip on the knob is a little too harsh to call for a softer click. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given how much fun Yoongi and Jieun look like they’re having—wait, did Jieun just touch Yoongi’s arm), neither of them notice your arrival. 

Namjoon, however, notices. 

He turns around to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?” 

You try for a smile, your hand brushing against the door. “Sorry, I slipped a little,” You lie cleanly. You hold up the documents in your other hand. “Yoongi wanted me to prepare a few things for him, stuff for the upcoming tour.” 

Namjoon gestures for you to sit next to him, something that you follow. As soon as you sit down, Namjoon asks to see these aforementioned documents, which you pull out of your bag and hand over to him. It’s quiet between the two of you, the only sounds being the laughs and giggles between Yoongi and Jieun—as if one has them as just told a secret only understood between them. It’s a feeling that doesn’t settle well in your stomach. 

“Wow, this is very efficient,” Namjoon observes, seeming completely oblivious to your internal seething. 

You shrug, eyes still locked in on the inside of the recording booth. “Yoongi asked for the best, so I gave him the best. Hey, so—!” You change topics. “Is there a reason they’re in the booth together? Don’t a lot of collabs nowadays just exchange everything virtually?” 

Namjoon hums. “I didn’t know the jealous girlfriend was a full time act of yours now.” He’s clearly just trying to have fun. After all, only Taehyung and Jungkook know about your crush on Yoongi. “But honestly? I’m not too sure. They just wanted to go in together—said that they could be more personal when working in a face-to-face setting. And they’re actually making a lot of changes as they keep going through the song and hearing how the music is turning out. They’re a good team.” 

Namjoon’s usage of the very same phrase that has been haunting you for the past few weeks doesn’t sit well in your stomach. 

Namjoon returns the documents to you. “Did you want to talk to him now? See if he’s cool with you just dropping it off?” 

You nod. “If that’s okay?” 

Namjoon smiles. “We’ll just wait until they take a breath.” 

Waiting doesn’t turn out to take a long time, because Jieun stops the song to make another statement about what line should replace the one they just sung. And Yoongi looks at her like she’s just hung up all the stars in the galaxy. 

“Namjoon, do you mind starting the song over? We got a new idea for this part,” Jieun calls from inside the booth. 

Namjoon leans forward to press the button. “Actually, you guys have some company.” 

You lean forward as well. “Hey guys.” 

Jieun grins, waving at you through the window. Yoongi acknowledges you as well, but there’s something suddenly stiff about his movements. You notice that he’s also stepping away from Jieun, as if to hide what has been going on between him and Jieun. As if that makes you feel any fucking better. 

“Hey, uh, Yoongi?” You continue. “I have the documents you asked me to prepare for you. I can just leave it here for you to go over if that’s cool. Maybe take a little bit of time today to go over everything.” 

Yoongi thinks about this for a moment. “Actually… honey,” He adds the pet name as an afterthought. “Do you mind dropping it off at my apartment? We’re probably just gonna be focusing on the song until pretty late tonight.” 

The acknowledgement Yoongi has that he and Jieun are in for another late night only grows the seeds of doubt in your mind, as you clench your teeth. You can’t let your insecurities get the best of you. Not now. “Sure,” You manage, trying for a small. 

Yoongi grins. “Thanks baby. I’ll make it up to you this weekend, okay?” 

At this point, it just feels like he’s teasing you and it’s something you find you aren’t really in the mood for. So you manage a curt reply, giving a positive response that you’ll drop by his apartment to deliver the documents regarding his upcoming tour, before you’re up and out of the studio before Jieun, Yoongi, or Namjoon can say one last thing. But you don’t care. The sooner you’re out of there, looking at the heart-eye festival between Jieun and Yoongi, the better you feel. 

So you take the train to Yoongi’s apartment, a now much bigger space in a slightly nicer area of the city. At least, nicer than the college apartment he shared with Jungkook that was no stranger to bed bugs and constant maintenance issues. The newer apartment Yoongi has recently acquired is nicer, has more modern finishes, and is now a space he fills in all by himself. 

As you unlock the door to his apartment, you immediately make your way down the small hallway entrance, where a mirror and his shoes occupy a small corner of the area. The hallway opens up into the living room, and you turn on the light and take in the vaguely familiar sight of his new furniture—home pieces that you helped arrange with him a few months ago. Come to think of it, that was probably the first and last time you had come by Yoongi’s apartment. Before certain life elements got involved. 

Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you plop yourself down on the couch and place the document stack at the corner of the coffee table. It looks rather strange just stacked like that, no context provided, so your eyes shift over for a pen and a post-it note. 

You find a stack of post-it notes, and find a pen sticking out from inside a notebook. Paying little attention to the notebook, you just make a grab for the pen and rip it out of the notebook with the aggression of a gorilla. The notebook flies open, the contents inside barring itself right at you. 

Your immediate reaction is to close the notebook. After all, it just takes one glance at Yoongi’s scrambled handwriting to know that this is one of his writing journals. His most recent one, in fact, judging from how flat the pages after the one currently open appear—like it hasn’t been stained with a pen yet. 

You want to close it—you really do. You and Yoongi have built a friendship on trust. That’s what kept you both together throughout the long years, and you know better than to risk everything just for the chance to scope through what is essentially a songwriter’s diary. 

Your fingers inch towards the edge of the book, about to close it shut, before the title at the top header makes you freeze. 

MY SECRET 

Without meaning to, your eyes read over the lines. And you feel sick to your stomach. 

The song is so raw, so personal, brimming with desire in every verse. It covers lingering stares, secret smiles. A barrier. How Yoongi “wants you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you”. And you know Yoongi—you know him better than anyone. You know that for all the love songs he sings and the topics he sings about that he feigns ignorance for, he draws on personal experience to write his music. How else could he make everything so personable? 

How could this song not be about Jieun? 

The lingering stares, secret smiles: it clearly points to the events in the recording booth you saw earlier that day, and if he’s writing a song about it, it’s obvious that today hadn’t been the first time for those stares and smiles. 

The barrier: obviously you. The relationship facade he’s forced to put up with you, when he’s clearly so much happier with someone else. 

With those factors, it’s so clear that Yoongi would want Jieun, but would be unable to have her. 

And you’re just the girl in the background with the starry eyes for a guy who would never even look at you the way you want him to. 

That realization brings the hot tears to your eyes, as you slam the notebook shut and bring your hand to your mouth, biting your finger to muffle your sobs. What comes out is the build-up of months of insecurities, of having to keep the biggest secret of your life to yourself, and the additional jealousy brought in by a third party. 

This despair and sadness isn’t good for you, and you know that only continuing to hide it away in light of Yoongi and Jieun’s partnership, in light of your feelings, and Yoongi’s exploding career—you should only be able to handle so much. You’re a human being, and you have your limits. 

And you think this might be it. 

.

.

CHAPTER 6: TRUTHS 

. 

“Y-Yeah, I think it’s food poisoning or something,” You speak quietly into the phone, playing with the edges of your blanket. “I’m really sorry, Seokjin, I’ll try to send out some emails to respond to news outlets today…” 

“Hey, no, you’re totally fine,” Seokjin replies hastily. “I don’t blame you for that. Just try and get some rest today, and update me on how you feel tomorrow.” A pause. “What was it?”

“Uh, it must have been in the takeout I got last night.” That’s a lie. You cooked your own dinner last night, and are lying straight through your teeth regarding your condition, but you can’t find it in yourself to go to work today. Not since the discovery of Yoongi’s crush on Jieun made you want to dig yourself into a hole and never crawl out. 

It’s not like you ever thought you had a chance with Yoongi—but you had just thought maybe something would be different after the hand holding, after his radio interview, after your kiss together. 

But Jieun serves as that nice splash of reality that Yoongi wants someone better than you. Someone more like him—someone passionate about music, who gets along with him better, who can write music with and write music about. 

At this point, it just feels like you’re a weight, dragging Yoongi down in the waves of his past. 

On the other side of the phone, Seokjin sighs. “Damn, that’s always the worst. Those are the ones you suspect the least. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Get some rest. Maybe I’ll let Yoongi know so he can bring some soup.” 

The mention of Yoongi makes you feel like you could actually get food poisoning. “You can let him know, but he’ll probably be too hung up on Jieun to give a shit.” 

Seokjin, of course, knows nothing, so he laughs at what he thinks is your joke. “That’s true. They’re actually at it again today, which is surprising considering Jieun only comes by a few times a week. But no, she was here bright and early and so was Yoongi. Basically, they showed up to the studio at the same time. They called it fate, or some shit like that.” 

“You don’t say,” You return dryly. 

Namjoon’s confirmation that they make a good team, paired with Seokjin’s admittance that Yoongi is hung up on Jieun, puts you in a delicate mood for the rest of the day. You try to watch some TV shows, some movies, play some video games, but you are constantly distracted by thoughts of Yoongi and Jieun. 

You’re all curled up on the couch, about to click into another movie, when there’s a knock on your door. Your heart leaps in your throat as you stand up. You hate the brief flicker of hope in your chest, the curiosity that perhaps Yoongi is the one knocking. 

All those hopes are dashed when you see it is Jungkook on the other side of the door. 

“Oh,” You remark, the smile dropping from your face. “It’s just you.” 

Jungkook looks at you like you pissed in his cereal. “Uh, I don’t see other amazing friends over here bringing you store-bought chicken soup because they heard you got food poisoning last night.” He holds up the bag for extra emphasis. 

You roll your eyes, grabbing the bag from him. “I don’t actually have food poisoning, I just didn’t want to go to work today.” 

Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at your statement. There’s a lot you’ve given him that he can work with, lots of things he can ask about. Maybe ask why you would lie about your food poisoning, maybe ask why you didn’t want to go to work today, maybe ask why you still looked like shit. 

But the first thing he says: “You owe me twenty dollars.” 

You roll your eyes, beckoning him inside with the jerk of your head. “Sure.” 

Jungkook laughs a little. “Wait, okay, I was actually kidding.” But he still steps into your apartment. “I’ll be serious now. Why lie about food poisoning? And since when do you not want to go to work? If anything, you love to go so you can stare at Yoongi’s ass through the recording booth—!” He cuts himself off when you give him a glare of such pure hatred that it actually shocks him. “Wait, are you mad at Yoongi?” 

You tear your gaze away from him, placing the bag of groceries on your countertop. Sorting through what Jungkook has bought serves to be a good distraction. 

Jungkook continues to look at you. He’s quiet, but he always has a lot to say, and since you’ve been his friend for so long that only heightens his need to talk. “I knew it!” He finally says. “I knew you were mad at him. Taehyung and I were placing bets down.” 

You slam the can of chicken soup on the counter. “HEY. What did I say about gossiping?” 

“Not in front of your face?” 

Your hand flinches, as if to stop yourself from grabbing the can and throwing it at his stupid face. Jungkook doesn’t even move in fear, the bastard. “I’m just gonna pretend I don’t know about the bets. You want a can of chicken soup?” 

Jungkook confirmation finds you at the stove, heating up two of the many cans Jungkook had bought for you. Included in his twenty-dollar purchase had been a few containers of tums, and some orange juice. 

Jungkook lingers in the back. “You wanna tell me why you’re mad at Yoongi?” 

You whirl around to face him. “How did you even know I was upset?” 

Jungkook snorts, but quiets down when you glare at him. He coughs. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know. You’ve been acting weird ever since Jieun started coming by the studio.” 

“Weird how?” 

He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re just a little quieter. And you haven’t been spending as much time in the studio as you used to. That was the biggest giveaway.” 

You’re quiet for a moment. You rub at your cheek. “Does Yoongi know?” 

Jungkook shakes his head. “Doubtful. But I think he knows something is up. I was on the phone with him last night.” 

It’s your turn to snort. “Okay, that’s really fucking funny.” At Jungkook’s raised eyebrow, you explain. “I thought he’d be too busy comparing Jieun to sunlight, or something, to notice me.” 

“Oh, so you’re jealous.” 

You and Jungkook have a staring contest, before you sigh. “I accidentally saw Yoongi’s writing notebook yesterday. It had all these love confessions in it, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about Jieun.” 

Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No way? Are you sure?” 

You cough. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent. But it was all about this forbidden crush he couldn’t act on because of a barrier. Who else could be the barrier? He obviously thinks I’m holding him back from pursuing a relationship with Jieun.” You think about your words for a second, trying to decide if Jungkook is trustworthy enough to disclose this information to. “I think I’m gonna break it off with him. Maybe quit too, while I’m at it.” 

Jungkook’s lips part. “But why?” 

“What else am I supposed to do?” You cry. “I can’t keep up this fake dating with Yoongi anymore, it’s too complicated, and I’m actually in love with him so that opens up this whole other series of complications. And it’s not fair to Yoongi—he shouldn’t have to deal with feelings he obviously doesn’t return. The whole charade thing just isn’t doing me any good. And even if I break off the relationship, I would still have to see him all the time because of the whole manager situation. Quitting just seems like the best option for me.” 

Jungkook is quiet for a second. “How do you even know he wrote that song about Jieun?” He finally asks, speaking carefully. 

You shrug. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling. Who else has he been spending all this time with? Who else could that song possibly be about?” 

Jungkook gives you a long, hard look, like he almost can’t believe your brain can be thinking those thoughts. But he relents. “I think you should talk to Yoongi before quitting. He’s one of your best friends. He deserves to know why, at least.” He looks over your shoulder. “The chicken soup is done.” 

You whirl back around to turn off the stove. But also so Jungkook can’t see the tears glassing over your eyes. 

. 

It turns out, telling Yoongi you want to quit is a much more difficult task than you could have thought. For starters, Seokjin sets the pair of you up on more dates than before. Apparently, there are some rumors going around regarding Jieun’s more and more frequent turn-ups at KSJ Records, and people have started connecting the dots that her appearances are tied to either one of two reasons. Either Yoongi and Jieun are collaborating on music. Or they’re dating. 

The second reason is a lot juicier, much more exciting, so naturally a lot of people have gravitated towards supporting that reason. To try and expel those thoughts, Seokjin sends you out on more dates with Yoongi. It’s all fine, but your thoughts about breaking off this relationship and quitting just makes you more quiet and closed off as you wallow deeper into your thoughts. 

You suddenly don’t know how to contribute to the conversations Yoongi tries to bring up to you. The words seem to fail you every time, and you feel yourself constantly resorting to silence or one-worded answers. And it constantly always feels like Yoongi is standing too close to you. Every step towards you is a step away from him. When he tries to hold your hand on the sixth date in two weeks, you wiggle out of his grasp and pretend that you need to fix your jacket. 

Your own journey to self-destruction means that you are completely oblivious to the hurt in Yoongi’s eyes with every step you take to distance yourself from him. But what could you even say to him?

How could you tell him you want to quit your job in public? That would obviously lead to a fight, and it would reflect badly on Yoongi’s public image. Just because you want to quit doesn’t mean you still care about him, because you do. And you still want him to succeed. With Seokjin’s constant scheduling of dates, it leaves little room for you to share in an actual private discussion. The only off times Yoongi has are the days Jieun comes by the studio, and you try to stay a mile away from that place now. 

But it turns out, you don’t have a choice today, because Seokjin calls you into his office and tells you to drop off the samples of cover art that has just been dropped off at the studio. The cover art is something that Jieun and Yoongi have designed together for the album, to be displayed when the single is released. 

With heavy feet, you make your way through the hallways and towards Yoongi’s studio space. Every fiber in your being hopes that Yoongi and Jieun will be in the recording booth, working on their song (or even better, just not in the studio at all), so that you don’t have to face them enjoying each other’s company right in front of your face. There’s no music coming through the door, so your heart soars that latter prospect. 

As you open the door, however, you realize that there’s no way for you to be so lucky. 

Inside, Yoongi and Jieun are eating lunch, takeout noodles split between the two of them, and they’re in the middle of laughing. The laughter, however, stops when you open the door, effectively interrupting their fucking date. Which is a thought that does nothing to make you feel better. The silence that echoes on only further makes you feel like shit. 

You and Yoongi sharing a room privately nowadays is a rarity, since you’ve been doing a good job at avoiding him at all costs. His unanswered text messages and shortened calls echo through your mind at the sight of him. With the look he’s giving you, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. 

Jieun, however, remains completely oblivious to the situation as she gives you her normally bright cheery greeting. You stare at you, momentarily stunned. You would have thought Yoongi shared the troubles of your relationship with her, for some reason. You try to remain nice about it, though, giving Jieun a small smile as you return her greeting. 

“I, uh,” You start, bringing the package up for both of them to see. “Your cover art came in today. Seokjin just asked if I could drop it off here.” 

Jieun brightens at the sight. “Oh my gosh, it came! Do you mind if I…?” She trails off, hands reaching out to take the package from you. You give it to her. “Yoongi, isn’t that so exciting?” 

“Yeah…” Yoongi trails off. A quick glance at him tells you that he’s staring at you. You look away. “Did you see it yet?” He asks you. 

You shrug. “I, uh, haven’t. But, anyways, I have to get going.” 

“Hey,” Jieun calls, freezing you slightly in your path. “Thanks for bringing this over. We really appreciate it.” 

We?

The use of that specific noun, while supposedly harmless in the current context, makes your stomach flare with that white hot curl of jealousy. Your teeth clench, as you swallow down the spiteful words that almost manage to escape into the air around you. You smile, no teeth. “You’re welcome.” That’s the only thing you can manage before you’re turning around to open the door and practically bolt yourself out of the studio. 

You only make it a few feet before the door to the studio opens and you hear footsteps trailing after you. He calls your name, and your heart drops. You are so not ready for any type of one-on-one conversation with Yoongi right now. 

But your entire soul still gravitates toward him, so you stop and turn around to face him. 

Yoongi is by himself this time, and looking like a mixture of confused and defeated as he approaches you. “Listen,” He starts. “I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to really talk…” 

“It’s okay,” You brush off. 

Yoongi says your name again. “You know, you don’t need to lie to me. You’re my best friend—I can tell when you’re hiding something from me.” 

You sigh, shaking your head as every nerve in your body is telling you to walk away. “Yoongi, I’m not sure I can do this right now.” 

“Do what?” He presses. “I know that I’ve been super busy, but if you want to talk you can just let me know. Tell me what’s bothering you, okay? Because I…” He trails off, sighing, and you feel that vague sense of guilt wash over you. “I can tell that you’re avoiding me and it’s really shitty. I can’t even focus that much on my song with Jieun.” 

The mention of Jieun stiffens you up again. “Well, sorry for being an inconvenience,” You spit. “Why don’t you go back to your new fucking girlfriend if you’re gonna bring her up to my face again.” You couldn’t stop yourself this time—the words were too ready at your lips. Your chest is heaving from it too, but it is things that you know that you will regret saying. 

Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow deeper together as your words. 

You stare right back at him, the shadow of a thought passing over you. If you’re going to tell Yoongi your biggest secret, it might as well be right now. You don’t know the next time you will be this brave, this reactive, this bold. 

Both of you open your mouths at the same time. 

“Did you just call Jieun my girlfriend?”

“I’m quitting.” 

You clamp your mouth shut. You hadn’t meant to speak at the same time as him. A small wave of regret passes through you, as you hope that Yoongi wouldn’t have heard your statement over his question. But of course he does. 

Yoongi’s frowns at you. “Did you just say you were quitting?” 

You take a step back, running a hand through your hair as your exhale comes out shaky. More shaky than you intended it to. Oh no. “Yeah,” You manage, already feeling your emotions bottling up. “I was gonna try and talk to Seokjin about quitting before I left.” 

If Yoongi thinks you were joking before, he definitely doesn’t now because he takes a step towards you and catches your wrist before you can go that far. “B-But why?” His eyes have gotten a little wider, and he’s staring at you like his world is being pulled apart. 

You try to tug your wrist away to no avail. Your mind tries to flash through several different excuses, but you realize that you need to tell him the truth. Yoongi deserves that much, at least.

As you try to collect your thoughts, Yoongi starts scrambling. “W-Was it something I did?” He asks quickly. “Because normally you’d always try to call me out and I’d fix myself immediately. A-Are you unhappy with your position? Because I can try to get Seokjin to give you less workload or something. I-I’m really sorry if it was something that I did to hurt you. I-I just really need you here so talk to me… please…” 

You shake your head. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” You whisper. “I know your secret, Yoongi, and that’s why I can’t do this anymore.” 

“W-What secret?” His eyes are still on you. 

You take in another breath. “I went over to your apartment that night,” You start. “And I saw what you were writing in your journal. I know that you’re in love with Jieun, and that you only see me as a barrier to pursuing a relationship with her. And that sucks because normally, I’d encourage you to go after her. But we’re doing this whole dating thing, and I feel like I’m neck-deep because…” Your words come out a little more shaky. “Because I’m in love with you,” You whisper. “I’ve been in love with you for years. B-But I know now that I’ll never measure up to Jieun, or any of the other girls in this industry who deserve you more than I do. I thought that I could keep being professional for you and your career. But it’s too hard for me.” 

“W-Wait,” Yoongi says, tightening his grip on you. “Can you just let me explain, please? It’s not like that, I promise you.” 

You rip your wrist from his hand. “I read it!” You retort loudly. “Who else could be the person you want more than anything, but can’t have because of a physical barrier? When else have you used a real person to inspire your music? It’s too hard for me, Yoongi! I can’t keep doing this!” 

Yoongi seems to be struggling with his next words. “So, what?” Yoongi asks, circling around his next question carefully. “You’re just going to leave? Is this… the end of our friendship?” 

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought this out that far. But I know that we shouldn’t be doing this fake dating charade anymore, because I know there’s no way these past few months have meant the same to you as it did to me. I also know that I can’t really be in the same room with you right now.” 

Yoongi hopelessly gazes over at you, his own chest heaving as he himself struggles with what to say. “Please don’t do this,” He returns softly. 

Your gaze lingers on Yoongi’s for just a while longer, trying to burn the image of him in your mind, before you shake your head. “I’m sorry.” 

. 

As it turns out, Seokjin is out of the office for the rest of the evening. Which is fine, right? Whatever. You can just call him tomorrow morning and schedule a meeting with him, tell him the urgency of it and will definitely be able to muster your strength for another conversation about your secret feelings for Yoongi. 

You return to your apartment and immediately burst into tears as the weight of today’s confrontation sinks its teeth right into your neck. You just shared your feelings with Yoongi, you threatened your employment, and almost cut off your friendship with Yoongi as a result of that. 

Your many years of friendship, of late nights, of laughter together. It seems silly to want to cut off an important friendship just like that—but it just seems unfair of you to carry on with a friendship where you’re always going to crave more. And if Yoongi is smart, he’ll know that as well, and he won’t come back. 

Still, a part of you just hopes a little. Even though, of course, it’s a stupid thing to hope for. Yoongi has already established his taste, and it’s definitely for people leagues above you. The thought only makes you cry a little harder, so much so that you try to drink some water in order to calm down. 

You’re in the beginning stages of patting down your face, of grabbing some spoons to put into the freezer, when there’s a series of frantic knocking at your door. You turn your head towards the source of the noise, trying to figure out who could be visiting at a time like this. It’s been a few hours since your confrontation with Yoongi at the studio, but you assume that he’s probably blowing smoke up Jieun’s ass. There’s no way that it could be him. 

So you open the door, and freeze when you realize that it is Yoongi. 

More than that, it’s Yoongi with his chest heaving. Almost like he has just run around the entire city to reach you. 

The only thing you can manage right now is a wide-eyed stare.

Yoongi stares right back at you. Just a few hours ago, he had looked so helpless and lost for words. A first, actually. But this time, he’s staring at you with so much intensity that you cannot look away. 

Yoongi finally seems to catch his breath. “You’re an idiot,” He states. 

You’re so caught off guard by that statement that you forget you’re supposed to be upset with him. “I’m sorry?” You ask. 

Yoongi huffs, practically barreling past you to step into your house. You try to tell him to stop, but he’s distracted by rummaging through his backpack for something. With a sigh, you decide to close the door. As soon as he’s standing in your kitchen, he finds an old, beaten up notebook that you vaguely remember from his college days. He points at you with his notebook. “You’re an idiot,” He repeats. “If you think that the lyrics on my coffee table are the first time I’ve written lyrics about a specific person.” 

At your shocked expression, he immediately starts flipping through the notebook. You notice that certain pages are marked with sticky tabs. 

Yoongi settles on a page and clears his throat. “Hidden within the walls of our lecture hall, your laughter curls through the cracks like liquid fire. You light up my day amongst borrowed pencils and shared jokes. I knew that you were going to change my life,” he reads. He looks up at you. “The first day I met you, when I asked you to borrow a pencil.” You remember those lyrics. It was from a song he had written called ‘starlight’—the opening song on his first EP. 

He flips through a few more pages. “I never learned about love, but I watch her believe in my dreams, take the same steps to join my team, and I feel like I could figure it out.” He looks at you. “When you agreed to help me with my Youtube channel.”

He continues through his notebooks of lyrics, of stories, of secrets. Every single lyric he reads to you connects back to some memory he holds of the two of you. All the memories together in college: from the panic attack he had in the bathroom of the first party the pair of you attended, to exploring the nearby cities via subway until early mornings, to corner ramen shops. 

Soon enough, he moves on to the lyrics he had written during his first tour. The distance he felt, and how that related to the emotional distance he felt with you—that desire he constantly felt for more, and how the manager and artist relationship the pair of you had couldn’t hold a candle to the friendship you once held. The distance was never a physical challenge, and that was something you could never connect the dots on. 

Every stone of his hidden affection is turned over, every lyric he has marked read over and explained with such a passion. It’s like he has waited years to finally have his turn, to finally speak the way he’s always wanted to—directly, with no tricks of music and whimsical arrangements to make you doubt everything he could say. 

He had written whole songs about the fake dating experience, of how he wasn’t sure he could only pretend to love you when it was the only thing he ever knew how to do. 

Finally, he flips to his most recent song. The very song that you had stumbled upon the other day in his apartment. “I want you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you,” He reads. He looks up at you. “The barrier was the blanket of our fake relationship. You were never stopping me from doing anything, because you were the only thing I have ever wanted. So…” He gestures to all the notebooks that he has laid out across your kitchen counter. “Do you now see how many song lyrics are actually about you? All about you. Because you’re all I’ve always known.” 

Your gaze carefully studies each notebook, layered over each other, overflowing with dedication and passion. The privacy of someone who has surprisingly spent his entire singing career sharing nothing but his darkest secrets. Your arms are overlapped with each other, tightening against your form. “I-I had no idea.” 

Yoongi shakes his head, but when he looks at you, his eyes are soft. “I figured that.” He’s leaning across the counter to keep his gaze leveled with you, but he pushes himself even closer to tap a finger on the spot between your eyes. “I thought I made it so obvious. You were never listening.” 

“I-I never thought to,” You admit softly. But Yoongi has a point. Ever since he started writing and sharing his original songs, he has done nothing but sing them to you in any and all forms. From the private sessions the pair of you shared in his college apartment, to the performances he would deliver on the street, in the recording booth at all hours of the day, to the tours and the audiences that sing those love declarations right back at you. For years, Yoongi has done nothing but give, and give, and give. And you had no idea. 

Your breath hitches, and Yoongi rounds the counter and gathers your face in his hands. “Shh,” He coos softly. “It’s not your fault.” 

You sniff. “It is my fault! I’m such a stupid bitch. And I treated you and Jieun like shit because I thought you were in love with her. I thought I was holding you back from being able to date who you really wanted to be with.” 

Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, technically, you were.” At your look, he hastily goes to explain himself. “The person I really wanted to date was you. But since we were, uh, fake dating, that prevented me from being able to date you for real…”  

You groan at his teasing grin. “You idiot, that was so bad.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi is still grinning though, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes follow the movement, mentally outlining you into his mind. “I just wanted to see you smile.” His smile slips a little. “Since you had been ignoring me for so long.” 

You pout. “I told you, I thought you were in love with Jieun. And honestly, that would make a lot of sense… she’s really pretty and talented and you guys could talk about music for hours, especially compared to me—!” 

“Stop,” Yoongi cuts in, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m gonna stop you there before you say something I don’t like.” He angles his head to level his gaze with you. “Jieun is really cool, I’ll probably be the first one to admit that. But she’s not you. Hey, c’mon, look at me.” He forces you to look at him again. “You are also so, so pretty and smart and talented. You may not know a lot about music and songwriting, but you were always the one who pulled all-nighters with me to edit my videos, or learn music with me, or point out if something in my music didn’t sound right. Your passion to help is something I really love about you.” 

You pursue your lips to hide your smile. “Love, huh?” 

Yoongi doesn’t even hesitant. “Well, yeah, because I’m in love with you. I thought that was obvious.” 

You exhale. “Yeah, well, it’s different hearing you say it outloud.” 

Yoongi grins. “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it. I have many years to make it up to you.” His smile dies down a little. “I’m sorry,” He finally settles with. “I should have been more straightforward and honest with you about my feelings. You must have been suffering for so long, having to keep it all in and everything.” 

You shake your head. “I’m also sorry,” You whisper. “For jumping to conclusions so fast. And also not really listening to your lyrics. That was kind of stupid of me, considering I’m your manager and everything.” 

Yoongi laughs. “It seems like you’re good now, seeing as you’ve just gotten an exclusive behind-the-scenes artist cut and commentary about his songs.” He pauses for a second. “So, I hope this means that you won’t quit being my manager. And that, maybe, we can promote our relationship from fake dates to real ones.” 

You smile. “I’d like that.” 

His smile turns softer. “And I was hoping that maybe I can kiss you again. For real, this time. No cameras, no Seokjin breathing down our necks.” 

You giggle. “Just so you know, if the kiss at your album release party had been a real one and we were actually dating at the time, I probably would have wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom or something.” 

Yoongi groans. “Don’t say that with that cute smile on your face. Makes me want to do things to you.” 

“I don’t see you pulling away though.” 

“Of course not.” Yoongi’s figure loams over you now, his lips brushing against yours. “I have three years to make up to you.” 

With that, he kisses you, silencing whatever next words you were going to say. That is, if you even had any to begin with. Now that he’s kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs, you’re not even too sure any thoughts have been floating around at all. Unlike the kiss at the album release party, which had been softer and dainty, held back to hide a secret, this kiss is rougher. Yoongi is already moving his lips against yours, already parting his lips to brush his tongue against your lower lips. His hands are already sliding across the counter, trying to cover you more and more. 

His hand slips on the counter though, almost sending his sprawling on top of you. You catch him with your hand on his chest, as the sudden action makes both of you pull away from each other. The sight you both face is very much like the sight from the launch party: flushed cheeks and redden lips, a desire for more flickering behind eyes. 

But this time, there is no expectation to carry on in a party like a long-term couple. That is what allows Yoongi to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to his chest this time. He kisses you again, slower, softer, but you deepen the kiss with the part of your own lips this time. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of you as he lifts you into his arms and blindly navigates through your apartment, into your bedroom, where you both fall atop the mattress. 

“And just for the record,” You whisper, right when Yoongi pulls away to let both of you catch your breath. “I love you too.” You’ve already admitted your feelings earlier in the day, but it’s worth it to see Yoongi deliver that heart pounding gummy smile. 

[fictionalcharacters4life]

Goodbye...For Now”

Word Count: 1,165

Status: Not Requested!

Valentines Prompt List: Love Letter

A/N: THERE IS A WALKING DEAD REFERENCE MADE BY ANNE!

Relationship: Joel Miller x Reader

Fandom: The Last Of US I 2013 

Warnings: language, slight angst, Joel being his stubborn self

Masterlist The Last Of Us Masterlist 

{gif is not mine, credits go to -> @gvngrich​}

{Angry dilf enthusiast activated}

Waking up as a slight chill starts to creep into your bones, you sit up in your slipping bed on the floor, shivering slightly. The fire had died out not too long ago, the chill of the winter snow easily escaping into the dilapidated house you’d chosen to shack up in for the night. Turning to face where the other bags were placed, you jump out of the sleeping bag and onto your feet. They’re gone.

Quickly, the chill of the weather doubles tenfold, the fear of being alone intensifying the cold inside of you. Right before you drifted off to sleep, you were accompanied by two others: Ellie and Joel. But now, they’re nowhere to be found. All except for a small letter scattered near the exit Joel was had instructed for you to use when in danger.

Grabbing some sort of blanket, you wrap it around your body with confusion and hurt. Nonetheless, you walk over to the crisp material that was torn and bent in all sorts of places. Sitting down lightly, you pick up the note and stare at it for a moment. Opening the crumpled piece of paper, you noticed it’s unfinished thoughts scribbled in a long yet messy set of words that form a small paragraph. The penmanship, however, is unmistakable. Years of being around the broken man had told you who wrote it.

Joel.

Sucking in a breath, you read the lines thoughtfully, hoping for a sign or beacon. Something to ground you and tell you that everything will be okay.

Y/N,

The writing starts, your name striking as a surprise that has your eyes reading even faster.

Your probably gonna hate me for what’s gonna happen when ya wake up, but I’ve gotta go now. You said in order to go fast, you go alone. To go far, you go together. Well, I gotta go fast. I have to in order to get back to you faster. I’m gonna get this girl the rest of the way through. We got her this far, all we have to do is return her.

Tears form at the corners of your eyes as a sinking feeling fills you with dread.

I wanna do this for us. For what we’ve always wanted. Freedom. And, in some ways, what I’ve always wanted. To settle down with you. I can’t risk losing you now, so I’m leaving you here in Pittsburgh where I know no one is around. Where no one can take you away, and I can protect you. I love you, Y/N. Please, just survive a little longer. I’ll come back for you, I promise. Joel.

You smile softly at his abruptness, still able to see his person through his writing. The weight on your heart lifts slightly, knowing that your feelings are oddly reciprocated, but the feeling still remains. Although he claims he can take care of himself, you still fear the possibilities of what could happen when you’re not there. 

Clutching the note to your chest, you breathe in through your nose calmly, hoping for the best. For the rest of the night, you stayed up and stared out at the starry sky, only hoping that the twinkling lights could grant you a swift reprieve; to give you something other than shit you’ve put up with your whole life. 

You finally had something good, you can’t lose it like everyone and everything else. You already lost your family. Your friends. Tess. Ellie was your only hope.

///

For weeks you stay grounded to a certain barrier, never overstepping the bounds of common ground. You hunted when you needed and slept when your eyelids were too heavy to push open. You were alone, but you had hope, even as the time was running thin and the weeks turned to months.

And finally, as the clock struck 3 months, you succumbed to nothingness. Your heart was shattered, crushed even. You let the cold overtake you, pull you into its sharp embrace and leave you rock solid in the corner of the building’s bare bones. 

The winter came and the winds were harsher. With wind came snow. With snow came ice. And, with ice came many hardships you were too weak or uncaring to overcome. 

///

Curling into a tight ball, you shiver harshly, the snow having destroyed any possibility in igniting a fire safe enough to not burn you alive. It was pitch black outside and there was nothing you could use for protection. You only relied on your hearing, which was dulled out by the squealing of the wind’s harsh blows and only the faint growls of the dead.

In minutes, your eyes watch as the snow starts to pile into the makeshift campground, collecting on your eyelashes, nose, and lips painfully. But the storm carries on, not afraid to take your weakening form with it. Your body seizes to move, almost as solid as the ice that covered all surfaces of the outside world exposed to the weather’s great power.

About to give in to the harsh cold, you make a final attempt at grabbing something else to warm your body, but a light in the distance temporarily halts your actions.

Squinting, you make no attempt to move. And then, you head someone. Him.

“Y/N!” he screams through the storm, begging.

“Joel!” you attempt to scream back, but your voice is cracked and quieted.

Over and over, you scream his name to the best of your abilities, slowly quieting as each breath in inhaled.

“Y/N!” he screams again, treading to the building he’s left you in, throwing a hand over his eyebrows in an attempt to see farther and shield his eyes from the thick snowflakes.

It’s almost like he was drawn to you; that his body just knew yours and the hearts were connected by a thick rope. He didn’t have to hear you, he just knew.

Stomping into the threshold of the old house, he scans the room as best as he can, oil lantern outstretched in front of him.

“Joel,” you call out, a tired smile on your lips.

Snapping his head in your direction, he smiles in relief, the expression falling as he finally takes you in. “Y/N...” he mumbles, lifting your body and cradling it in his arms. “You’re fine. You’re fine. I’ve got you. I’m not letting you go again,” he promises, kissing your freezing forehead.

You feel your body heating against his strong build, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. “Please,” you start, panting, “Please don’t leave me again, Joel. Please.”

“I won’t, I promise,” he states earnestly, pulling you in tighter atop his lap.

“I’m gonna have to hold you to that,” you giggle, stealing one from his chest as well, shivering violently.

“We’re gonna make it, Y/N. We’re gonna thrive,” he smiles, slowly thawing your icy cool heart. He truly was a man of his word.

[kalorphic]

Hello, I am somehow, still thinking about my MC in the K/MC/Noah dynamic so I will make it your problem 💖

As an explanation, my MC for Novaturient is ridiculously smart and equally ridiculously oblivious to romantic advances towards her (somehow, though, as long as it isn’t her she can sus out when people like each other like a bloody hound) . While she is incredibly confident about her ability, she has spent her life in academic efforts and striving towards achievements so her love live has fallen to the side. As in, she might have dated people before but that happened because they went to her and had to straight up tell her they wanted to date her. This and the fact that my MC has incredibly high opinion of K and tends to be painfully honest when in high stress situations in which people she cares about could be hurt combines into three hilarious dynamics: the original MC/K dynamic, in which MC thinks K is too good for her but she loves them and wants the best for them, so she is endearingly earnest with them and compliments them all the time. Cue K blushing and MC going “??? How odd. Are they sick or something? Overheating?”. Also for extra stupidity from the MC part, while she is aware that K is nicer to her than anyone else she thinks is mostly because they see her as this adorable little munchkin behind the screen who is firmly in the friendzone. The MC/Noah dynamic. whoever, is like, the opposite. In this dynamic MC is running on pure Fear For K and Spite and probably little sleep so her charm (which usually works well for her) it’s g o n e and she ends up losing some of her filter when she sees the "supervillain" of the equation and says something along the lines of "You are too smart and attractive to be doing this, shame on you. " Banter ensues from then on in which MC is always complimenting Noah while somehow insulting them at the same time. Imagine: Listen, you are stupidly pretty and I know you are smart. Why in the WORLD would you plan to conquer the world? Like, dude. You have the money, just buy a president. There. Simple.” Now, finally, when the time for the MC/K/Noah dynamic is more settled, she has two settings: shit stirrer (as in she purposely adds oil to the fire of their arguments  so she can go "Now Kiss 💖", occasionally piping in and agreeing with one side or the other just to see more chaos ) and amused watcher (in which she is just chilling and watching them go at it like, "I love these idiots 💖, they are my idiots 💖 )

Also, as you can see, I still can’t decide which version of Noah or K I want to smooch, my life is so hard😔

You @ Noah & K / me @ your MC & K & Noah

Oh man I love the whole extremely competent but oblivious as hell when it comes to love trope, it’s offers so much tension…

I feel bad for K already lol! They’re getting complimented by the woman they’re in love with, who seems to be doing it in a completely platonic way, and every time it happens, they s u f f e r because they are also an oblivious idiot (affectionate) 💕

Noah would be both super amused and super endeared to your MC. Also they’re a massive cherry picker, so they just do not hear the insults 🙉

I can imagine Noah actually being the first to figure out that the cursed poly could be a possibility and just flirts with both of them super obviously to the point that your MC and K just could not mistake for anything else lol

Noah: I love both of you

K: ???

MC: in a platonic way?

Noah: no, like I wanna kiss you both and introduce you to my family and spend the rest of my life with you kind of way

Noah: oblivious idiots 🥰

Shit stirrer MCs in the cursed poly are so valid, but be warned, if they catch on…they’re going to pay you back tenfold 👀

[helpimhyperfixating]

The other Mer Crusaders staying over at Y/N's house and mer Jot being very protective of her. "Back off french fish, she's MY girl" mer polnareff *hurriedly crawls away*

When Jotaro showed up with four other mermen one day, to say you were surprised was an understatement. You were just sitting on your couch with a cup of tea, lazily zapping on the tv when you heard your fence gate door slam shut. Usually that indicated Jotaro had just entered but when you got up and looked out the back door, your jaw fell open. A very disgruntled looking Jotaro was crawling towards you with four colourful Mer behind him of seemingly various ages, who were looking around curiously before setting eyes on you.

Jotaro felt a little bit of relief flood over him when he saw you behind the glass, the tension in his shoulders leaving just slightly. But then he noticed your eyes were on the ones behind him and not on his form and he felt all the tension return. He had spent the entire way here trying to explain to the crusaders what and what not to do, but his grandfather constantly interrupted him, asking about what you as his mate would be like. Polnareff just wouldn’t shut up in general and all in all he wished he could drown himself in your pool now.

“Jotaro?” Your voice snapped him out of his thoughts and he looked up to see you had slid the back door open and were now looking at him in question. Gods, he just wanted to lay on your couch with his head in your lap. Normally that was the reward he got for making the long ass trek to this place. The journey had a payoff. But now? With the others being here? He wouldn’t even get that.

“They wanted to meet you.” He grumbled. Finally he started crawling forward to greet you, but before he could, Joseph seemed to have gotten renewed energy after complaining the entire last half of the trip, rushing past Jotaro and even pushing him down by his head, making the poor younger shark Mer faceplant in the grass. Polnareff thundered by not a second later, the end of his tail slapping Jotaro in the face on accident after he had lifted himself just the tiniest bit. And now he had to look at how the two of them chatted with and touched you.

A growl set in the back of his throat and he felt his scales puff up and bristle in anger and jealousy. Just then, a hand was placed on his shoulder blade and Jotaro snapped his head to the left, stifling his growl as he saw Kakyoin with an apologetic smile. At this, the Mer calmed down a bit and sighed, turning to look at you again. He didn’t mean to react like that, it was instinctual.

“We’ll try to keep them under wraps, Jotaro.” Avdol spoke with a reassuring tone and not for the first time did Jotaro find himself thankful for Avdol always being around.

- - - -

Jotaro felt like he was pup-sitting.

Polnareff seemed hyperactive, same as his grandfather, exploring your house to their full content - though Jotaro had forbidden them from going upstairs, wanting at least some part of your house to still be privy to just you and him. The kiddie pool had been whipped out, Jotaro filling it while his grandfather held your attention. Avdol had come to help, curious about the tap and accidentally nearly breaking it when Jotaro asked him to close it, making Jotaro have to make a mad dash outside to save your tap (Avdol was very apologetic about it, he really didn’t mean to!). Jotaro had to literally tell Polnareff not to splash, only for his ears to pick up on his grandfather’s conversation with you. Turns out Joseph was trying everything he could to embarrass his grandson as much as possible. So, Jotaro had turned around and slapped the man with his tail. At least Kakyoin was quietly just exploring your house without trouble, only accidentally bumping his tail into your furniture - which Jotaro had done a lot at first too so he couldn’t fault him for that.

After what felt like forever, finally everyone seemed to calm down. The tv had caught Joseph’s attention, the older Merman sitting in the kiddie pool as he looked on curiously. Kakyoin and Avdol were to the side, trying to figure out chess together after you had explained the basics, the ends of their tails dipped in the pool but otherwise staying in their own bubble, away from Joseph commenting on everything he saw on the tv.

Just in spite, Jotaro had told you to put on a Barbie movie. If he had to watch it, then so could his grandfather who had been a pain in his ass all day. Only, Joseph seemed to find the movies extremely funny. Bellowing out a laugh every other two minutes and slapping his hand on the water, making it splash and Jotaro to grab his wrist, telling him to stop doing that with the most exasperation he had ever had.

Joseph seemed to understand and Jotaro sighed, letting go of the man’s wrist. He then looked up from trying to get his grandfather to behave, looking to his right only to see Polnareff, a flirty smirk on his face as he talked to you. You were crouching to better talk to him and Polnareff was almost touching you, that’s how close he was.

Immediately, Jotaro’s face developed an angry snarl and he grabbed the swordfish’s tail, yanking it hard.

Polnareff yelped as he was pulled backwards, making him lose his balance - since he was sitting up - and faceplant on the floor. Some heavy thumps sounded moving past and around him and the moment he raised his head, he was met with the most angry looking Jotaro he had seen in a while.

Said merman was right in his face, leaning forward and forcing him to shuffle back, growling nastily while coiling his tail around your body.

“Ça va, Jotaro?” Polnareff nervously chuckled, making the shark angrily jolt, threatening to lunge and Polnareff quickly flinched, folding in on himself a bit.

“Back off, you French fish. That, is MY mate.”

Swallowing in fear, Polnareff held up his hands. Despite being younger, Jotaro was larger than himself and Polnareff knew that if he could, he would always avoid having to fight with the shark Mer. And right now, Jotaro looked ready to jump on him.

“Didn’t mean nothing by it, Jotaro, I swear.” At that, Jotaro narrowed his eyes and Polnareff quickly just decided to opt out, turning around and showing his back to Jotaro in order to diffuse his temper while he crawled over to the other three in the room, sending them a flabbergasted and slightly scared look. While Avdol and Joseph looked on with slightly wide eyes, Kakyoin just shrugged back. He had always known Jotaro to be protective, so of course that would increase tenfold once he found a mate. Only, because you lived on land, with Jotaro out of his element here, that meant it increased twentyfold.

[bitch-for-bo]

His Destined Miracle (Asahi Azumane x Chubby Reader) (omegaverse)

POST timeskip

Asahi had been in love with you practically since the first time he saw you. He'd find himself taking walks around the office just to catch sight of your beautiful face and sunny, warm demeanor. He always wanted to approach you, but he'd never had the courage. All he could do was hope that he encountered a miracle. Going into a rut during a day that office was NOT a miracle to Asahi. In fact, it was one of his worst nightmares, but when you show up on his doorstep, looking like an angel from heaven, he realizes that miracles come in all different ways... and that you were his destined miracle.

ABSOLUTELY NO MINORS ALLOWED!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

“Hey Y/N can you run these copies to the boss’s office, I have to go to the bathroom or I think I might die!!” One of your over-dramatic coworkers asked as they practically threw a stack of papers at you. They were shifting back and forth, their knees knocked as they hopped around in a little bathroom ‘dance’

“Yeah, it’s no biggie.” You replied, giggling quietly to yourself as they hobbled/ran quickly towards the restrooms.

You looked down at the stack of papers in your hands, admiring the brilliant pieces of art on each page. The boss would be very happy with these. Of course, if he was unhappy with them, he wouldn’t tell anyone, the boss was the type who if he didn’t like what he saw, he would improve it and then deny all credit. Some in the office called him a pushover, but you thought that it was sweet that he did that.

You stood from your cubicle and began to walk to the bosses office, it was on the other side of the floor but you had already been planning on getting up to stretch your legs out soon anyway, so it had worked out.

You strolled through the office, not in any particular rush to get to the boss’s office. You greeted people that you passed, you knew everyone on your floor by name and you knew at least one fact about them, if they had pets or kids, what their hobbies were. You did this so that you’d never run into someone and not be able to ask them a question about their personal life, this ‘technique’ is what had made you so popular around the office, every time you would talk to someone, they would walk away with a smile on their face.

Your naturally sunny demeanor had always been your redeeming trait. When you were young, kids would mercilessly bully you. The names they would call you, ‘fatty’ or ‘ugly cow’ along with the treatment you received for being an omega was enough to tear a young you apart. You had started being overly nice to people to make up for all of your shortcomings, you found that if you were constantly sucking up to them and making them feel better about themselves, they wouldn’t hurt you.

Unfortunately, this had led to you not only being incredibly insecure with very low self-esteem, but also a doormat for people to walk all over. You were always doing people favors, getting them coffees, paying for their snacks at vending machines, even doing their work for them. Your friends would tell you to stick up for yourselves, they would even tell people off if they treated you poorly in front of them. They had begun to practically beg you to start saying no to people, but you didn’t mind being a bit of a push-over. After all, you still thought of yourself as a worthless, fat, omega cow that couldn’t do anything right and if you could be useful to someone, even if it meant staying an extra hour to file their paperwork for them, it was worth it.

You frowned at the memories as you walked, catching sight of yourself in the large windows that overlooked the beautiful city outside. You winced. Even though your friends were constantly telling you that you were beautiful inside and out, it was still hard to look at yourself in the mirror. All of the traumatic events of your childhood had really affected you. It was almost impossible for you to look at yourself and not despise the person you saw.

You arrived at the boss’s office, giving a light knock on the closed door.

“Come in please.” You heard the soft voice call from inside. You twisted the knob, opened the door, and entered the room, gasping at the sight before you.

Hundreds of designs were strewn across the floor, tacked to the walls, and pulled up on the computer monitor, and in the middle of it all sat a six-foot-two alpha who was currently smiling shyly up at you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment of the mess.

“Hel-”

He stopped, his eyes wide as they stared at you. Clearly, you weren’t the person he’d been expecting. He stared at you for a solid five seconds, saying nothing as his eyes were frozen on you, making you feel extremely self-conscious and a little hot under the collar.

You cleared your throat, snapping him out of his daze.

“Excuse me.” You said. As soon as you’d spoken the boss had got up onto his knees and looked around as if wondering how he would get to you without ruining his designs.

“Sorry about the mess.” He mumbled, a large blush blooming on his cheeks as he scrambled up and towards you, trying (and failing) to avoid stepping on the designs.

“Please! Don’t apologize!” You stumbled, matching his anxious energy as your face adopted a blush of its own. “I just came to give these to you!” You squeaked, your arms holding out the designs as your gaze locked on the cluttered floor.

“Oh.” The large male said gently, his shoulders relaxing. “Thank you.” He said, more confidently this time. He’d noticed that you were emitting a strongly anxious scent, and something about it must’ve scared him and made him think that he was scaring you.

“Your welcome.” You practically whispered, your eyes not daring to meet his, “Have a good day.” You rushed out before rushed back out of the room, letting the door almost slam behind you.

‘Dammit!’ you thought, mentally slapping yourself. You couldn’t believe you’d made such a fool out of yourself. You just couldn’t help it, the boss was super intimidating. Plus he was an alpha.

Being an alpha meant that, since you were an omega, you had a natural urge to submit to him, it also meant that he was incredibly intimidating, borderline scary.

Usually, it didn’t matter that you were an omega. You took scent and heat suppressants to control your natural omega tendencies. The suppressors made it to where no wolf could smell you and you couldn’t smell any wolf. People could smell the basics on you, fear, happiness, sadness, they just couldn’t smell your natural scent, the scent that gave you away as an omega. The suppressants also kept you from smelling other wolves and ‘losing control’ of your own scent as a reaction. This all meant that even if you encountered betas and alphas in your daily activities, they wouldn’t know you were an omega and you wouldn’t be able to smell their natural scents either.

The only exception to this was when an alpha was in a rut, when they were rutting their noses were strengthened tenfold and they could sniff you out in an instant., but thankfully, society had progressed to the point that ruts were an excused absence from your job. Another time that the suppressants weren’t at their full potency was during your heat. Yes, it suppressed almost all of your scent, but depending on the strength of your heats, some would still leak out. Thankfully, heats were also excusable by employers. Luckily you’d never had to leave work for heat, you’d always been able to track it and take off plenty early so you could lock yourself in your apartment and suffer through it, and you’d also been lucky enough to never encounter a rutting alpha.

*******************

Asahi Azumane, aka the boss, was still standing in front of his closed door. He stared at the closed door, the designs he’d been given loosely clutched in his hands.

‘Dammit!’ he thought. He couldn't believe how he’d reacted. How embarrassing!

Ever since the newest member of the floor had begun working at the studio as a financial advisor, Asahi had been incredibly infatuated. Even though he’d never held a conversation with her due to his busy schedule, he never failed to notice the way she lit up the office. Everyone liked her and got along with her. Sometimes he’d overhear people talking about her, or sometimes he’d even overhear her talking to someone, she always seemed so warm and kind that Asahi couldn’t help but be a little jealous that he’d never received the honor of ever talking to her.

When she had been the one to open the door to his office, he’d been practically incapacitated. As soon as his eyes had hit her body he’d forgotten how to talk.

As a designer he couldn’t help but admire the classy style of her outfit, the warm red-orange turtleneck tucked into a pair of brown and tan flared slacks paired with black platform boots. It took all of his willpower not to pull out a pencil and sketch it for inspiration.

And as a man, he couldn’t help but admire how the outfit fit your body perfectly. The way that it hugged your form, complementing and accentuating the curves of your figure. It was enough to take his breath away and make the alpha in him roar with the need to claim and protect such a precious sight.

Unfortunately for Asahi, as soon as the encounter with the angel began, it ended. He was beating himself up for not saying something, for not inviting you to dinner, for only staring like a lovestruck loser.

‘She probably thinks I’m a total loser...or even worse a pervert!’ he thought glumly. He sulked back over to his designs, frustrated at himself for not being bold enough to call after the beautiful girl and ask for her number.

‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘Y/N is way too out of my league, she’d reject me in a heartbeat. Or even worse! She’d say yes out of pity!’

As he continued to work on his designs, the thought of the angel that had visited him was clouding his mind, making work impossible. He just couldn’t seem to forget the shape of her lips as she spoke or the way that the perfect outfit laid on her perfect body....her perfect hips….her perfect breasts.

“Fuck” he grunted quietly, shifting uncomfortably as he realized that he’d thought himself straight into having an erection.

‘I just couldn’t help it. She’s so beautiful.’ he thought.

He tried to struggle through his… problem, but it seemed that the more he tried to ignore it, the more it persisted. It was actually to the point that he was sitting in the middle of his office, red-faced and panting with a painfully obvious tent in his pants.

“What the fuck is happening?” He grunted, feeling his canines start to lengthen and his claws emerge. Could he be going into rut already? He wasn’t due for at least another week!

Was it seeing Y/N that made him go into rut early? How? Y/N wasn’t his mate….right? No. He would’ve known if she was his mate by her scent. He had no recollection of ever smelling her, was she on suppressants, was there a chance that she could be his mate?

‘Yep.’ Asahi thought as another wave of heat and desire burst through his body, ‘I’ve started my rut early…. I need to get out of here…. Need to go home.’

He practically crawled to his desk, grasping desperately for his phone so he could call the receptionist and ask her to remove all of the females on the floor from the building. The last thing that he needed or wanted was to set off any omega’s heat by accident.

“Hello, Mr. Azumane. Is everything alright?” The receptionist asked, surprised at the call seeing as Asahi rarely called, opting to physically walk to the desk and ask. He thought that it was more polite this way, plus it gave him a chance to catch a glimpse of Y/N at her desk.

“I need all of the women on the floor to temporarily evacuate, I’ve gone into a rut.”

The receptionist on the other end, that was used to dealing with Asahi’s over-anxious personality, just laughed.

“That’s incredibly unnecessary sir. I’m sure everything will be fine if you just leave out of the back stairs, you could even leave out of the fire escape if you’re that nervous.”

Asahi sighed and nodded. It was true that he’d be wasting everyone’s time if he asked for an evacuation. It wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Ok……” he said warily. “I’ll try.”

“Great!” The receptionist replied, “I’ll make sure to get someone to bring your work to your house tomorrow so you can continue to work from home.”

**********************

“Right here is good. Thank you.” You said, getting out of the cab and paying the driver. YOu glanced up at the tall apartment complex as the car drove away, leaving you to fend for yourself.

You thought back to what had happened not even an hour earlier. Yui at the front desk had asked you if you would be willing to take the boss some work. She said that he was sick at home and wanted to continue to work from there. Being the people pleaser that you are, you said that it was no problem and that was how you’d wound up standing in front of Asahi Azumane’s apartment complex with a thick file full of designs and a large container of soup.

You walked into the lobby before buzzing into Asahi’s apartment. Clearly, he’d been expecting someone to come with his work seeing as he buzzed you up almost immediately.

You entered and took the elevator to his floor, the floor third from the top. When the doors opened, you were met with a small entryway that led to a single door.

“A penthouse?” you mumbled to yourself. You couldn’t be super surprised, after all, he was the boss of your floor and probably made a very comfortable salary. Still, the building hadn’t looked small from the outside, and if Asahi had a whole floor to himself that meant that his flat was at least 4,000 square feet big. You knocked on the door.

It opened.

You automatically gasped.

The scent of sandalwood and rosemary hit you like a brick wall, forcing you to stagger back on your feet.

‘Oh, shit’ you thought, ‘they told me he was sick! Not that he was in a rut!’

You began to panic in the split second that the door had been opened. You wanted to run away, but seeing as Asahi was much stronger and faster than you, you knew that you wouldn’t stand a chance.

Maybe it wasn’t a strong enough rut to enable him to smell through your suppressants? No. There was no way it was a weak rut, not when Asahi was such a powerful alpha.

In your state of panic, you failed to notice two things. The first being the fact that your wolf was screaming something at you, and the second being the large alpha, looming over you in the doorway.

Asahi’s body was heaving with heavy breath. His claws were contracted and his canines were piercing through his bottom lip, causing the taste of blood to hit his tongue as he stared at the beautiful omega in the doorway to his apartment.

‘I didn’t know Y/N was an omega’

‘Why is she here?’

‘Can she smell that I’m in rut?’

Were all questions running through the alpha’s brain, but the most important thing running through his brain was the single word that his inner wolf was practically screaming at him.

Asahi looked down at you, causing a violent shiver to wreck through your spine. You whimpered, feeling yourself grow wet with desire. His lips curled back before letting out the most deafening growl ever. A growl so loud, you were confident that people down on the sidewalks had heard.

“Mine.”

As soon as the words came out of his mouth, you gasped and suddenly the voice of your inner wolf was crystal clear. ‘Mate!’ it was howling happily. Your eyes widened as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. Asahi was your bond mate? YOUR BOSS WAS YOUR BOND MATE!

It made you want to faint out of surprise as well as anxiety. You considered if you could make a run for it, despite already knowing it was impossible. You were glancing at your surroundings when you finally remembered that Asahi, your mate, was still standing in front of you.

You looked at his tall frame in awe, your desire growing as you practically drooled over the sheer size of the alpha. He was huge, his broad shoulders, his built chest, and if you were to take a guess, you’d say that he was huge under the belt too.

You were so distracted ogling his body that you didn’t notice the way that his claws were digging into the flesh of his palms and how his canines had pierced his bottom lip hard enough to cause a small trickle of blood down his chin.

“Azumane! You gasped, setting the papers and soup on the floor in the hall before automatically stepping forward and grazing his hands with your own, careful to avoid the razor-sharp claws.

“No.” He grunted, trying to pull his hands out of your grasp. He feared if you stayed much longer he would do something out of his control, something unforgivable. “Please…..I don’t want to hurt you.”

You could see the pain and genuine fear in his eyes. You felt your heart fill with sadness and love at the same time. You couldn’t believe how much you’d been blessed. You had been given Azumane as a mate…. A man who was gentle and kind and was always so thoughtful of others. This was the man that you were destined to spend the rest of your life with.

Suddenly all of the fears and insecurities of not being good enough for people melted away from you. As your arms left Asahi’s hands to wrap gently around his neck, tears of happiness began to run down your face.

How could you have been so stupid? All of this time happiness and love had been right down the hall from you. You had deprived yourself of a partner to laugh with, to love, all because you felt inferior to others.

“You won’t hurt me.” You whispered, one of your hands nudging his face down closer to yours. “I trust you Azumane.”

Your lips were so close to his that you could feel his slightly labored breathing. His eyes were so close that you could seemingly see into his soul. You tried to tell him with your eyes just how hopelessly in love with him you already were.

Somehow, he must’ve felt it, because soon he was sighing into a soft kiss as one of his strong hands moved to hold your head as the other glided down your body to rest on your hip.

“Asahi….” he breathed, disconnecting your lips to look into your eyes.

“Huh?” you asked, slightly dazed from the passion of the short kiss.

“Call me Asahi, my love.” He said before once again joining your mouths in another heartfelt kiss, pulling your body flush against his own strong frame.

You moaned into the embrace, your arms wrapping tightly around his neck as he carefully swept you up off of the ground and began to carry you into his bedroom.

It all seemed like a whirlwind to you, but you couldn’t imagine it any other way. This was your soulmate…. Your other half.

Asahi’s body was alight with desire as well as he felt the effects of his rut in full force. He couldn’t believe how incredibly lucky he was to receive you as his mate. You…. the girl that he’d been admiring from afar, the one that, dare he say, he was already madly in love with. You couldn’t wait to spend eternity with you in his arms. When he held you, he felt like the strongest man in the world.

“Is this okay? I don’t want to force you. I’m in rut so I want you to be 100 percent sure that this is YOU wanting me, not your hormones.” Asahi whispered as he set you down on the edge of his bed.

There was no doubt in your mind that this was what you wanted. You didn’t care that he was in rut, you knew that the lust you were feeling barely had anything to do with your omega nature. You wanted him. You wanted him so bad that it made you want to cry.

“Asahi,” You whimpered, falling back onto his bed and staring up at him with a maddening blush on your cheeks. “I want you to claim me…”

“My love….” he growled before lunging back down at you, his lips attaching to your jaw with a renewed feverish manner.

“Asahi!” you gasped as his large hands roamed your body, his long fingers dancing across your hips that had been exposed as the blouse you were wearing was torn off of you, the buttons flying across the room.

He chuckled at your surprise before resuming his onslaught of love onto your body, his lips seeking out your breasts as his hands began to work at your slacks and then at his own clothes.

As soon as you were both fully nude, he leaned back, leaving reality to dawn on you as you realized that you weren’t actually fully over your insecurities. Your hands flew up to cover your face and stomach in embarrassment, you didn’t want Asahi to see you under such bright lights.

“I-I’m sorry I jus-” You whispered in shame, your eyes locking on a wall in his bedroom as you tried to explain.

“Let me see you.” He demanded, interrupting your pathetic stuttering with his strong hands clasping around your wrists and pulling them above your head. Your eyes closed tightly in humiliation.

Asahi’s eyes hungrily drank in your body. Every curve and arch was precious to him. He was practically drooling at how soft you felt under his hard body, how pliant you would be to his will.

“Beautiful,” he murmured to himself. Making your blush darken.

He brought his head down to your chest, his tongue piking out of his mouth and leaving a hot trail between your breasts. You moaned at the feeling of the appendage dancing its way down and across your stomach, down to your hips, until finally, Asahi’s head rested between your thighs.

His hands splayed out against the smooth flesh, admiring how soft they were in his grip. He could smell your arousal, turning him on that much more as he watched slick drip out of your hole and onto the meat of your upper thighs.

“One day.” He mumbled, half to himself and half for you to hear, “I will fuck these gorgeous thighs.” He said before swooping in and kissing the upper region of your legs. Biting and sucking dark spots into the sensitive skin.

“Asahi!” Was all you could manage to cry as his hands and mouth wreaked pleasurable havoc on your mind and body. You wanted him so badly. You could feel your cunt fluttering with need as slick dripped out of it, leaving a large damp spot on Asahi’s bedsheets.

“What do you want my love?” He asked, his eyes looking up from his position from in between your thighs to meet yours. You were suddenly overwhelmed at the sight of so much affection and adoration that laid in the dark brown pools.

“I want you Asahi….” you cried, panting as he quickly climbed up your body, lining himself up with you.

Both of you were hot and ready. The feeling and scent of desire clouding the room and leaving you both in a state of reckless lust. Nothing in that moment mattered but you and him.

Asahi connected your mouths once again as he pressed into you, his cock stretching your walls further than anyone had ever stretched them before. It felt so good…. so incredibly good.

“Asahi….” you gasped as he seated himself fully inside of you, the indescribable feeling of fullness making your body shake. “Please... Give me your cock.” A low growl ripped through his chest as his restraint finally snapped and his rut took over his mind and body. His hips began to snap in and out of your body at an almost lethal pace, leaving you writhing and gasping for air as you felt his primal instincts taking over.

“Yes!” you cried, your nails driving themselves across his upper back in a pathetic attempt to keep you rooted to this world. If the sheer size of his dick wasn’t enough to split you in two, it was the lightning-fast pace that his hips were thrusting into your body at, hitting all of the deepest areas of you, making you want to scream in pleasure.

As his cock drug in and out of you, rubbing against your walls so good that it took all of your breath away, you felt the tip of his cock but against your g-spot.

“Aah! Asahi!” You screamed, your walls clenching around him as stars painted your vision in pleasure. You couldn’t believe just how good he filled you up, how he reached every single place within you, drawing out the lewdest sounds, filling the rooms with your moans and cries as his cock pounded into you.

“You’re so beautiful” He gasped as you clenched around him, he was practically rapid with pleasure. He was slamming into you as his newfound goal in life was to please you, sucking on your neck as his hands roamed and gripped your body.

You could tell that since Asahi was in rut, his end was approaching much faster than it normally would and you would be lying if you said that you weren’t on the brink of orgasm as well. Apparently, Asahi had realized the same thing and was positioning himself to where he was hitting your sweet spot with every thrust, determined to make you fall apart first.

“Asahi!” You gasped, tears running down your face as your hands gripped his strong shoulders. “Asahi, I’m gonna come….”

“Yes, my love….” He grunted, picking up his pace impossibly more before bringing his fingers down to circle your clit. He could feel you getting closer and closer with the way that you sucked him back in with each thrust. “You take me so well.”

“Yes. Only you Asahi! You fuck me so good!” You babbled, your hips circling quickly in a sad attempt to keep up with the delicious feeling of his cock inside of you. You could feel the elastic of your orgasm pulling tight in your lower stomach. You knew that Asahi wouldn’t let himself come before you.

“Please….” you begged, teary eyes staring into Asahi’s lustful ones. “Please let me cum..”

“Yes my love.” he panted out, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he felt his own end rising. “Cum for me…” He said, his lips once again joining yours as your body was thrown off of the cliff into a sea of pleasure. You cried into his kiss, your body arching off of the bed as it shook with the overwhelming force of your orgasm. You swore that you temporarily went blind with the impact.

“I’m gonna come…..” Asahi breathed against your lips.

“Please…..come inside of me.” You begged, your legs wrapping around his hips and trapping his body against yours as his hips began to stutter and his cock burst inside of you, filling you with his hot seed.

“Fuuuuckkkk.” he groaned, pitching his head back as every fiber of his benign burned in the glory of his high. He continued to lazily thrust into you, bringing you both through your peaks.

As soon as you had been able to gain your breath again, he pulled you, leaving you incredibly empty. You whined at the loss.

“I need to take care of you.” He chuckled, climbing off of the bed to retrieve a towel from his bathroom to clean your body with. He kissed and massaged you as he gently wiped all of the cum mixed with slick off of your thighs, his face burning red at the lewd evidence of your lustful activities. You giggled as his docile, shy nature slowly returned, barely being able to make eye contact with you.

As soon as he was finished, he let you pull him back down onto the bed, despite both of you still being naked and sweaty. You closed your eyes, you knew that his rut would flare up again and you wanted to catch a quick nap before the second round.

Asahi just stared at your face as you drifted off to rest. You looked like an angel to him...so pure and beautiful. He knew then that he would always protect you, even if that meant laying down his own life. You were now his reason to live, you were his muse…..

You were his.

[firefly-in-darkness]

Worst Idea Ever [Part Four]

Characters → Y/N & Bucky Barnes, Other Marvel Characters.

Series Summary → Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what’s the worst that could happen?

Part FourSummary → Y/N takes Bucky to a place from her past, meeting people that he never imagined Y/N to be friends with and someone else from her past tries to come back into her life.

Word Count → 3k.

Part Two Warnings → 18+, swearing, angst, jealousy, illusion to sexy things. Two idiots.

Beta → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

Series Taglist  → Open, just drop me an ask!

A/N → And once again, I wrote the first draft and left it in my docs like I’d posted it... thank you @whitestarbucky​ for being late to the party and reminding me that I actually hadn’t posted it.

Series List // Marvel List // Masterlist

Previously in Part Three: He sunk back into the pillow, his hand dragging down his face. Bucky wasn’t sure what the billionaire genius was referring to, but he felt guilty for whatever Y/N had to witness of him and Jackie. He thought going home with someone else would help quash his feelings but now that he was sober, he knew that it was a stupid idea. He only felt guilt and remorse for what had happened the previous night.

Hooking up with a woman in front of Y/N was the worst idea ever.

The breeze from the rental car window was just enough to keep Y/N alert as she drove the last stretch of their five-hour journey, well maybe a bit longer if you counted going through the whole airport process. Y/N had felt tense the second she met Bucky at JFK and the thought of being confined to a small space that was thousands of feet in the air.

Y/N didn’t want to talk about how things had become uncomfortable after Peter and Gwen’s rehearsal dinner. She was embarrassed but she also had avoided the subject completely when she met him the next day for the wedding. Bucky’s familial duties took him away from her which, to her benefit, meant that she hardly saw him. 

The celebration was enjoyable but there was an annoying voice in the back of her head telling her to talk to Bucky about everything. But she couldn’t, he was her friend of over a decade. Plus, now that they were on their way to another wedding, it had already been three weeks since they last saw each other. 

Bucky had probably forgotten about the incident, and he was too drunk to see that he and Jackie hurt her. She should just brush it under the carpet, right?

The journey wasn’t as bad as Y/N thought; she was able to lose herself in her book or the music playlist that Nat had sent to her a few days ago. ‘Perfect for long journeys’, she’d said. All the while, Bucky lounged in the seat beside her, reading on his kindle or chatting about the usual nonsense that was his dating life.

It was as if nothing had happened, nothing had changed, and Y/N knew that she was just overthinking the possibility of them crossing the line of friendship. It was only a side effect of their fake dating arrangement and being in romantically charged places.

The motel parking lot gravel crunched under the tyres as Y/N pulled in. Relief flooded her and she sluggishly climbed out, stretching her arms high and shaking out her legs. The freedom from the cramped space behind the wheel didn’t alleviate heaviness in her muscles and all that she craved was a nap.

Bucky headed to the reception to pick up the key, and within minutes they were able to access the room, and Y/N instantly flopped face-first onto the bed. Kicking her shoes off and shuffling up the mattress, she pulled the side of the duvet and rolled over into a cocoon and let the nap take hold of her.

Bucky clambered through the door with Y/N’s luggage as well as his own, muttering to himself about her being a lazy pain in his ass. But when he saw her peacefully sleeping form on the bed, he couldn’t help but smile. The way she had cocooned herself in the covers, and how her soft snores puffed out her lips; it was adorable.

Then the guilt reared its head. He’d tried to approach the subject of the rehearsal dinner at the airport but from the tension in her body and the intense focus on reading her book, he knew that she wouldn’t talk. She was embarrassed, and he would have been too if he’d been caught with a sex toy at a rehearsal dinner.

Deep down, he knew something else was bothering Y/N. She was too focused on the road ahead instead of listening to his woeful attempts at dating. His thoughts kept reverting to the moment he kicked Jackie out after awaking to Y/N’s text messages; he felt like he’d upset Y/N, disappointed her but wasn’t that what this was all about? They were being one another’s company until they found someone they wanted to date. That’s what this was.

Since Peter’s wedding, fond moments Bucky had shared with Y/N had started to dance behind his eyes. Their shared memories from over the years playing on repeat at night. Making breakfast together while the rest of their friends groaned about their hangovers in the other room, the candid way she’d grab his prosthetic arm and he always felt a rush of warmth when he realised that once again, it didn’t bother her. 

That was before all the technological adaptations to connect to his nervous system. She touched his arm like it was real. And once those adaptations were made, Bucky felt her tender touch and the soft skin of her palm. He felt at ease, calm, at peace even, with her compared to the rest of the people in his life, the world. He was whole with her.

A horn blasted in the parking lot and caught Bucky’s attention before he refocused on Y/N’s sleeping form. Bucky wasn’t sure about his feelings anymore, and he couldn’t tell if it was because of their pact or whether Y/N felt something more. He could be just imagining it. She had never judged him, had always been by his side at college. 

They were partners in crime, as thick as thieves. And since then, they’d drifted into a more casual friendship but maybe there could be something there. Stop it. He berated and carried on unloading the car, focused intently on collecting their belongings.

Y/N felt better than before but she still felt drowsy, and the flickering television showing an old western film lulled her further into the bed. Absentmindedly, she pulled Bucky’s arm around her shoulder and nuzzled into his chest. The smell of his cologne added to the comfort she already found herself in, then she realised what she had done.

Now that she was there, she didn’t know what to do, she was frozen in place. She could remove her arms from his waist, or maybe pretend she was still asleep and roll away again. The embarrassment tingled at her cheeks and the feel of his toned stomach under her forearm made her core ache with want. She snapped out of it when she felt Bucky shuffle away from her.

“Erm, what are you doing?” Bucky frowned at her, seriousness in his features.

“It’s just a hug, I’m half asleep, chill out.” Y/N pretended to not let the hurt of rejection show and put it back onto Bucky, “Do you not like cuddles or something?”

Bucky unfurled his arm and shook his head at her, “I don’t wanna cuddle you.” 

Y/N sighed dramatically and flopped back onto bed dramatically, “Fine, don’t crawl over to me when it gets cold in here tonight.”

Bucky had lied, he did like cuddles. He wanted to cuddle Y/N with every fibre of his being. He didn’t want to get used to it, to the feel of Y/N’s warm body pressed against him, only to have it be taken away. He didn’t want to miss her touch once he had been graced with it. He wasn’t good enough for her, anything more than friendship wouldn’t work. It surely couldn't?

He turned off the television and decided to leave her to sleep in peace. He knew for certain that the next time she woke up, she’d be cranky because she hadn’t eaten. With the fear of Y/N throwing a tantrum like a two-year-old, he headed out into the town to find some food for the drama queen.

Bucky threw on his jacket and grabbed the keys, Y/N’s phone flashing drew his attention. A notification: an envelope with Dean bolded beside it. He knew that he wouldn’t read it, no matter how tempting the voices in the back of his head were telling him to see what had happened since Y/N and Dean’s rendezvous at Darcy’s wedding.

Bucky, annoyed at the taunting notification, he knew Y/N’s password, it was the same for everything and he’d constantly scolded her for that. But he’d never invade her privacy. And right now, he needed to get out of the room. It was stifling and it felt like the walls had closed in around him. Y/N’s soft snores had become irritating as the recurring feeling of jealousy took over and he stormed out of the room.

A group of large men covered in tattoos with long beards, unmistakably their Harleys resting in the parking bay out the front of the venue made Y/N feel like she was finally home. It wasn’t the usual aesthetic for a wedding reception and maybe Y/N should have warned Bucky. Where’s the fun in that? She thought as she reached the entrance, but Bucky was no longer beside her.

Y/N turned to find his confused face across the sidewalk, “Come on, we’re here.”

Bucky jogged over to her, he frowned as he read the sign on the wall, “Right, we are going to a bar called Hell House that used to be a Catholic boarding school for a wedding?”

“Yes, I told you, it’s for some dear friends from when I lived here.” She ushered him inside with a giggle. “I know my way around, just follow me.”

“You said you lived in a suburb,” Bucky muttered as he walked into the dimly lit bar.

The number of people dressed similarly to the men outside was growing tenfold and Y/N could feel the tension reeling off him. She knew he wouldn’t be scared, but probably surprised by the company she kept in her hometown. They were a different, very different group of friends to those she met at college.

“Hey Chocolate Puddin’!” Y/N screamed and threw her arms around the man wiping down a table.  The man reciprocated with the usual awkward hug; not holding her too tightly in case Y/N clocked him one for feeling her up on accident again. She pulled away and gestured to her date. “And this is Bucky.”

He shook Bucky’s hand and introduced himself, “Weasel. This one just mocks me for not knowing what emojis mean.”

Y/N tugged on Bucky’s jacket to bring his ear closer and whispered, “He thought the poop emoji was chocolate ice cream or somethin’.”

“What can I get you to drink?” Weasel asked as he wiped the glasses and placed them on the bar.

“Blowjob!!” Another man shouted and spun Y/N around, pulling her away from the bar and out of Bucky’s hearing range. “Well, look at you Care Bear. Looking like a fuckable plushie.”

Weasel muttered under his breath and fixed the bailey and whipped cream shot while jealousy brewed in Bucky’s chest as he watched Y/N being picked up by the handsome man. He couldn’t react, how could he in a room full of giants and he’d hardly admitted his feelings to himself yet. 

Instead, he clutched the bottle of beer that Weasel handed him. Y/N knew these people, if she didn’t want to be manhandled then she would have done something about it. And Bucky wasn’t sure why that annoyed him more; that she was more casual with affections or that she didn’t do this with him.

Bucky turned away for a second only to turn around to see a woman grabbing Y/N’s face and pushing their faces together in a smacking kiss. His mouth dropped agape, as the women giggled and hugged one another. He needed to talk to you about what kind of place you grew up in because this was not what he pictured.

“You get used to it.” Weasel commented and held up two crossed fingers, “those three are like that. Never known a throuple like it.”

Bucky frowned, “a what?”

“He’s messing with you Buck, he’s just jealous that he never got to tap any of us. Bucky, this is Wade and Vanessa.”

It then dawned on him that the man that ordered a blow job and the woman that snogged his fake date were the newlyweds. Vanessa was one of Y/N’s oldest friends from high school and had introduced her to Wade, but never explained how. Maybe the venue had something to do with it but now he was even more curious and a little less jealous.

The four of them drank round after round at a table that had been set aside for the special couple. The table didn’t look any different to the others apart from the fact that it was probably the cleanest and the only distinguishable feature was the folded piece of paper with the words ‘reservation for wade & ness’ scrawled on it.

“So how did you two meet?” Bucky asked the couple.

“Y/N and I went our separate ways after school.” Vanessa held out her hand on the table, Y/N immediately grabbing it. “One of us sold themselves to the world of men and the other became a stripper.”

Y/N cackled, and Bucky enjoyed the carefree nature that Y/N had around this pair. She was uninhibited and more herself than he’d seen in a long time. Growing up with someone is a different type of friendship with the ones you meet at college. Bucky’s mind drifted to Steve Rogers, his childhood friend and how they were practically brothers, always getting into trouble. 

“Wade came in after finishing a job, courtesy of me.” Y/N dramatically placed her hand on her chest then looked at Bucky, “Oh right, you don’t know what Wade does for a living. So erm, basically he can be hired to help people with difficult situations rather than calling the police.”

Bucky paused and dropped the bottle onto the table with a thunk and immediately found Y/N’s eyes. He wasn’t sure where this story was going but he didn’t like the sound of it at all. Not one little bit.

“My ex was causing me some hassle and Wade gave him a little scare.” Y/N beamed through her drunkenness and turned back to the couple, “and because Wade came the next night to pay his merc fees, he met Ness.”

“Oh yeah, it was that douche, Francis. Francis. Stalker shit his pants when he saw me.” Wade barked out a laugh and turned to Vanessa, muttering words into her ear. The couple becoming completely lost in one another.

Bucky turned to Y/N, “Didn’t you date Francis in college?”

Y/N hiccupped and nodded, then vacated her seat before Bucky could respond. He watched her fiddle with the dials on the jukebox while he mulled over his thoughts; why hadn’t Y/N come to him or Sam about Francis? 

He’d have to ask her when she was sober because there was no way he was going to get the information from her now or the newlyweds. They were almost tearing each other’s clothes off as they made out. 

Y/N had finally picked a track and it boomed through the speakers. Her and a group of others dancing along to the beat. Bucky left the passionate display of intimacy and joined Y/N on the makeshift dance floor which was just some tables pushed to the side.

“Buckaroo!” She crooned and pulled him into a formal hold for such an upbeat song, “So who are we hooking you up with tonight?”

Bucky was completely surprised at her comment, he had hoped that she didn’t like what had happened on their last date and how it turned out with Jackie. Then again, Dean had text her earlier. He must have read this situation completely wrong, and he didn’t want her to know that. She couldn’t know how he felt, he wasn’t sure about it either. That’s what he kept telling himself.

He decided to play along and nod towards a young woman, “what about her?”

Y/N checked over his shoulder as they spun around the small space, she rolled her eyes at the sight of Hope Summers, “I don’t think that’s a good idea unless you want to get beaten up by her dad.”

He followed Y/N’s line of sight and spotted the man glaring at him as if he knew exactly what Bucky had thought or said about his daughter. He immediately shifted Y/N around, spinning her out and back in to avoid looking into the creepy old man’s death stare.

“I need a drink,” Y/N stopped dancing, gathering her breath.

Bucky led the way to the bar and Y/N happily held onto his hand until they were met with Weasel’s agitated face as he held the corded phone to his ear before placing the receiver to his chest.

“It’s for you.” He gestured to Y/N who rounded the bar with confusion etched across her face. Nobody who knew Hellhouse's number knew she was here or would be calling because they’re all here as far as she could tell. 

Weasel kept his hand over the mouthpiece as she approached, “It’s Tyler.”

Y/N glanced to Bucky who sipped on his beer and talked to Neena, another of her high school friends that had ended up in similar work as Wade, she was nicknamed Lucky for all the ways she miraculously got out of tricky situations.

Bucky ducked closer to Neena’s, whispering into her ear and a wave of anger erupted in Y/N. She was done with being second best, Bucky was only doing this to meet other women. She wasn’t what he wanted.

Finally, she put the phone to her ear and prepared herself to listen to whatever her ex-boyfriend wanted to say. With a deep breath, she answered the call as coolly as she could.

Bucky turned back to the bar and saw the frustration on Y/N’s face growing, it wasn’t a pleasant phone call. Plus, surely, they would have rung her mobile. He scooted around the bar and approached Y/N, her back now turned from him and her fingers wrapped and unwrapped from the coil of the phone’s cord.

“Tyler, please just listen to me.” She hissed. “I am not interested. I’ve moved on.”

Bucky froze at Y/N’s words, when did she move on? And who had she moved onto? Was it that guy that she met at Darcy's wedding? Dean. The name grated his nerves. He couldn’t blame her; she was allowed to move on. Worry filled his thoughts, could he have caused Y/N to run into the arms of someone else because he hooked up with Jackie.

Y/N slammed the handset into its holder on the wall, spinning to Bucky and the moment he saw her unshed tears, he pulled her into his arms. Pushing his feelings aside, he knew that he needed to be there for her regardless of if she had moved on to someone new.

Continue Here...

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[kovjiro]

Out of My League - an Aran Ojiro x chubby female reader SMAU - College!AU

Synopsis: Commitment can be scary, especially when the only taste of actual commitment has come through your three best friends. An absentee father and cruel classmates can do that to you - no foundational trust in men, only sustained by male counterparts continually making fun of you for your size and weight. You’re ready for change, though, and maybe change will come; as you set out for university in a new city miles away from your horrid adolescence, change is inevitable. A chance at growth, at love, and new adventures await you in this new part of your life but, really, you’d never think to find this all with the upperclassmen you’d deemed out of your league.

Warnings(for this chapter): written chapter, self-deprecating thoughts, underage alcohol consumption, explicit depictions of being drunk, very much angst, reader is big sad (Refer to masterlist for complete list of warnings for this SMAU

Masterlist | Prev. | Chapter Four: friend | Next

“It’s Kiyoko and Yachi, right?” you call out over the heavy base and electronic beats blasting throughout the room.

Earlier that evening you made your way to Aran’s dorm, along with Suna, Osamu, and Atsumu. Upon arriving Aran announced to all of you that a few friends would be coming along, two members of his frat and their first-year friend. Aran had seen the worry on your face, however, and didn’t hesitate to come up to you and reassure you of your worries. “They’ll love you, hun, I promise.”

His words eased your nerves a bit but meeting new people isn’t always a fun experience - there is no telling when someone will judge you because of what they see. They had been nice enough at first meet so now, here at the party a couple of shots in and one drink down, you have the confidence to let loose.

“That’s us,” the tall one with black hair says, who you deduce is Kiyoko. She’s insanely attractive in a mature and sophisticated sense, her aura demanding respect yet offering a sense of comfort as well. Beside her stands a small blonde girl, who you’ve been informed is the first-year friend and her underclassmen from high school. Yachi’s demeanor is completely different from that of Kiyoko, looking almost out of place with her uncapped drink in her hand. Regardless, there is no ignoring how breathtaking they both are in their own right.

“Y/n, yeah?” Kiyoko counters before taking a sip of her drink. “Aran has told me a lot about you.”

“Really?” Don’t get your hopes up, for the love of all things sacred and holy, don’t break your own heart. “All good things I hope.” Kiyoko fervently nods as if to relieve you of any fear, saying, “Aran always speaks highly of his friends back home.”

Oh yeah, friend. It’s not like every time he’s come to your aid, every time he’s offered words of praise or encouragement, every time he’s held you close to his chest with your heart beats seemingly syncing together ever meant anything more to him - you’re just his friend, just like the many other friends he apparently talks so highly of. You’ve known this for years so why does it hurt so much?

Just as you’re about to respond, someone comes bounding up to the three of you. “They’re doing jaegerbombs over at the bar, you girls coming?” Speak of the devil… “C’mon, y/n, i know you can down those like a champ,” Aran pushes, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you to his side.

Maybe it’s the atmosphere of the cramped party filled to the brim with sweaty bodies bouncing and yelling, maybe it's the alcohol beginning to get to your head, or maybe it’s both and then some, but Aran’s presence is overwhelming and not in the good way. Where you’d usually feel over the moon to be near him you now find yourself feeling… annoyed? Upset? Absolutely devastated? In reality, though, you brought this on yourself because who could ever like you, the fat friend? Definitely not someone like Aran.

“Yup, that’s right, friend,” you say, mustering as convincing a laugh as you can. Not convincing enough because Aran cautiously chuckles all while squinting questioningly at you. “Yeah… friend.”

An awkward beat passes amongst the four of you but Kiyoko is quick to act, grasping your hand in one of hers and grabbing Yachi with the other. “Let’s get this party rolling, shall we?” she exclaims as she pulls you both to the make-shift bar the frat boys put together. As soon as she’s pulled you out of hearing range, Kiyoko leans closer to ask, “You good?” Her eyes convey just how much she’s gathered - you’re hurting.

What a horrible situation to be in - finding out your long-term crush only thinks of you as a friend in the midst of a night out. How will you get over this hurt, this heartbreak? Probably never. There is no cure for a broken heart.

But wait. There is. And you’re walking towards it right now.

“I will be,” you conclude.

In no time you’re standing in between Kiyoko and Yachi at the bar and what happens after is too much of a blur to make out. The first shot the three of you take together, the mixture of liquor and redbull hitting you in an instant. Your mind is running a mile a minute but it seems to be working - you’re numb. And so you have another, whatever it takes to forget why you were so upset a few moments ago. Two quickly becomes three, the same way three eventually becomes four then five then six.

In the haze that comes with being drunk you live the next moments oblivious to your surroundings. You miss when the twins and Suna join you guys right after Aran, you miss when Aran’s frat brother Sugawara appears and takes a shot with all of you, you miss - or perhaps ignore - when Osamu tells you to chill on the drinking. “You trying to die or something?” is what he says verbatim but his words don’t register in your imbibed brain.

What you don’t miss is Aran talking to a girl at the end of the bar and suddenly everything hits you tenfold - the hurt, the ache, the alcohol. Maybe if you weren’t so inebriated you would have noticed that he was only trying to help her out - apparently you aren’t the only person drunk off their ass at this party, who would have thought? All your mind can comprehend is that Aran is talking to someone other than you, a harsh reminder that you are - and probably always will be - the ‘friend.’

He comes to you then, speaking words you understand yet cannot comprehend, head spinning and vision blurring - maybe you should have listened to Osamu. He leaves you there at the bar and it crushes your heart all over again - didn’t he promise to be there for you? The alcohol has complete control of your body as you take a step in his direction but it’s as if the ground has moved out from underneath you. Two people are quick to your sides though and manage to keep you from hitting the ground. Who is that?

“Samu? Suna?” you manage to gurgle out, tongue feeling heavy and lips completely senseless. “No, honey, it’s Kiyoko and Suga. I think you’ve had enough for tonight, think it’s time to head home. Can you tell me where your dorm is?”

You know what she’s saying but your thoughts are jumbled, your dorm be damned. Where’s Aran? “I-I need to go- go see him,” you blurt out as you attempt to get out of their hold. You lose your balance as you take a step forward but they’re there to keep you from collapsing. They begin to drag you along to who-knows-where and you have no choice but to let yourself be carried, mumbling about how you need to see him and it hurts. It has to be the alcohol that’s making you spew nonsense, more so when you start crying because how could he only think of you as a friend, just a friend? Had it all meant nothing to him? Maybe you just misread everything, but you had been sure there was something there.

Or you’re the one in the wrong this time around, obviously, to even begin thinking Aran would be different. Every person you meet is unable to get past what’s on the exterior so why would this be any different? The idea of Aran reciprocating such feelings is an act of projection, simply put.

Your mind is a dark and negative spiral of harmful thoughts, reminding you of all that you’re not and why that is just not enough for Aran - for anyone, even. Yachi attempts to console you as Kiyoko and Suga place you on your bed? No, definitely not your bed. You may be wasted out of your mind but you’re cognizant to your surroundings that are in no way familiar at the moment. The three of them are able to reduce you from loud cries to soft whimpers in some time and eventually you’re all off to bed but you know deep inside of you everything will be different come tomorrow. How long would you continue being alright with being just a friend?

Credits:

raise your hand if you, too, have drunk your feelings and ended up crying

you've always held on to the hope that aran liked you too

he had always treated you differently than other guys

kiyoko, suga, and yachi>>>

taglist: OPEN! send an ask to be added :) AGE IN BIO PLZ

@szeonn @thatnikkixx @slutkags @roselleviennesstuff @bookiedoll @kris-1 @lucacangettathisass @serostapesweat @kiyokoism @ctrlaprilx @fantasycantasy

a/n: LONG overdue but here it is! i'm finally all moved in and got my wifi setup so ta-da :) i should go back to updating daily like i had been. i'm excited, it's about to get good >:) let me know your thoughts so far!!

[cheelduh]

How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not. 

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe  contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.