#i hAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS aND CURRENTLY nO DISCORD TO POUR THEM INTO
Text
every time i see an ask that says seven is mad for no reason my eye twitches DJSJ no but like even if your mc doesn’t vote agaisnt them they still get fucking fucked the fuck over. like imagine all of your closest childhood friends join a band YOU made and you’re all super close and super passionate and SUPER serious about it. One of those friends could also possibly be like the love of your life and everything is going great and you’re happy and in love and all of a sudden they all go. “you know what looking at this from a business perspective your absolute best friend since middle school/partner is basically better than you. So we want you to basically stand off to the side of the band YOU TWO created and be useless and be cool with it.” and then even if mc DOESN’T vote against them they clearly didn’t leave the band and went along with it long enough for the fallout to happen at a party and not at the exact moment iirc. Even if seven agrees to it for even a second mc should know them well enough to know that’s a goddamn lie. And if they didn’t that’s is being at best naive and at worst deliberately obtuse to think seven can or should be satisfied with backing vocals in a band they founded.
TLDR; seven got absolutely shafted by all the people they loved and trusted the most in the worst way possible and is rightfully hurt and fucking pissed off about it. they lost everything in the divorce and has to start from scratch like :/
#infamous if#not to be a seven apologist bUT I MEAN#i’m not actually mad tho im mostly kidding as we all know seven is VERY well loved#and i can’t wait to see where this goes#but i feel like some ppl don’t understand just how DEEPLY they hurt seven and fucked them over#like that’s fucking brutal so i totally understand why they’re Like That even if mc may not ‘deserve it’#seven is FAR from completely unjustified#if you don’t know what i’m talking about go play infamous if it’s good shit#lyriumsings txt#long post#i hAVE A LOT OF THOUGHTS aND CURRENTLY nO DISCORD TO POUR THEM INTO#🥺
43 notes
·
View notes
Text
My Truth
Allow me to introduce myself. Hi...
My name is Lucie. You might remember me from my old blog, lightmylove-gvf. It started out as a really fun, wholesome space. Full of love and laughter. I shared pictures and gif sets and works of fiction. Made so many wonderful connections with many different people. It really was a wonderful place to be. Until it wasn't. And although I've tried my best to step away from certain controversies, it seems that people still have an issue with me and still have my name in their mouth. So I'd like to take this opportunity to set the record straight. Maybe move past some untruths and you can all make informed decisions on whether you'd like to continue following me here on my current blog. Which is also a place of peace and love, I might add. And always has been.
Anyway, read on if you'd like. And if not, that's ok too.
I think it's fair to say that I've always been one of the more "controversial" writers around here. I have never shied away from difficult storytelling, and I never will. But what started out as a completely separate issue quickly snowballed into what could only be described as a personal vendetta.
I'm happy to discuss anything within my writing that might be of issue to a reader. A particular blog took offence to a scene I had written in a chapter of my fic, Backstage. I happened to disagree with this blog, and I tried my best to let them know whilst I understood their stance I did not agree with their point of view. I took this opinion to a discord server I was part of along with several other blogs here to see if they could shed more light on the issue.
The scene in question involved a fictionalised version of Josh and the reader in bed. They had gone to bed together with the full narrative of the reader known. How she was in love with him and wanted nothing more than to make love with him. They had been growing close. And Josh began to touch reader as they slept side by side. We get an insight into the readers thoughts during this moment, and they are very much with consent and enjoying the experience. It's meant to be a nod to what is to come. That their bodies are in tune with each other, even if their words are yet to speak of it. I think a lot of experiences in life play out like that. Where we don't always know what to say, but find ourselves in situations where our bodies can do the talking. Anyway, I digress...
There was a lot of opinions flying around in the server. Some were in favour of my opinion, others opposed it and were in favour of the anon who had sent me alot of hateful messages regarding their view that this scene was nothing more than sexual harassment. I explained in the server that I myself had been the victim of sexual assault/harassment. That I knew what it felt like to get into bed with someone I thought that I could trust only to have them break that trust in the most heinous way. I tried to explain that I didn't think this particular scene was that.
One sentence that I said was screenshotted and shared around with absolutely zero context to it and nothing of the rest of the conversation added to the screenshot. Just one sentence that I'd said which pertained to saying that I agreed that people should be able to get in bed with others and have full rights to their own bodies. I was AGREEING with that. It's there in black and white. But the narrative was skewed by people who didn't want to understand me. I tried to explain about how my personal experiences often lied within power imbalances when it came to things like S/H. But in the end, they gave me no chance to explain myself properly. They didn't want to. They'd seen and heard enough and made up their mind.
But it didn't stop there. People who I thought were my friends blocked me. Told me I was disgusting. Told me I was playing the victim. Because I didn't issue a grovelling apology. But how could I? I wasn't sorry. I hadn't done anything wrong. I'd poured my heart out to them about my trauma and abuse and how in my own experience I didn't view it as the same as what I'd written. I'd put trigger warnings. I'd made sure people had the right to information before proceeding!
I had blogs who had never interacted with me block me. Call me disgusting. Tell me fuck myself. I had anons telling me to kill myself. Anons telling me that I was a rapist and...for some reason...a peadophile sympathiser? I didn't deserve that. Nobody deserves that. I literally wrote two consenting adults touching each other in a bed they'd both gotten into...consentingly.... with very obvious (although unspoken at that point) feelings for each other. But now, that wasn't the issue. The issue was my own personal feelings on sexual harassment.
I'm the first to admit that I am perhaps not an easily digestable person to some. But I know that I am kind. I know that I have spent hours proof reading and editing fics for other writers on here because they asked for my help. I've supported people though personal issues, and I've championed the work of other writers because I truly believed that this space was a wonderful space for creativity. I still do, to some degree. I am not perfect, and I know that sometimes I can be a little head strong when it comes to protecting people's rights to free speech. I understand that I'm not palatable as a person to people who don't agree that the freedom to write should come with the freedom to write anything.
To those of you who never ever spoke to me and are still sharing things about me with the hash tag #fuck you lucie.... to you I say why have you jumped on that bandwagon? You do not know me. You know only what you've heard from people who were intent on pushing a narrative that was their own. Not mine. You don't know that these people were once my friends. And they shared my work and enjoyed it as I enjoyed theirs. They told me things about themselves and I was happy to know them. These people who then decided I was a terrible human being. Based on one thing I said that was taken completely out of context. It's almost as if they have shared it so many times now with their own backstory that it's a canon truth. I'm the worst human to ever walk the earth. Forget about all the good things I did for you. I'm scum.
If you're still reading this, you're probably thinking boo hoo what a victim complex. Maybe you're right. Maybe I do have a victim complex. Like everyone else here I have mental health problems and I'm on the spectrum. I have trauma. As part of my adhd I have rejection sensitivity which means when I'm cornered I tend to fight back with justifications as to why I behaved the way I did. I guess that's what I'm doing now. Trying to explain myself. Again. Although what good it'll do, I dont know. And I think right now, it no longer matters.
And yet I still see that I'm being talked about. I'm still getting accused of sending anons to other blogs when I was literally just existing here in my peaceful little corner, everyone who had ever taken issue with me blocked or unfollowed. I didn't know what was going on over there, I was trying to just enjoy reading and writing. My anxiety could never cope with sending a hateful anon, I know there's ways of finding out where they come from and revealing the blogs who send them and it's like that story we're all told about peeing in the pool and turning the water a different colour. I don't fuck with that shit.
If, for any particular reason, I've ever hurt anyone here to them I do issue a heartfelt apology because it has never been and never will be my intention. I said some awful things in the heat of the moment when I was receiving alot of hate and death threats regarding the AI edit a friend of mine made with audio from one of my fics. I was under so much pressure. I wanted it all to just stop. I just wanted everyone to be able to enjoy whatever made them happy. I am sorry for the things I said during that time. Im a human being. I am flawed. However..
I do not believe that people lose their rights to their body the minute they climb into bed with someone. And that's precisely what I say in the infamous screenshot. I just hope for anyone who has seen it that they now understand that it was said with love and understanding and support. I would never disregard anyones trauma or triggers. Never. And that is why I believe in giving people all the information they require before consuming media and art.
With all this said, I sincerely hope that it's clear that all I want to do is write. It's all ive ever done and all I will ever really be any good at doing. I'm proud of the fics I've put out here on my old blog and this one too. I don't care about how many notes they get, just that one or two people read it and enjoy it. And I hope you all know that I'm a nice person, too. So are a lot of blogs who have been villainised recently. This witch hunt has got to stop. We have got to start listening to each other with peace and understanding and not jump to conclusions. Not make people out to be something they simply aren't.
I want to curate a loving space here. A safe and nurturing space for anyone to feel free within. I want people to know they can jump in my asks and know that I will love them. I want everyone, of every race and every gender and ever creed of this world to know they are welcome and accepted here. Like a wise man that we all know and love once said. I'm not the person they say I am. I never was. And I think some of them know that. It is my greatest hope that any of you who wish to stick around get to know me for yourselves.
It is my greatest wish that those blogs who are still spouting hate about me really grow and heal. Or even better, pop on over and get to know me? I think it's important to understand why you might hate someone and not just from unreliable sources. If you think that I am some sort of s/a supporter who revels in writing that sort of thing then I'd be glad to dispel that myth.
I'm not going to speak on this again because I feel that I've moved on. This blog is my creative outlet and always will be. And as I've stated above its a safe and loving space for all. I'm reclaiming the fun. And hopefully some of you will stick around for it. And if not, I bid you a farewell. With nothing but love in my heart.
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
An announcement
I have work today, so discussion and analysis of the episode is still on hold. I have something to say in advance, though for when I do get started:
For my own sanity, I will not be discussing the cliffhanger.
tl:dr Until more episodes are released that can give us more context for the last few seconds of "Wanted," I'm not going to be crafting any theories or making any predictions or doing any analysis about them. Because trying is just going to frustrate me and I want to actually enjoy this show.
spoilers below
The idea of Victim returning to the series was always something that I've always had mixed feelings about.
I wanted to see the character again in some capacity; have one of the other sticks discover his former, brief existence, or have some sort of mental connection between Victim and one of his Becker-born fellows be established, or have the animator consider Victim's involvement in his own past, or at least have Victim's one-time presence be acknowledged by the series in some way, even if it doesn't expand into an actual plot point.
That was my best-case scenario: that Victim's short life be consciously addressed or referenced in-universe by the current cast. I'd be content with whatever effects rippled from that.
What we've gotten is more than that. More than Victim's role in the overall narrative being understood and acknowledged by the other characters.
Victim himself has returned, to take up a new role in the narrative.
And what I'm feeling is...mostly apprehension tbh.
The fandom has done so much with Victim. As far as a canon basis for personality, he had by far the least for us to work with out of any AvA stickfigure, so we all poured our own ideas and thoughts and nuances and pursuits into him. No two fans' Victims are alike, but there are still patterns of popular interpretation to be found. Victim being gray. Victim being in the void. Victim being a ghost. Victim having a funky relationship with code due to partial-deletion/recovery. Victim reincarnating into Chosen or Second.
Over the course of this new season, a lot of that is going to be permanently branded as alternate characterization, because Victim will be getting canon established for himself.
I can live with that.
But just because I know it's coming doesn't mean I'm ready to pack away what we've made on our own just yet.
I'm not gonna lie, I'm eager to see what Alan does with putting Victim in what seems to be a villainous role. Alan has already done such intriguing things with the stickfigures who are identified by archetypes, and how these characters alternately embrace and defy different aspects of the in-universe titles they've been named with is something I look forward to seeing more of with Victim.
At the same time, though...a petty part of me still isn't over the kerfuffle a bunch of us had two years ago when some people in the official discord server decided that Victim as he appeared in AvA1 was canonically evil.
AvA1. The episode where he gets disparaged and unmade. Where he had to fistfight a cruel god two minutes after being brought to life, and when he had the audacity to almost win he was punished with cessation of existence.
And...apparently that made him evil, in some people's eyes? I didn't get it then, and I still don't get it now. But perhaps you can see why the hints toward a villainous role for Victim in upcoming episodes have me a little on edge.
I've seen "evil Victim" done well, I know it's possible. SammyXD's incredible Ghost in the Machine comic is foremost in my mind, but I can name at least two other examples. I know it can be done.
I just hope it's worth it.
78 notes
·
View notes
Text
Twenty Questions for Fic Writers
Thank you @acorrespondence, my lovely mutual and writting buddy, for tagging me <3
How many works do you have on ao3?
6, under beezleebub (more under a secret abandoned account)
What's your total ao3 word count?
131,144 for my current account
What fandoms do you write for?
justified, primarily. with one deadwood fic, and a mcu wip in the works.
What are your top 5 fics by kudos?
"stay with me" is my most kudoed fic <3
Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?
i try to! i never know what to say cus i'm always so blown away that anyone's reading my shit at all.
What is a fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?
i try not to end on a sour note, but i feel like everything i write carries a general blanket of angst through it's narrative
What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?
probably "stay with me" just cus i was feeling nice that day
Do you get hate on fics?
not these days. i feel like ao3 users have a generally laid back approach to fanfic these days. don't like? exit the tab, easy peasy.
Do you write smut?
no? i have included not overly explicit sex scenes in fics bcus they can be a great tool for emotionally charged moments, good character moments, etc. but nothing crazy.
Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?
never ever. they're not really my thing.
Have you ever had a fic stolen?
no lol
Have you ever had a fic translated?
nah
Have you ever co-written a fic before?
no, i'm a control freak
What's your all-time favorite ship?
charles xavier/erik lehnsherr. easy. full stop. don't even have to think about it. there's something about them. something about the 60s/70s. something about two sides of the same coin. something about wanting the same thing but having morally conflicting approaches. i think about magneto every single day of my life since i was 11 years old. next question.
What's a wip you want to finish, but doubt you ever will?
"keep it near" had such a choke hold on me. it was born of an offhanded discussion in the justified discord so long ago and a love of southern gothics and detective stories. i still love it sm but idk if i'll ever have the steam to revisit it. maybe when i rewatched true detective s1 it'll just pour outta me tho, who knows.
What are your writing strengths?
dialogue. i think i'm pretty good at back and forths between two characters that are saying something other than what they mean. i enjoy writing dialogue that is more revealing in what isn't being said. p.g. wodehouse also taught me a lot about tone in dialogue and witty back and forths that i really enjoy and think i have a pretty good grasp on writing those sorts of exchanges.
i also like to think i'm pretty good at carrying a tone through a story. giving something a general vibe. usually a haunted angsty vibe but still, it's an energy.
What are your writing weaknesses?
probably so many things. i don't like most of my fics that are up currently (with the exception of "keep it near" and probably "stay with me"), but we're all our worst critics. I feel that i struggle with writing action, motion, etc. i never want a scene that lacks dialogue to come across as "and then," "and then," etc, you know what i mean?
Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?
iffy. i feel like it can come across as jarring to a reader if they have no idea what they're even looking at. i've included snippets of russian in a wip, which i have been studying for quite a while, but i still fear it might come across as clunky.
First fandom you wrote for?
uhhh... probably batman? or marvel? unless we're counting the self insert assassin's creed fanfic i wrote in 6th grade before i knew what fanfic was.
Favorite fic you've written?
oh probably "keep it near" but by far my unpublished fic i'm working on currently.
don't know who's been tagged yet, but @praycambrian @raylangivins @norgbelulah @eff41 and anyone else who hasn't been tagged yet <3
12 notes
·
View notes
Text
Life is an Ocean
I was bored and Karl is underrated so here we go. based off a song. My first work, I'm doing my best. This is my current hyper-fixation so just deal with it. I'm sure the story is all over the place but it's just for fun :)
Song Inspiration: CVS by Winnetka Bowling League
CW: car crash, cursing, anxiety, panic attack (let me know if I missed something)
Main Masterlist
(6.8k words)
It has been raining for a whole week, borderline storming. Valerie and her brother were cooped up in the house and getting bored of it.
"Dude, I'm fucking bored. I wanna go somewhere," she said her thoughts aloud. Her brother gave her a look that said she was an idiot.
"Where would we go? It's dark as hell outside and pouring rain," he replied.
And so Valerie convinced him to get ice cream in the middle of the night, in the pouring rain. It would just be something fun to do.
It started out fun. They got to a nearby ice cream place. After they finished eating they danced in the rain and laughed at how silly this all was. It was cold, but they didn't care because they were having the time of their lives together.
Valerie was driving them back home, when the rain got heavier. Taking a sharper turn than she meant to, the car started to hydroplane. As the car ran right into the side of the road, she tried her best to hit the brakes but the car wouldn't stop going. She doesn't quite remember anything that happened next. She just remembers hearing the sirens and calling out for her brother. She also remembers the first thing that happened, when she woke up in the hospital.
Valerie's parents were there when she woke up, asleep in what looked like uncomfortable positions in the hospital chairs. She looked over towards them to ask what happened. She sat up leaning on her wrists, forcing her to cry out in pain and fall back into a lying position. The sudden noise awoke her parents. They had very mournful looks on their faces when they finally looked at her.
"Valerie, you're okay," her father sighed in relief. He looked like he hadn't slept in days. He hugged her tightly, cautious of her injuries
"What happened? Why do my wrists hurt like hell? Where's Trev?" She asked without taking a breath.
"Honey, you were in a car crash with your brother. The nerves in your wrist and hands were severely damaged during the crash. The doctors said that it will take a lot of practice and time for your hands to go back to normal," her mother sobbed out.
Valerie felt like her mother was purposely avoiding the topic of her brother.
“Where’s Trev? Is he alright?” she softly cried. She had a feeling she already knew the answer.
“He didn’t make it honey,” her father cried. The family sat together and mourned their loss together.
- A couple of years later -
Valerie's POV
I turned on my computer and logged onto Minecraft. The familiar and comforting logo lighting up my screen. The feral boys wanted to do a simple speed-run with me, but I know them well. They most likely modded it with weird shit and wanted to see my reaction to it. That is usually how a feral boys + GamerMouse video goes. Them being . . . themselves and me, just dealing with it. I swear I'm their mother or something.
My hand slightly shook as I logged into discord. It's been a while since that terrible day and my hands still don't feel like they're doing any better than before. I wasn't in the best mood today because earlier, I dropped a glass cup and it shattered, making a mess in my kitchen. The glass wasn't really worth much but I just get so frustrated with myself when I’m not doing as well as I want. Hopefully, the feral boys can bring my mood up.
It looked like Karl, Sapnap, and George were already in the vc so I quickly joined them. I made sure to lower my headphones' volume expecting to hear screaming.
"Sup losers," I said in the peppiest voice I could.
"AAH! O-M-G, IS THAT A GAMER GIRL" Someone screamed. Judging by the accent, it had to be George.
"Nice to see you too, Gogy. Where's Dream and Quackity, when are we streaming?" I asked.
"Both of them said that they'll join in a little bit. We can wait in the server," Sapnap replied to me. "We were just teasing Karl about this girl that he likes."
"Whatever Sap, at least I don't have to third wheel green and blue over there," Karl nervously laughed out.
"Awww, don't make fun of DNF. They have some pretty good fan-fiction. I definitely ship it," I said. Just then, Dream happened to join the call so of course, I started singing for them, "Sometimes, all I think about is you, late nights in the middle of June. Heatwaves been faking me out, can't make you happier now."
Everyone started cracking up at my terrible singing, instantly bringing a smile to my face.
"How in character of you Mouse? You know, you should stream reading fanfiction made for you. I'm sure there are lots of interesting pairings," he laughed out. I rolled my eyes knowing he was commenting on an old stream I did about a year ago. It was very weird to see people shipping me with pretty much every guy in the SMP. It was intriguing, to say the least.
"Whatever Dream. I would have you know that my fans are exceptional authors," I exclaimed.
Slamming on my desk excitedly I asked, "Now, who's going to stream cuz I'm ready for whatever you guys have planned for me"
- Skip towards the end of the stream -
"Damn it," I cursed my screen as it told me I died for what felt like the hundredth time. "I freaking fell off the stupid end tower again. It's my stupid hands, they're doing it again."
The whole stream, my hands had been acting up at the worst times making me die a lot. I've fallen in lava and fallen from high places because I couldn't hold the shift button and I've absolutely sucked at most pvp today, except one match with Karl but I know he was going easy on me. I was in a foul mood, but I tried not to show it because Quackity was streaming.
"It's okay lil GamerMouse," Karl softy replied. He knew how frustrated I get with my hands so he usually makes a point to make sure I know that it's okay and to not feel bad. "We could practice pvp a bit later if you feel up to it?"
"Maybe. I still haven't had dinner yet so it would be after I eat," I chuckled out. I had forgotten to eat before the stream and I was getting really hungry.
"Chat is freaking out. Half of them are calling you a simp and the other half are saying how sweet you are," Quackity told us in his high voice. The whole stream, Quackity's chat was commenting on Karl and me. Lots of shipping was happening.
"Oh shut up. Karl's just an amazing person who knows how to treat a lady. Do you know how to treat a lady, Quackity?" I laughed out loud. During his streams, I love picking on Quackity. It's just so much fun.
"I'll have you know, I'm a gentleman," Quackity scoffed.
"I'll believe it when I see it, 'Guys, please! I'm a gentleman I promise' " George mocked. All of us burst into laughter.
"Okay, I think I'm going to end the stream here guys," Quackity barely got out through the laughing and did his outro.
Once the stream ended we hung for a couple of minutes in the vc before everyone left until it was just me and Karl.
"Just let me know when you want to practice, okay Val. You can also tell me if something is wrong," Karl told me comfortingly. He was always just so sweet and had so much patience with me.
"I'm fine, I just dropped a glass earlier and I guess it's still bothering me. I can’t stop thinking about how I won't be able to do MCC this year," I replied solemnly. I was really hoping my hands would be getting better so I could join all my friends in MCC but it didn't look feasible this year.
"Well then, we can just practice more. I promise, we will do parkour practice every day together until you become the best Minecraft player this world has ever had," Karl said enthusiastically. He seemed very excited to help me out.
"It's okay Karl. I think I'm just going to go to bed early tonight or work on that 1000 piece puzzle I still haven't finished," I tried to joke but Karl knew me well enough to know I didn't feel better. "I'll talk to you later."
"Okay talk to you later, Val," he replied.
I left the call and shut down my computer. My head is just so full of thoughts, I need to just relax and stop thinking about everything.
Lately, the more I talk and hang out with Karl, the more I feel something I can't explain for him and I don't know how I feel about that. I've been best friends with him since I joined the SMP, thanks to Sapnap, but I can’t help but wish it was more. Especially when he is so sweet to me, how could I not want him to be mine.
As I was walking into my bedroom the doorbell rang. I was very surprised when I opened the door, to see Karl standing there with a bag of Taco Bell in hand.
"I brought my favorite lady her favorite food," he smiled at me. Speak of the devil, or more like an angel. Did he just call me his favorite lady and did he really drive all the way to Taco Bell for me?
"Is that a chicken quesadilla?" I asked like a little gremlin.
"It most definitely is! It's all for you because I already ate," he replied, handing me the food. "I knew you were hungry and you only live like 20 minutes away, so I thought I would grab you some food.”
Okay, catching feelings makes sense now. Who wouldn't catch feelings for a guy who brought them food when they were hungry?
He grabbed me a plate from the kitchen and made himself comfy on my couch. He was in some khakis and a comfortable-looking beige sweater while I was in some sweats and a t-shirt that I'm pretty sure I stole from him.
"What kind of music do you feel like listening to today?" Karl asked while he was scrolling through his phone. "Corpse has a new song, we can play that and then just let Spotify roll with that.
"Sounds good to me! I heard the song earlier this week and I've had it on repeat," I replied.
I sat down on the couch and started to pig out on my food. I didn't realize how hungry I actually was.
The next couple of hours were kind of chill. We sat and listened to music while just chatting.
"Were you still going to do that stream tomorrow? What were you planning on doing?" Karl asked. By now I had my head on his shoulder and we were cuddling. Platonically, of course. We've always cuddled but now that I've developed these stupid feelings, it feels kind of weird, but It doesn't matter because I love it. "Didn't you want us to join you?"
"Yeah, I was planning on doing a chill stream. I was hoping I could get you, boys, to join me since my chat loves the feral boys. I also asked Niki to join and she said that she would love to," I replied excitedly. I haven't had the chance to stream with her in a long time. "How does a Q&A stream sound, or is that not creative enough? I wanted something lowkey."
"I think it will be fun. I'll definitely be there," Karl smiled at me. He checked the time. "Dang, it's a lot later than I thought. I'm going to head out. I will see you tomorrow in your stream, okay?"
"I'll see you then. Goodnight and drive safely Karl," I softly spoke to him as he left. Today, I realized that he is the most important person in my life and these feelings were only magnified.
"Hello everyone and welcome to today's stream. Today I was thinking of doing a Q&A and I have a bunch of my friends to make it a lot more fun." I laughed out. I was feeling really good so streaming looked very easy today. "I have the beautiful Niki Nihachu, and then a couple of random guys I picked up off the side of the road earlier."
"Well dang, didn't know you loved us that much. You hear that boys we got an upgrade from 'the dumpster' to 'the side of the road'," George sarcastically replied to me. "Come on, shout us out. You know you want to."
I rolled my eyes at him and flipped him off, "I have a brit, snapmap, a duck, a green blob, and Karl Jacobs!" I could hear all the guys talking over each other about their nicknames and giving me nicknames while Niki and I just laughed at them.
"I'm a brit too, Valerie," Niki exclaimed through her laughter.
"Yeah but you're a pretty brit," I winked at her. We were cracking up, "You're in my top 5 of British people!"
"I'll take it," she replied. I could tell that the chat was already enjoying the stream.
"Okay everyone, I'm going to open up donations and you guys can send in your questions," I told the camera. I could already see some starting to load in.
[note: the _underscore_ is the questions being read by the dono voice]
_Hello GamerMouse, I really love your content. It never fails to make me laugh. I was wondering if you were single <3_
This made me laugh, my fans were always asking if I was single but it didn't really bother me too much, "Sadly the answer to that question is, yes I am single. Have been for a little while." I could see chat filling up with people saying how I was too pretty to be single and other stuff like that.
"Yo, she's single boys, who got dibs?" Quackity exclaimed at us. "I bet Karl gets first dibs, he lives the closest to her."
The boys started to tease Karl and chat was just egging them on. I started to blush a little but I hoped no one paid enough attention. Little did I know, Karl was watching my reactions and definitely saw me blush at the accusations.
_If you had to date any smp member, who would it be? also please say hi to my sister katie, she adores you :)_
"Oooh, answer the question mousy. Whom do you pick?" Dream asked.
"Firstly, Hello Katie, I'm glad you like my content. Secondly, I am not answering that," I laughed out.
"Aww, she's blushing!" Sapnap screamed, immaturely. "She definitely likes someone."
_hi I was wondering how you came up with your name_
Thankful for the new subject I answered sweetly, "I'm glad you asked cuz not many people know. I got my name GamerMouse because all of my friends are taller than me and I was always teased for being so short. Getting called short, and sometimes even small, turned into being called a little mouse. Then I just got creative and added Gamer in front of it. Fun fact: My original name was going to be Anonamouse because I was planning on being a faceless streamer."
_height check :)_
"She is definitely 4'11" guys," Quackity teased.
"Haha, so funny Alex," I said monotonously.
“She’s 5 foot 1,” Karl replied.
The boys immediately started to tease Karl about his knowledge of you but he just waved them off.
The stream was going well for a bit until the next set of questions came.
_why did you start playing Minecraft and how did you get into the smp? are you going to be in mcc this year_
"Sad to say that I won't be competing this year. As most of you know, my hands are damaged and not very steady at all. I had been friends with Sapnap for a while, and he helped me find video games that I liked so I could practice my hand-eye coordination. I enjoyed Minecraft the most so I played that a lot and soon Sap asked Dream if I could join the SMP and then here I am. I owe it to Sapnap for how far I have come these past couple of years," I replied.
I could hear some of the boys giving fake tears and sniffles to my little speech. A good thing too, because I could feel myself tearing up a little and I needed to laugh.
_How did you damage your hands?_
My face dropped but I tried to play it off so no one saw, "I damaged my hands in a, uh, car crash with my brother a few years back."
I immediately regretted mentioning my brother because I knew chat was going to go crazy at the new information. The chat was filling up with people saying they didn't know I had a brother, and asking where he was, and if he would be a guest to one of my streams.
"Guys, I'm really sorry but my brother won't be in, uh, any of my streams or videos," I said probably a little too quickly. I could feel myself start to panic. I didn't want to say the wrong thing while I was live with thousands of people watching.
I heard my phone ding a couple of times and I would bet it's texts from Niki or Karl because they knew how sensitive I was about the topic of my brother. I started to panic, even more, when people started asking me why my brother wouldn't be joining any upcoming uploads.
I tried to tell them as calmly as I could, without crying, "My brother passed away in the crash. . . the passenger airbag malfunctioned."
As I said that, the chat seemed to slow down and I held my breath. I could feel my heart in my throat. I knew that there are a million different things that people could say about it and I didn't want to have to deal with it live.
There was an influx of messages saying they were sorry for my loss and lots of kind words. I could feel a wave of relief at all the really kind messages. Apparently, my fans were a lot more considerate than I thought they would be.
But the next donation I would get would send me in a downward spiral. I know most people aren't evil, but some really just wanna watch you burn.
_if you were the one driving, does that mean you killed him?_
Everyone in the VC froze. No one knew what to do or say. How does someone respond to a comment like that?
It felt like time had frozen and the world was quiet. It didn't take me long to feel like I was suffocating so I did the outro as best and quickly as possible, ended the stream, and left the vc as quickly as I could.
I heard my phone ding with text messages but I couldn't move. I was a deer in headlights in front of my monitor. The next thing I knew, I was running into my bathroom emptying my stomach into the toilet.
Karl's POV
"if you were the one driving, does that mean you killed him?" I heard the dono voice say.
There is absolutely no way that someone said that. At first, I thought that I misheard it but when I realized how silent it was, I knew that it actually happened.
Before I knew it, Val did her outro and the Stream ended. GamerMouse left the call.
"Oh, shit," Sapnap exclaimed in shock. "Did that just happen? Did Val leave? What's wrong with that person?"
"It says that Val isn't in the call anymore," I heard Niki sigh. "That was a shitty thing for that person to say, she's very sensitive about that topic. I think I'll call her to see if she's alright."
"Wait, don't worry about it Niki," I replied quickly. "I'm going to go to her house right now. If I know her well enough, she might be having a panic attack right now and she wouldn't answer her phone."
I left the call before I received an answer and ran straight to the door and grabbed my keys. I got into my car and headed straight to her house. Thankfully, she lives really close.
The whole drive I couldn't stop thinking about how livid I am that that person had the audacity to say that to her. I felt bad enough that the topic of her brother came up while she was streaming, but for someone to actually blame her for something like that. I just needed to make sure she was okay.
That's all I've been thinking about lately. That she was okay. I've always wanted her to be okay and happy but for some reason, this felt different. I wanted to protect her. Protect her from haters on the internet, or protect her from her own thoughts that she sometimes succumbs to.
I arrived at her house in no time. I didn't even bother parking in her driveway, instead, parking in front of it very crookedly. I ran to the front porch, pulled out the spare key she gave me, and let myself in.
"Valerie," I softly called out, hoping I didn't scare her. "Where are you?"
She didn't respond but I think I heard shuffling from her room so I headed there first. As I passed by her computer room, I noticed that her computer was completely shut off. I made it to her room and found her curled up on the floor next to her bed. “Val, it’s Karl. Can you hear me?”
She didn’t say anything but when she looked up at me, she relaxed at the sight of me. It hurt me to see her like this. All I wanted to do was hold her close and whisper sweet nothings to her, but I didn’t want to overwhelm her.
“Val, I need you to do something for me okay? Just look at me,” I softly voiced. She slowly looked at me while taking her shallow breaths. She nodded at me, so slight that if I wasn’t studying her, I would have missed it. “Just follow my breathing and listen to me.”
“Can you name 5 things that you see right now?” I calmly asked her. I could see her staring at my abdomen, watching me breath and trying to copy it.
“I see. . . you. . . my comforter. . . the clock. . . my laundry. . . and the door,” she stuttered out.
I could tell she was doing her best to calm herself down and it seemed to be working slowly but surely. “You’re doing amazing, can you tell me 4 things that you feel?”
“I can feel the carpet. . . my phone in my pocket. . .the wall behind me. . . the hood on my jacket.”
Every second that passed just reminded me of how strong I thought she was and how much I admire her. “What about 3 things that you can hear?”
“My ceiling fan, the ticking of the clock, and your voice.”
She was doing better already. “Now what about 2 things that you can smell?”
“I can smell the candle on my nightstand and the cologne that you always wear.”
I blushed at the fact that she knew this cologne was my favorite but now was definitely not the time to dwell on that. “Lastly, can you tell me 1 thing you taste?”
“I can taste the chocolate I ate during the stream,” she softly spoke. Her breathing was pretty even by now and she seemed to be calming down.
“Wanna move to the bed, I can pick you up?” I asked her. She couldn’t possibly be comfortable where she was sitting.
She looked up at me and nodded slightly. I carried her to her bed and laid down with her. She laid her head on my chest, falling into a comfortable silence.
“Thank you so much, Karl. Thank you for everything you do for me,” she whispered. I just pulled her in closer to me in response. It was this moment that gave me the realization that I was in love with her. I wanted her to be mine, to protect her. She was the one I wanted and I just knew that I had it bad for my little mouse.
A week or so after Dono incident -
I woke up feeling better than I have in a while. I didn’t have any kind of plans except that I might stream later and knowing Karl, it’s likely he’ll be over here at some point. Maybe he could join the stream.
I was grabbing a cup of coffee when the front door opened. The only person with a key was Karl so I wasn’t worried about it. I yelled out for him, “I just bought some more Monsters for you, a couple should be in the fridge. If not, check the cabinet.”
As soon as he came into the kitchen he gave me a big hug before going straight for the fridge. He looked really cute today. He was smiling really hard like he was excited to see me. This made me flush a deep red but I turned around, hoping he wouldn’t see, “What’s got you all giggly? It’s too early in the morning for that.”
“Nothing in particular, just happy to see you!” he exclaimed. “What do you wanna do today?”
“Would you be down to do a stream with me? I don’t really know what we will do, though,” I asked him. I adored streaming with Karl, even if it was just an excuse for me to hang out with him. He always manages to bring this full of life energy that always puts me in an amazing mood.
He took a seat at my kitchen table, looking around my place presumably for a stream idea. His smile grew as he looked at me, “What if we did a cooking stream?”
“Can we bake instead? I found this really good looking banana bread recipe that I want to try,” I exclaimed. He immediately agreed to this idea and we started to prepare my kitchen for the stream.
We had to set up a camera that would be in a good position to see us as well as the whole kitchen. As Karl went to go buy any groceries that we would need, I cleaned my kitchen because it was a mess.
I could tell that Karl was excited to do this stream. I couldn’t tell if he was just excited because cooking streams are always fun, or if he was just excited to be doing it with me. I’m hoping it’s at least the former.
“I’m back, can you come help me bring the stuff in?” Karl called out for me. I immediately went to go help and saw the entire back seat was filled with groceries.
“We’re only making banana bread, what’s the rest of this for?” I giggled.
“Well I got excited, and went a little overboard. We can have dinner together tonight, if that’s alright with you?” He seemed nervous and maybe even insecure as he asked this, but he was shyly smiling at me.
“Of course!” How could I say no to him? I could feel that I was blushing so I decided to distract myself with other preparations for the stream.
- Skip to stream -
“Hey guys, it’s Gamermouse and I have a special guest for today’s stream!” I pointed to the side of the kitchen that Karl entered through. He put on a huge smile for the camera. I could just feel the excitement coming from not only Karl and I, but the viewers as well. There were lots of comments shipping us, just excited to see us in the same room, as well as excitement for today’s stream.
Every time I went live this week, I’ve been paranoid that I was going to be receiving a lot of attention for my freak out with the incident, but it seemed that most people moved on from it, or at least were courteous to not talk a lot about it. I have seen fans defending me about it on Twitter though, which warms my heart. Karl also reminds me that if something happens, he’s there to comfort me.
“We thought it would be a lot of fun if we did some baking. I saw a recipe for some banana bread I’ve been meaning to make so I’m basically holding Karl hostage making him bake with me,” I tried to say seriously but I couldn’t contain my laughter.
“I’d do anything with you, you wouldn’t need to hold me hostage,” he whined at me. I blushed but tried not to read too into this comment. There’s no way that he means that, it’s just for the content.
Remembering that I’m live with thousands of people watching, I start getting the ingredients together.
- after the stream -
The stream went really well. Dream, George, and Sapnap ended up joining the stream later and made fun of us for burning the bread. Karl and I got into a miniature food fight that the boys just egged on. Right now it was just Karl and I, cleaning up our mess in the kitchen.
“That was a really fun stream,” Karl mentioned. I hummed. That was probably the most fun I’ve had in a while, and half the time I would forget that I was even live. It just felt like Karl and I were just baking together. It was so domestic, sending butterflies through my stomach.
“It definitely was. We should do it again even if we aren’t streaming,” I shyly replied to him. He immediately agreed to do it again with me. We soon had our planned dinner together before he went home.
This whole day was amazing. Karl seemed different but in a good way. He seemed very confident and if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that he flirted with me more than once today. I was constantly a blushing mess.
As I was laying in bed, I logged onto Twitter as I usually do. There were so many tweets about Karl and I, most of them shipping us. There were so many people talking about how cute we looked together. This didn’t help the already growing feelings for the fluffy-headed gamer boy.
Soon enough I was scrolling through pictures and clips that people posted and I couldn’t stop the smile from growing on my face. Someone managed to clip a moment that I didn’t even know happened.
It was towards the middle of the stream when Karl and I were having our food fight. Karl and I were both giggling at the mess that we just made. I was facing Karl, attempting to get some of the flour out of my hair. He was staring at me and you could see him, not so subtly, look me up and down and smile. This was the kind of smile you gave someone you adored, someone that you admire, you love.
I couldn’t believe that this was a real clip, that this actually happened. I didn’t mind at all, though. I saved the clip to my phone before falling asleep, thoughts of Karl on repeat in my mind.
-Next day-
“Hey Val, I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Karl mentioned.
I quickly turned my head towards him. I wasn’t expecting that, and my head was running through everything he could possibly say, “What’s up?”
“Well I was thinking that we could have a meet up. I was hoping that Nick and Alex would be available to come up here,” he said excitedly. It looks like he’s been thinking about this for a while. I even would bet that he already has stuff planned for us to do, streams included.
“That sounds like a lot of fun. All of you could stay here, at my place. One of them can stay in the spare bedroom. My streaming room also has a futon that the other one could use,” I started to ramble. He was smiling at me the entire time I was talking, admiring me. I blushed under his gaze.
“I’ll go call them right now to see if they’re down. Be right back, cutie,” Karl rushed before he went to my office to call Nick and Alex.
Now I was out of breath. Did he actually call me “cutie”? He’s been like this pretty much since the cooking stream. He’s been, what I think, is very flirtatious. I keep thinking that I’m hearing him wrong or that the little touches were just accidents. That they didn’t mean anything. But it’s been happening too often for me to be crazy. It’s driving me crazy.
Karl quickly came back with the most adorable smile on his face, “They were both able to come. They both got tickets to get here on Thursday and they’ll be here for a week.”
“Then I better get the place ready for them. Maybe some snacks too,” I said as I was getting up. I grabbed my keys and put my shoes on, “Wanna come to CVS with me? It’s just around the corner so we can just walk there.”
He quickly nodded and put his shoes on too. We started our walk together, falling into comfortable conversation. By the time we got to the cvs, I was in an amazing mood. Spending time with Karl just does that for me.
We got a bunch of random snacks. We didn’t know what the boys would want so we just decided to get a bit of everything. We decided to split up so Karl and I ended up having separate piles of candy and chips we were going to buy. We went to check out together, though.
“Find everything okay?” the woman smiled at Karl. There was something about her that I already didn’t like. I didn’t know what it was because she seemed nice enough.
“Yes, thank you. We are having our friends over so we wanted to spoil them with food,” Karl replied happily.
The woman kept scanning his items while she talked, more like flirting, “What a sweet friend you are? They’re lucky to have you.”
“Oh um, thank you. I’m lucky to have them,” Karl replied. I could tell that Karl was getting a little awkward. It looked like he didn’t know how to reply to her flirtatiousness. I tried not to read too much into the fact he wasn’t flirting back at her.
The entire conversation between Karl and the woman, who we finally learned her name was Vivian, was not only making me uncomfortable, but it was making me jealous. I didn’t like this person flirting with Karl at all but there wasn’t anything that I could do. Karl wasn’t mine to be jealous over. Vivian was finally done scanning our stuff, “Here is your receipt, as well as my number so you can call me later.”
“Oh, thank you. It was nice to meet you,” Karl quickly replied before grabbing our stuff and leaving. I was in a way more lousy mood than I was when we first got here and I didn’t talk at all on the way home. I felt bad for Karl, it’s not like he did anything wrong. I was just in a bad mood.
Skip to the day we had to pick up Nick and Alex. I was definitely feeling better than I was a few days ago, but Karl was smart enough to know that something was up with me. Of course, he knew something was wrong with me, he’s basically my best friend. Thankfully, he didn’t ask about it because I wouldn’t be able to lie to him.
We had about an hour until Nick’s plane would land and then another 45 minutes before Alex’s flight landed. We still wanted to go to the airport pretty early so we could get a good parking spot. We were currently just sitting in Karl’s car waiting.
“Val, are you okay?” Karl finally asked me. I was dreading this. I love the fact that he cares enough about me to ask but I don’t know what to say because there was no way that I would lie to my best friend.
“I’m okay,” I smiled at him. He obviously didn’t believe it for a second. I was starting to feel guilty about this.
“Come on Valerie! I’m not oblivious, I can tell that something has been bothering you for a few days. Why won’t you tell me what it is?” He sounded slightly annoyed with me, but I was annoyed with myself too. He rarely used my full name.
“I just can’t tell you, Karl. I’m fine, please don’t worry about it,” I huffed out.
“But I’m worried about you, Val. you mean alot to me and it hurts to see you not your usually bubbly self,” Karl said to me. He wasn’t yelling at me, but his voice was intense. I didn't know what to do except spill my secrets to him.
“I’m sorry, Karl. The past couple of days have just had me thinking about everything. It started when we went to CVS,” I confided in him. He was watching me intently. The care in his eyes was too intense so I had to look away from him.
“When the cashier was flirting with you, I was extremely jealous. She reminded me of the fact that you are my best friend and nothing more. I was reminded that I had no right to be jealous because you aren’t mine. This whole week, I’ve been thinking about all of this and that’s why my mood is so poor. It’s because I’m in love with my best friend, when I shouldn’t be,” I rambled out. I was talking pretty fast so I don’t even know if he picked up all of that.
He was staring at me, smiling softly. I didn’t understand why he was smiling like that at me.
“So let me get this straight. You,” he pointed at me, “were grumpy this whole week because a cashier was flirting with me,” he pointed at himself.
The way he said it, I realized how stupid it sounded, “I know how stupid this sounds, I just-”
He interrupted me with a finger over my mouth, “Well, if you were paying attention that day, you would have noticed that I threw away her number. I threw it away because the only pretty girl’s number that I need is already on my phone, under the contact of ‘Mouse.’”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did he actually say that my number was the only girl’s number that he wanted? Did he also call me pretty? All I could do was stare back at him. I could have sworn that his face was moving closer to mine. All I could do was hold my breath.
“May I kiss you, beautiful?” He asked me. I couldn’t speak so I just nodded my head.
And to say that we kissed, would be an understatement. He put his hands on my face, holding me in place. He leaned in and immediately, I felt like I was on fire.
His kiss was contradictory. He was passionate, like I was a drink of water in the desert but he was also soft, like I was a beautiful piece of glass that he didn’t want to break. The butterflies in my stomach that I always have when I’m with him, we’re fluttering around threatening to come out.
“You’re beautiful, and there isn’t anyone that I love more than you. You are so much more than just my best friend. You are my entire world,” he whispered to me. I started to tear up a little at his confession but he just wiped my tears away and gave me a kiss on the forehead.
“Now, let’s go wait for Nick to get here,” we got out the car and he immediately grabbed my hand to hold. We both made our way inside the airport with huge smiles on our faces, hand in hand.
#karl jacobs#karl jacobs x reader#mcyt#dream smp#karl jacobs dsmp#karl jacobs mcyt#karl jacobs x you#fanfiction
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
It's been a while since I have last been active here! My life has been very hectic these last 10 months, let's review this madness.
I had a total of... 3 moves during that time. I went from depressed from living the region I've always lived in while being jobless and living with my maternal grandma and my dog, to suddenly getting a job and having 2 weeks to get a roof over my head and start at the company (all of that over November and December). Then the shared flat I was in led to a situation of abuse I had to escape during Spring thanks to a horrible flatmate (nuclear revenge ensued though), and I landed my own place in June, at the same time as I was starting at a new position after having fully gone through the trial employment period - of course it led to a new trial period of 3 months, so over all I had 9 months in a row to show my worth, which took time and was highly stressful. I'm still under the effect of the stress, not gonna lie. My body has not been very happy lately, same for my mind. But I am now more settled... For a few months, since I intend to fully secure a high enough income to allow me to reach home ownership by the end of the year - yes it means yet another move, but more final this time.
Anyway, lots of crazy things happened in a short amount of time, leaving me with barely anytime to simply enjoy Twst and mod my twst Discord server, so I couldn't provide new content, though it has been sitting in the back of my head all this time.
The one thing I am wary of regarding releasing new content though, is certain users who've been blocked on Tumblr, but could still have access to my content on AO3. This lack of trust also played into dampening my will to share my content, let's be honest. Maybe I shouldn't be so wary, and let them look foolish in their corner while I simply do what I love. Food for thoughts.
Anyway, that's all for the catch up, I'm getting used to the rhythm of my new position at work now, and I have a better perspective on the free time and energy I have so I can pour my thoughts onto these WIP documents to finally finish them and write more!
See you soon, in the meantime I am available here through comments, and on my Discord server, Twisted Writings, where we focus on canon informations, translations, as well as headcanons and OC content to share and work on one's writings and art! If you're interested in joining, feel free to drop by my DMs. Though considering the current people active on the server, I'd like more variety and would for now prefer participants from Europe/Middle-East/Africa/Asia for more variety in points of view and cultural exchanges. As some of you may know, I am French myself, and we already have some peeps from Italy/Hong Kong/Romania/the UK/Spain on the server (outside of North Americans), however I believe a wider pool of participants would be very refreshing and interesting. HMU if you're interested!
#twisted wonderland#twst#twisted writings#twisted writings discord#twisted wonderland oc#twst oc#crow speaks#I AM NOT DEAD YET
4 notes
·
View notes
Text
Prison Sentence - Fizzarolli/Asmodeus, RoboFizz/Asmodeus - NSFWish
Title: Prison Sentence
Author: Keith
Fandom: Helluva Boss
Setting: Ozzie’s House
Pairing: Fizzarolli/Asmodeus | Ozzie, Asmodeus | Ozzie/Fizzarolli/RoboFizz
Characters: Fizzarolli, Asmodeus | Ozzie, RoboFizz, Original Male Character(s)
Genre: Romance/Drama/Hurt/Comfort
Rating: M
Chapters: 1/1
Word Count: 1992
Type Of Work: One-Shot, Day 6 Of 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie
Status: Complete
Warnings: Gay, Slash, Yaoi, MLM, Insomnia, Sexual Themes, Emytophilia Mention, Choking Hazard, Choking, This Fic Had A Serious Identity Crisis And Made It My Problem
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything except Brick and the RoboFizzes.
Summary: Nobody could do that around Ozzie and keep his attention. Nobody, thy name is Fizzarolli.
AN: Hey guys, it’s me again! Just thought I ought to say, if you want vague updates and to talk to me more, I have a Helluva Boss Tumblr, too! Twitter is Sunshinecackle, and Tumblr is Gimme-A-Thrust! I also have a writing Discord that is currently pretty dead. xD If you want it, please contact me on Tumblr/Twitter!
I’ve been doing well enough to get these done and edited before sleeping and then looking at them and getting them posted later that day. I’ve been sick the last couple of days, though, so I’m moving a lot slower than I like to admit to. At any rate, I’m still pecking at things and trying to get these fics out, so here’s hoping that I can keep going.
This is a direct continuation of day 5! It is also roughly two and a half years after Fizzarolli and Ozzie met.
30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Fic Masterlist
Prison Sentence
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
If at any point in time, for any reason, someone started crying when they saw Ozzie, he was more likely to turn tail and bolt than he was to even debate getting closer to them. This had been the norm for his entire fallen life, from the moment he’d landed on his face in Hell up until about two years previous. There had been one demon in the entirety of Hell, one being across the fabric of all space and time, that was allowed to cry for him if it wasn’t due to something sexual.
(How many of his partners had he promised to give head until they cried? How many had he succeeded in bringing to tears?)
But when Fizzarolli’s large glowing eyes turned to crescents in his face, his lower lip drew up and wobbled, and a torrent of salty tears poured down his cheeks, Ozzie didn’t want to run. In fact, the anger that burned in his chest wasn’t directed at the imp he scooped protectively into his arms at all. His eyes did cut to dangerous slits as he took in the lack of anyone else in the foyer of his home, Most likely, Brick and the RoboFizzes hadn’t done anything, it was a safe bet that Nikiva and Chastity were innocent, but that didn’t mean anyone was off the hook immediately.
“Olli Baby,” Ozzie began, his voice gentle and undercut with a soft succession of gentle coos, “What’s wrong?”
The question only made Fizzarolli sob harder, burying his face in the beautiful cyan mane that housed Ozzie’s other heads. The goat lifted just enough to let the imp nuzzle beneath him, resting his chin on his head as he turned wide eyes on Ozzie. For a moment, the bull tried to peer over from beneath Ozzie’s chin, before simply swapping sides to try and help in comforting Olli.
Brick, as he grabbed his keys off the table by the door, shot one last look over his shoulder at the pair before shaking his head and leaving them to themselves.
If only Fizzarolli realized how isolated of an incident Ozzie’s entire treatment of him was, maybe he wouldn’t be so… Like that. Maybe the incubus hadn’t been with Ozzie from day one, but he’d been around long enough to see that nobody else got the same kind of consideration. Not a single demon in Hell had ever been allowed to live with him for more than a week without getting booted out on their ear, and yet that little mess and a half had been living there for two and a half years.
Some part of Brick wondered just how much of their relationship they even noticed because they treated everything like it was normal, a natural progression to things. Maybe it was, it always had been, though it was still so funny that they both had a tendency to deny it if asked. Olli, he figured, could be doing it for Ozzie’s benefit, or to stay in his good graces (not that Brick thought Olli could lose those), but Ozzie…
Well, Asmodeus had always been a creature of desire, it was his biggest strength and weakness in even measure.
Fizzarolli had wormed his way so deeply into that desire that there was likely no dislodging him. Brick had even tried to. He had been more than too suspicious of some silly little imp coming off of Mammon’s employment and into Asmodeus’ house. There had been some kind of preoccupation there, sure, but he never expected it to last for more than a few days. Asmodeus, at his core, had never loved anything or anymore more than he loved to give and receive raw, no-strings sex. Apparently ‘never’ had had an expiration date.
A lot of things that Ozzie thought about himself, love, and his capacity for it had had an expiration date of sorts. Brick had seen him change in three months more than he had in the ten years he’d known him before that.
It took an entire trip from the living room to their bedroom, and then to the massive en suite bathroom before Olli could pull his face out of Ozzie’s neck, and it wasn’t because he was ready to leave. Gently set down on the little stool afforded to him on his lover’s bathroom countertop, and a box of tissues found its way into his hands. Ozzie didn’t speak, but he didn’t look disgusted. Olli liked to think he just didn’t know what to say because he’d never known Ozzie to handle tough emotions well. The man was a walking, talking advocate for ‘good vibes only,’ and that wasn’t just because it was a slogan for one of his businesses.
“Baby,” Ozzie finally sighed after the growing pile of used tissues climbing up Fizzarolli’s ankles seemed to be getting concerning, “If something happened you can tell me.”
The realization hit him that if he didn’t keep crying and finally got a handle on himself then he’d have to tell Ozzie what was wrong, and it curdled his stomach. Gagging on another glob of snot in his throat, he pitched over at the lip of the sink on his hands and knees. Hacking up the mess, a small, weak, appreciative hum left him when Asmodeus turned the sink on for him. Really, the King wasn’t sure he was equipped for something like this, because the sight of his silly little guy crying this hard was intensely uncomfortable. He wanted to fix it, and the intensity with which he wanted to fix it almost scared him.
After all, he’d been barely sleeping the last few days thanks to that stupid fucking conference, but he was sort of used to that by now. He always had to leave when he should be sleeping, and the sexlessness that it brought him always meant that he had this awful insomnia until he got home and was able to remedy it. None of the kings were able to indulge in their sins for whatever reason Lucifer thought to give them, and it drove every last one of them nuts. Somehow, they never did manage to call it off, even if they would talk about it, bitch about it, and ultimately do nothing.
Oddly enough, he found himself willing to push off his need to indulge in his sin just a little longer to make sure that Fizzarolli was okay. Some part of him remembered being told that it was impolite to have a boner in front of a crying person, but he figured that didn’t count if he could more or less ignore it. Fizzarolli wouldn’t hold it against him, he was pretty well always hard as it was. The fact that he wasn’t soft and dry right now was enough to prove to him that he didn’t find Fizzarolli disgusting like this.
Finally, Fizzarolli sat on his knees, clutching the edge of the sink as he panted and coughed, spitting up mucus and leaving Ozzie’s nose curled. He had to admit, this was one of the least sexy kinds of puke there was, and he was an expert on that. After all, several years back he’d been interviewed for some magazine or another and asked his opinion on emytophilia and what types of vomit were sexiest. Ozzie was as surprised by his long answer as everyone else had been.
“...You have it for a minute, Olli?” The lack of a ‘baby’ at the end of that sunk the imp’s stomach, but he nodded, watching with wet eyes as Ozzie turned and sauntered out of the room. There were a few thunks and a clattering sound, some heavy steps, and the door to the closet opening, but none of this really told him anything. Hushed tones and robotic humming told him that Asmodeus had spoken to the RoboFizzes and sent them off to perform whatever task.
It felt like he spent eight lifetimes just sitting there, straining his ears against the running water beside him in hopes that he could catch anything happening. If he had just stuck to the script and welcomed Ozzie home with low bows and promises of pleasure he’d waited three whole days for, maybe things wouldn’t have gone south so fast. He’d made it weird, his chest hurt, and he just wanted to curl up and cry some more.
At least, he had until he heard the water cut and somewhat registered his mostly limp body being hefted off the counter and into the other’s large hand. When had he laid down? Ozzie’s guess was as good as his. It had been hard being away from Ozzie, and it was hard watching him come home to see how pathetic he had become when he’d been gone. Between one slow blink and the next, Olli found the locale changed more than anything else, except when he felt them sink into bed.
The lights dimmed around them, and slowly the whirring of the Robos’ joints filled the room as they returned with their treasure. Notably, drinks and snacks that Olli liked, plenty of sports drink for both of them, and an obscene amount of small, individually wrapped milk candies that Ozzie could eat by the pound. All four robots filed into bed as well, curling against Ozzie’s sides and thighs, hands and heads resting against both demons until they were a pile of comfortable, warm spare parts.
When Fizzarolli pulled his eyes open, he lay curled into Ozzie’s chest, the robots curled up with him, and the big guy pressed ‘play’ on whatever was on the TV. After a moment, he grinned as he realized just what they were watching, scooching up and around until he could watch more comfortably. If Ozzie knew one quick way to cheering him up, it was these stupid infomercials.
“Oh no, it’s always such a hassle trying to search for your spices in the cabinet!” A demon on-screen opened a cabinet only to face a sudden tidal wave of glass and plastic containers, presumably filled with spices. Fizzarolli’s favorite part was the four arms shoving more bottles out at the tail end that was likely meant to be cut out in post and had been neglected, “We’ve all been there!”
“No, we really haven’t, Brad,” Olli told the TV with a little laugh, enjoying the purring that thrummed to life beneath him as he sassed the TV, “Literally nobody has had that happen.” A chorus of robotic ‘yeah’s filled the room, and Ozzie finally relaxed beneath his little lover as he felt him join the group in their giggling.
The crinkling of those tiny wrappers above Olli’s head took his attention from the commercial for whatever-the-fuck spice rack that was being proffered to them, and Olli tipped his head back. For a demon that knew he was absolutely huge, Ozzie sure liked things that were impossibly small. Without thinking about it, Olli’s arms shot out to take the candy and tore into the package a lot easier.
“Say ‘aaaah,’ Babe.” Olli’s eyes shifted back to the TV after a second, and he managed to drop the creamy sweet onto the other’s tongue when he heard the telltale ‘bleeeeeeeh.’ He knew he’d be at this all night, somehow, but the idea that Ozzie was okay just resting when he was feeling so puny warmed his heart. Nobody could drag it out of him, not even Ozzie himself, but he was more than elated by the simple discovery.
Dozing in and out, he was only somewhat aware when the RoboFizzes began to vibrate and move around, above, and beneath him. The four of them shushed one another with little giggles and occasional ‘no, you!’s as they started the rescue operation for Ozzie’s sex-induced insomnia. Once Fizzarolli had rested off his tears, he’d be just as ready to help, like he had originally been wanting to.
Sometimes it was a group effort.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
AN: I feel like it is absolutely obvious that I felt like shit while writing this because I don’t know if it makes a damn lick of sense and it is absolutely not what it was supposed to be. At all. Anyway, I do hope that someone enjoyed it, at least.
Prompt: 30 Days Of Fizzarozzie Day 6 - Comfort
#Helluva Boss Fanfic#Helluva Boss Fanfiction#Fizzarozzie#Fizzmodeus#Helluva Boss Fizzarolli#Helluva Boss Asmodeus#Helluva Boss Ozzie#Helluva Boss RoboFizz#November Sierra Foxtrot Whiskey
1 note
·
View note
Text
Rey Gives No F*cks About the Grandfather Paradox
Okay so since nobody’s suggested a fic under these terms, I ended up expanding on this post on discord and things snowballed. We kept to the basics of the entire plot revolving around Rey really hating her grandad and leveraging her blood relation to not be unalived about it.
With contributions by @atagotiak, @dracothulhu, @thepallaspalace, and several others. The title comes from @gelpenss.
The basic thing I absolutely need is this:
Rey gets thrown back to the middle of the clone wars, and the subsequent plot leans in really heavily on her being, genetically-via-clone-dad, the daughter of the guy running the entire galaxy.
Nobody knows what to do with her.
The timing is mid-TCW for the past (because I want Ahsoka there) and vaguely between Episodes 8 and 9 because I... never watched E9 and don’t want to worry about the timeline. The only things that matter is that Luke is dead (he can die as he did in canon) and that Rey knows she’s Palp’s granddaughter (not the way she does in canon).
We'll say Luke found out from Anakin's panicked force-ghost and just went "well, fuck, okay, I should tell her this before she ends up in a situation like mine and finds out mid-battle or something."
Luke, prior to time-travel: Okay, so, now that I'm dead I know some things I didn't before. Like who your parents were. In the interest of full disclosure because I was in a very similar situation and I don't want you learning the way I did, I'm just going to come right out and say that your father was a clone was Sheev Palpatine.
Rey: ...
Luke: Are you okay?
Rey: I don't know who that is.
(She grew up on Jakku, the history education was a little subpar.)
Setting The Scene
Imagine Rey showing up during or immediately before the clone wars. There’s this phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater who tells you that if you ran a paternity test, it would probably pop up the Chancellor. She may or may not bring up cloning. She accuses said Chancellor of being a Sith Lord.
Your other phenomenally powerful feral teenager from a desert backwater, who may not be a teenager anymore but only barely, is very offended by this because Palpatine’s a Very Nice Old Grandfather Figure, but also he’s a little full of side-eye because if the blood test comes back as proof, then Palpatine had a kid and didn’t even know about them, or lied to Anakin, and that’s! Bad! Family’s important!!!
Palpatine hears about this daughter he apparently? Has? And is very confused because the timing doesn’t match up with ANYTHING he was doing, so the kid isn’t natural, and he says as much. (There is an explanation! It’s not a correct explanation, but he does come up with one.)
Finn and Poe and BB-8 all get dragged along because why not have the gang there? Nobody that’s already born, because [handwave] conservation of souls or something, IDK, point is the only person dragged along that’s even remotely close to already existing is Luke’s Force Ghost, who mostly hangs around begging Rey to be less impulsive. Finn is good because he is a nice polite boy, but for actual useful information they need Poe. The unfortunate situation is that the three do not land together. They land at the same time, in completely different corners of the galaxy. This means that nobody is there to curb Rey being her most impulsive self.
Time travel Rey knows two things. Luke’s dad ends up evil. Palpatine has always been evil.
She can solve one of these problems by killing the other, yes?
Rey: Ready to Rumble
See, the initial idea was this:
Rey tried to break into the senate to kill Palpatine, got arrested, and then used the "he's biologically my father" card to get out of jail free. (Force Ghost Luke follows her like “please take five seconds to think this through.”)
But.
But.
It would be very, very, very funny if The Force just dumps her in a flash of light in the senate building and she just attacks Gramps on sight. Just a shouted "YOU!" and no-hesitation attempted murder.
Palpatine has no idea what's going on.
Rey took maybe two seconds to get identity confirmation and then started swinging.
[Image Description: An individual in a green metal helmet with an eye slit, holding a pistol. In the upper left, upper right, and lower middle are the phrases “I do not know who I am...” “I don’t know why I’m here” and “All I know is that I must kill.”
End description.]
Of course, she gets arrested. There are Master Jedi in the Senate. There are Clone Troopers. Palpatine isn’t the weak old man he pretends to be. Of course she’s stopped.
But she isn’t executed in time for Palpatine to stop her from ruining his entire reputation.
Immediately after Rey fails to kill her Shitty Granddad, Luke's ghost shows up and begs her to not talk about the Sith thing because it will completely undermine everything she's trying to do. Pass off the attempted murder as something else!
Rey, panicking: "that fucker left me on a desert planet for 10 years!"
"You owe me 19 years of child support you son of a Hutt!"
The Jedi have to do the investigation, because the girl showed up with a laser sword, and the conversation is, uh... interesting.
(“Where did you get that lightsaber?”
“I got it from a mysterious old pirate lady I never met before. I don't know, I was being shown around by a smuggler and a Wookie.”)
Interviewer: Why did you try to assassinate the Chancellor?
Luke: Say it wasn't assassination.
Rey: It wasn't assassination.
Int: You weren't trying to kill him?
Luke: Assassination has to be politically motivated.
Rey: This was, um... not political. Assassination is political, right?
Int: You mean this was personally motivated?
Rey: Yes.
Int: I see. What personal motivation?
Luke: Jakku!
Rey: He's my grandfather.
Int: ...
Rey: Possibly father. Nobody was very clear on that.
Int: ...
Luke: Tell them to run a paternity test.
Rey: Oh hey, a blood test would tell us which, right?
Int: ............
Rey: I spent ten years as an orphaned scrapdealer on Jakku. He's my father. I'm kind of a little angry.
Int: ...........
Luke: Good job, kid. You bought yourself some time.
Int: I'm going to get a medic to see about that parternity test.
Obviously, it comes back positive. Congratulations, Sheev, you’re the father.
Rey comes with a ready-made built-in excuse for hating Palpatine that nobody can question or fault her for!
Rey, pouring Truth into the Force: I didn't even know I was related to the Chancellor until a few months ago, but it's his fault I grew up the way I did, and he should take some responsibility!
The entire thing is mostly kept hush hush but someone leaks it to the press and Palpatine's ratings tank.
"Chancellor, I think we'll need to waive family visitation until she wants you a little less dead."
"I would like to find out why she wants me dead, and indeed, where she came from."
"...sir, for your own safety--"
Who would win?
A master plan years in the making spanning decades of manipulating and work?
or
One (1) paternity test
"Okay, so, Rey Palpat--"
"Ew, no, I don't want his name."
"You--okay. Sure, we can understand that. Is there a name you would prefer to put on the paperwork?"
Rey, who would have gone by Skywalker in honor of Luke but can't do that when Anakin is right there and all: "Can I think about it?"
Rey: I don't know what I want my last name to be but I know I don't want his, and most of the people I’d want a name from have famous families like you...
Luke's ghost, pointing out the Literal Nobody that she cares about a lot: How about Solo?
Rey: ...Solo, then.
(A few months later she runs into Poe again and he offers for Finn and Rey to both take his name because honestly they need SOMETHING but at that point she’s already decided on Smuggler Dad.)
Backtrack a bit. We’ve got a bigger cast.
They all arrive separately. Poe, for one, does better than Rey, who is aiming for a murder, but not quite as well as Finn, who is currently being adopted and hidden like a secret cat by a bunch of Alpha Clones on Kamino. He vibes with the names-or-numbers thing. He doesn’t necessarily tell them where and when he’s from, but he’s very sweet and a great liar and they adopt him wholesale anyway.
The Finn situation is just... "Buir Ti, we need you to hide this man, we've decided he's our little brother but if Nala Se finds out she'll make him leave."
Of course, this leads into Shaak Ti teaching Finn how to Jedi.
Maybe consider Finn needing to almost be tricked into learning Jedi things because he willfully forgets it could apply to him. Finn does not like to think of himself as special, which is super valid, but frustrating for Shaak Ti when it comes to, you know, getting him to acquire knowledge. Finn's training at some point is "here, levitate objects with the Force to entertain the tubies." It’s a lot easier to convince him to practice when it involves the babies.
(Everyone on Kamino looked at Finn and went “oh I love him I’m keeping him and teaching him things.”)
(He’s just very lovable.)
Poe, meanwhile, buys the trust of Anakin Skywalker via R2D2 declaring BB-8 the absolute most baby of droids. R2D2 met BB-8 three hours ago but.
"Hey Obi-Wan this is Poe I met him like five days ago but R2D2 says he checks out because his droid is a baby."
"That's nice, Anakin, did you know the Chancellor has a daughter who tried to assassinate him in broad daylight yesterday? Because guess who had to stop the Chancellor from getting assassinated by his daughter in broad daylight yesterday."
A summary so far:
Finn, on Kamino: Hey, um, I don't know where this is, but it's not where I was a few minutes ago. Do you think you could get me a comm? What's your name?
Poe, on [dice roll] Denon: Oh, hey, you're General Skywalker? Nice to meet you, I'm so sorry about my droid, she's a little excitable and thought your R2 unit looked like a friend of hers--
Rey, on Coruscant: DIE, GRANDFATHER
Finn: [Peacefully vibing on Kamino, unaware of the chaos and bonding with the clones]
Poe: [Trying to explain how he knows someone who tried to kill the chancellor and defend Rey]
Rey: [Arrested for trying to kill the chancellor]
Just... just...
Anakin: Some guy ended up lost on base yesterday with his droid, how’s your day going?
Obi-Wan: I had to stop someone who claims to be the chancellors daughter from murdering the chancellor after she seemingly blinked into existence in the Senate building.
Poe: 😐
(Poe: Oh, so that's where Chaos^2 went.)
Poe: In her defense, she is his... well we don't know if she's his daughter or granddaughter, but she's definitely related to him, and she definitely grew up in a shitty situation that was his fault, so...
(Poe is trying very hard to explain this and not get arrested on the military base.)
As you’ve probably guessed, what's especially funny about all of this for me is the fact that Palpatine is fully aware that this girl shouldn't exist, but can't find a single piece of evidence about where she came from. He didn't start any experiments that could result in a female child, and he didn't have sex in that period of time, so where the hell--
Rey spends so much time in jail... BUT they do eventually assign her a Jedi Master. Possibly before she actually proves her evil grandfather is in fact evil. Most votes went to either Plo Koon or Obi-Wan. Plo, because he’s dad-shaped, and Obi...
"Obi-Wan, you already raised one feral desert child with implausible amounts of power, you handle this."
Rey in return is very "Sweet, you vaguely remind me of Master Luke," and nobody knows who the hell she's talking about.
Obi-Wan is NOT on board with this plan, she'd really be better off with Plo or like........ Mace.
Reunion Tour
What I need out of this is the eventual Finn and Rey reunion scene that is just excited screaming while someone in the background explains to Shaak Ti that yes this is apparently Palpatine's terrifyingly force-sensitive daughter who hates him.
(Finn senses Rey’s approach and just. Gathers the everyone to wait. He’s just :D REY MY FRIEND REY GUYS MY FRIEND REY IS COMING.)
Anakin shows up with Poe--just a guy who signed on to the military, no big deal--and then Poe and Rey are EXCITED and everyone's just like "Cool, how do you know this literal terrorist child?"
And Poe has to scramble and "Uhhhhhhhhhhhh she saved my droid from a scrapheap once and BB-8 is basically my child so I owe her one."
Rey knows that Anakin ends up evil so she’s maybe not actively hostile but definitely very “I’m watching you.” That said, she vibes with him on a lot of things that he maybe doesn’t actively notice.
Rey picks up a snake, snaps off the head for venom avoidance, and starts biting off chunks.
Obi-Wan's reaction: [undisguised horror]
Anakin and Ahsoka: Ooh, where'd you find that?
(Obi-Wan: And now I’m up to three feral children.)
What Does Palpatine Even Do?
OBVIOUSLY at a certain point, Palpatine is just phoning up every ally he has to figure out who broke protocol to synthesize a daughter for him.
So of course, Palpatine blame Plagueis.
She'd have been born five or so years before Naboo, just a few years younger than Anakin. It's such an EASY theory to build a conspiracy around. It is ENTIRELY WRONG, but it’s plausible! And anyone who might have been involved to say otherwise is probably dead!
A random bio-kid shows up you can’t possibly have contributed genes to? Maybe it’s the evil bio spark that did it.
Palpatine tries to placate her with the ‘my genes were stolen for an experiment and I didn’t know’ thing. It doesn’t work because her actual main complaint is he’s evil in her future but he tries.
It'd be a struggle to even get access to her, because of the aforementioned “maybe don’t try to talk to the daughter(?) that hates you” thing, but you know who Palpatine does have access to? The Chosen One.
Rey kind of decides on her favorites early on (she gravitates to Dad Energy and Sad Old Men so Plo and Obi-Wan are on her list, and that means decent time around Anakin and Ahsoka). It's really easy to talk Anakin into helping to some degree because "he'd like to connect to a daughter he never knew" and "a child of her power on a planet like that, you'd know her struggle, my dear boy" and so on. Anakin tries to connect! He tries to play up Sheev’s kind political work and how it can’t have really been his fault! It doesn’t work. Rey does not believe a word of it. Mostly she doesn’t even seem to hear him.
Rey's just like "...oh right, you're the melted mask that Kylo Ren was always ranting about," which means absolutely NOTHING to Anakin, but he mentions it to Palps, who loses his goddamn mind trying to figure out what she's talking about, because it also means absolutely nothing to him.
Here’s the thing: Rey’s already decided that Obi-Wan is cool, because Luke said so, and Plo Koon is dad-shaped, and she also gravitates towards earnest kindness in general, like she made friends with Finn real quick, so Ahsoka? Already getting along great.
She doesn’t dislike Anakin, really, he isn’t evil yet, he’s just... meh. She’s a little suspicious and she likes him less than the others but... Anakin.
Rey, to Anakin: You are my least favorite.
Anakin, to Palpatine: YOUR DAUGHTER HATES ME???
And he goes from “she’s a lil standoffish” to “she doesn’t like me” to “she hates me” as is normal for Anakin.
It’s just an escalation of this one time Palpatine wants Anakin to not have rifts and trust issues with a person, at least not until later, because he needs information.
Meanwhile, that very moment, Rey is just like "huh, nobody here is listening to me about how make a sixth-hand carburetor work, where's Luke's dad?"
Anakin is venting to Palpatine about how hard it is to talk to Rey, and she's over in the Temple just like "Hey, that guy was useful last time, I should ask him," but also she only ever thinks of him as Luke's Dad.
(At one point, Obi-Wan is having a bit of a break down, and then Anakin starts having a breakdown about that, meanwhile the clones are (badly) trying to hide Finn behind their backs, Rey is watching Ahsoka practice and being like "I want two lightsabers," and Poe is trying to keep R2 from stealing BB-8 and Force Ghost Luke is just face palming in the background.)
(Rey deserved a saber staff, maybe one that can detach and turn into a jar’kai set. Possibly a pike. Mostly I just wish she got more chances to whack things with a big stick.)
#Rey#Finn#Poe Dameron#Sheev Palpatine#Luke Skywalker#Anakin Skywalker#Obi Wan Kenobi#Darth Sidious#Plo Koon#Shaak Ti#Ahsoka Tano#r2d2#bb 8#star wars#time travel#Rey and the Grandfather Paradox#Phoenix Posts
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
switching my positions
summary: Fresh out of college, Min Yoongi makes a name for himself amongst his online fanbase as an artist who writes about the ins and outs of falling in love. But when he is signed to a record label, his producer insists that he reveal a public romantic relationship to weed off any potential scandals or dangerous assumptions about the source of his love songs. So who else should Yoongi turn to, but you: his manager—but more than that, his best friend and secret crush.
pairing: yoongi x fem!reader
genre: solo artist!yoongi, manager!y/n, fake dating au, friends to lovers au | fluff/angst
warnings: yoongi starts off as a musician on youtube but it’s not really highlighted for most of the story, kim seokjin is a Hot Music Executive who’ll take good care of his favorite boy, jungkook gets promoted from a cameraman to a bodyguard and i love to see it <3, nayeon + hoseok cameo as radio show hosts BECAUSE THIS STORY HAS SO MANY CHARACTERS I’M SORRY, IU shows up as a ~superstar~ because i love her so much, it’s a slow burn fic what can i say, mutual pining, actually an idiots to lovers plot tbh ????, recreational alcohol consumption, POV switches occasionally but i try to make it as obvious as possible as to what is going on, mentions of insecurity, there’s angst BUT IT’S A HAPPY ENDING !!!
word count: 40.1k
a/n: big big thank you to @gukyi for being my fic consultant for this story! she encouraged me and believed in this story more than I ever could (and contributed like 50% of the foundation that made this fic into what it is), and also reminded me that yes this is a fic so no it doesn’t require one hundred percent accuracy to the music industry despite every discord message i sent her falling somewhere along the lines of “how realistic is this scenario…” she was a very big support for this fic, and this story wouldn’t have existed without her!!
and regarding the word count… my hand slipped. I’ve clowned this fic a lot over the past month but I am really happy that this is done and so so excited for you all to read it. Pls enjoy!!!!!!! Xx
.
.
CHAPTER 1: THE DISCOVERY
.
You’re late.
Yoongi lets you know that much as you have to shove your way through a rather large crowd of people to reach him. When he turns away from his keyboard to glance down at you, your chest is heaving and your knees are bent in order for your hands to rest upon your thighs. There’s a plastic bag curled on your arm, the hard plastic of CD cases reflecting off the street lamps.
“Sorry, sorry!” You breathe out, giving yourself a few more seconds to catch your breath. Nothing more, nothing less, because there is a crowd of people around you, currently staring you down, counting down the seconds until the clock struck 8:00—but many people wondering just who were you to shove your way towards the front. “The printer wasn’t working, and do you realize how difficult it is to get your stupid picture into these cases?”
Yoongi scoffs, walking towards you and holding both his hands out. “Don’t call them stupid, you took the picture,” He hisses, taking the plastic bag from you and rummaging through the many CDs you had to make for him last minute. After ensuring that everything he had asked for is in this very bag, he softens up. “But thanks for getting these done for me.”
You finally are able to straighten up into a full standing position. “Not my fault you underestimated how many of your wonderful fans were going to show up.”
Yoongi reaches over and presses his index finger straight into your forehead for that comment. The force knocks you back a few steps, and Yoongi takes your few seconds of distractions to pull a phone out of his pocket. “Just go off to the side, dummy, my show starts soon.”
“Fine, fine,” You tease back, easy smile, but your hand goes up to take the phone from him. “Break a leg, Min Yoongi.”
Yoongi gives you a playful glare but he turns away from you to line up his CDs along the now-table next to his set. As soon as he starts placing CDs atop the surface, a small line of people step from the crowd—pointing to the CDs and holding out a stack of cash. Yoongi nods, takes the money, and hands over the CD. This happens a few more times before the line of people have died down. Yoongi looks over at the significantly less amount of cases at his table, and looks over at you, where he flashes a thumbs up.
As Yoongi steps up to his keyboard and microphone, the crowd around him starts to cheer. The claps echo through the gathering of people, enough to draw the attention of passersby who crane their heads to see who has attracted so many listeners.
Yoongi’s fingers curl around the microphone. “Hey guys, thank you all for coming out today.”
The crowd claps back in acknowledgement, a few of them giving their own shy nods and waves towards Yoongi—gestures that the boy responds with his own nods and gummy smiles.
His attention returns back to the next set of words he’ll speak into the microphone. “I got a couple covers and original songs for tonight, all requested by you guys—so let’s have some fun today.” His voice is deep, raspy and gentle, croaks slightly along the edges, but a perfect reflection of the soothing nature he brings to his audience.
And you are attune to every single second of it. Of course you are. You blend into the crowd but really your responsibilities for Yoongi lie far beyond just packaging CDs for him and dashing through hoards of people at the last fucking second to make your delivery. You further prove this further by logging into his phone and clicking into the first background music he’s produced for today’s show. Using the music as a guide, Yoongi starts to sing. His fingers dance across the keyboard to bring an extra sound to his performance—to give it that extra live element that his fans love.
You know that Yoongi has added these additional things over the months because he adores his fanbase and would likely do anything and everything he could to give them the best experience he could offer. After all, they’ve propelled him to this very spot—his own little corner of the bustling city streets amongst all the bars, shops, universities, street food stalls, and cafes.
As the music continues from one song to the next, and Yoongi shifts his focus from singing to rapping to the in betweens, you see his passion. You hear it in his voice, in the way his lines string together where it seems like the boy doesn’t require oxygen anymore. Months of these live shows, even longer years to get here—and the people around him only continue to watch him in awe. Just like he’s done since the beginning.
Min Yoongi started off his music career on Youtube, where he uploaded music covers with his own special beat thrown into the mix. Yoongi enjoyed music arrangement (still does), and used his videos as an opportunity to explore that hobby and share it with people who could also enjoy it. And enjoy it people did, as viewers started pouring in and his fanbase grew in the form of positive comments and increasing subscribers. From some videos, Yoongi had always teased the idea of original songs he had written in various notebooks that expressed the wide range of his emotions—overall all the trials and tribulations of growing up: the notion of love in all its forms. Normally, there was always a fear of an audience losing interest at the prospect of original songs, especially coming from someone who previously arranged already popular #1 hits.
But that never happened with Min Yoongi. His songwriting abilities became part of his brand—became his entire brand. Yoongi always wrote out love to be more than sappy pop songs or tragic heartbreak. He established himself as someone who seemed to speak from the mind of every single person he came into contact with. At least, that’s what his comment section claims.
In the beginning of his Youtube career, you found Yoongi’s online persona unusual and amusing to say the least, but it was always clouded with an air of sweetness and sensibility. After all, you had known him about a year before Youtube was even an option for him to pursue. The pair of you met in a general ed college class—big lecture halls and voices getting lost in the background as the professors’ voice boomed through speaker systems. Yoongi had asked to borrow a pencil, and the pair of you spent the rest of the class making side-handed comments about the lecture material. You sat next to each other for the rest of the semester and have been friends ever since.
So it’s not like Yoongi’s core characteristics have ever been anything other than caring, thoughtful, or loyal—he’s just never been outwardly expressive about those emotions. But Youtube changed everything: it’s made him a more vocal person, more open about his feelings as well as his need to share those feelings with the world.
The world responded positively—wrote in the comments that they would love to hear some of his original songs, that he had already provided just a small taste of his talent and left them an insatiable desire for more.
As soon as you and Yoongi graduated, his commitment to Youtube increased tenfold. With the previous obligations of assignments, papers, and research internships out of the way, it left more time for writing, for filming, for editing, for sharing. As his work levels increased, so did his subscribers. And so did the attention.
You’ll never forget the day his followers suggested live street performances in one of Yoongi’s neighboring cities—a city street more specifically that was famous for taking in street performances of all origins and talents, a place for him to show off his freestyling on a keyboard and finally meet his fans firsthand. The idea caught on so quickly and vividly that Yoongi was immediately attracted to the idea. He held his first performance just a few months ago, as a thank you present for reaching one million subscribers. If you had trouble materializing Yoongi’s musical success before, the first live performance and meet and greet Yoongi hosted did well to eradicate all those thoughts.
Hundreds of people showed up—standing alongside the shops, restaurants, food vendors, and cafes that already lined the streets, everyone intersecting to meet the artist who made them feel heard.
You still remember that day very vividly. Yoongi had been so nervous that day, had worked so hard to put together the perfect set for his fans. Obviously, though, he had nothing to worry about. Soon, one show turned into two, and just like the request for live performances and meet and greets, the question of monetary compensation became a topic of discussion amongst Yoongi’s fans. That’s where the question of albums came into play: a singular place for Yoongi to put his covers and original place—and charge money for it as well!
As per the request, eventually you and Yoongi decided that exclusive covers and original songs would be part of his album as a way to open up different modes of access rather than take away an individual’s general (free of charge) chance to view Yoongi’s content and just simply support without having to spend money. The introduction of his albums has been a very recent development, something added into Yoongi’s live performances after the tenth show and usually always sold out by the end of any aforementioned show. From what you’ve been able to see as of now, the albums have been a good addition.
In terms of Yoongi’s current career, you acknowledge that it has always been you and Yoongi—him staying up late for last minute song-writing sessions or recording or arranging a specific set of chords he had been holding off for weeks, or you arranging the time and date of his live shows and fulfilling requests to put songs on CDs and figure out how to market those in an era of streaming services. And if there’s anyone who knows that he has what it takes to get big—it’s you. After all, you would do anything for him. As you would have done from the moment you met him.
An hour later—after twenty songs and a swaying crowd around him singing along—the last song fades out and Yoongi pulls back from the microphone to catch his breath. Everyone else around him seems to hold onto their own, before Yoongi pulls himself back towards the mic to utter his last words for the night: “Thanks for coming out you guys. I really, really appreciate it.”
In the midst of the claps and cheers, Yoongi smiles towards the audience, turns around to address the circle of crowd that has formed around him.
As some of the crowd begins to disperse and some begin to linger for a potential meet and greet, Yoongi hastily remembers to return back to his mic for one last word to his audience. “And thank you guys so much for one million subs!”
You smile to yourself as members of the crowd acknowledge his thanks with thanks of their own. As you watch Yoongi start disassembling his equipment for the night, you simply stand where you’ve stood for the past hour, allowing the crowd to simmer past you towards their next destination for the time. You pocket Yoongi’s phone into your coat, waiting for a few minutes, before you slip around towards the front of the crowd. There, a boy stands in front of a tripod, and his fingers dance around to unclip his camera from the standee.
“You get the whole thing, Jungkook?” You ask with the tilt of your head.
Jungkook whirls towards you, bright eyes full of excitement as he holds the camera with both his hands now. He utters your name. “Oh shit, yeah I did. We’ll get to see how Yoongi’s mic set up works.” He taps to the cord that connects the mic on Yoongi’s clothes and on his piano into the camera.
You perk up at the sight of new technology. “Oooh, going fancy with us, I see JK. Very future.”
Jungkook’s grin widens, as it always does when talking about cameras and filmography. “Yes. Future…” He stretches out the word with the exact dips, curls, and croaks the way Squidward does in that one Spongebob episode, which makes you laugh. Jungkook clicks through the video of Yoongi’s set that he’s just recorded, before he clicks the screen off and lowers the camera. “It’ll probably be better if I wait until we get back to look through the footage. I’m sure Yoongi is anxious to get back too…” He looks up towards where Yoongi is supposed to be standing a few feet away, but the younger boy trails off. “Hey, look over there.” He jerks his chin towards Yoongi. “Some guy is talking to him. Do you know him?”
Furrowing your eyebrows in confusion—none of your college friends had texted saying they were going to come by and listen in on Yoongi’s set—you crane your own neck towards the direction Jungkook is gesturing to. Up ahead, Yoongi is indeed talking to some guy that you don’t recognize so of course it would peak your curiosity.
It’s a feeling that increases tenfold when Yoongi looks up, seems to find you from his search, and points across the space right at you. There’s even something in his eyes that beg you to walk over to him. This makes your frown deepen, because what the hell is this about?
.
Min Yoongi doesn’t allow for too much vocal expression that doesn’t involve the assistance of a keyboard or a music arrangement, but he speaks into the microphone without thinking. “And thank you guys so much for one million subs!” His smile widens as the crowd responds with the claps and cheers of their own—all responding to him and communicating with him. This is it, this is what makes coming out to do these shows all worth it. Obviously there’s a thrill he gets from being in front of a camera and another thrill from uploading a video that people can access from all over the world. But to see the faces of the people who have left positive comments underneath those aforementioned videos… now that’s a completely different kind of feeling he didn’t think he would enjoy so much.
So Yoongi steps away from the mic to put away his equipment for the day. He only gets so far as to open the case for his microphone and mic holder before he’s hearing his name behind him. Turning around, he is faced with a few unfamiliar and a few familiar fans that are asking him for pictures and a short conversation. He indulges them, of course he does, and he signs a few albums while he’s at it.
It’s like you always teased him about: he really is a softie for his fans.
The fan interactions only last for a few minutes, before another voice comes in—it’s a deeper voice and radiates so much confidence and presence that it actually halts the next fan from trying to finish a conversation with Yoongi. All gazes turn towards the source of the voice: it’s a tall man with broad shoulders, pointy boots and a long coat that drapes down, hands stuffed into the pocket of that very coat. He looks like a model.
The man gives an apologetic smile. “Sorry for interrupting, but I need to request a chat with Mr. Min and am in a bit of a hurry. Do you mind if I cut in for a moment?”
The fan gives a weak smile. “N-No problem.”
Yoongi gives his own small smile. “Sorry about that. Oh, here.” He quickly makes a grab for the CD in her hesitant hands, signing his name across the sleek surface. “Thanks for coming by. Have a good rest of the night.”
Her smile brightens. “Thank you so much!” With a quick little bow, she runs off towards her friends.
This leaves Yoongi alone with the stranger. “What can I help you with?”
The stranger extends his arm. “Mr. Min, I’m Kim Seokjin. I’m a music executive. Nice to meet you.”
Music executive. These two words pique Yoongi’s interest. Just enough. “Wow, uh, nice to meet you sir.” Yoongi can’t help but lower his head slightly in a small bow as he returns Kim Seokjin’s handshake.
Seokjin waves him off. “Oh, no need to be so formal Mr. Min. I just thought that I should finally come by to introduce myself. I’ve been following your Youtube channel for awhile and think that you’re extremely talented, very capable to be a recording artist, in fact.”
Yoongi blinks in surprise, completely taken aback by the direction of this conversation. When he came out for his show today, having a conversation with a whole ass music executive hadn’t been on the list of things he was expecting. Of course, it was always a dream of his to be a recording artist. But he thought something like that would always just remain a dream. “T-Thank you.”
Seokjin continues. “Honestly, this is the third live performance of yours that I attended. Artists like you who radiate lots of passion and dedication both through the screen and on a stage are pretty rare. But your confidence and presence is quite admirable.”
At that, Yoongi can’t help but laugh a little. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I wouldn’t call this a stage, Mr. Kim, it’s just a small street corner.”
Seokjin laughs. “Fair enough—but you treat this little street corner like a stage and I find that cool. It appears that that’s what a lot of your fans think as well.” He pauses. “Mr. Min,” He starts up again after a moment. “Have you ever considered becoming a recording artist? Signing with a music label, releasing music and being able to reach millions of people? Having concerts in venues all over the world?”
At the question, Yoongi utters a scoff of disbelief. “I have,” He acknowledges after a few minutes. “Having this youtube channel and these street performances is amazing…”
“Of course,” Seokjin replies with a nod.
“But sometimes I do wonder what it would be like to do more than that. So, to answer your question, I have thought about it before. Many times, in fact.”
Seokjin nods again. “What if I told you that I was interested in signing you, Mr. Min?”
Yoongi stares at that, stares and stares with unblinking eyes, one hundred percent of his attention on the man standing in front of him—waiting for the signs, waiting to see the laugh or the glint that gives away his prankster tendencies. But none of those things come. Seokjin just stares right back, challenging him to question him and agree to his claim.
But Yoongi is younger, more naive, so of course he falls for it. “Why would you want to sign me?”
Seokjin grins. “Mr. Min, I like to think I’m pretty good at spotting talented people who have a fully fledged career ahead of them—which is something my gut is telling me that you can do. And don’t worry, it’s not just the gut feeling I have. Like I mentioned, I’ve been keeping tabs on you for a few months and I’ve seen the numbers and the turn out. You clearly have what it takes to bring fans in, keep them, and create events that’ll drive their attention—and I want to help you make an opportunity out of that.”
Yoongi hears the words of the older man, he really does, but he still cannot help the feeling of his head spinning at all the positive things Kim Seokjin says to him. Not only that he believes Yoongi has what it takes to make it, but that Yoongi has the concrete numbers to back that up. He is offering Yoongi an opportunity—an opportunity that seemed much too big for his youtube channel to birth, an opportunity that he had always just written off as nothing more than a dream. Yet for Seokjin to say that it could be more than that? And for all of this to happen on a normal performance night?
Was Yoongi about to faint right now or what.
Seokjin takes in Yoongi’s stunned silence and smiles. “I understand that this could be a lot to take in. No worries. I have a card for you to take—so call me when you make up your mind, alright?” He rummages into the pocket of his coat before producing a business card. The name KSJ RECORDS is printed on the surface, shiny lettering in sleek font.
Yoongi takes it wordlessly.
“By the way, do you have a manager?” Seokjin asks. “You can have them reach out to me if that’ll make it easier.”
Yoongi stays quiet for a moment. He doesn’t have a manager; he never really saw the need for one if his schedule was as simple as it was. After all, it was more than enough for him to handle with you—!
His mind explodes, as if someone had just plugged it into an outlet. His gaze flickers to you, where he sees you now standing just a few feet away next to Jungkook. You’re already staring back at him, but your head tilts slightly as if you could read his internal struggle. Before Yoongi can even figure why he’s looking at you, his body seems to act on its own. His arm raises, finger pointing straight at you. “She’s over there.”
You furrow your eyebrows in confusion, seeming to read something in his gaze that even Yoongi couldn’t figure out. Still, you walk over to them. “What’s going on?”
Seokjin acts first, turning towards you and giving you a nod in greeting. “Hi there, I’m Kim Seokjin. Yoongi says you’re his manager, is that correct?”
You blink, caught off guard by the question because you definitely were not Yoongi’s manager. He knows that you know this. You give Yoongi another look, and his eyes widen at you, poorly attempting to transmit a singular message: please.
You understand immediately, of course you do (you’re his best friend), as you turn back to look at Seokjin. “I am, it’s nice to meet you.”
The pair of you shake hands. “I was just telling Mr. Min over there that I was interested in signing him to my company. I’m a music executive for KSJ records, and think that he would make a great addition to the team.”
It takes you a second to process the news, but you do so quicker and much more graceful than Yoongi could ever hope to do. “Oh my gosh, are you serious?” You turn to look at him, bright-eyed. “Yoongi, that’s amazing!”
“He hasn’t made a decision yet,” Seokjin continues to explain. “I don’t blame him, it’s a lot to process. I just told him that he could have you call me once he made up his mind. Then, contracts could be drawn up.” He pauses for a moment, then seems to scramble on something when you don’t say anything immediately. “Of course, you would remain his manager. I’m sure that he’s gotten as far as he has with your help. I would want you part of Mr. Min’s team regardless.” Seokjin composes himself quickly afterwards. “Like I said, take some time to come to a decision and let me know. Let me give you my card as well.” He mirrors his previous movement at Yoongi towards you now until you have his business card between your fingers.
“W-Well,” You start, lowering the card and offering up your hand. “Thank you so much for coming by, Mr. Kim. We’ll be sure to send you a response soon.”
Seokjin takes your hand carefully, giving it a firm shake. “I look forward to hearing from you.” He turns to Yoongi. “And I hope we’ll be able to work together, Mr. Min.”
Yoongi blinks, but he snaps himself out long enough to return Seokjin’s handshake. “Y-Yes…” He replies, still feeling completely starstruck by what the fuck this encounter had just been. “T-Thank you for stopping by…” He trails off. He stays quiet as he watches Seokjin give one last departing word before he’s turning around and making his way down the street of the city.
When he regains some of his attention back, he turns to find that you’re already staring at him with an unreadable expression across your face. “Let’s head back,” You say at least, holding up the business card. “We have a lot to talk about.”
.
“No way,” Jungkook utters, completely shocked as he practically throws himself onto the couch in the living room. His camera equipment has been set down near the door, too much exhaustion present in its owner for the trudge back into his room. “You got casted today? That’s incredible, hyung!”
“I-I didn’t even realize what was going on,” Yoongi grumbles back, crossing his arms over his chest. “I still wonder if that moment even happened or if I conjured it up in a strange fever dream.”
You raise your hand slightly. “I was there. Can confirm that it was real.” You dig the business card out of your pocket and stare down at it.
Jungkook hikes himself deeper into the couch as he turns on his phone to start scrolling. “I gotta know who this guy is. Kim Seokjin you said? Of KSJ records?”
“Yeah, KSJ records,” Yoongi replies, looking down at his own business card. “He seemed pretty legit.”
A whistle from Jungkook confirms that. “Yeah, he’s definitely real. And look at that!” Jungkook turns the phone over to expose the photographs of Seokjin. “Used to be a singer as well. I bet he knows a lot about the industry.”
Yoongi nods. “He did seem nice.”
“So, does that mean you’re planning to meet up with him? Get signed and all that jazz?”
“All that jazz?” Yoongi echoes, but he shakes his head before he could go off on that tangent. “But honestly? Yeah, I’m thinking about it. I really do love youtube and do want to continue that, but I just feel like there’s more for me to explore with the right connections.”
Jungkook grins. “Wow, I can’t believe my roommate is gonna be famous.” He says the last word with a bite of curl in his tone, flashing a teasing smile when Yoongi merely glares in embarrassment. Jungkook’s eyes flicker further back towards where you are standing in the apartment, calling your name to get your attention. “What do you think of the idea, Miss. Manager?”
You perk up at that. “Before I get into my answer—when did I suddenly become your manager? I don’t remember us ever having that conversation.” You’re situated in the kitchen, drumming one hand on the counter and using the other hand to stir some last night boxed mac and cheese.
Yoongi coughs at your observation, sinking himself further down into the couch. “I didn’t want Seokjin to think I was an idiot or something for not having a manager. But when I do officially make up my mind…” He angles his head to stare over at you. “You’ll do it for me, right? You’ll actually be my manager?”
You frown, hesitant. “You’re serious about asking me? I don’t know anything about being a manager though.”
Yoongi almost pouts at that, sitting up so he can whirl around completely on the couch to face you. “But you know me and my music career almost better than anyone! And you graduated with a business degree, what do you mean you don’t know anything about being a manager?”
You flush hotly at that. “It was just a general business degree, Yoongi, it seems like what you need to make it big is a legit artist manager! Someone who will actually know how to schedule your tour dates or keep up with your public image and know exactly how to market you to the general public. You really want me doing that for you?”
Yoongi gaps at that. “Okay, but who’s the one who literally schedules my street performances and helps me with editing my videos?”
“Jungkook does some of the editing too,” You grumble underneath your breath.
“Yah! Stop selling yourself short!” Yoongi interjects, pointing at you accusingly. He does, however, lower his finger long enough to turn and address his roommate. “Not that you don’t help out with any of the editing, Jungkook…”
Jungkook waves him off. “I know where my talents lie.”
Yoongi turns back to you. “Besides, Seokjin acknowledged that you and I basically come as a packaged deal. He saw that you were working just as hard to get me my gigs.”
You give him a one-shouldered shrug, the hesitation still laced in your tone. “I don’t know Yoongi. I just don’t want to fuck up and jeopardize your shot.”
Yoongi’s attention is one hundred percent focused on you now, so much so that he has made his way into the kitchen and has come so close that he can switch off the stove that held the macaroni and cheese. “Hey, listen, the only reason I’ve even been given a shot was thanks to you. You work just as hard as me to keep my channel up and running—and you already have another job on the side, so you don’t have to do anything for me. But you do.” He plants both his hands on your shoulders and twists you around. “Would you be my manager? Please? I seriously don’t trust anyone else enough to do this for me.”
You sigh, staring down Yoongi as tensely as he’s staring you down. He sees the flicker of continuing hesitation in your eyes, and responds with just tightening his grip on your shoulders—trying to convey as much pleading as he could to you. Honestly, if you rejected his request, he knows that he wouldn’t be able to do this without you.
So when you seem to realize that he won’t give up, you sigh and look down for a moment. “Damn that I can never say no to you, Min Yoongi.”
Hearing those words of confirmation, Yoongi’s gaze hyper focuses on you. Even when you look back over at him, you don’t look away and that merely confirms the unspoken question of your participation.
When he realizes that you aren’t going to outright reject him, and that you’re actually on board for him, Yoongi’s face lights up as he immediately envelops you into a hug. “Thank you! Thank you—wow, that means a lot to me.”
You suck in a breath at his words, tensing slightly at his words, but you eventually learn to relax long enough to pat him slowly on the back to return his hug. “Don’t thank me yet,” You grumble into his shoulder. “We haven’t even had a meeting. I may not be able to negotiate as well as you think I can.”
Yoongi shakes his head at that, tightening his hold on you. From his close proximity to you, he doesn’t notice the way your breath seems to shake and your heart seems to quicken. “It doesn’t matter,” He reassures, finally backing off. “I don’t care if you don’t know how to do all those fancy manager things. Like I said, you’re the only one I could trust to do this.”
You stare at Yoongi for a few more seconds before you sigh in defeat, knowing that you’ve just put all your thoughts and feelings on the table for him to react to. “Alright then,” You say, placing one of your hands across your chest and onto your shoulder—atop his hand still lingering. “I’ll make the call tomorrow then.”
Yoongi nods. “Thank you.”
There’s a brief silence that covers the pair of you, before a voice rings from the living room. “Do you mind bringing the mac and cheese over here?”
.
.
CHAPTER 2: THE REQUEST
.
One year later, and you learn that the crowds from Yoongi’s street performances are nothing in comparison to this. This—overwhelming and unmatched in all degrees, the screams and the cries and the shoves, all of it echoes around you just as it has for the past few months. Surprisingly, you’ve always been okay with being a little more firm if the situation called for such and today is absolutely no exception.
“Off,” You say gently, tapping an outstretched hand trying to get past you and grab at the person behind you.
The girl you’ve intercepted jerks her hand back as if you’ve burned her, her eyes wide and vaguely hurt as if you’ve singled her out specifically from this crowd. Rather, it’s more along the lines of keeping your client safe and trying to avoid the incident from last week. You block the memory out for the time being.
You feel a hot breath at your ear. “If you make my fans cry, I swear—!”
“Try to be less desirable then,” You bite back over your shoulder, holding up your hand when another fan tries to shove a sharpie past you. “Sorry, but we’re in a bit of a rush,” You say to the boy. “Come to the next concert—we’ll have a meet and greet then too.”
The boy deflates, but that expression only lasts for a second before he seems to brighten slightly at whatever has just occurred behind you. Stealing a glance, you realize it’s because Min Yoongi has just thrown him an apologetic wink.
The car appears in view a lot quicker than you had been anticipating, which is good as you muster all your energy to pull the handle that opens the car door. You step off to the side, further cutting off the fans who are trying to keep Yoongi from entering the vehicle. Soon enough, a taller and more dominating figure appears next to you as Yoongi manages to slide his way into the back seat. You and Jungkook exchange a nod—you had been in the front of Yoongi’s protection squad and he had been in the back, and the arrangement continues to work wonders. As long as Yoongi doesn’t lose a whole sleeve (like last time) then you would consider this departure a success.
Jungkook tilts his head towards the still opened car door, allowing you to enter the car yourself. As soon as you’re settled, Jungkook leans forward to join you. He slides his way into the seat all the way in the back of the car. Closing the door behind him, you signal Taehyung to take off with a nod into the rearview mirror.
The screams and calls of Yoongi’s name are loud, and pass through the metal structure of the car as if it is nothing. But you know that the boy doesn’t mind, and that he lives and breathes moments like these as he has for the past few months.
It’s crazy to think how much a year could change, after you and Yoongi decided to meet up with Seokjin to discuss how Yoongi was going to be signed under KSJ records. Seokjin had talked about the big plans he had in pushing Yoongi towards the spotlight—and goals like an album, a concert, and meet-and-greets around the country had been promised for Yoongi’s first year.
And of course, Yoongi was completely enchanted by the promises. Just one final ‘of course’ confirmation to have you as his manager, and Yoongi was signing on the dotted line. Truth be told, you didn’t know what KSJ records would have in store for Yoongi—how long that glimmer of passion would remain in the boy’s eyes.
A year later, and you acknowledge that you might have underestimated Kim Seokjin. As a former performer, he knew all the ins and outs of the music industry and his well established connections as well as his good ear for good music meant that Yoongi was allowing his music to get the treatment it deserved. Pair that with Yoongi’s growing popularity on Youtube, and it all equates to an EP that debuts with tens of thousands of copies sold within the first week. The EP itself hadn’t been much—just six songs that contained a mix of old songs and new songs, but all written by Yoongi. His previous (although small) experience with producing and arrangement allowed him constant access into the various studios at KSJ records, where he learned from all the other producers on how to make good music.
The hands-on, personal touch Seokjin allowed Yoongi to deliver in his music had been a good call and a large contributor to the success of the EP. You recall fans praising the album and talking about how it matched Yoongi’s youtube aesthetic perfectly, but just with the higher quality element that top notch equipment could bring to music.
In a way, the current atmosphere of concerts and meet-and-greets is just a way to celebrate the success of Yoongi’s music career launching off into the stratosphere.
“Hey.” There’s a gentle tap against your head, and you jump before turning to face Yoongi in the seat next to you. “You good?”
You blink, bringing your finger up to brush the hair out of your face. “Yeah, just spaced out.”
“Cool. I thought you might have fallen asleep.”
“If anyone should have fallen asleep by now, it’s you,” You point out. “I think that today’s meet-and-greet was the largest one you’ve had so far.”
“Don’t worry,” Yoongi says. “I have every intention of following asleep as soon as I fall into bed. Plus, don’t let me hold a pen for the next week—I think my wrist almost fell off.”
You laugh, angling yourself so you can face him. “But you love it, don’t you?”
Yoongi’s gaze softens as he lets your question sink in. “Course I do. I never realized how cool it would be to have an audience sing my lyrics back to you. More than that, it was all lyrics I used to write in the apartment, or in between lectures back at college, or late into the night on my phone… back when the idea of all this was just a dream.” He pivots his body towards you, eyes bright as the passion for his current place in life seems to have gotten him hyped up again. “You know, during the meet and greet, this girl came up to me all confidently and told me that my album got her through a tough time. I think that’s when it really hit me that this was all happening.”
The corner of your lips quirk up into a smile. “Oh yeah, I actually do remember you writing those songs and you showing me the lyrics. You speak from the heart, and your fans understand that. Helps that you’re pretty cute too. Anyone with eyes could see that.” As soon as those words escape your lips, you almost want to chide yourself and immediately throw yourself out of the car. Why would you say something like that—why would you openly admit to Yoongi’s cuteness? Your face grows warm at the realization, leaving you to hope that Yoongi won’t notice your flustered state.
Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s too busy gawking at your observation, too busy tearing his gaze away from you to stare firmly out of the car window.
Jungkook simply shifts his gaze between the two of you.
In the midst of the silence, you fish out your phone and start scrolling through your social media pages. Due to the third party cookie ads that follow you around, you immediately notice news of Yoongi’s concert of the day has started hitting various news sites—most articles praising Yoongi on his song selections and live adaptations of his music to suit the concert style more. Reading these articles leave you unable to stop the grin, because Yoongi deserves this so fucking much that you could have sworn your heart sings a little as you continue reading.
It’s a moment that lasts for only a couple of seconds, as recommended articles start coming up that do well in setting up the gray cloud. With the increased amount of attention that comes from being a newly top rated best selling album artist, so does the intrusion into personal life that follows—the dark side of the media, the side that just loves to stick its nose in places it does not belong. It’s something that you had been seeing since Yoongi’s youtube account hit five hundred thousand, but at the time these kinds of questions were more dark shadows or curious inquiries taken in the form of casual comments.
Now, those questions have become much more normalized, as a common curiosity seems to have taken form from all these drama articles: was Min Yoongi dating anyone? And even better: who is Min Yoongi writing all his love songs for?
As if love was limited to romantic relationships, and wasn’t a feeling one could recreate from other love songs or romantic comedies. Or just the feelings of growing up.
“We’re here!” Taehyung calls from the front seat, as you jump up from your train of thought. Refocusing on your surroundings, you realize that you’ve made it into the parking lot of the hotel.
You sigh, regathering your belongings that have moved around during the drive. “Thanks, Taehyung.”
“Hey.” Taehyung utters for you to come closer to him as soon as the pair of you step out of the car. He jerks toward Yoongi, who is exiting from his side of the car before quickly side-stepping to let Jungkook come out as well. “Was that flirting back there?”
You protest hotly at once, your hand raising up and wave side-to-side frantically in complete denial. “N-No, it wasn’t—!”
“Okay, good,” Taehyung interrupts, leaning back to stuff his hands into his pants pockets. “Because if that was the case I think we would have had to re-evaluate your definition of flirting—!”
“Will you stop?” You squeak.
“Is everything okay?” Yoongi asks, having rounded around the car to stare over at you and Taehyung.
You whirl around quickly, tightening up your expression once more to make sure that any remnants of your conversation with Taehyung would be undetected. “Yep!” You say immediately. “Everything is fine. Let’s get going, yeah?” You allow Jungkook to lead the four of you out of the parking lot and into the elevator that’ll take you to the main floor of the hotel room. Yoongi has to slip on a pair of glasses and a baseball cap, just on the off chance that a fan might be staying in the same room—it happened a few stops ago—before the four of you are making your way through the lobby. The four of you have reserved four separate rooms for your overnight stay in the city, rooms that you have already checked into earlier that day, so it feels nice to just make your way to the elevator and select the correct floor.
Taehyung decides to check in first for the night, waving you all off and congratulating Yoongi on another well done performance. Jungkook lingers around as you make your way to Yoongi’s room next.
“Thanks for walking me,” Yoongi says, sliding the key card into the slot and pulling out when he hears the beep of confirmation on his door.
Jungkook flashes him a thumbs up. “Good show today. Now get some rest.”
Yoongi nods, just about to close the door when you make a sudden noise from the back of your throat. “OH!” You call out suddenly, startling both boys as you reach your arm out suddenly to prevent Yoongi from closing the door. He had been so close too. “Sorry, I just realized. Seokjin sent me an email of some deadlines he wanted me to go over with you. Your sleep is gonna have to be put on hold.”
Yoongi grumbles something under his breath.
You turn to look at Jungkook. “We’ll be fine, Jungkook, go rest up—you deserve it.”
Jungkook nods, grinning at Yoongi. “See you guys around.”
“No fair…” Yoongi pouts as he watches Jungkook stroll down the hall to reach his hotel room. “Why do they get to rest and I don’t? I’m so tired…”
“Well, this is the price of fame,” You retort with the shrug of your shoulders. “You have your face the paparazzi want to see, and the name that sells the albums. Naturally, it means you just have to put in more work than everyone else.”
Yoongi runs a hand through his hair, still pouting but less so as he opens the door once more for the both of you to enter. “When you put it that way…”
You giggle behind him. “For the fans, Min Yoongi.”
You immediately task yourself with throwing yourself atop his bed, surprisingly put together despite the fact that you had checked everyone in earlier that day. You would have assumed he would have taken a nap. But the bed doesn’t look slept in at all.
Yoongi notices your observation immediately. “I was too nervous to fall asleep earlier today,” He provides, taking a seat on the couch on the other side of the room. “So what was it that Seokjin needed you to go over with me?”
“It’s short, I promise,” You reassure, pulling out the iPhone from your pocket. As soon as you unlock the device, you’re faced with the articles you had previously been looking up—the ones about Yoongi’s dating life. Without meaning to, you sigh heavily at the sight.
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow. “What’s up?”
You jerk up. “Oh, no, nothing sorry. I just…” You hold the phone up for Yoongi to see. “These articles about you and your dating life—it’s getting worse.”
“Oh.” Yoongi’s fingers fiddle with each other. “Yeah, I’ve seen a few of those floating around too. Honestly, for someone who writes a lot of songs about love, these curiosities don’t really surprise me. I wish that they wouldn’t be so intrusive.”
“Unfortunately, people always think it’s their right to know who these love songs are for.” You spare him a quick glance, only to realize that he’s already staring at you. Hastily, you look back down. “If the songs are even for anyone, that is.”
Yoongi is quiet for a moment. “Right.”
“Anyways…” You exit your internet app, tapping through until Seokjin’s email comes up. “Seokjin just wants to know your progress on the new songs. He’s trying to gauge your progress so he can see whether or not to arrange studio time for you to start recording.”
The new songs—it’s a reference to Seokjin’s next plan for Yoongi’s career. With the launch of the EP and the current success that it has been harboring, it makes sense that the next step would be to launch a full-length album. Technically it could be called a repackage, since the album would most likely feature a few songs from the EP and cover the rest of the spots with new music.
But aforementioned new music takes time to write, not that Yoongi ever had a problem with writing music. That has always been second nature for him—and was something he could do anywhere so long as he had a functioning, conscious mind. It was all just a matter of whether or not he could create the required number of actual songs within the scheduled deadline. With those higher expectations, time definitely plays the biggest issue and it makes sense if Yoongi couldn’t write proper songs given the current circumstances.
Nonetheless, Yoongi nods at the question. “I actually have rough drafts of most of the songs, if that was okay with Seokjin. We could probably schedule some meetings to polish up the writing, since a lot of them are still in the beginning stage.”
You blink at his answer, surprised by his response. You had been expecting one, or maybe two songs to be written out but to have all eight songs written out? “W-Wow…” You utter. “You wrote so many songs so quickly.”
Yoongi shrugs, but he does look a little prideful at your words. You don’t notice his lingering gaze. “I have a lot to reflect on, what can I say.”
“I-I mean,” You stammer, not really hearing his response. “I could schedule the meeting with Seokjin, but if he knows that you have everything basically done, he’ll probably be okay with giving you a little more time to polish up your work yourself.”
Yoongi ponders this, but he shakes his head. “No, go ahead and schedule the meeting. It’s actually nice having extra hands in the music.”
You nod. “Alright then, I’ll go and do that. I think I should also just go over tomorrow’s schedule with you.” Quickly, you relay the time details of what tomorrow’s day will look like since you’re flying out for another show the next morning. You give him some details about the stage, how many people are going, and how many people he will be meeting afterwards. It’s a standard review conversation, one of the many that you’ve had with Yoongi over the year. “And… that should be it,” You wrap up as soon as you’ve reviewed the day. Looking over the schedule once more, you cannot help but sigh once more.
“What is it this time?” Yoongi asks from the side.
“Oh, no nothing!” You reassure with a promising smile. “Just another busy day.”
Yoongi gives you a grin, but you can see the exhaustion clinging to the corner of his eyes. “There’s only a few more stops left of the concert—what happened to you being positive rock?”
At that, you laugh nervously. “Sorry, sorry. You’re right.” You clench a fist in front of him and pump it up to showcase a display of energy. “Another day of excitement and one more day towards fulfilling your dreams!” You lower your fist and give him a slightly dryer look. “How was that?”
“I could have done without the look at the end, but it’ll do, I guess.” Yoongi stands up from his place on the couch and throws himself atop his bed. His head ends up near you, his back on the mattress, and his feet dangling off the side. “There’s only a few stops left of the tour, and for some people this is their first time seeing me live. And for other people, maybe they saw me back when I would perform on the streets, so in that case it’s their first time seeing me perform on a stage and everything!” He lifts one of his hands up into his field of view. “Either way, I just want to do the best I can for the people that take time out to come see me and support me. Because I owe them everything—I owe them more than what I can give them.”
You don’t say anything to that. What could you say, anyways? Instead, you reach over and run your fingers through his hair. After a second, you retract your hand. You shouldn’t let yourself linger for too long anyways. “It’s late,” You say, a tone of finality in your voice. “I should head to my room. I’ll make sure to let Seokjin know your update.” You slide off the bed into a standing position. “You should get some rest.” You turn to him. “You may not think you can pay back your fans, but you probably help them out every single day. The same way they help you out too.”
Yoongi tilts his head back to see you. Upside down, but still look at you nonetheless. He grins. “There’s that positive energy I was looking for. Thanks.”
You laugh, already making your way towards his hotel room door. “Thank me by giving me another kickass performance tomorrow. Makes my job a whole lot easier.”
.
The following weeks of concert tours pass by without a hitch. To Yoongi, any event now that doesn’t end up with a torn sleeve and nail scratches up and down his arm is a success. And you haven’t freaked out for the remaining dates as you had when security had been at its worst—so he’d consider that the icing on top of the cake. Although he’s glad to finally be be home and be anchored to his own bed and be in his own space for the first time in months, he knows that his first concert experience to celebrate his first EP had truly been a memorable undertaking.
And it had been more successful than anyone at KSJ records could have predicted. At least, that’s what Seokjin tells him when Yoongi arrives at the studio the following day to start going through the process of polishing up his song lyrics.
“It seems that you really enjoyed yourself throughout the tour,” Seokjin remarks as Yoongi steps into the former’s office. Seokjin is scrolling through some articles on his laptop. He closes it as Yoongi takes a seat and regards the younger boy with a look of curiosity and wonder. “How was it?”
Yoongi brightens. “So much fun. I didn’t realize how cool it would feel to have audience members sing song lyrics right back at me, but that was probably my favorite moment.”
“Ah, of course, first time for everything as they always say.” Seokjin folds his fingers atop one another. “And how was your team?” He says your name, given that you are Yoongi’s manager. “Along with Jungkook and Taehyung? I wish I could have given you more people, but we didn’t know how crazy moving you around was going to be.”
Yoongi nods. “I mean… it was fine. Jungkook was really good.” He can’t help but think that Jungkook should have been good—after all, Yoongi is the reason why Jungkook has been getting safe with job security recently. “And Taehyung too. I think having the small team was good because we ended up all getting really connected and had this whole system in place after a few stops.”
“I heard a fan tore your sleeve,” Seokjin points out, looking mildly concerned. “How did that go?”
“Oh, it was just a one time thing,” Yoongi tries to brush off with the wave of his hand. He thinks of you, because of course he does. He mentions you. “She would tap the fans who were getting too close. It was reassuring, honestly.”
“That’s good to hear,” Seokjin says. “And I’ve heard that you’ve been making a lot of headway with the upcoming album. So we’re definitely gonna set some time for us to go through the lyrics and structure what you’ve come up with already. But I did want to go over something with you first—the main reason I called you in, actually.”
Yoongi tilts his head. “Okay, what’s up?”
Seokjin re-opens his laptop, and clicks through a few links before he’s pivoting the laptop in a 180 degree motion so Yoongi can see the screen. At once, he’s faced with several articles, all centering around the topic that has been haunting him since the beginning of his concert journey. He gets a flashback to one of the nights you came into his hotel room to discuss scheduling, and how you had mentioned this particular topic showing up more and more.
Yoongi had known it was becoming a problem. He just didn’t think it was something that required urgent discussion.
“As I’m sure you’re aware, your growing popularity means that people are developing a growing interest in your relationship. Since you are labeled specifically as a song-writer who writes songs about growing up, struggles, and love, this only heightens people’s curiosity.”
Yoongi allows Seokjin to continue talking, as he moves forward in his chair to actually scroll through one of the articles Seokjin has pulled up. It’s entitled: UP AND COMING SINGER SONGWRITER MIN YOONGI IS DEFINITELY IN A RELATIONSHIP, BUT WITH WHO? As he scrolls down, there’s several people that are listed as potential girlfriends to Yoongi’s partnership—some people he does not know at all, some people he has only seen once.
You’re on the list too, and Yoongi’s eyes widen when he identifies your picture amongst the lot. He zeroes in on the description underneath the simple title: Yoongi’s manager? Although most manager and artist relationships are platonic, we can’t leave this one out! Fans have tracked down Min Yoongi’s current manager as an old assistant from Min Yoongi’s youtube days, so there’s definitely some history between them!
“This article has been blowing up. You may or may not know, but people making assumptions about your relationship status could be dangerous. Since you write songs about relationships, it leaves a lot of room for error and scandals, especially if news sites decide to publish something or someone else with bad intentions try to claim you wrote a song about them. Or something else of the sort.”
Yoongi nods slowly at that, not entirely understanding what direction Seokjin is going with his build up. It makes sense though. Leaving Yoongi out in the open like this could be dangerous for his career. “S-So, what ideas do you have to combat that?”
“I’ve been thinking about this in the recent weeks you’ve been on tour,” Seokjin says quietly, pressing his hands together. “I think that we should push your relationship status into the public—get you a girlfriend to maintain your ‘pure romantic heart’ reputation so it looks like you’re writing love songs solely for your girlfriend.”
It takes a second for the words to sink in. “Aaaaah,” Yoongi finally says, but his voice sounds far away all of a sudden, the further time seems to creep on. Sure, he’s seen this concept of surface relationships between in film and television—and the idea of it makes some sense. For someone whose best songs were related to moments of being in love, surely most people would suspect that the inspiration for those songs had to come from somewhere. If Yoongi came out to admit his lack of relationship experience, would people approve of that? Or would they think he was lying?
In that regard then, it makes sense that Seokjin would come up with the idea. But faking a relationship for the sake of faking a relationship has never been something Yoongi thought he would ever have to go through.
Mainly because first of all—who would play Yoongi’s girlfriend?
Now, Yoongi isn’t the worst actor in the world. But he can be stiff at times, and if Seokjin wants to push a relationship status into the public eye then Yoongi imagines that this girlfriend would be someone Yoongi felt the most natural around. Someone he wouldn’t mind pretending to be in a relationship with.
Would Yoongi even get a say in the matter? Or would Yoongi’s approval be the only requirement before Seokjin went off to find a girlfriend for Yoongi himself?
“D-Did you have someone in mind?” Yoongi finds himself asking instead.
Seokjin hums, tapping his chin with his finger. “Not at the moment. I just wanted to bring it up with you in case you had an idea for someone.” Mindlessly, he reaches to take back the laptop and flip it back towards him. This exposes him to the article Yoongi had been previously scrolling through—one where pictures of you are plastered over the current screen.
At the sight, Seokjin wavers slightly, staring down your pictures and furrowing his eyebrows. Yoongi looks over, noticing immediately that the laptop (and the pictures of you from that article) is no longer right in front of him but rather in front of Seokjin instead. When he glances over at Seokjin, he finds the older man lost in thought, running the side of his finger across his lip. Back and forth, clearly pondering something.
“Yes…” Seokjin says after a moment. “That could work, actually.” He looks across the desk at Yoongi. “Good idea, Yoongi. I think originally, I would have said no, but these pictures and this description actually makes a valid point.”
Yoongi blinks, not really connecting the dots right away. “Uh, sorry, Seokjin, but I’m not really following…”
Seokjin makes a noise, gesturing to his laptop screen that he has just gotten back from Yoongi. “You were suggesting Y/N as your fake girlfriend, weren’t you? I’m assuming that’s why you stopped on these pictures. My initial thought was that it probably wouldn’t work, but actually considering your history with each other it seems like this could be the most likely case scenario.”
It takes another second for the information to fully process. You. His fake girlfriend. Seokjin misunderstanding that unintentionally stopping on your pictures meant that Yoongi was trying to convey some sort of message.
You—playing the role of his fake girlfriend, the ‘supposed’ inspiration for all his music. It would be funny if it wasn’t so ironic.
It would be funny if you didn’t inspire all of his music—but you do. And Yoongi isn’t laughing.
He should say something. He knows that it would make sense, as Seokjin is claiming, but it would also potentially inch him towards a can of worms he has been so sure would never see the sunlight. More than that, having you as his fake girlfriend would bring him the closest he has ever been to feeling hopeful.
He really should say something.
But for some reason, the words don’t come out. He just lets Seokjin believe his ingenious plan. “Yes, yes!” Seokjin continues after the many moments of silence that lapse between the two of you. “This could work actually. You guys have known each other for years, and older fans of yours from the youtube days would definitely recognize Y/N. That way, the announcement of your relationship wouldn’t seem entirely out of line, especially if we say that you guys have been dating for years. It also makes sense that we could say you becoming Yoongi’s ‘manager’ was always part of a cover up—after all, that’s what they did in that movie That Thing You Do…”
The more Seokjin drones on and on about his plan, and how exactly he intends to work up to it, the more nervous Yoongi gets. Was Seokjin actually planning on doing this—enlist you as Yoongi’s fake girlfriend and drag you along to participate in this facade? Yoongi is mildly shocked. He should have known Seokjin would follow through on the question, but he had just assumed that today was just the idea phase and that plans to arrange this fake relationship would take weeks.
But if there’s anything Yoongi knows about Seokjin, it’s that the man knows how to get something done. Quickly, too. In Seokjin’s word, it’s a natural occurrence for a simple idea phase to morph into actual concrete plans within the time span of a day. Yoongi should have planned this out better—but then again, he didn’t think that him accidentally stopping on a picture of you from a fucking drama article would serve as the catalyst for Seokjin’s ideas.
Yoongi straightens up onto his feet. “Why don’t I talk to Y/N first about this?” He asks. “The idea may seem good on paper, but if she’s uncomfortable then it’s a no go.”
Seokjin studies Yoongi carefully, before the former relents. “Okay, fair enough. Let me know what happens.”
As soon as the pair of them exchange the last nods, Yoongi is dashing out of Seokjin’s office with one clear objective in mind: to talk to you.
Luckily, you aren’t too far away. You’re in your office, typing up something on your laptop and your eyes scanning through what he can only assume are emails. It’s eyes that widen when Yoongi practically storms into your space, shutting the door behind him.
You straighten up. “Yoongi, you alright? You look like you just ran a marathon.”
Yoongi doesn’t even realize that his chest is heaving until you point that out. He coughs. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Didn’t run a marathon though.”
Your eyebrows furrow, but the corner of your lips turn up in mild curiosity. “Okay. What’s up?”
Yoongi presses his lips together. Even with the many feet of space between the two of you—he can make out the glimmer in your eyes from the sunlight pouring through the window, he can see the shadow of your eyelashes and the line where your collarbone dips below your blouse. Fuck, he’s in deep. There’s no way he could ask you something so monumental to the downfall of his sanity. But he knows that it’s too late to just walk away. Partly because he’s already in your office and partly because the idea has already been planted into Seokjin’s head. And if Yoongi didn’t speak up, then Seokjin was going to.
So Yoongi opens his mouth. “I may or may not have gotten you into a situation,” He starts up.
You snort, of course not taking him seriously. “That might just be the summary of our relationship.”
“No, I don’t think you understand…” Yoongi pleads, stepping deeper into the office.
You frown at his behavior, closing your laptop this time to address him completely. “Okay, what’s up, really? You’re kind of scaring me…”
“Oh, don’t worry, it’s not… scary or anything…” He trails off.
You raise an eyebrow. “Let me be the judge of that.”
So Yoongi shoves his hands deep into his coat pocket, and slides next to your desk, leaning against the surface as he starts his story. He covers everything: from Seokjin bringing up the drama articles about his relationship status, how he had scrolled through and saw your name, how Seokjin had misinterpreted that as a sign, and worse of all, how Seokjin thought it would be a good idea for you to play as Yoongi’s fake girlfriend.
To say you’re appalled would be an understatement. You’re staring up at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Are you serious?” You ask. “B-But I’m your manager!” You scoff at yourself. “No, more than that—I’m your friend, Yoongi. Seokjin must be on something. He has to be. What did you guys decide on? Please tell me that you said no.”
“W-Well, there was no agreement or disagreement,” Yoongi argues weakly. “I walked out before Seokjin could make up his mind.” He pauses for a moment, something sinking in. “Wait a minute,” He brings up, a slightly teasing smile across his face. “Do you really find the idea of dating me that gross?”
You make a noise in the back of your throat at his accusation, and you immediately begin to scramble. “I-I mean,” You start, the flush present in your throat as you start speaking very quickly at once. Both your hands go up in a defensive position. “It’s not that I don’t find you gross… because I don’t! You’re a very attractive person—it’s just that—we’re friends and—stop looking at me like that!” You stand up, slamming your palms onto the table when you realize that he’s just flashing you a shit-eating grin.
He has half the mind to be mildly disheartened that you are so against the idea of dating him. But then again, he’d probably say no to fake dating you if he was being forced into a situation like this. He’d definitely say no.
Okay, he’d probably say no.
“Well, I told Seokjin that if you were uncomfortable with the idea, then it’d be a no go and he seemed to respect the idea.”
Still standing, you sigh and press your face into the palm of your hand. Your fingers brush through your hair. “Okay, let’s step back for a moment.” You remove your hands from your face. “If I were to say yes, what exactly would that entail?”
Yoongi manages a weak one-shouldered shrug. “I’m not sure exactly. Seokjin would probably have a better idea of that. I imagine KSJ records would release a statement about our relationship, and we would be scheduled to go to variety shows or press interviews together. We’d probably have to go out to restaurants together too. Hold hands…” The thought of holding your hand dries up his throat a little, but he passes it off well by faking a cough. “That sort of stuff.”
You glare at him. “And what about your fans? You’re trying to preserve this ‘pure romantic heart’ image, but I’m sure there’s a lot of fans that like to believe the songs could be about them.”
He shrugs. “That—I’m not too sure about. I imagine Seokjin prefers the idea of my fans believing that my heart only belongs to one person rather than them believing that I’ll just write a love song for anyone.”
You nod. “That’s valid, I guess.”
Yoongi stares at you from the smaller space of distance between the two of you. “Again, you don’t have to say yes. Frankly, I think it’s a batshit crazy idea.”
“It’s not… completely out of line.” After a moment, you sigh. “I can actually understand why Seokjin would get the idea of trying to set you up like this. The news articles will probably get worse. And since your songs market themselves on being personal, people want to know who the songs are about. If Seokjin gave the public a face, then there’d be no room for assumptions and even less room for scandals to come about.” You give him a look. “Sadly, if you were to stay single, there’s only so much I could do as your manager to control that bad press.”
Yoongi raises both his eyebrows up. “Does that mean you’re saying yes—?”
“I’m not… saying anything yet.” You plop yourself back down into your seat. “I’m not saying yes. But I’m not saying no either.” You sink further into your seat. “Hopefully Seokjin will change his mind before I have to make up mine?”
That’s an unlikely case. But Yoongi doesn’t argue with you, and you don’t wait for him to. He simply nods one more time before leaving your office.
.
You would be lying if you said you never thought about dating Yoongi. Of course you have. You’re sure that you’ve had a crush on the boy within the first week of your introductions. This crush explains so many of your past actions—your support for his Youtube channel, your fulfillment as his manager, and now this pull towards agreeing to become his fake girlfriend. And you hate yourself for the every second you consider it a good idea.
Because it’s not a good idea. It’s a terrible idea. More than that, it’s an unfair idea. Agreeing to fake date someone you actually want to date seems like too cruel a hand to be dealt. Considering your more-often-than-not fragile state, setting yourself up with Yoongi in this way already seems doomed to fail. It would be unfair to Yoongi, because agreeing to this would deprive him of an actual relationship he could be happy in. But it would be more unfair to you, because losing control would mean losing your best friend.
So you don’t give Yoongi a positive confirmation. But you don’t give him a negative one either. See, you don’t have the heart to just outwardly reject him, because you know that he needs you to help him with this. You know that he understands the situation he’s been put in, and that getting a fake girlfriend seems to be the best case scenario. You know that it wouldn’t make sense with any other girl—it had to be you. Saying no straight to face is something that you don’t have the heart to do.
Rather than give a yes or no answer, you opt for the second best option: hold off and avoid indulging too deeply.
It’s a strategy that works for a grand total of one day.
The following day post Yoongi’s conversation, you show up to work with information that Yoongi is going to start recording songs for his new album. His first full-length album, at that—something he has been working hard for since the beginning. Every second of free time available to him during the tour, during off-days had been dedicated to writing the music necessary to fill the album. You know how hard he’s been working—you’ve watched throughout the duration of his tour, and spoke to him for many nights about the progression of this album.
You just didn’t think that the recording part would be coming around so soon.
This is a thought you reflect to Seokjin when you enter the recording studio. Yoongi is already behind the glass, and his voice is amplified in the studio, where they appear to be discussing the arrangement for how a song is going to go. This leaves you vaguely surprised—if Yoongi is in the booth already, it means that there must have been some ground covered on how the arrangement was supposed to go. Just how long has Yoongi been in the studio before you showed up?
“Ah, good morning,” Seokjin greets from the back of the studio, seated on the couch and his arms resting along the back. “Don’t get mad, but Yoongi worked through the night again.”
Your lips part into a gape as your eyes widen in disbelief. “Please tell me you’re joking,” You return.
Seokjin merely laughs in return. “I wish I was! When I left, he was going at it with Namjoon and when I came back this morning they were still going at it. But, you know, who am I to rain in on a breakthrough moment?”
You relent your control of the situation slightly (only slightly) at Seokjin’s rhetorical question. Namjoon is one of Seokjin’s top producers and arrangers—very gifted in songwriting and how to make a good song. From the year that you and Yoongi have been a part of KSJ records, Yoongi and Namjoon have gotten along great and their close relationship has been the reason for many late nights. The pair of them were always caught in the drift of making sleepless but record-selling hits.
Like Seokjin said, who are you to interrupt art in progress?
Although you have a sudden flurry of desires and objectives (mainly to reprimand Yoongi for being so careless with a slap or a hit where you could put him to sleep yourself), you bite it down long enough to shed your jacket and rest it on the armrest of the couch. “Fine, fine, I’ll let it go this time.”
Seokjin chuckles at that, removing his gaze from you and sliding it across the studio back into the booth where Yoongi is still in the midst of discussing something with Namjoon. Something about how the arrangement isn’t as smooth or on beat as they had originally intended. “You’re a good manager,” He says at last. “I can tell that you really do care about him and will definitely give him a peace of your mind once he’s done with today’s session. And what’s more…” He laughs. “He’ll actually let you walk all over him. You’d be surprised how often I see managers in it just for the money, where they don’t have their artist’s best interest in mind. You’re definitely not like that.”
You slide into the vacant seat next to Seokjin. “If I don’t keep an eye on him, I know that no one else will. It’s nothing against other people, but no one else in his life is as involved in his career as I am. But I’m his friend first, and his manager second.”
The pair of you are quiet for a moment, as you watch Namjoon fiddle with some of the switches on the music panel. They seem to come to an agreement on the newly modified beat, because it starts playing through the speakers in the booth. Yoongi presses his hands against the headphones he’s wearing, and starts to relay the lyrics into the microphone. It starts off slow—Yoongi has his phone in his hands to read the lyrics, to double check the flow and the tempo. After a few lines, he stops. “Ah—let’s reword this line. I do like the change we made to the music, so let’s change the lyrics to match.” His voice is amplified through the studio.
Namjoon presses a button on the music panel, allowing him to communicate with Yoongi. “Sure. Want to head in and make the changes?”
Yoongi ponders this for a moment, but shakes his head. “Give me a second. Maybe if I listen to the song again, I can feel what I vibe with.”
“Sounds good.” Namjoon releases his hold on the button, and turns around in his chair to face you and Seokjin. The sight of you makes his eyes widen, as Namjoon coughs back a choke. “O-Oh, Y/N, you’re here—!”
His words make you narrow your eyes as you point a finger at him. “YAH! Which one of you was it that contributed to your all-nighter?”
“I don’t know, I don’t know!” Namjoon protests, raising both of his hands up in defense. “We were both in the groove!”
You lower your finger with a sigh. “You’re lucky that you’re in the middle of helping Yoongi achieve his dreams. Otherwise I’d kick both of your asses.”
Namjoon seems to realize that you’re not messing around, because he emits a nervous laugh. “I promise we’ll be a little more careful next time…”
“Oh, Namjoon, I rewrote some of the lines!” Yoongi calls from inside the booth.
Namjoon whirls around in his chair again to press the button. “Sounds good, let’s do it.”
As the music starts up again, Seokjin decides to speak up once more. “Yoongi told me that he talked to you about the little fake dating plan I had.”
The mention of it, as well as your previous internal insistence of not talking or thinking about that, makes you stiffen. “He might have mentioned something like that.”
When you turn to look at Seokjin, he has an unreadable look glinting in his eyes. “Since you were talking about achieving Yoongi’s dreams and all…” He trails off. “I wanted to apologize for bringing that idea onto you so quickly. I didn’t really consider how you’d feel about the arrangement. I just wanted to try and do what I thought was best for Yoongi.”
You sigh. “I know why you thought of the idea. And I totally agree with you—I think that if he wants to carry on, this is the least costly next step that should be taken. I just… I don’t know if I’m the best fit for it.”
Seokjin nods. “I respect your decision. After all, Yoongi told me that if you were uncomfortable with it, then it’d be an immediate no go.”
The corner of your lips turns up upon hearing Yoongi’s thought process. Even though you’ve already heard the words from the man himself—it’s nice to hear that assurance from his boss. Knowing that Yoongi puts your thoughts and feelings on the forefront of his mind is a nice feeling. A misleading feeling if you let yourself think too deeply into it. But a nice feeling, nonetheless.
You decide not to comment immediately on Seokjin’s apology; rather, you tune into what exactly Yoongi is singing about in the song. It’s got a softer beat to it—an opening song to the album, perhaps? It’s much more whimsy compared to his hard-hitting personal rants that touch on the frustration of miscommunication, of not saying something when he should have said something.
Instead, this is a song about distance—about missing someone due to distance and the longing of returning home because of the normality it brought. About how even closeness sometimes isn’t enough to fill the gap of desire in his heart. It takes on a beat you’ve never heard before, and a feeling of missing something that isn’t even tangible for you as a listener. Nevertheless, his words, his raspiness, and the hard lines hidden within the otherwise soft tone of the song work hard to poke at your edges and your weak spots. The parts of you that have always been willing to cave for Yoongi, the part of you that has never hesitated to do what needed to be done if it benefited Yoongi.
You were his manager, so you always want what’s best for him. But you’re also a friend who has been in love with him for years, so you will do whatever it takes to get him there.
You hope you don’t regret this.
“Actually,” You admit quietly, but it’s loud enough to perk Seokjin’s attention. “I’ll do it.”
Seokjin blinks, clearly trying to process your words right off the bat. “You’ll…” He trails off.
You look away. You have a feeling that if Seokjin looks at you for too long, he’ll see your emotions spill out across the entire fucking studio. “Do the fake dating idea.”
Seokjin fumbles a little. “H-Hold on a second—are you sure? Seriously, I’m not trying to pressure you or anything. Since you’re the one least adjusted to being in the spotlight, a lot of this pressure is going to fall onto you. I don’t want you to say yes and then regret it later on… so maybe you should think a little more about this…”
You steel yourself. It feels a little bit like holding your breath. Finally, you spare Seokjin a look. “I won’t regret it,” You say. “You and I both said that Yoongi needs me to keep going at this pace—I was going to get roped in eventually, so I think it’ll just be easier if I agree now rather than drag this thing around for a couple of months. Besides…” You try to relax a little in your seat, but it’s hard to tell if you’re being convincing or not. “It’s nothing too serious right? You just want us to go out together, hold hands occasionally, speak highly of each other… We already do half of those things but it’ll just be emphasized now. No big deal.”
Seokjin is wearing that unreadable look in his eyes again, like he knows something that you don’t even know yourself. “You’re right,” He settles with after a long pause. “It’s nothing too serious. You’ll probably have people also digging into your space though, but we’ll make all the necessary arrangements before any sort of announcement.”
“If that’s the case,” You reply. “Then I’m sure it’ll all be fine. Besides.” You try for a smile. “It’s all just fake anyways, right? As long as the ones who really matter know that, then I don’t really see the harm in it.”
Seokjin only continues to stare at you, before he relents. You know just as well as he does that your decision is one of an adult, and that if you really had a problem with something you would vote your opinion without hesitation. No matter if he can somehow read the thoughts in your head.
At last, he nods. “We might need you to sign another NDA but…” He extends an arm out towards you. “Welcome abroad, Min Yoongi’s girlfriend.”
You laugh a little, hollow but still present, as you reach over to take his head. “We’ll start having problems if that nickname becomes a regular thing.”
Seokjin laughs a little louder, a complete opposite of his more quiet and observant side displayed just a few seconds ago. “Don’t worry—just for formalities. HEY, Namjoon, let me talk to Yoongi for a second.” He practically throws himself off of the couch and towards the music panel where Namjoon and Yoongi are still mid-discussion about another aspect of music you do not understand. Namjoon relents, pushing himself and his chair off to the side as Seokjin comes up to press the button on the panel that allows for discussion between the booth and the studio. “Hey, Min Yoongi, there’s been some discussions behind the scenes. Say hello to your new girlfriend!”
There’s a brief silence in the studio, and Yoongi’s eyes immediately bug out of his head like this is the last thing he expected to hear on this very casual Wednesday morning. Knowing the agenda for the day, it probably has been. “What?” Yoongi says after a long moment, his voice amplified by the speakers in the studio.
Seokjin turns towards you, jerking his head at the booth, and you get up with a sigh. You approach the music panel where Seokjin and Namjoon are currently situated—and aren’t sure how to feel when you see the way Yoongi’s eyes widen at the sight of you through the window.
Still, you cannot help your own weak smile as you lean in towards the microphone. “Hi honey,” You say.
Yoongi continues to stare at you, before his lips part and his face takes on a very unusual shade of red. “HUH?”
.
.
CHAPTER 3: THE ANNOUNCEMENT
.
KSJ records releases a statement within the next following days, and it gains momentum like nothing you’ve ever seen before.
HELLO, WE ARE KSJ RECORDS.
Recently, we acknowledge that many fans have developed a curiosity about the relationship status of our newest artist Min Yoongi. The release of his latest EP and the undertaking of his concert has left many questions regarding who he writes his songs for—and many of the different assumptions made by people around the world could leave very dangerous and lasting impressions on people that our artist sees as platonic. We want to respond properly and say the truth.
Min Yoongi has been in a relationship with his current manager, Y/N, for the past three years. When Min Yoongi was first signed to KSJ Records, they were already in a relationship and Y/N was assigned the task as Yoongi’s manager given her experience working alongside him during his Youtube career. They have good feelings about each other, and have agreed to make this information public to avoid future misunderstandings. KSJ Records and Yoongi hope that you all will support their relationship as they continue to navigate through Yoongi’s growing career together.
You cannot help but laugh a little at the statement, which is flying so close to the truth that it might as well have been your reality. And in a way, it is. You’ve already prepared, molded your online presence just barely to meet these new expectations to the new facade you have to put up.
And it’s not like the announcement actually changes anything in your daily life. In the days leading up to the post, you had decided to delete your Twitter account (you weren’t making much use of that platform anyways—what, with all the thirst accounts for Yoongi that you were stumbling upon due to internet cookies and the algorithm), and archive a fair number of your Instagram photos on an account that was already set to private. For someone who didn’t live and breathe social media, it wasn’t too hard to rid of that element in your life.
One thing you hadn’t really accounted for, however, were the news stories that wrote about you in the hours following the press release. Several of them were base-level lists about your childhood and how your relationship with Yoongi could have festered—most of which were correct given that older fans of Yoongi knew what university he attended and how you were also a student there. But that information is generally public, and it’s not like you attend the university anymore.
Other than that, there are a few comments on your looks, a few assumptions on your personality. But surprising, there’s nothing too severe. At least, from the surface-level information you can collect from just doing a basic google search. Social media would probably be a more difficult battle, one that you would need nerves of steel and a hardened heart in order to navigate, but like mentioned: professionally managing your own personal social media isn’t exactly your forte.
Over the next week, you follow Seokjin’s advice to lay low and let the news of your relationship with Yoongi continue to spread through the ranks. You spend that time in your apartment, answering a few messages from friends and family but doing what you could to keep the information as limited as possible. You assume that too many people knowing, regardless of how close or trustworthy they were, sort of went against the NDA you had to sign. And you’re not sure how your friends would react if they found out you were only dating Yoongi for a cover-up. Especially since some of them actually are fully aware of your feelings for him.
Regardless, you carry on. Yoongi sends you some screenshots he takes of supportive messages from his fans wishing the both of you the best in your relationship, and he also sends you some memes about your relationship that make you laugh. His fans have a good sense of humor, what could you say.
However, a week is the most you allow yourself to hide away within the comfort (and boring nature) of your apartment before you’re already texting Seokjin with news that you were showing up to the studio.
Surprisingly, Seokjin doesn’t question this. He calls you. “I was just about to ask if you were going to come over anyways!” He says in a rather upbeat nature. “So it’s good to hear that we’re both on the same page.”
So you step out of your apartment, dressed up in your usual work uniform and feeling much more put-together than you had been for the week you were ordered to remain quiet and lowkey. There’s something exciting about stepping out after being unable to do so for an extended period of time—and it shows in the little bounce that occurs with every step that you take down the sidewalk. Since you usually take the subway to work, you decide to dawn a bucket hat with a face mask tucked over your nose and mouth to blend in just enough but not so much so that your strange fashion choices could draw attention.
It doesn’t, and you enjoy the rocking of the subway racing down the tracks as you peer out of the window quietly. KSJ Records is just a few stops away from your apartment, so you waste no time standing out and stepping out as soon as the doors of the subway open at the right stop. You bound up the stairs, through the familiar pathways you’ve always taken to get to work, and after a few blocks, you arrive at the building of KSJ Records.
As you shoulder open the door, you greet the secretary behind the table, who smiles back at you. “Oh, good morning!” She greets cheerfully. “Seokjin is waiting for you in his office. I believe Yoongi is already with him.”
You nod. “Sounds good, thank you so much!” You bound deeper in, navigating through the different hallways until you arrive at Seokjin’s office. True to the word from the front desk, Yoongi is already there. He looks surprisingly meek for someone who has been trending on Twitter for a few days, but you suppose that he’s still trying to adjust to the fact that Seokjin’s plan is already in motion. After all, he didn’t even get the final say before Seokjin started taking the situation into his own hands. The last he had heard of it was your apparent agreement before Seokjin drew up a company statement for him to approve.
A part of you feels guilty—but Yoongi had been the one to ask you first! Perhaps he’s still in that normal state of uncertainty. After all, you feel like that as well.
“Good morning guys,” You greet as soon as you register who exactly is in Seokjin’s office. You close the door behind you as both boys turn to acknowledge you.
Seokjin grins. “Hi, thanks for coming in.”
You wave him off. “You gave me the week off. I was starting to get a little restless.” You take a seat in the other vacant chair, in front of Seokjin and besides Yoongi. “What’s up, Yoongi?”
Yoongi is already looking at you when you turn to greet him, but as soon as you ask your question, the corner of his lips quirk up into a vaguely uneasy and nervous smile. “H-Hi honey.”
You freeze at that, immediately furrowing your eyebrows as you produce your own nervous smile. “Hi?” You return. “What the fuck are you on?”
Seokjin interrupts before Yoongi can get an answer in. “Stop, stop, you’re way too stiff, Yoongi!”
“Well, I’m trying!” Yoongi spits, before looking back at you with an utterance of your name. “Sorry, Seokjin wanted me to try treating you the same way I would treat a girlfriend. Apparently I didn’t do too hot.”
“Not apparently, you just didn’t do hot at all,” Seokjin retorts back, flashing you an apologetic smile. “We were trying out a few moves easier to see how well you guys can adjust from having your normal manager slash artist relationship to displaying a long term, healthy and happy romantic relationship. It’s one thing to say that you guys are dating, but you guys do need to have something of an act ready.”
You fold your fingers over each other, your mind on a dissociation for the briefest of seconds as the realization sinks its teeth just a little deeper. Holding hands and saying cute shit to each other had been easy to talk about in passing dialogue to Seokjin—but actually having to do it is a hurdle you hadn’t considered to the fullest.
“I mean…” You speak up after a moment. “What if we’re just one of those couples that aren’t handsey with each other? Or don’t need that lovey dovey look in each other’s eyes to prove that we’re in a relationship?”
Seokjin ponders this for a second. “True. But if we’re starting this, there needs to be a full level commitment on the act. If people start questioning the legitimacy of your relationship, that would be an even worse scandal than just letting people make assumptions about Yoongi’s relationship status in general! We definitely, at least, need to develop a basic level of your relationship, and then you guys can work around your own varying levels of comfort. This is something that we need to get rolling as soon as possible, because you.” He points at Yoongi. “Are booked in the next few days to do some radio interviews. And you.” He points at you. “Are going to go with him, as his girlfriend.”
Even though you had known the label was coming, you can’t stop from feeling hot all over at how you were now technically Yoongi’s girlfriend.
“So,” Seokjin continues. “How about I give you a base level of what I’m looking for. And we can do a few practice runs to make sure you guys are comfortable enough with these expectations?”
Yoongi nods, leaving you little option but to do the same. But the thought from the recording booth bubbles up again: you hope you won’t regret this.
.
A few days later and you don’t think you’ll regret the outcome of this situation. But you’ll definitely get a little sick on the way.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” You say in the car. You’re sitting in the back, next to Yoongi, staring straight ahead at the passenger seat before you. “And stay all in one piece,” You add as an afterthought.
Yoongi glances over at you, looking nervous enough to admit a pout. “At least you don’t have to say anything—I’m the one doing all the talking…”
You huff out a breath. This is true. You’re just here to play the supportive girlfriend, the agreeable partner who’ll publicly accompany Yoongi to a public event since a public announcement. Seokjin says that doing this with the lense of a romantic relationship makes you seem friendly, open, and supportive of the relationship. You’re not too sure how public perception is shaped, but you understand where Seokjin is coming from. Tagging along to an event as a girlfriend instead of a manager makes you and Yoongi seem free. Like you have nothing to hide.
Only in reality, it’s the complete opposite. With everything coming out to the surface, you have everything to hide.
It only takes a few more minutes of driving before you arrive at the radio station. The instructions for today’s assignment have been easy: get out of the car, and walk the many steps needed to reach the entrance of the station. The empty step ahead is surrounded by paparazzi and fans, all screaming and shouting—trying to get their fill of Yoongi.
You sigh. You could do this. You and Yoongi have been practicing for the past few days. Albeit, ‘practicing’ just mainly consisted of the pair of you walking down a hallway close together. It was more lackluster than anything else, and you don’t think it was entirely productive use of time. Seokjin seemed to think that the pair of you needed to work on a closer level of proximity. But you know the truth about your feelings, and know that the complications will come from just being too close to him.
Yoongi unbuckles his seatbelt and is already moving to tug at the handle that’ll open his side of the car door, immediately exposing him to the walkway along with the flashing cameras and loud screams. Before he can pull all the way, however, he stops short. You’re about to ask what the problem is, before he angles towards you and flashes you that grin he has when he’s thinking of ideas you wouldn’t approve of. “I have an idea,” He breathes out, quickly reaching over to grab your hand.
You stiffen at the contact, trying to ignore the flash of your heart speeding up in your chest. You and Yoongi hadn’t agreed on this—if you had, maybe you would have been a little more prepared for the situation! Oh god.
On instinct, you try to wiggle out of his grasp. “What are you doing?” You hiss.
Yoongi gives you a dry look, reaching over to grab your hand again. “Calm down,” He argues back, lacing your fingers together for extra measure, like that’s gonna be the thing to help you calm the fuck down. “This’ll help sell it, okay? Just trust me.”
Leaving little room for arguments, he squeezes your hand briefly before loosening it enough. He pulls the car door handle, pushing it outwards, and stepping out into the wild. People notice his appearance immediately, because the screams grow louder as Yoongi uses his unoccupied hand to wave and bow towards those who have come out to see him.
You trail behind rather helplessly; the hand connected to Yoongi pulling you out of the car. Yoongi stays near the door, staring down at you with a rather watchful gaze that only leaves you feeling hotter than before. Still, you don’t speak of it as Yoongi steps back just enough for you to step out of the car. “You okay?” He asks.
You nod, readjusting yourself with one hand before Yoongi starts to pull you alongside him to walk the distance towards the radio station entrance. Although you want to engage slightly with the crowd, your nerves keep you mainly at bay, forcing you to angle your head downwards just enough to avoid any serious eye contact. Yoongi keeps his gaze ahead, walking a rather brisk pace towards the radio studio—where security leads the way in opening the door for the pair of you. Whether he’s walking fast because he doesn’t want to keep up the charade of holding your hand for so long… or because he can feel how sweaty your palm is getting. You don’t know.
It’s only a few more steps before you and Yoongi are entering the building for the radio show, where Jungkook is lingering near the entrance. He’s on his phone, probably having just made a call with Seokjin about your arrival, before he spots the two of you entering. “Hey guys, how was it?”
Yoongi nods. “A little loud, but I think it went alright.”
Jungkook’s eyes flicker down to your intertwined hands. “Wow, you guys are committed,” He comments.
You seem to remember that your soul has returned to the body that is still currently holding hands with Min Yoongi. Alarmingly, you take your hand back. “Y-Yeah, Yoongi thought it would be a good show for the people outside! No biggie—just a simple hand holding technique, people do that all the time!” You realize that you’re rambling.
Yoongi, oblivious as always, raises an eyebrow. “You okay?”
“Y-Yeah,” You manage. “Why do you ask?”
Yoongi is about to answer, before an intern shyly approaches the three of you with an iPad in hand.
“Are you all under Mr. Min’s team?” She asks, fishing out some badges when you nod in confirmation. “Okay, so make sure to take these so everyone knows who you are. Mr. Min? I can lead you to the studio you’ll be interviewing in, if you’ll follow me—did you need me to grab a soda for you?” She begins listing a series of questions about his well-being, leaving you and Jungkook behind in the hallway with your newly acquired badges in hand.
Jungkook, observant as always, gives you a look. “What was that all about?”
“Huh? I-It was nothing…” You trail off looping the badge around your neck, meeting Jungkook’s eyes and realizing that he’s wearing a shit-eating grin. The same kind of grin that Taehyung gives you when you’re standing too close to Yoongi. Your eyes flare. “WHAT DO YOU KNOW?”
Jungkook laughs. “Calm down, calm down, Taehyung and I gossip a lot on the side—hey, what the fuck, don’t hit me—we’re in a public place!”
You relent your aggression, but only slightly. You lower your arms as well. “Just—don’t tell Yoongi.”
Jungkook levels with you a dry look. “Do you think I have a death wish? C’mon, let’s head over.”
With a hesitant sigh, you relent and let Jungkook lead you down the halls of this studio, until the pair of you find a door with Yoongi’s name written on the white board. There’s a darkened LIVE light panel above the frame, indicating that Yoongi’s radio interview hasn’t started yet. There’s some people lingering about, who nod and open the door for you when you present your TALENT badge at them. The inside of a radio booth is similar to the recording booths Yoongi has found a home in as of late. There’s people in this current room, headphones on and monitoring what’s happening before them while being surrounded with sound panels and laptop screens. On the other side of the glass is Yoongi, and the main hosts of the radio station, Jung Hoseok and Im Nayeon.
From your side, you can hear their conversation amplified through speakers in the studio. They’re all currently joking around about external matters—it makes sense too. Yoongi has been on this particular radio show a handful of times.
“Okay, okay, you guys,” Hoseok speaks after a few more minutes of playful banter. “Today, we have a very special guest with us today. He’s fresh off the tour of his first and most recent EP, we have Min Yoongi in the studio! Yay!” He claps. Nayeon follows suit.
Yoongi stops his clapping sooner to speak into the microphone in front of him. “Thanks for having me back.”
“Thank you for deciding to hang out with us for the afternoon,” Nayeon says. “Especially since you’re a big hot shot now.”
Yoongi laughs. “I wouldn’t say that… I just finished my first tour, Nayeon, no big deal.”
“‘No big deal’,” Nayeon quotes him. “As if your EP didn’t chart into a top 50 list or anything like that.”
The conversation trails like this for a little bit. Yoongi is scheduled to spend thirty minutes doing a segment, which is meant to be uploaded onto Youtube later, so it gives the three of them a lot of legroom to play around and play off of each other. The purpose of the interview is to discuss the tour, the progress of the album, and (if anyone dared venture there) the status of his relationship—!
“Well, moving on from the album—which I’m sure is going to be a huge success, by the way,” Nayeon continues on, bringing you back from the daydream that you’ve slipped into. “Seriously, it’s a very highly anticipated release.”
Yoongi manages a nervous smile. “I’ll make sure not to let anyone down.”
Nayeon nods. “I think it’s a good time to ask about a recent development that has occurred with you as of late.”
“And, that is the announcement of your relationship,” Nayeon carries on. She glances at Yoongi from across the table. “We’re allowed to ask you questions about it, right?”
Yoongi nods, choosing his words very carefully. “I’m all ears for your questions, Nayeon.”
Nayeon brightens at that. “I just think that a lot of people want to know: how are you guys doing since the announcement?”
He takes in a breath. To the general public, it’ll probably look as if he’s steeling himself to finally come clean about a relationship he’s been hiding for three years. But to you, you know it’s because he’s just trying to figure out what exactly to say.
“We’ve been doing well,” He says with a nod of assurance. “It was a little stressful at first, and it still is because of how recent the news is, but I am glad we decided to make this call. Y/N has been with me since the beginning and has supported me and has been the inspiration for a lot of my music—and I’m at a point in my life where I want my fans to know that rather than drag them along and just make them assume these parts of my life.”
“That’s so sweet,” Nayeon gushes. “So Y/N wasn’t always just your manager, even back in your Youtube days?”
Yoongi shakes his head. “Actually, she was my girlfriend before I decided to upload song covers.”
Nayeon swoons a little. “Can you tell us the story of how we met? You can be brief, of course.”
Yoongi laughs. “We shared a class together in college, and she was probably the funniest person I had ever met—of course, we were friends for about a year before we started dating. But Y/N was always very supportive about me pursuing music, even when it was just a hobby. When I did start my Youtube channel, she stayed up to help with editing and just letting me know how some lyrics I had written would sound. She was a business major in college, so it felt right to let her have the reins on scheduling my appearances—and now she’s my manager. Besides just being my girlfriend, we work together really well.”
You huff out a breath, something you hadn’t even realized that you were holding. You didn’t think Yoongi lying straight through his teeth could cause you so much anxiety. As if there are people around this radio station to fact check everything leaving Yoongi’s mouth.
Nayeon hesitates for a moment. “Alright, I want to ask one more question.”
Yoongi gestures for her to continue.
“You write a lot about being in love and all these little moments of stability and that feeling of contentment—but what is your experience with love? How did you know that you were in love?”
Your lips part in shock at the question, having not expected it. After all, Seokjin didn’t quiz Yoongi on this answer. And to talk about love in such a personal manner—would Yoongi even have an answer for everyone?
Your gaze is trained on Yoongi, watching them through the glass separating you from him. It seems as if the entire room is silenced in anticipation. You can feel Jungkook’s gaze hot on your back, clearly trying to gauge your response—but you try not to give him the satisfaction of a reaction.
“It’s actually funny,” Yoongi speaks up after a moment. Your heart lurches, thinking that he’s going to divert from the question. But you should know him better. “I always thought love, when it came to romance, was supposed to be this big explosion of fireworks and what not—like in the movies. You see someone and there’s this feeling in your gut right away, you know, this whole concept of love at first sight. I used to think that was how I was going to fall in love. It was going to be dramatic, but everything I wanted right away, and I was going to be whisked off and everything would be sunshine and rainbows. I thought that I’d meet someone, and they’d be everything I wanted them to be right off the bat, and that I’d know right away they’d be the one.
But the truth is, through my relationship, I realized that it’s not like that. I didn’t know Y/N would be the one right away. It took a long time—because we liked each other, but that’s not the big explosion of fireworks I was promised. We liked each other, but it was never love at first sight. And truthfully, she wasn’t even everything I wanted right off the bat. I’ve realized that love is more about these adjustments you as people have to make to fit, and it happened so subtly with me that then I didn’t realize it was happening until I just woke up one day and knew.
I knew because one morning, I woke up in a fit—I had fallen asleep at my desk again trying to get through some of the music arrangement of this one video I was working on, or something like that. I was always working on music and editing—so I actually don’t remember. Anyways, I woke up and my head was resting on a pillow, and there was a blanket over my shoulder, which I didn’t remember fixing up the night before. I got out of the little makeshift studio I had in my apartment, and there was breakfast food from this cafe I really like around the corner at my table. It was a little cold, but Y/N had taped a little note on the bag with heating instructions and what not, just telling me to do my best—really nice and supportive things. I had assumed that she had gone back home, because she knew I was pulling another all-nighter for work. That’s what I thought, until I look into the living room and find her sleeping on my couch. More than that, her hands were still on her laptop, where she had been in the process of still editing one of my videos. She still had her headphones on and everything. We had been dating for a little less than a year at that point, so it wasn’t like this was a rare thing. It was a pretty normal thing for her to do—wrap me up in blankets and buy me breakfast food the following morning, even falling asleep on the couch was a weekly occurrence. But I just saw her sleeping on my couch and I felt this wave of warmth and contentment. Like I always knew that she’d be on my team. I think that was the moment I really knew what love was.”
It’s a long story, one that ends with a stunned silence—like no one had expected him to give out such a detailed answer and make it sound poetic at the same time. That’s the songwriter Min Yoongi for you, you supposed.
Quickly, both the studio and the booth give out a chorus of aw’s and ooh’s, gushing amongst one another over the charming nature of Yoongi’s story. But you are still trapped into submission, staring straight through the glass with millions of questions still going through your mind. The spike in your heart rate also points to the rush of adrenaline flowing through you. Because you know this story that he is telling. He’s not lying through his teeth. You remember this night. Or, one of the nights, at least. Like Yoongi had said, you giving out blankets and food like air was second nature in your friendship. So was you falling asleep on the couch.
Did those situations hold as much weight for him as they did for you? Or, was he just making up his feelings? After all, the key to lying was skirting as close to the truth as possible. That kind of situation may work for Yoongi, as the liar, but it wasn’t as comforting for you.
You watch the way Yoongi laughs at the gushing Nayeon does, the way he smiles brightly and continues to reinforce how important you are—and you recognize his facade better than anyone else. Of course he’s lying, and you reach their realization with a bit of downfall in your stomach. There’s no way he would be telling the truth, especially considering the situation the pair of you are now in where Yoongi’s career is dependent on his ability to tell a proper lie.
You allow yourself to sink a little deeper into the studio, near the back where the producers of the radio station can discuss amongst each other. This puts you with Jungkook, who has been watching the situation closely the entire time.
“Yoongi can be quite the actor,” Jungkook mumbles. He has this unreadable expression in his eyes, but you know that Jungkook knows that situation Yoongi is describing. It had been Jungkook’s apartment as well. He glances at you, but says nothing.
You continue to stare ahead. That pensive silence continues as Yoongi is released from the radio interview, and thanks Nayeon and Hoseok eagerly for their time and energy. Nayeon returns the gesture, waving to you through the glass when Yoongi points you out. You weakly return the action.
It isn’t until you get into the car, where the pair of you are safe from the wandering eyes and careful ears of the entire world, that one of you elects to speak up. “So, what did you think?” Yoongi asks.
By this point, you’ve recovered swiftly from your disappointment. You smile like it’s your only shield. “As your manager, I’m glad that you were able to make love so poetic—just on brand for you. As your fake girlfriend, I also really have to congratulate you for your storytelling. I even remember those nights too, so it was definitely a good memory to lie about.”
Yoongi flushes a little at your comment, looking pleased with himself for a moment. You smile at his expression, before turning to train your gaze out of the window. The gesture makes you miss the way the smile slips off his face, the way he glances over at you. A good memory to lie about—right.
.
Yoongi’s radio interview goes viral, and so does any hope you have in trying to forget the tale he had spun during it. Granted, you are happy that people bought his story. You just wish that it wouldn’t have muddled up all your thoughts and feelings along the way.
Naturally, Seokjin is excited about the good press and the fact that the pair of you completed your first assignment well enough. At least, that’s the display he’s presenting when you walk into his office two days after the radio interview. Yesterday was spent looking over social media to see the public’s reaction to Yoongi’s speech about love, and if you as his manager would need to do any damage control. Luckily, you do not. As his manager, it leaves you in good spirits.
But as someone who actually has a crush on Yoongi, it’s less so.
That dejection only furthers itself when you see how excited Seokjin looks, like he’s already plotting the next steps to his little project.
“Ah, Y/N!” Seokjin greets carefully. “Hi, hi, congratulations on your first successful outing with Yoongi! Per the reports I’ve been seeing over social media, you guys did a very good job.”
You sigh, placing four coffee orders onto the table and sliding into the seat in front of Seokjin’s desk. “I didn’t really do that much,” You admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Yoongi did all the talking. I just waved at Nayeon through the glass window.”
“Aaahh,” Seokjin hums, opening up his laptop and turning it around in order for you to see what is on his screen. “Seems like you did a little more than that.”
Your gaze flints down to the big, bold words across the screen: THE INSIDER REPORT ON MIN YOONGI’S RADIO INTERVIEW: Employees at the K-IM Radio Station detail their experience meeting Yoongi and his girlfriend following the announcement of their relationship.
That piques your interest, and you scoot forward in your chair slightly in order to reach out and see what Seokjin is talking about. It’s not a very lengthy article—there is a summary detailing Yoongi’s interview, of course referencing his grand speech about love—but that’s not what takes up the most space.
Your eyes continue to skim over, almost not even believing what you were reading. The intern that first greeted you and Yoongi is in here, talking about how the pair of you were holding hands “in such a loving way, and the way they looked at each other before I led him to the radio booth was so romantic!” (The intern’s words, not yours). There’s even some excerpts from the employees and producers inside the radio booth, the same room you had spent the interview in. Surprisingly, a lot of the accounts are not talking about what Yoongi said. It’s all about how you looked when Yoongi was telling his story.
“It was such a powerful speech, I couldn’t help but look over to Y/N to see her reaction, and she was staring back at Yoongi in such a way that I knew immediately that the genuine nature of their love was a two-way street.”
“... a definite softness in her gaze, like she was reliving that memory with him.”
And so on, and so on.
Your face feels a little warmer when your eyes as you push the laptop away, glancing up to see Seokjin’s staring at you. “See? You did good. The small gestures you do can go a long way—especially when you don’t notice you’re doing them.”
You close the laptop, as if that can physically distance yourself from the assurances of those who had been around you. “Right…” You manage weakly.
“Well,” Seokjin hums, already moving onto the next point of the conversation. If he senses something fishy in your response, he doesn’t comment on it. “Anyways, Yoongi is in the studio right now with Namjoon, so I just want a little update report on your relationship with Yoongi. As in, how is it going between the two of you?”
You ponder this for a moment, thinking about how he took your hand in the car, how he recounted such a personal story to explain the details of his love, the look he gave you when you congratulated his storytelling abilities—like he knew something that you did not.
At the same time, it was such a minor appearance that you didn’t get much of a feel about the romantic aspect of this fake relationship. This is why you sigh. “I’m not too sure. We had such a minor acting role together that it’s hard to say. I will say that right now it feels pretty much the same.”
“Alright, fair enough,” Seokjin approves with a nod. “So you don’t have a problem if I want to plan some informal hang-outs for you and Yoongi? Just as a way to keep your guys in the public eye enough times that fans don’t start doubting your relationship.”
You smile weakly. “Of course. That’s what I signed the NDA for.”
Seokjin laughs, finally waving you off. “Okay, sure. I’ll look into where I think your relationship will make the biggest impact and will update you and Yoongi when I’ve made my decisions.” Finally, he looks over the multiple cups of coffee you had brought over on your cardboard tray, and fishes out the one with his name on it. “This one for me?”
You lean over, flickering your gaze from the cup to his face. “Well, at the very least, I know you can read now.”
His relaxed expression morphs into a playful scowl. “Get out of here brat.”
Your laughter echoes through his office as you take your cardboard tray of three coffee cups and reemerge back into the hallway of the record studio. You walk the familiar path until you reach the door to the recording room—pulling open the door and letting yourself in. Inside the booth, Yoongi is rapping away into his microphone, as his low voice fills the tiny space of this studio. You place the tray down onto one of the tables, picking up your own before sliding over to take a seat on the couch.
As you continue listening to Yoongi wistfully hum about a desire to cross an emotional distance, about how he tells the truth because “it’s you, it’s always been you”—you cannot help your mind wandering into what Seokjin has in store for you over the course of the next few months.
.
.
CHAPTER 4: TURNING POINT
.
Yoongi’s first full length album is set to release in two months.
At least, that’s what KSJ records claims after uploading a quarterly report of Yoongi’s schedule. At first, you don’t think it’s a big deal for Yoongi’s label to post a tentative update about his music progress, but his fans are extremely observant and catch on immediately. It’s good to draw up the hype, you suppose.
Anyways, at the rate that Yoongi is working on the songs for the album, you won’t be surprised if he manages to follow the schedule down to a T. The boy lives and breathes music, and last time you checked the album would consist partly of songs from his EP and new songs—meaning that it cuts down Yoongi’s usual workload into half. Not that he minds, at any rate.
“Okay, Min Yoongi,” Seokjin starts up, standing at the head of the meeting room which only consists of three people. Normally, with meetings with the head of KSJ records himself, there’s a lot more people around to discuss schedule, promotions, and the likes. The fact that it’s just you and Yoongi tells you exactly what you’re doing here. “It’s been a few weeks since your radio interview, and I know that you’re doing well in your progress of the album—but I think it’ll do you well to take a break.”
Yoongi huffs. “It’s nice that you’re reminding me about this, but I’ll rest when the album is released.”
Seokjin snorts. “When did I say rest? I just meant take a break from your album work. Plus you need to get some vitamin C, or whatever shit you get from the sun.”
“It’s vitamin D,” You interject gently.
“Pish posh,” Seokjin waves away your interruption. “Anyways, like I was saying, there is a way for us to kill two birds with one stone. So that you.” He points to Yoongi. “Can get out of the studio for a few hours and you.” He points to you. “Can play into a relationship that’ll help us kill two birds with one stone.”
You raise an eyebrow. “What exactly are you proposing?”
“Well,” Seokjin continues, leaning over his side of the table to get a few good at his laptop, where it appears that he has a few notes written down regarding the direction of this meeting. “In order to continue generating curiosity about Yoongi’s upcoming album and maintain the public’s constant queries about your relationship, I want you two to go on public outings. I have a few specific places I think would be good cornerstones to touch on, but I’m also willing to let the two of you figure out where you want to spend your time.” He glances up at the two of you. “That should be okay, right?”
You and Yoongi glance at each other. Come to think of it, the pair of you haven’t talked about nor reviewed the events at the radio station since it happened and the underlying questions you still have about his side of the story feels vaguely like a weight hanging over you both. But Yoongi smiles at you, and you think that you can continue to do what you’ve done for years: hide away your feelings.
“Yeah, that should be fine,” You speak up first, smiling back at Yoongi. You turn to Seokjin. “What did you have in mind?”
The question is how you find yourself in a car with Yoongi a few days later, your hands in your lap and your mind spinning with nerves. The radio interview had been one case, but a limited one at that—your role had been very minor and your interaction with Yoongi had only been seconds long. They had definitely been a lot smaller than this new role that Seokjin has assigned to you.
For today, Seokjin has directed the pair of you to the streets of Yoongi’s old stomping ground—the same shopping district with the same corner Yoongi spent all his nights performing in from a time period that seems so long enough. Not long enough, apparently, as Seokjin thinks it would be a nice nod to be ‘accidentally’ discovered walking along a place that holds so much memory.
“I just want you guys to walk around—be happy, but be close,” Seokjin had noted just a few hours prior to you and Yoongi’s departure. “Just look like the pair of you are on a date. Hold hands, smile at each other, all that jazz. Nothing too serious.”
Too bad it actually was kind of serious for you.
You and Yoongi make minor conversation, making some jokes here and there that do well in helping to ease your nerves. You don’t think Yoongi would take notice, but he can be strangely observant. Perhaps the way you keep bouncing one of your legs helps let him know that something is up.
“Are you okay?” He asks.
You stop bouncing your leg. “It kind of feels like I’m about to perform, or something—it’s that same kind of rush.”
Yoongi stares at you for a moment, before he looks out his side of the window. “Well, technically speaking, you are about to perform. You know, with this whole relationship being an act and all.”
“Very true,” You say, nodding your head. “Do we need a game plan?”
Yoongi shrugs. “I thought that we’d just wing it. We held hands back at the radio station so, uh, I’m assuming that you’re still comfortable with doing that?”
“O-Oh yeah, of course!”
“Then, we can do that. And walk around. Improvise while we do so—just see how the day goes.”
You nod. “Okay, true, true. That sounds good.” You can’t help but give him a sneaky smile. “Look at you, Min Yoongi, you’ve become quite the performer. Improvisation used to be something you were never too good at.”
Yoongi flushes a little, smiling back at you. “Give me a little credit. You gotta have backups for your backups, especially in situations when your sound gives up on you in the middle of one of your sets.”
You laugh, because this reminds you about one of Yoongi’s first live sets along the very street the pair of you will be approaching shortly. His speakers had just given up, forcing Yoongi to go entirely acapella. In a way, that mistake ended up garnering him more fans who grew to respect his craft and talent for music and singing. But as they say, hindsight is 20 20.
You and Yoongi continue to laugh about that memory for a few minutes before Taehyung arrives along the outskirts of the shopping district, pulling up along the curb. The car is on the other side of this bustling area, just a few feet away from the pedestrian walkway that is littering with people going to and fro.
Taehyung turns around in his seat to give the pair of you a look. “Now kids, I want you to call me whenever you’re ready to get picked up.” He’s grinning around the words though
You glare at him. “Sure thing dad,” You bite back, already opening the car door to take your leave. Your feet land onto the concrete of the sidewalk as you pull yourself into a standing position. Yoongi joins you shortly after, standing close to you. “Bye,” You say, slamming the door into Taehyung’s face before he can get in one last snarky reply.
Yoongi looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh for Taehyung’s benefit. But it’s an act he can only hold together for so long, because he does start to laugh as soon as Taehyung and the company car turn the corner and disappear out of sight.
After a second, Yoongi turns to you and gestures towards the pedestrian walkway just a few feet ahead. “Shall we?”
You nod, taking the hand that he extends out to you. Just an act, you tell yourself, you allow him to lace your fingers together. Nevermind the fact that the weight on your hand feels entirely too reassuring and comforting for the current context.
Ignoring that feeling, you squeeze his hand and let him lead you towards the walkway, where you cross the street with no problem. Since Yoongi nor Seokjin had announced Yoongi’s presence at this plaza for the day, you can only hope that too much attention won’t be drawn to you.
It’s a thought that you are able to entertain for a few minutes. Yoongi may not have the star quality status of mainstream celebrities (yet), but he’s still someone who has been on the radio, has done a country-wide tour, and has a youtube following of a couple million people (four now, the last time you checked—subscriber counts tend to zip by after a person hits a million). That small list of accomplishments is more than enough to drag in a few wandering eyes. Okay, maybe a little more than a few.
You think that you’ve kind of developed a seventh sense to knowing when Yoongi was being recognized. It’s shown in the double-glances some people start shooting at him, at quick whispers behind closed hands, and craning necks over shoulders.
You’re okay with people knowing about Yoongi’s current location, but the memory of his tours and even the crowd problem that came up during his street performances flashback in your mind. You don’t think you want to deal with that situation right now—secretly preferring if people just observed from a distance.
Without thinking twice, you tighten your hold on Yoongi’s hand long enough to lead him into one of the stores along the sidewalk—an accessories booth with fake glasses, rings, earrings, the likes.
Yoongi watches you, a touch of amusement in his eyes like he knows what you’re thinking. Still, he asks. “What are you doing?”
You rummage through the wide selection of glasses, fully aware that one or two people have spotted the pair of you and are lingering near the entrance to catch a glance at what you two are doing. From the looks of it, no one is going to stir up a commotion. You still want to make sure.
“You stand out,” You explain vaguely, finding a pair of circle glasses in black-rims from the pile before turning around and more or less smashing the glasses against his face. It’s difficult to try and put glasses on another person, you miss his ears a few times and almost get him in the eye, but Yoongi strangely enough lets you manhandle him.
In the midst of your last few attempts you step forward and scoot even closer to him to try and get the glasses more properly situated on his face. Due to the proximity, Yoongi’s hands fly up from his side to avoid being pressed uncomfortably against his chest, choosing to rest at your waist. At first, you don’t feel the weight of his hands, you’re too focused on making sure the fake glasses you’ve selected can fit in place.
As soon as you’ve properly aligned the glasses to his face, you lower your hands from his face. The action makes you suddenly hyper aware of the current position you’ve put yourself in. It’s not very often that you get handsy with Yoongi, it’s a side of you that comes out when the pair of you are in a hurry, but hardly during candid moments like this.
Immediately, Yoongi’s hands feel like warm flames tickling your skin, and you suddenly feel hyper aware of his position, of his closeness. Your eyes flicker up, seeing his face with those glasses you’ve just shoved onto him sitting nicely at the bridge of his nose, highlighting the intensity of his gaze. The stare he’s giving you only heightens the gravitational pull you feel towards him.
You don’t know how long the pair of you are just standing in the middle of the store, staring at each other, until you feel the weight of a third party approaching the pair of you.
You practically shove yourself away from Yoongi, trying to make it seem as if you’re just stepping back to get an overall look at his face (Yoongi featuring glasses). Yoongi lets you go.
The third party is an employee of the accessories booth, smiling widely. “Sorry to interrupt,” She says, looking over at Yoongi. “Sir, I just want to say that those glasses look great on you. And just to let you know we’re having a sale on that collection so it’s a buy one get the other one half off so maybe you two can match if you’re up to it…”
You tune her out after a second, realizing that you can’t really keep up with what she’s saying considering the current firestorm that’s going on inside your head. Why couldn’t you have just asked Yoongi to put the glasses on himself? You curse yourself for letting your guard down—sometimes you try to do things of your own accord, and today you were paying the price.
When you don’t speak after a few seconds, Yoongi smiles at the employee. “Got it, thanks a lot.” He waits until the employee returns back to rearranging some earrings on a nearby shelf before turning back to you. “How does it look?”
He does look good, but you play it down by tilting your head and settling with a shrug. “Well, you’ve looked better—but this’ll have to do.”
Yoongi laughs, before he does something that catches you off guard. He steps closer to you. “So you think there are times when I do look good?”
You try not to look too bewildered at his gesture. You can tell that he does feel a little nervous about the fact he’s testing the waters so boldly without any practice, but it’s all part of the act. Just as Seokjin said: be happy, be close.
So you place a hand on his chest, pushing him slightly with your own little teasing smile. “I said better—that doesn’t always mean you were ever good to begin with.”
Yoongi makes a noise of protest, and without warning just swings his arm around your shoulder and pulls you close to his side. “You’re breaking my heart everyday!”
“You must like the abuse, you’re still with me,” You bite back playfully without thought. For a split second, it doesn’t feel like you’re in a store with people who vaguely recognize Yoongi’s appearance—for a split second, it feels like just you and him, and everything you’ve ever wanted.
Upon Yoongi’s lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Good job, I think the group of girls outside caught our picture.”
That dreamy fantasy where it was just you and Yoongi and nothing else mattered came crashing down, squaring you right back into reality. It’s not a disappointing feeling per say—just a vague extra hammering of your heartbeat, a vague guilt that you let your mind let its guard down like that. “Right,” You say. “Uh…” You try to think, which proves to be a difficult thing to do with Yoongi’s weight pressed up against you and everything. You clap your hands together. “Okay, let’s grab a hat and then we’ll be on our way.”
You make sure to be a little less handsy when it comes to hat selections, but you knew there was only so far you could escape given the current context of the situation. Yoongi seems to know that, because he stays close to you as you’re both shifting through hats, and even when he pays for his hat and glasses combination before exiting the booth. The pair of you pass through the two girls that were lingering outside of the booth, where Yoongi gives them the smallest wave and hello before carrying on with the rest of the trip.
With the hat and glasses combination, it definitely draws less attention to Yoongi’s classic fluffy black hair and gummy smile—especially if you’re using what was going on in the beginning of your trip as a baseline. This means that you and Yoongi can carry on with the rest of your outing with feeling the obvious heavy weight of gazes on your shoulder.
With intertwined hands the pair of you first stop by one of the local cafes and sit right alongside the window to enjoy some pasta and soda combinations. You roll up the noodles onto your fork and clink utensils with Yoongi before slipping the noodles in your mouth—tomato sauce with flavor slipped into every side piece of noodle. It’s amazing, and you cannot help but gush so as you smile brightly around your fork.
You’re too busy stirring your fork around yet another string of pasta that you fail to see the softening look of the boy across the table from you. It’s a look that disappears by the time your gaze glints back up to resume the conversation. The pasta is considered a snack above all else, so it doesn’t take long for the pair of you to finish up your meal. Leaving a tip behind on the table, Yoongi walks over to you just as you’re straightening up from your chair. Silently, he offers his hand to you.
Knowing the routine by now, you take his hand, silently lacing your fingers together and letting him lead the way out of the cafe and back onto the sidewalk. The later afternoon shows itself in the steady increase of people, which is good because it makes you feel as if you can blend into the crowd either. There are still the occasional phones out, trailing after you and Yoongi as you walk along the sidewalk, but nothing that ever makes you feel as if you need to call Taehyung.
“Actually, this isn’t as bad as I thought it’d be,” You grumble to Yoongi quietly, a comment that he laughs at.
“I’m not that famous,” Yoongi jokingly teases you. “And my fans are just being respectful—give them a little credit.” His voice dies down shortly after, however, but it only takes you a few seconds to realize why.
The pair of you, in the midst of your simple ‘walk along the sidewalk’ plan, have arrived at a very familiar street corner. The sunset means that arriving performers who work best once the sun leaves are just beginning to set up their stage—laying out equipment, testing out sound systems, saying hello to some passersby who recognize the artists getting ready. You can read the signs of these interactions very easily. After all, it’s what Yoongi used to do a year ago, at this very spot too.
In front of you, a new performer, a singer, is setting up her own equipment—guitar in hand as she practices her strumming. You inch closer to Yoongi, your arms molded against each other. “Hey, hey,” You whisper at Yoongi. The boy leans over to better hear you. “She reminds me of you.”
Yoongi laughs. “What do you mean? How?”
You glance over at the girl again, not noticing the way Yoongi is still staring at you, quietly awaiting your answer. “You guys have the same drive,” You eventually note. “And the same determination. It’s easy to see in her, just as it’s always been like that for you…” You trail off, looking over to realize that he’s still looking at you.
“You noticed those things, huh?” Yoongi asks quietly.
His gaze is too enticing to look away from, pulling you in through a situation not unlike what had happened at the accessories shop earlier that afternoon. “I-I mean, of course I do…” Yoongi’s gaze feels like hot magnets that are just pulling the next words out of you. “I always notice with you.”
The world seems to quiet down at that, everything slowing down as you feel yourself mentally curse yourself out for those words. Why would you say it like that?
A million thoughts go through your head at once. You weren’t really lying or trying to play a part. You were being honest. You do always notice with Yoongi. And since he clearly only sees you as a friend that could participate in whatever scheme he can get himself into, then he would obviously hear your statement and think of it as nothing more than a friendly complement. Right? RIGHT?
Except, Yoongi is still just standing next to you, staring at you, not making any sort of comment whatsoever. He has that unreadable expression in his gaze, a look he always gives you when you let the cracks slip in your facade, but it’s something he never talks about, never explains to you—just like right now.
The silence grows tense, so tense that it begins to feel like weights on your shoulders, like a coil wrapping itself around your heart, because why isn’t he saying anything?
Yoongi hums, low and throaty and that coil around your heart drops into your stomach. “Is that so?” He inquires softly, continuing to gaze at you.
His gaze drops down to your lips, and that coil is replaced with butterflies all around you. It starts are a flutter in your stomach, in your heart, and your mind starts to race because what the fuck is happening?
Around you, the growing number of people means that someone accidentally bumps into you, driving you forward right into Yoongi’s chest. The pair of you stumble, effectively dissipating that cloud of tension that had threatened to curl through you. You cough, taking a small step away from Yoongi so that while the pair of you were still holding hands, that was the only thing connecting the pair of you.
You and Yoongi don’t have another run in like that for the remainder of the date, as that late afternoon sunset fades away into nighttime and you and Yoongi spend that time trying to enjoy each other’s presence whilst also not engaging in too much physical contact. Your fingers remain loosely intertwined but it never tightens as if the small air of space between your hands can hide away the nerves and tension you feel yourself trying to contain.
Even when Taehyung comes to pick the two of you up, and you no longer are under the obligation to hold hands, that air of space still feels heavy between the two of you.
.
The overwhelming positive response of your first official public date sends Seokjin through the moon, as well as provides him with a drive to arrange and send you and Yoongi out on more dates. All of which, fortunately for you, don’t come nearly as close to the level of tension experienced from the first date. Partly because you know your limits, and go into each planned date with a level of expectation for yourself as well as rules that you’ve internally programmed yourself to follow every time you and Yoongi step out of the car.
At the museum date, you make sure to keep your distance, using your intertwined hands with Yoongi as the only signal of your relationship. The pair of you joke around about the art pieces, whispering between each other about how many fans have taken pictures of the pair of you lingering about the museum, as well as relay information to each other about various rooms that you are interested in. But in a way, it definitely feels more like a typical friendly hang-out rather than a date.
The same idea can be applied to the next date Seokjin sends you on—a casual date at one of the local botanical gardens, each garden filled with a different culture to serve as the theme for its layout and plant growth. Some gardens have little cafe booths and grassy fields to buy some snacks before sitting down to enjoy the sunlight, which is an idea that Yoongi suggests that the two of you do. He points to one of the ice cream shops along the outskirts of a garden, and claims a seat on one of the benches so the two of you can enjoy your treat. The current summertime weather emits a warmer heat and breeze that curls lightly through the air throughout the day, making for a perfectly comfortable season to wear a sundress. It’s also the kind of undetectable weather for ice cream to melt down the cone, onto unsuspecting fingers curled into the dry waffle texture. Yoongi makes that well aware by poking your cheek with his sticky finger, garnering several pictures of the encounter.
Seokjin has even tried to implement studio life into his constant narrative to keep up the facade of your relationship with Yoongi. While the pair of you go on these occasional dates, Yoongi also has a deadline to fulfill with his album release. On the days where dates are not planned out, he’ll be in the studio—rearranging songs to fit in with the music beats that have more or less been tapered down to perfection. As his manager, sometimes you find yourself staying past your allotted time slot of being at the studio, before sneaking into the recording booth way past midnight to see what Yoongi and Namjoon are up to.
Just as it follows: you straighten up, craning your neck backwards a little to allow for slight muscle extensions after sitting at a desk for an extra hour too long. With Yoongi’s album steadily approaching, there are interviews that need to be arranged, magazines and newspapers and radio shows alike all reaching out to you for the opportunity to cover Yoongi’s growth as an artist. Albums also equate to tours to help promote the album, and with the close call from Yoongi’s last experience with such, it means that you need to book more locations—or the same location across multiple dates.
Overall, the growing pile of work means that you and everyone else at KSJ Studios are just as anticipated for Yoongi’s album release as the general public. It seems as if his collective fanbase are hoping and waiting under the same parameters: was the album going to be as good as they were expecting?
You shoulder your purse, stepping out of your office and shutting it behind you. You navigate through the hallways, glancing sideways to peek out the long glassway of windows, all overlooking the city skyline, the multicolor lights flickering ahead in the distance. You quirk a lip.
Your usual brisk pace dies down when you pass the studio you know Yoongi and Namjoon are recording in. The soundproof walls inside mean that hardly any music ever seeps out from between the cracks, only heightening your curiosity. Your busy schedule recently has made it so you have hardly been able to hear what Yoongi and Namjoon have come up with.
You glance down at your watch. It was nearing midnight. Well, you think to yourself, a little peek wouldn’t hurt. You reach over to grip the door handle, pushing it down and pushing it open. Inside is the usual scene: Yoongi behind the glass, his fingers curled around the headphones as he speaks into the microphone. His voice filters through the main studio area, where Namjoon sits behind computers and music panels, capturing every single second of what is going on.
Further driven by curiosity, you find yourself pulling harder at the door to let yourself in. Namjoon turns at the sound, but softens a little when he sees that it’s you.
“Burning the midnight oil?” You tease, standing next to Namjoon at the table, watching Yoongi’s closed eyes as he loses himself in the song.
Namjoon grins back. “You’re not gonna tell us to stop, are you?”
“Hey.” You bring both arms up in a sign of surrender. “I’m off the clock on this one. Just wanted to see what you two were up to.”
Suddenly, Yoongi calls your name from behind the glass, as the noise is amplified through the studio. You jump slightly, having not expected to be noticed so soon. Yoongi waves. “It’s late!” He calls. “What are you still doing here?”
You lean forward to press the button that opens the two-way communication. “I’m not sure you heard, but there’s an artist in this studio that’s working on an upcoming album—it’s causing a lot of pain for the rest of us.”
Yoongi laughs at that. “Touche, touche.” He brightens up slightly. “Hey, we’re wrapping up on this song, so if you stick around I’ll drive you home.”
This is a natural offer for Yoongi to make, considering the extent to which you’ve spent long nights here. Brushing it off as nothing more than Yoongi just being a good pal, you nod and flash him a thumbs up. “Sounds good, sounds good. But take your time. Don’t let me get in the way.”
You turn around, allowing the music of Yoongi’s song to refilter back through the studio. You park yourself atop the couch at the back, settling into the soft cushions. Come to think of it, falling asleep definitely isn’t the worst thing in the world to do—especially on this couch. And you’re exhausted, what with scheduling events all day and having to burn through your social battery by making one too many phone calls with various people within the industry.
The last thing you remember is Yoongi’s soft humming that fades away into a quiet static.
You jerk awake after what feels like a few minutes—but judging from your new position on the couch (horizontal this time, instead of vertical) and the blanket that has been tucked under your chin, you realize quickly that this few minutes has actually been a few hours. It might be hard to believe that, because the world around you still seems very similar to what it had been when you fell asleep. The lack of windows in the studio make it very difficult to distinguish time—although Yoongi’s voice sounds much closer than it had when you first fell asleep.
You sit up.
Namjoon and Yoongi jolt at your sudden movement. “Woah! She’s awake now,” Yoongi teases.
Blinking for a few seconds, you turn your head to find Yoongi out of the recording booth and instead sitting at one of the tables in the actual studio setting. Surrounding Namjoon and Yoongi looks like an entire McDonalds family meal: chicken nuggets, $1 menu burgers, lots of french fries…
You let out a breath to help further situate you to your new surroundings. “Min Yoongi…” You start, voice hoarse. “You said you were just finishing up.”
“I was,” Yoongi explains, looking vaguely guilty. Only vaguely though. “But I had this sudden epiphany, like holy shit you really had to be here—it was crazy.”
“I was here,” You choke out.
Yoongi waves you off. “You know what I mean—here here. Anyways, yeah, we realized that we couldn’t leave, especially when I got Namjoon on the same page. He was just as excited as I was!”
Namjoon slaps his hand. “Don’t drag me into this!”
Yoongi ignores him. “Anyways, it’s like two in the morning and we got hungry. McDonalds is the food of champions, after all. You hungry? Here, have some water first.” He grabs a bottle of water from the table and unscrews the cap. Suddenly, he’s standing up and making his way towards the couch. He sits down next to you, offering the water to you. “Here. You must be thirsty.”
You are. Still heavy-lidded too, but you try your best to blink away the exhaustion as you blindly reach for the water and manage to grab it after Yoongi adjusts his own angled arm. He watches you as you tilt your head back to down some of the water, accidentally drinking a little more than your mouth can handle. Some of it slides down the corner of your lip, making you angle your head back properly and remove your lips from the bottle head.
Yoongi softens a little at your clumsy nature, tugging the sleeve of his long-sleeved forward in order to pat the corner of your mouth. “Aw, look at my tiny little baby, can’t even drink water properly,” He coos.
You flinch slightly away from him, trying for a glare that comes out more like a pout. Yoongi laughs softly at the sight. “There are no cameras around us, Min Yoongi,” You grumble out. “You don’t need to be so attentive.”
“Nevermind that, I’m just trying to be a friend. You want a french fry?” He reaches across the space separating the couch from the table, and grabs the box of salty french fries. His voice carries that usual positive disposition from previously, but the light in his eyes has died down a little. You don’t notice it, too busy looking at the french fries and realizing that you are actually a little hungry.
The remainder of Yoongi and Namjoon’s break is dedicated to finishing up the family meal, before Yoongi looks at the clock and claps his hands together. “Hey Namjoon, I think I should take my girl home before we get back to working. Is that okay?”
Namjoon’s eyes flicker between the two of you, but he relents. “Of course.” He utters your name. “Have a good night.”
“I should be saying that to you,” You return teasingly, more of your senses have returned since putting food into your stomach. “See you tomorrow, Namjoon.”
So Yoongi takes you home, driving through the darkened streets, making light conversation with you, completely ignoring the fact that he has just addressed you as his girl, before your phone starts to buzz in your lap. It’s a notification from Instagram, saying that Namjoon has tagged you in a picture. Raising an eyebrow, you tap the alert, which takes you to a picture from just a few minutes ago—you and Yoongi at the studio, Yoongi tapping gently at your face with his sweater paw. The caption burns into your mind: three am company, ft my favorite artist and his favorite girl.
His favorite girl.
His girl.
.
.
CHAPTER 5: HIS GIRL
.
Yoongi’s album is entitled Y2, and it releases in the autumn, when the leaves are colored orange and the breeze has called for cozy jackets and big sweaters. It’s the perfect attire to wear as the earphones get plugged in and slipped into ears—curled up by soft cashmere and Yoongi’s luring voice. He’s got about sixteen songs on the album, a sweet mixture of loose beats and soft vocal voices that seem to simultaneously battle the drawn out harsh tone of stories extended across various three minute arrangements. The stories cover the low point—passive aggressive fights, of late nights, of “holding your hand, being so close, yet feeling so lonely”. But the songs also touch on the high points—coming back together, of soft morning light, of “being with you, wiping the traces of exhaustion from the corner of your lips, so close yet so far away, and still knowing you’re all I [he] could ever want”.
At least, it is what one article touches upon in a Y2 review, where the journalist gives high remarks to Yoongi’s album. She calls it a refreshing interpretation of music, continuing in the era of singers actually singing about their feelings. More than that, an era of storytelling in music. Of anything, of life, of the highs and the lows—the sadness, the happiness, the softness.
Safe to say that Yoongi is very excited to read this review on his phone, along with the surplus of positive things people have to say—from highly regarded journalists who belong to highly regarded newspaper companies, from social media, from his friends and family. Most especially, from you. You: whose hand he holds underneath the table as the numbers of listens start pouring in from various streaming websites.
He’s been nervous about this. He’s put his blood, sweat, and tears into the creation of this album, every song has been nailed down to perfection. His name, and his heart, is back out into the world.
The night of the album release is the launch party.
“Dude, it’s supposed to be a chill night,” Jungkook calls from the hallway, and you can’t help but laugh at how exasperated the boy sounds. “Would you just calm down?” Jungkook emerges from the aforementioned hallway. Despite his mention of this ‘chill night’, he’s still wearing something vaguely casual chic. “You’re his manager. Manage his overthinking tendencies.”
You laugh, watching as Jungkook plops down into the empty spot next to you on the couch, immediately leaning back into the cushion. “You know as well as I do that I don’t have that much control over him.”
Jungkook shrugs his shoulders. “You probably have more control than you think.”
Before you can ask more questions, think more deeply into what the fuck Jungkook means by that, his eyes land on the hallway entrance before straightening up in the cusion. Your eyes follow Jungkook’s movement, where Yoongi is now standing in the once vacant space of his apartment. But his stance isn’t what gets you to stare, what makes your breath feel like it has just caught in your chest. Although he’s following the ‘casual chic’ dress code that Seokjin has ordered, there’s something about a white t-shirt that hits differently when it’s paired with a coat and dark jeans that highlight his long legs.
Yoongi gestures down at what he’s wearing meekly. “What do you think?” Although it appears that he’s addressing both you and Jungkook, his gaze is almost entirely fixed on you.
Trying hard to ignore the racing of your heart, you straighten up and somehow manage to make your way over to him without snapping your ankle on your chunky platform boots. Doing your best to pay attention to his outfit over his face, you reach over to straighten out the silver necklace he’s got dangling at his chest. “You look good,” You settle calmly. “And Jungkook is right—it’s supposed to be a chill night. Seokjin just invited people from the label. And some of your friends as well. Relax a bit, will you?”
Finally, you force yourself to level your gaze with Yoongi’s, fully confident that he’s just staring at you and probably wondering why you aren’t making eye contact with him. But when you do manage to glance at Yoongi’s face, you realize quickly that he’s not even staring at you. Instead, he’s staring down, at the curve of your throat.
Without warning, your cardiac system seems to pump itself too hard, because your breath of surprise comes out through your nose, effectively bringing up and lowering your lungs so fast that anyone would be able to read your vital sounds now. This proves to be true, because Yoongi’s gaze darts up from your neck to your eyes so quickly, that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had you stuck around without looking at his eyes. Doing that, however, might have saved you from this now tricky situation. “Sorry,” Yoongi manages, eyes flickering between yours. “I, uh, didn’t hear what you said.”
You realize the gravity of your position—your fingers now curled around the lapels of Yoongi’s jacket and one of his hands curled around your waist. That gravitational pull from every single one of your dates with Yoongi comes back again, curling around your neck and seeming to push you closer, closer—!
Jungkook coughs loudly from behind you.
You and Yoongi tear your gazes away from each other, as you uncurl both of your fingers from around Yoongi’s coat. “I-uh,” You start. “Was just saying that you should relax a little. You don’t have to try and impress anyone tonight.”
Yoongi sneaks one last glance at you. “We’ll see,” He says, before stepping away from you and brushing past Jungkook to make his way towards the door. Jungkook turns to look at you, wide-eyed and mouthing the words ‘what the fuck was that?’
To which you shake your head, very sure that you don’t want to get into this tonight of all nights. This was supposed to be a celebration for Yoongi. Just as you’ve done for the past few months, you can continue to keep your emotions in check. Easy-peasy.
Except it’s not easy-peasy because you see Seokjin at the club that he’s reserved for Yoongi’s album release party, and you realize that this is not a chill event for you—you still have to keep up the facade of your relationship in front of everyone.
Yoongi seems to realize this at the same time you do, because he inches closer to you and laces your fingers together. From afar, Seokjin nods in an unspoken confirmation regarding your behavior.
The beginning of the party starts with the trickle in of the various guests Seokjin has invited—from the friends he has made in the business, to others signed under the KSJ records label, to you, Jungkook, and Yoongi’s personal friends from college. The onslaught of new people fills you with the usual sense of excitement after not having attended a party in what feels like years. Working as a manager for a budding new artist is a lot less about the parties and more about the hustle.
The first hour of the event is dedicated to the mingling of people—of free food and conversations around the bottomless cocktails that every guest rushes to the bar to take full advantage of. It’s nice to be able to catch up with the friends that you and Yoongi haven’t spoken to since graduation—which is the group you and Yoongi first approach, as Yoongi is slinging his arm around one Park Jimin. The latter whose eyes widen and lips curl up into a grin at the sight of the two of you. It’s nice to see an old friend again, it almost brings you back to a time where you and Yoongi were both in-tune and surface-level friends.
“Hey, congratulations on the new album release!” Jimin exclaims brightly after the three of you have acquired some drinks from the bartender. Jimin raises his drink first, to which you and Yoongi follow suit.
As the glasses clink into the air, Jimin adds in another thing that reminds you of the fact that you and Yoongi are not back in college. You are here, in the present, with a fake relationship on the line.
“And congratulations to your relationship announcement,” Jimin continues.
You cough on your drink at that, lowering the glass immediately, feeling guilty all of a sudden. “Jimin, I know what all those reports have been saying…”
“Don’t worry,” Jimin brushes off. “I read through some of them. You guys have been dating for three years, right? I’m honestly surprised I never saw it. In hindsight, it makes sense.” Jimin takes a longer sip, gesturing towards Yoongi with a noise of acknowledgement coming from his throat. “Hm—I guess because you guys are dating now, I can let the cat out of the bag—but, Yoongi liked you from the first moment he met you.”
Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to choke on his drink, his chest heaving as he coughs into his sleeve. “Jimin, ah, you don’t need to talk about that—!”
Jimin laughs, naturally assuming that Yoongi’s choke was done out of shyness and not something deeper than that. “What, you think just because this happened when we were at college, I wouldn’t have said something all these years later?”
You can’t help but smile at their exchange. Although Jimin’s comment about Yoongi’s crush definitely piques your interest. You turn to Yoongi. “You had a crush on me back then?”
Yoongi opens his mouth, but Jimin beats him to it. “Oh yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about you—said that you had this smile like starlight and were super easy to talk to.”
“You have a great memory for someone who almost flunked college algebra,” Yoongi bites out hotly.
Jimin, clearly oblivious to the situation, laughs out loud. “I agree. Normally I would have forgotten all about that. But.” With Jimin’s fingers still curled around the wine glass, he is only able to point an index finger out at Yoongi. “I’ll never forget that look in your eyes. Like you saw something you were never going to let go of.”
You know Jimin is the one talking, but you cannot help but look at Yoongi as you feel your world spinning slightly around you. You blame it on the alcohol—as small of a sip as you have taken so far. Jimin, unlike a lot of the other parties you’ve been spending your time with, is not in on the joke of your relationship with Yoongi being a PR cover story. So there has to be some merit to it. Right?
Right?
Before you can even think how to phrase the billions of questions flying through your mind, the soft beat of a hand against a microphone sounds through the bar, as the original music that has been pounding through the club gets lowered to show that someone is trying to command everyone’s attention.
It’s Kim Seokjin, situated at the stage, with the microphone in hand. “Hey everyone! Before we actually start unveiling the numbers that Y2 has hit so far, I just want to say a few words. First of all, thank you everyone so much for joining us tonight as we celebrate the anticipated release of Min Yoongi’s album.”
Lots of claps sound from the guests, several cheers, one of you and Jimin join in just for the sake of embarrassing Yoongi. If he’s flustered with the attention, he’s gotten a lot better at hiding it.
“Actually,” Seokjin continues. “Why don’t we have the man of the hour join us? After all, my words don’t mean shit up here—I wasn’t the one who just released new music. Yoongi, come on up!”
Lots more claps and cheers, and the music volume increases dramatically just to give Yoongi some sort of platform to enter on. It makes you laugh. Seokjin is clearly having fun with his role. So you watch, sticking by Jimin, as Yoongi emerges from the crowd to step onto the stage. Seokjin pulls the microphone away from the pair of them as he leans over to whisper something into Yoongi’s ear, where the latter nods a few times before accepting the microphone that is now being extended out to him.
Yoongi clears his throat, speaking over the lowering music. “Hi guys, thanks so much for coming out,” He starts, laughing a little when there is another round of cheers. “As I’m sure a lot of you know, this is my first full length album that’s being released out into the world and it’s basically everything I ever could have dreamed of. One lesson that I’ve learned is that making albums of both the cover songs I did and the original songs I would produce in my shitty college apartment is a completely different experience than getting professional equipment to do a lot of the work for me.”
You laugh at that, the memories floating through your mind.
Yoongi smiles a little at the feedback he gets. But he continues. “And of course a lot of that professional equipment was able to work in my favor because I had helped. Seokjin of course, deserves a thank you for letting me learn and experiment with new sounds, and for letting me take a risk by trying out beats and stories that a lot of people might have turned down. And Namjoon.” He seems to spot Namjoon from the crowd, because he delivers a nod. “For being more than my favorite producer, but also my mentor and my guide. We had a lot of lightbulb late nights together. And finally…” His eyes land on you, and you feel yourself self-consciously straighten up. “Y/N—my Y/N. For those of you who don’t know, my girlfriend is my manager and we recently made our relationship public. I thought the transition from private to public would have been the hardest thing of my life, but she made it so easy. Just as she’s always made it so easy to inspire my music, to be my best friend—and to love her.”
Love.
You suddenly feel like you’re seeing the world through a small lens, unable to believe the words you are hearing and the sights you are seeing. Yoongi is staring right back at you, with all this love and adoration in his eyes, lips quirking up as a result of the coos from the audience.
It’s a vague kind of spotlight anxiety from seeing so many people looking at you considering the circumstances. It’s a feeling that only heightens when Yoongi opens his mouth again to continue speaking. “Actually, honey, why don’t you come up here, so I can thank you properly.”
The whoops and cheers sound again, and Jimin has to nudge you in the ribs to get you to move. Your initial thoughts are one of panic, suspicion, and curiosity. One glance at Seokjin’s direction conveys the high influx of questions that are flowing through your mind—what exactly are those two boys planning?
Yoongi’s hand extends out to you, helping you up onto the stage, as you turn around to face the crowd of people Yoongi has just been addressing. Of course, you have less experience hiding your general shyness around crowds, so the most you can muster is a smile and a wave.
Yoongi laughs into the microphone. “Don’t worry baby, I didn’t call you up to embarrass you. I just wanted to show you that all of this…” He gestures to the whole club, the crowds of people who have taken time out of their schedule to show support, the sounds of his album now filtering through the speakers. “All of this was possible because you believed in me, you supported me, and agreed to help me work toward my dream. This is all as much yours as it is mine.”
Then, he surprises you by leaning forward to brush his lips across your cheek—a gesture that further incites a bigger reaction of positive cheers and hoots from the audience. You turn your head immediately towards him as soon as he pulls away, your eyes wide with surprise. After all, you and Yoongi have never discussed the rule on kissing before, have never brought up any sort of lip contact to any degree. His boldness is something that takes you completely off guard.
And judging from the uncertain look that dances behind his eyes, a flicker that only you can see and decipher, you can tell that he hadn’t been expecting that from himself either.
You’re about to pull away, maybe walk off the stage and take another drink to whatever the fuck that was all about, before Jimin’s familiar voice sounds off from within the crowd.
“You call that a kiss, Min Yoongi?” Jimin calls, close enough now that it’s easier to see him. “C’mon, kiss your girlfriend like you mean it!”
The rest of the crowd immediately catches onto what Jimin is doing, and they play into it immediately. Suddenly, shouts of “KISS HER, KISS HER!” sound throughout the guests.
The new direction that this has taken over the span of just a few seconds seconds you into another wild onslaught of differing emotions. Nevermind the fact that you’ve never agreed to actually kiss Min Yoongi. Obviously, the internal choice has been made for a handful of reasons, none of which you can explain to Yoongi or Seokjin without digging yourself further into this hole where you would truly have no way of escaping.
Which is why you clearly can’t say anything of protest right now. Everyone thinks the pair of you have been dating for years, and that kissing has become a natural action for you both to do. Of course they would play into Jimin’s game, thinking nothing harmful of it.
Your heart pounds loudly in your ears as you shift your gaze from the crowd of people before you to Yoongi, who looks equally as stunned by the request as you. He plays it off a little bit, however, smiling as he brings the microphone close to his mouth again. “I’m not sure you all would want to be subjected by some PDA, especially you over there, Park.”
Jimin makes a noise of disapproval. “It’ll just be this one time! I’m sure people don’t mind! Spread the love, Min.”
Other people from the guest list add on that they don’t mind in between their laughter and giggles, probably writing off you and Yoongi’s shy disposition as just that: a shy, private couple who is still getting used to the watchful eye of the general public. Nevermind the fact that you and Yoongi have just never kissed each other before.
Yoongi then turns to look at you, microphone down to his legs so that it can’t pick up the small whispers the pair of you start exchanging. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have brought you up here…”
“No, no, it’s fine, I understand why you did it…” You trail off. “Kissing my cheek, on the other hand…”
Yoongi groans. “Yeah, that’s my bad. Seokjin said I could consider doing it but I wasn’t thinking when I leaned over. I completely forgot that Jimin is a menace to society. I’m gonna kick his ass after this.”
You want to continue this private, side-lined conversation, but it is overrun by the louder voices that keep repeating the same two lines over and over again: “KISS HER, KISS HER!” until the echoes of it start ringing in your ear drums.
Yoongi switches topics to the more pressing one at hand. “So, uh, I guess we should…”
You exhale quickly, nodding. “It seems so…”
Yoongi inches closer to you, his breath fanning your lips as your eyes instinctively close. “I’m sorry,” He whispers, the final thing he says to you before he kisses you.
Now, let’s backtrack a little. You’ve liked Yoongi for years, so to say that you’ve never thought of this moment would just be a lie to yourself. Of course you’ve thought about kissing Yoongi. Or, at the very least, you’ve caught yourself staring at his lips when he would go off on another spiral about his passions. That type of talking is very hot, so what?
But you never thought you would be able to experience it, to kiss the lips you’ve flickered your eyes to more times than you’re willing to admit. So as soon as you feel the weight of his mouth against your own, your brain goes haywire. Suddenly, all your senses are hyper focused on Yoongi—from his lips, to the warmth of his body wrapping itself around you, to his fingers curled around your wrist.
You hardly hear the cheers from the audience, too busy allowing your heart to melt into butterflies as he presses harder into you, moving his lips against yours. You part your lips as well, curling your wrist to gather the material of his shirt into your hands.
It feels like time has stretched out before Seokjin claps both of you on the back, forcing you to jolt away from Yoongi. He actually looks flustered this time—pink cheeks and reddened lips, his eyes are fixated on you, chest heaving. You feel like you’re in a similar state of shock, especially because kissing Yoongi makes something dawn on you. A realization of ice cold water.
This isn’t just a crush you’ve harbored on Yoongi for the past few years. This isn’t just some small schoolgirl crush living out a fantasy, or something you can easily brush off, or simple butterflies you can squash everytime he reaches out to hold your hand. This is love. You’re in love with your best friend. And you have absolutely no fucking clue what to do about it.
If the audience is taken aback by this long-term couple in front of them looking zero point two seconds away from devouring each other in a frenzied passion, no one settles long enough to comment or stare upon it for too long. Seokjin does well to grab the microphone from Yoongi and bring the attention back to the actual party on hand. He mentions another round of free alcohol, which are two words that can take anyone’s attention away.
“And Yoongi, uh, I actually need to borrow for you a moment,” Seokjin murmurs in a low voice. “So I hope I’m not taking away from…” He trails off, gesturing awkwardly between the two of you. “Whatever this is…”
“Oh no!” You interject quickly, taking a step away from Yoongi. “Not taking away at all.”
Yoongi gives you a concerned look. “Maybe we should, uh, talk about that…”
You shake your head. “No, it’s okay, seriously.” You shrug a shoulder. “Just part of the act, right?”
Yoongi’s concern melts away into something that might be hurt, but it’s gone just as quickly as it had come. “I’ll try not to be long then.”
You nod. “Yeah, no problem—no need to rush or anything… I’ll just be hanging out with Jimin…”
Yoongi gazes at you for a few seconds longer, before he lets himself get dragged off the stage by Seokjin. Rather than immediately go out to seek your old friend, you find your gaze following after the two of them, trying to see where exactly Yoongi is getting roped into.
You continue to trail after them in the club, until the two of them are pulled into a booth—the person opposite of them makes your lips part in utter shock.
.
“Yoongi, I want you to meet an old friend of mine,” Seokjin starts as he and Yoongi dive deeper into the thrones of people. Yoongi feels himself being directed towards a corner booth, currently occupied by two people. “She wanted me to introduce you.” Finally, the pair of them stop at the head of the table. “This is Lee Jieun.”
Right off the bat, Yoongi is vaguely insulted that Seokjin thought that someone like Lee Jieun needed an introduction—because who wouldn’t know who Lee Jieun?
Lee Jieun, like Yoongi, is a singer-songwriter with a sweetheart reputation, who weaves stories and experiences through her music. But unlike Yoongi, who got his start through Youtube and built himself from the ground up, Lee Jieun signed into a record label at the age of 15. As one could tell, she was that talented. Still is, as a matter of fact. Her albums are continuously winning awards, establishing herself in the charts, connecting with people all over the world. He would know—when Yoongi finally discovered Jieun in the midst of his Youtuber days, it was the catalyst that served as the biggest influence towards the release of his original songs. The fact that they’re both the same age only makes Yoongi even more in awe of her.
Yoongi being able to see Lee Jieun, in the flesh, is a powerful enough sight to leave him speechless.
Lee Jieun sits at the booth, looking all prettied up with her big eyes and red lips. Everything about her seems regal, from the smile she flashes Yoongi to the hand she extends out towards him.
It takes a second for Yoongi to register what he needs to do. Hastily, he steps forward and takes her hand in his. Despite her delicate nature, her handshake is firm as the pair of them move their joined hands up and down once. Honestly, considering their status difference, he feels like a handshake is too casual for them, but he doesn’t speak of it. He just basks in the moment, until he lets go of her hand.
Afterwards, he joins Seokjin in the booth, sliding into his seat.
Jieun smiles brightly at the two of them. “Thank you for going out of your way to come talk to me. I hope I wasn’t disrupting your night.”
Yoongi shakes his head immediately. “Oh, god no. Of course not. I’m just—I’m really honored to see you here. I-I had no idea that you were friends with Seokjin.”
Jieun laughs. “Oh yeah, we go way back—we were actually signed under the same label. Seokjin left to pursue management a few years ago, but we’ve always kept in touch.” She reaches over to take her glass of soda from the table. “He told me when he signed you, you know. He said that you were doing street performances a few cities down?”
Yoongi flushes at that. “Oh yeah—my origin story.”
“I mean, everyone starts from somewhere,” Jieun brushes off, laying down her cup again. “So I’ve honestly been looking out for your name since Seokjin signed you. I heard about your tour, but knew that I wanted to wait until your first full length album just to make sure your reputation was a little more fleshed out before bringing up my idea with Seokjin.”
Yoongi blinks, switching his gaze from Jieun to Seokjin. The latter nods, as if to let him know that Jieun would be the one providing information. So Yoongi turns back to Jieun.
Jieun continues. “Since it seems that we’ve both developed a songwriting, storytelling reputation amongst the music industry, I was hoping that you’d agree to do a collaboration with me. Just one single, both of our names attached to it. It’s been awhile since I worked with another artist, and I’m sure that doing this will only further put your name out there. It could also be a really good learning experience.”
Yoongi almost cannot believe his ears. Lee Jieun wanted to do a collaboration? With him and his inexperienced ass?
Yoongi coughs out in wonder. “Wow.”
Jieun smirks. “Not what you were expecting?”
“No, no, not at all!” Yoongi reassures, but then he backpedals a little. “I mean, it’s not that I was expecting you to ask for a collaboration—I just—!” He cuts himself off, exhaling heavily to calm his nerves. “It’s just, you were a very big reason I even wanted to sing my original songs back when I was street performing. So the fact that you’re asking me to do a song together is honestly so crazy to me.”
Jieun grins. “I’m honored—so are you agreeing to my request?”
Almost on instinct, Yoongi turns to Seokjin. It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t want to do the collab, it’ll probably be the single most greatest thing to happen in his career, but Seokjin was technically his boss and their contract had it so Seokjin usually had to final say in what he believed would be best for him.
And for the briefest flicker of a second, Yoongi’s mind switches to you. More than Seokjin’s approval, he finds himself seeking your praise the most. After all, you know how much he admires Lee Jieun. He wants to share this moment with you.
Instead of jumping up to go find you, he forces himself to stay rooted to his seat. “I-I think I would be the one who feels honored. T-That is, if Seokjin says it’s okay.”
Seokjin holds his arms out. “Of course it’s okay! The collaboration was also partly my idea. Anywho.” He turns back to Jieun. “We’ll have to run through Yoongi’s schedule with his manager just to see when he’s available. But after that, we can get started.”
At the mention of you, Yoongi’s manager, Jieun’s eyes brighten with her smile. “Oh yes, your girlfriend.” She sits a little straighter, trying to seek you out. “She’s here at the event right? I’d really love to meet her, if that’s okay?”
Yoongi nods immediately. “O-Of course!” He also sits up a little straighter, moving about in his seat to try and locate you. He finds you near the bar, seeming to have ditched your hang-out with Jimin, as you take an occasional sip of your drink. “She’s over there.”
With a nod, the three of them move out of the booth and towards the bar, where you’re still slouched over, scrolling through Instagram on your phone. You seem to notice their approaching presence, because you take a quick glance over to acknowledge them, before doing a double take when you realize who else is in Yoongi’s company.
“Oh my gosh!” You exclaim, immediately sliding out of your bar stool, your gaze fixated on Jieun.
Seokjin laughs at your starstruck reaction. “Y/N, this is Lee Jieun—but I’m guessing you already knew that?”
You seem to realize your behavior, because your shyness comes back. “I do. Um, hi! It’s really nice to meet you.” You reach over to offer your hand.
Jieun takes it, shaking for a second. “The pleasure is all mine.”
Your gaze immediately flints to Yoongi. “Yoongi, you didn’t tell me that you were acquainted with Lee Jieun herself!”
Yoongi waves you off. “Actually, Seokjin is the mutual party.”
Your lips part in shock, as you nod once, twice, in understanding. “Well, uh, in that case, I hope you’re having a good time tonight, Jieun.”
“It’s really a wonderful launch party,” Jieun praises. “But I do admit to having ulterior motives. I actually came by to ask Yoongi if he wanted to work on a collab song with me.”
Your lips part, and Yoongi feels a vague sense of pride swell up in his chest when you turn to look at him, eyes brighter than they have been all night. “Yoongi! That’s so amazing! I hope you agreed.”
“I did, actually,” Yoongi says with the nod of his head. If you notice that he’s puffing his chest out a little as your words go straight to his head, you don’t comment on it. “We’ll definitely have to go over my schedule with you, pick some dates where Jieun and I can have some writing sessions, and then the recording sessions, just to name the big picture stuff that’ll have to get done. But we should all be good to go.”
As Yoongi continues to list everything that’ll need to be done in order to create music together, your gaze shifts between Yoongi and Jieun occasionally, taking in their equal excitement and passion for the long project ahead. It isn’t until the end, when you and Yoongi leave the launch party, after having collected praise and much more from the many friends and connections that have been gained throughout the night, you enter the car wearing an unreadable expression—like you’re pondering something that threatens to break you.
.
To be frank, you aren’t surprised that Lee Jieun asks Yoongi to collaborate together. Sure, maybe she came a little earlier than you had expected, but you always knew it was a matter of time before the pair of them met. Their reputations are too similar, their personalities too good together; you’re sure that fate would have lined them up at some point.
It just feels like maybe the universe made them a little too perfect for each other—and it’s something that becomes glaringly obvious as a month of songwriting goes by without a hitch. Every few days, Jieun would turn up to KSJ Records, bright-eyed and always looking so, so pretty. Every few days, Jieun and Yoongi would sit next to each other, conversing about the story of their song, both bright-eyed with unbridled affection for what they were writing. And sure, Namjoon would be a part of these songwriting sessions. But that’s not the point.
The point is that as Yoongi gets bigger and success becomes a more natural occurrence in his life, the more people he’s going to meet with whom he shares a common interest and dedication for. People he would probably (most definitely) get along with a lot better than he could get along with you. Friendship is nice and all, but it can’t substitute for the powerful combination of passion, intimacy, and commitment that comes out of romantic companionship.
And you see it in his eyes: the excitement he gets when he’s surrounded with like-minded people. You’re Yoongi’s manager, sure, and one of his best friends, obviously, but there’s only so much you can contribute to conversations about the actual music. Truth be told, when it comes to editing, you just do whatever Yoongi tells you to. And don’t even get you started on the music arrangements—you can’t even lift a candle to what Yoongi himself can do. Or Namjoon. Or especially Lee Jieun.
And although you know that Yoongi means no ill-intention, it feels as if he takes every opportunity to remind you of that fact.
“I mean, she’s amazing.” He’s sighing dreamily over his bulgogi. The pair of you are at a corner booth in a Korean barbeque restaurant, on another fake date Seokjin has prearranged for you. It’s not the first date you’ve been on since Jieun entered the picture, and it’s definitely not the first time Yoongi is bringing her up. And although this isn’t even a real date, and although this isn’t a real relationship, there’s only so much you can take—both as a friend and as someone who is starting to feel the curl of jealousy in your stomach.
Still, you refuse to let the cat out of the bag. So you sigh, picking up your chopsticks and digging into your meat. The only thing you can manage is: “I bet she is.”
But Yoongi doesn’t stop there. “You should have seen her today, she was on fire. Songwriting abilities, obviously. We were stuck on this one part of the song, but then she just swooped in with this perfect one-liner that made my heart drop. Seriously, it was so cool. I don’t know how her mind works, but I want to keep hanging out with her to learn more.”
You almost drop your meat completely into your salt dish, but you recover quickly with a cough. The noise helps cover up the fact that your heart feels the white-hot burn of frustration and confusion. “W-Well, you guys do make a good team. You know, being on the same level talent-wise.”
Yoongi laughs at that, completely oblivious to your state of mind. “Talent-wise? I wouldn’t say I’m anywhere near the level Jieun is at…”
As he trails off, you dare yourself to flicker your gaze up to him, seeing the pink flush that dusts along his cheeks. Interpreting this as shyness for the internal praise and fondness he has for Jieun, you look away and pick up the plate of raw beef brisket to dump into the grill.
Yoongi notices what you’re doing, and immediately reaches over to take the plate from you. “Here, let me do it.”
A part of you wants to fight about it, but you know doing so will just lead you down the path of no man’s land. So you let go, offering the tongs to Yoongi as he takes it to scrap the meat into the grill between the two of you. He takes the silence as an opportunity to further gush about Jieun, and how he can’t wait to work on music arrangements with her, how he’s excited to record the song with her, so on and so forth.
How could you even contribute to a conversation like this? He’s talking to you about a girl in a way that reminds you of your college days—back when the pair of you were strictly friends and nothing more, and he would talk to you about girls he thought were cute. It feels a little bit like right now. Yoongi and Jieun do make a good team, they get along together, and have formed a closeness within such a short period of time that anyone passing by the studio would assume they’ve been friends for years. Or, even further, that they were dating. At the very least, Yoongi speaks highly enough of Jieun that one could assume that she was the one he liked, and not you.
It feels a little bit like being left behind—it’s a thought that only continues to fester.
.
It takes a few more weeks, but you eventually draft up Yoongi’s tour schedule. It’s a few sheets of paper that detail the duration of the tour, the cities, the locations, the dates of each location, the size of the venue, how ticket distribution will work, on, and on, and on—all information that Yoongi has insisted on knowing about ever since he was signed into KSJ Records. The man just likes to know what his fans have to go through in order to see him, and you respect that.
However, before you can officially create the tour post that’ll be up on the KSJ Records social media account, it needs to go through a final approval: from Yoongi himself. And because he likes to take notes with paper and pen, like the old-fashioned songwriter he is, he’s asked you to print everything out for him.
This is what leads you to stand near the printer in your office, waiting for the last page to print and slide into your awaiting hands. Once all the pages come out, you flip through them to make sure that every city on the tour is accounted for. You turn back to your desk, collecting some magazines that have been stacked on top of your table.
Along with getting the setlist for the tour, Yoongi had also asked you to get a hold of some magazines and articles that provided reviews from his first tour. Something about wanting to read any critiques people might have had for his show.
You gather the small stack as well before sliding it into your bag and stepping out into the hall. It’s surprisingly early for you to be leaving your office, the late afternoon, but there’s a part of you that just wants to give the document stack to Yoongi and dip out for the rest of the night. By now, the doubts of Yoongi’s affection for Jieun has dug itself deeper into your mind and letting yourself be around Yoongi for too long brings up too many questions that cannot be good for your mentality.
Questions like: If he could, would Yoongi prefer to date Jieun for real?
Was Jieun better than you?
And the best one of them all: Were you just holding Yoongi back from better relationships?
You continue to walk down the hallway of the building, your pace a little slower than normal because of the cloudy thoughts that threaten to overtake your mind. Finally, you stop outside of the studio you know Yoongi and Jieun are recording in. You take in a deep breath, forcing your usual cheery personality to shine through as you pull down on the handle and let yourself into the studio.
As soon as you step inside, you almost wish that you had just slid the documents under the door. The sight of that would probably have been easier to process than the one in front of your eyes right now.
Namjoon, as usual at the desk surrounded by music panels and laptops, playing the recently finished music through the recording booth situated on the other side of the glass. Behind this aforementioned sheet of glass are Jieun and Yoongi. With headphones on, they’re standing next to each other behind the microphone. Their shoulders practically touching, you don’t miss the way they both keep sneaking glances at each other, the corner of their lips turning up, looking like they’re having the best time together.
You try not to slam down the door behind you, but your grip on the knob is a little too harsh to call for a softer click. Fortunately (or unfortunately, given how much fun Yoongi and Jieun look like they’re having—wait, did Jieun just touch Yoongi’s arm), neither of them notice your arrival.
Namjoon, however, notices.
He turns around to look at you. “Hey, what’s up?”
You try for a smile, your hand brushing against the door. “Sorry, I slipped a little,” You lie cleanly. You hold up the documents in your other hand. “Yoongi wanted me to prepare a few things for him, stuff for the upcoming tour.”
Namjoon gestures for you to sit next to him, something that you follow. As soon as you sit down, Namjoon asks to see these aforementioned documents, which you pull out of your bag and hand over to him. It’s quiet between the two of you, the only sounds being the laughs and giggles between Yoongi and Jieun—as if one has them as just told a secret only understood between them. It’s a feeling that doesn’t settle well in your stomach.
“Wow, this is very efficient,” Namjoon observes, seeming completely oblivious to your internal seething.
You shrug, eyes still locked in on the inside of the recording booth. “Yoongi asked for the best, so I gave him the best. Hey, so—!” You change topics. “Is there a reason they’re in the booth together? Don’t a lot of collabs nowadays just exchange everything virtually?”
Namjoon hums. “I didn’t know the jealous girlfriend was a full time act of yours now.” He’s clearly just trying to have fun. After all, only Taehyung and Jungkook know about your crush on Yoongi. “But honestly? I’m not too sure. They just wanted to go in together—said that they could be more personal when working in a face-to-face setting. And they’re actually making a lot of changes as they keep going through the song and hearing how the music is turning out. They’re a good team.”
Namjoon’s usage of the very same phrase that has been haunting you for the past few weeks doesn’t sit well in your stomach.
Namjoon returns the documents to you. “Did you want to talk to him now? See if he’s cool with you just dropping it off?”
You nod. “If that’s okay?”
Namjoon smiles. “We’ll just wait until they take a breath.”
Waiting doesn’t turn out to take a long time, because Jieun stops the song to make another statement about what line should replace the one they just sung. And Yoongi looks at her like she’s just hung up all the stars in the galaxy.
“Namjoon, do you mind starting the song over? We got a new idea for this part,” Jieun calls from inside the booth.
Namjoon leans forward to press the button. “Actually, you guys have some company.”
You lean forward as well. “Hey guys.”
Jieun grins, waving at you through the window. Yoongi acknowledges you as well, but there’s something suddenly stiff about his movements. You notice that he’s also stepping away from Jieun, as if to hide what has been going on between him and Jieun. As if that makes you feel any fucking better.
“Hey, uh, Yoongi?” You continue. “I have the documents you asked me to prepare for you. I can just leave it here for you to go over if that’s cool. Maybe take a little bit of time today to go over everything.”
Yoongi thinks about this for a moment. “Actually… honey,” He adds the pet name as an afterthought. “Do you mind dropping it off at my apartment? We’re probably just gonna be focusing on the song until pretty late tonight.”
The acknowledgement Yoongi has that he and Jieun are in for another late night only grows the seeds of doubt in your mind, as you clench your teeth. You can’t let your insecurities get the best of you. Not now. “Sure,” You manage, trying for a small.
Yoongi grins. “Thanks baby. I’ll make it up to you this weekend, okay?”
At this point, it just feels like he’s teasing you and it’s something you find you aren’t really in the mood for. So you manage a curt reply, giving a positive response that you’ll drop by his apartment to deliver the documents regarding his upcoming tour, before you’re up and out of the studio before Jieun, Yoongi, or Namjoon can say one last thing. But you don’t care. The sooner you’re out of there, looking at the heart-eye festival between Jieun and Yoongi, the better you feel.
So you take the train to Yoongi’s apartment, a now much bigger space in a slightly nicer area of the city. At least, nicer than the college apartment he shared with Jungkook that was no stranger to bed bugs and constant maintenance issues. The newer apartment Yoongi has recently acquired is nicer, has more modern finishes, and is now a space he fills in all by himself.
As you unlock the door to his apartment, you immediately make your way down the small hallway entrance, where a mirror and his shoes occupy a small corner of the area. The hallway opens up into the living room, and you turn on the light and take in the vaguely familiar sight of his new furniture—home pieces that you helped arrange with him a few months ago. Come to think of it, that was probably the first and last time you had come by Yoongi’s apartment. Before certain life elements got involved.
Tonguing the inside of your cheek, you plop yourself down on the couch and place the document stack at the corner of the coffee table. It looks rather strange just stacked like that, no context provided, so your eyes shift over for a pen and a post-it note.
You find a stack of post-it notes, and find a pen sticking out from inside a notebook. Paying little attention to the notebook, you just make a grab for the pen and rip it out of the notebook with the aggression of a gorilla. The notebook flies open, the contents inside barring itself right at you.
Your immediate reaction is to close the notebook. After all, it just takes one glance at Yoongi’s scrambled handwriting to know that this is one of his writing journals. His most recent one, in fact, judging from how flat the pages after the one currently open appear—like it hasn’t been stained with a pen yet.
You want to close it—you really do. You and Yoongi have built a friendship on trust. That’s what kept you both together throughout the long years, and you know better than to risk everything just for the chance to scope through what is essentially a songwriter’s diary.
Your fingers inch towards the edge of the book, about to close it shut, before the title at the top header makes you freeze.
MY SECRET
Without meaning to, your eyes read over the lines. And you feel sick to your stomach.
The song is so raw, so personal, brimming with desire in every verse. It covers lingering stares, secret smiles. A barrier. How Yoongi “wants you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you”. And you know Yoongi—you know him better than anyone. You know that for all the love songs he sings and the topics he sings about that he feigns ignorance for, he draws on personal experience to write his music. How else could he make everything so personable?
How could this song not be about Jieun?
The lingering stares, secret smiles: it clearly points to the events in the recording booth you saw earlier that day, and if he’s writing a song about it, it’s obvious that today hadn’t been the first time for those stares and smiles.
The barrier: obviously you. The relationship facade he’s forced to put up with you, when he’s clearly so much happier with someone else.
With those factors, it’s so clear that Yoongi would want Jieun, but would be unable to have her.
And you’re just the girl in the background with the starry eyes for a guy who would never even look at you the way you want him to.
That realization brings the hot tears to your eyes, as you slam the notebook shut and bring your hand to your mouth, biting your finger to muffle your sobs. What comes out is the build-up of months of insecurities, of having to keep the biggest secret of your life to yourself, and the additional jealousy brought in by a third party.
This despair and sadness isn’t good for you, and you know that only continuing to hide it away in light of Yoongi and Jieun’s partnership, in light of your feelings, and Yoongi’s exploding career—you should only be able to handle so much. You’re a human being, and you have your limits.
And you think this might be it.
.
.
CHAPTER 6: TRUTHS
.
“Y-Yeah, I think it’s food poisoning or something,” You speak quietly into the phone, playing with the edges of your blanket. “I’m really sorry, Seokjin, I’ll try to send out some emails to respond to news outlets today…”
“Hey, no, you’re totally fine,” Seokjin replies hastily. “I don’t blame you for that. Just try and get some rest today, and update me on how you feel tomorrow.” A pause. “What was it?”
“Uh, it must have been in the takeout I got last night.” That’s a lie. You cooked your own dinner last night, and are lying straight through your teeth regarding your condition, but you can’t find it in yourself to go to work today. Not since the discovery of Yoongi’s crush on Jieun made you want to dig yourself into a hole and never crawl out.
It’s not like you ever thought you had a chance with Yoongi—but you had just thought maybe something would be different after the hand holding, after his radio interview, after your kiss together.
But Jieun serves as that nice splash of reality that Yoongi wants someone better than you. Someone more like him—someone passionate about music, who gets along with him better, who can write music with and write music about.
At this point, it just feels like you’re a weight, dragging Yoongi down in the waves of his past.
On the other side of the phone, Seokjin sighs. “Damn, that’s always the worst. Those are the ones you suspect the least. Anyways, I’ll let you go. Get some rest. Maybe I’ll let Yoongi know so he can bring some soup.”
The mention of Yoongi makes you feel like you could actually get food poisoning. “You can let him know, but he’ll probably be too hung up on Jieun to give a shit.”
Seokjin, of course, knows nothing, so he laughs at what he thinks is your joke. “That’s true. They’re actually at it again today, which is surprising considering Jieun only comes by a few times a week. But no, she was here bright and early and so was Yoongi. Basically, they showed up to the studio at the same time. They called it fate, or some shit like that.”
“You don’t say,” You return dryly.
Namjoon’s confirmation that they make a good team, paired with Seokjin’s admittance that Yoongi is hung up on Jieun, puts you in a delicate mood for the rest of the day. You try to watch some TV shows, some movies, play some video games, but you are constantly distracted by thoughts of Yoongi and Jieun.
You’re all curled up on the couch, about to click into another movie, when there’s a knock on your door. Your heart leaps in your throat as you stand up. You hate the brief flicker of hope in your chest, the curiosity that perhaps Yoongi is the one knocking.
All those hopes are dashed when you see it is Jungkook on the other side of the door.
“Oh,” You remark, the smile dropping from your face. “It’s just you.”
Jungkook looks at you like you pissed in his cereal. “Uh, I don’t see other amazing friends over here bringing you store-bought chicken soup because they heard you got food poisoning last night.” He holds up the bag for extra emphasis.
You roll your eyes, grabbing the bag from him. “I don’t actually have food poisoning, I just didn’t want to go to work today.”
Jungkook furrows his eyebrows at your statement. There’s a lot you’ve given him that he can work with, lots of things he can ask about. Maybe ask why you would lie about your food poisoning, maybe ask why you didn’t want to go to work today, maybe ask why you still looked like shit.
But the first thing he says: “You owe me twenty dollars.”
You roll your eyes, beckoning him inside with the jerk of your head. “Sure.”
Jungkook laughs a little. “Wait, okay, I was actually kidding.” But he still steps into your apartment. “I’ll be serious now. Why lie about food poisoning? And since when do you not want to go to work? If anything, you love to go so you can stare at Yoongi’s ass through the recording booth—!” He cuts himself off when you give him a glare of such pure hatred that it actually shocks him. “Wait, are you mad at Yoongi?”
You tear your gaze away from him, placing the bag of groceries on your countertop. Sorting through what Jungkook has bought serves to be a good distraction.
Jungkook continues to look at you. He’s quiet, but he always has a lot to say, and since you’ve been his friend for so long that only heightens his need to talk. “I knew it!” He finally says. “I knew you were mad at him. Taehyung and I were placing bets down.”
You slam the can of chicken soup on the counter. “HEY. What did I say about gossiping?”
“Not in front of your face?”
Your hand flinches, as if to stop yourself from grabbing the can and throwing it at his stupid face. Jungkook doesn’t even move in fear, the bastard. “I’m just gonna pretend I don’t know about the bets. You want a can of chicken soup?”
Jungkook confirmation finds you at the stove, heating up two of the many cans Jungkook had bought for you. Included in his twenty-dollar purchase had been a few containers of tums, and some orange juice.
Jungkook lingers in the back. “You wanna tell me why you’re mad at Yoongi?”
You whirl around to face him. “How did you even know I was upset?”
Jungkook snorts, but quiets down when you glare at him. He coughs. “You’re pretty easy to read, you know. You’ve been acting weird ever since Jieun started coming by the studio.”
“Weird how?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re just a little quieter. And you haven’t been spending as much time in the studio as you used to. That was the biggest giveaway.”
You’re quiet for a moment. You rub at your cheek. “Does Yoongi know?”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Doubtful. But I think he knows something is up. I was on the phone with him last night.”
It’s your turn to snort. “Okay, that’s really fucking funny.” At Jungkook’s raised eyebrow, you explain. “I thought he’d be too busy comparing Jieun to sunlight, or something, to notice me.”
“Oh, so you’re jealous.”
You and Jungkook have a staring contest, before you sigh. “I accidentally saw Yoongi’s writing notebook yesterday. It had all these love confessions in it, and I’m pretty sure he was talking about Jieun.”
Jungkook’s eyes widen. “No way? Are you sure?”
You cough. “Well, I’m not a hundred percent. But it was all about this forbidden crush he couldn’t act on because of a barrier. Who else could be the barrier? He obviously thinks I’m holding him back from pursuing a relationship with Jieun.” You think about your words for a second, trying to decide if Jungkook is trustworthy enough to disclose this information to. “I think I’m gonna break it off with him. Maybe quit too, while I’m at it.”
Jungkook’s lips part. “But why?”
“What else am I supposed to do?” You cry. “I can’t keep up this fake dating with Yoongi anymore, it’s too complicated, and I’m actually in love with him so that opens up this whole other series of complications. And it’s not fair to Yoongi—he shouldn’t have to deal with feelings he obviously doesn’t return. The whole charade thing just isn’t doing me any good. And even if I break off the relationship, I would still have to see him all the time because of the whole manager situation. Quitting just seems like the best option for me.”
Jungkook is quiet for a second. “How do you even know he wrote that song about Jieun?” He finally asks, speaking carefully.
You shrug. “I don’t know. I just have this feeling. Who else has he been spending all this time with? Who else could that song possibly be about?”
Jungkook gives you a long, hard look, like he almost can’t believe your brain can be thinking those thoughts. But he relents. “I think you should talk to Yoongi before quitting. He’s one of your best friends. He deserves to know why, at least.” He looks over your shoulder. “The chicken soup is done.”
You whirl back around to turn off the stove. But also so Jungkook can’t see the tears glassing over your eyes.
.
It turns out, telling Yoongi you want to quit is a much more difficult task than you could have thought. For starters, Seokjin sets the pair of you up on more dates than before. Apparently, there are some rumors going around regarding Jieun’s more and more frequent turn-ups at KSJ Records, and people have started connecting the dots that her appearances are tied to either one of two reasons. Either Yoongi and Jieun are collaborating on music. Or they’re dating.
The second reason is a lot juicier, much more exciting, so naturally a lot of people have gravitated towards supporting that reason. To try and expel those thoughts, Seokjin sends you out on more dates with Yoongi. It’s all fine, but your thoughts about breaking off this relationship and quitting just makes you more quiet and closed off as you wallow deeper into your thoughts.
You suddenly don’t know how to contribute to the conversations Yoongi tries to bring up to you. The words seem to fail you every time, and you feel yourself constantly resorting to silence or one-worded answers. And it constantly always feels like Yoongi is standing too close to you. Every step towards you is a step away from him. When he tries to hold your hand on the sixth date in two weeks, you wiggle out of his grasp and pretend that you need to fix your jacket.
Your own journey to self-destruction means that you are completely oblivious to the hurt in Yoongi’s eyes with every step you take to distance yourself from him. But what could you even say to him?
How could you tell him you want to quit your job in public? That would obviously lead to a fight, and it would reflect badly on Yoongi’s public image. Just because you want to quit doesn’t mean you still care about him, because you do. And you still want him to succeed. With Seokjin’s constant scheduling of dates, it leaves little room for you to share in an actual private discussion. The only off times Yoongi has are the days Jieun comes by the studio, and you try to stay a mile away from that place now.
But it turns out, you don’t have a choice today, because Seokjin calls you into his office and tells you to drop off the samples of cover art that has just been dropped off at the studio. The cover art is something that Jieun and Yoongi have designed together for the album, to be displayed when the single is released.
With heavy feet, you make your way through the hallways and towards Yoongi’s studio space. Every fiber in your being hopes that Yoongi and Jieun will be in the recording booth, working on their song (or even better, just not in the studio at all), so that you don’t have to face them enjoying each other’s company right in front of your face. There’s no music coming through the door, so your heart soars that latter prospect.
As you open the door, however, you realize that there’s no way for you to be so lucky.
Inside, Yoongi and Jieun are eating lunch, takeout noodles split between the two of them, and they’re in the middle of laughing. The laughter, however, stops when you open the door, effectively interrupting their fucking date. Which is a thought that does nothing to make you feel better. The silence that echoes on only further makes you feel like shit.
You and Yoongi sharing a room privately nowadays is a rarity, since you’ve been doing a good job at avoiding him at all costs. His unanswered text messages and shortened calls echo through your mind at the sight of him. With the look he’s giving you, you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing.
Jieun, however, remains completely oblivious to the situation as she gives you her normally bright cheery greeting. You stare at you, momentarily stunned. You would have thought Yoongi shared the troubles of your relationship with her, for some reason. You try to remain nice about it, though, giving Jieun a small smile as you return her greeting.
“I, uh,” You start, bringing the package up for both of them to see. “Your cover art came in today. Seokjin just asked if I could drop it off here.”
Jieun brightens at the sight. “Oh my gosh, it came! Do you mind if I…?” She trails off, hands reaching out to take the package from you. You give it to her. “Yoongi, isn’t that so exciting?”
“Yeah…” Yoongi trails off. A quick glance at him tells you that he’s staring at you. You look away. “Did you see it yet?” He asks you.
You shrug. “I, uh, haven’t. But, anyways, I have to get going.”
“Hey,” Jieun calls, freezing you slightly in your path. “Thanks for bringing this over. We really appreciate it.”
We?
The use of that specific noun, while supposedly harmless in the current context, makes your stomach flare with that white hot curl of jealousy. Your teeth clench, as you swallow down the spiteful words that almost manage to escape into the air around you. You smile, no teeth. “You’re welcome.” That’s the only thing you can manage before you’re turning around to open the door and practically bolt yourself out of the studio.
You only make it a few feet before the door to the studio opens and you hear footsteps trailing after you. He calls your name, and your heart drops. You are so not ready for any type of one-on-one conversation with Yoongi right now.
But your entire soul still gravitates toward him, so you stop and turn around to face him.
Yoongi is by himself this time, and looking like a mixture of confused and defeated as he approaches you. “Listen,” He starts. “I know that we haven’t had a lot of time to really talk…”
“It’s okay,” You brush off.
Yoongi says your name again. “You know, you don’t need to lie to me. You’re my best friend—I can tell when you’re hiding something from me.”
You sigh, shaking your head as every nerve in your body is telling you to walk away. “Yoongi, I’m not sure I can do this right now.”
“Do what?” He presses. “I know that I’ve been super busy, but if you want to talk you can just let me know. Tell me what’s bothering you, okay? Because I…” He trails off, sighing, and you feel that vague sense of guilt wash over you. “I can tell that you’re avoiding me and it’s really shitty. I can’t even focus that much on my song with Jieun.”
The mention of Jieun stiffens you up again. “Well, sorry for being an inconvenience,” You spit. “Why don’t you go back to your new fucking girlfriend if you’re gonna bring her up to my face again.” You couldn’t stop yourself this time—the words were too ready at your lips. Your chest is heaving from it too, but it is things that you know that you will regret saying.
Yoongi’s eyebrows furrow deeper together as your words.
You stare right back at him, the shadow of a thought passing over you. If you’re going to tell Yoongi your biggest secret, it might as well be right now. You don’t know the next time you will be this brave, this reactive, this bold.
Both of you open your mouths at the same time.
“Did you just call Jieun my girlfriend?”
“I’m quitting.”
You clamp your mouth shut. You hadn’t meant to speak at the same time as him. A small wave of regret passes through you, as you hope that Yoongi wouldn’t have heard your statement over his question. But of course he does.
Yoongi’s frowns at you. “Did you just say you were quitting?”
You take a step back, running a hand through your hair as your exhale comes out shaky. More shaky than you intended it to. Oh no. “Yeah,” You manage, already feeling your emotions bottling up. “I was gonna try and talk to Seokjin about quitting before I left.”
If Yoongi thinks you were joking before, he definitely doesn’t now because he takes a step towards you and catches your wrist before you can go that far. “B-But why?” His eyes have gotten a little wider, and he’s staring at you like his world is being pulled apart.
You try to tug your wrist away to no avail. Your mind tries to flash through several different excuses, but you realize that you need to tell him the truth. Yoongi deserves that much, at least.
As you try to collect your thoughts, Yoongi starts scrambling. “W-Was it something I did?” He asks quickly. “Because normally you’d always try to call me out and I’d fix myself immediately. A-Are you unhappy with your position? Because I can try to get Seokjin to give you less workload or something. I-I’m really sorry if it was something that I did to hurt you. I-I just really need you here so talk to me… please…”
You shake your head. “It’s a little more complicated than that,” You whisper. “I know your secret, Yoongi, and that’s why I can’t do this anymore.”
“W-What secret?” His eyes are still on you.
You take in another breath. “I went over to your apartment that night,” You start. “And I saw what you were writing in your journal. I know that you’re in love with Jieun, and that you only see me as a barrier to pursuing a relationship with her. And that sucks because normally, I’d encourage you to go after her. But we’re doing this whole dating thing, and I feel like I’m neck-deep because…” Your words come out a little more shaky. “Because I’m in love with you,” You whisper. “I’ve been in love with you for years. B-But I know now that I’ll never measure up to Jieun, or any of the other girls in this industry who deserve you more than I do. I thought that I could keep being professional for you and your career. But it’s too hard for me.”
“W-Wait,” Yoongi says, tightening his grip on you. “Can you just let me explain, please? It’s not like that, I promise you.”
You rip your wrist from his hand. “I read it!” You retort loudly. “Who else could be the person you want more than anything, but can’t have because of a physical barrier? When else have you used a real person to inspire your music? It’s too hard for me, Yoongi! I can’t keep doing this!”
Yoongi seems to be struggling with his next words. “So, what?” Yoongi asks, circling around his next question carefully. “You’re just going to leave? Is this… the end of our friendship?”
You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t know! I haven’t thought this out that far. But I know that we shouldn’t be doing this fake dating charade anymore, because I know there’s no way these past few months have meant the same to you as it did to me. I also know that I can’t really be in the same room with you right now.”
Yoongi hopelessly gazes over at you, his own chest heaving as he himself struggles with what to say. “Please don’t do this,” He returns softly.
Your gaze lingers on Yoongi’s for just a while longer, trying to burn the image of him in your mind, before you shake your head. “I’m sorry.”
.
As it turns out, Seokjin is out of the office for the rest of the evening. Which is fine, right? Whatever. You can just call him tomorrow morning and schedule a meeting with him, tell him the urgency of it and will definitely be able to muster your strength for another conversation about your secret feelings for Yoongi.
You return to your apartment and immediately burst into tears as the weight of today’s confrontation sinks its teeth right into your neck. You just shared your feelings with Yoongi, you threatened your employment, and almost cut off your friendship with Yoongi as a result of that.
Your many years of friendship, of late nights, of laughter together. It seems silly to want to cut off an important friendship just like that—but it just seems unfair of you to carry on with a friendship where you’re always going to crave more. And if Yoongi is smart, he’ll know that as well, and he won’t come back.
Still, a part of you just hopes a little. Even though, of course, it’s a stupid thing to hope for. Yoongi has already established his taste, and it’s definitely for people leagues above you. The thought only makes you cry a little harder, so much so that you try to drink some water in order to calm down.
You’re in the beginning stages of patting down your face, of grabbing some spoons to put into the freezer, when there’s a series of frantic knocking at your door. You turn your head towards the source of the noise, trying to figure out who could be visiting at a time like this. It’s been a few hours since your confrontation with Yoongi at the studio, but you assume that he’s probably blowing smoke up Jieun’s ass. There’s no way that it could be him.
So you open the door, and freeze when you realize that it is Yoongi.
More than that, it’s Yoongi with his chest heaving. Almost like he has just run around the entire city to reach you.
The only thing you can manage right now is a wide-eyed stare.
Yoongi stares right back at you. Just a few hours ago, he had looked so helpless and lost for words. A first, actually. But this time, he’s staring at you with so much intensity that you cannot look away.
Yoongi finally seems to catch his breath. “You’re an idiot,” He states.
You’re so caught off guard by that statement that you forget you’re supposed to be upset with him. “I’m sorry?” You ask.
Yoongi huffs, practically barreling past you to step into your house. You try to tell him to stop, but he’s distracted by rummaging through his backpack for something. With a sigh, you decide to close the door. As soon as he’s standing in your kitchen, he finds an old, beaten up notebook that you vaguely remember from his college days. He points at you with his notebook. “You’re an idiot,” He repeats. “If you think that the lyrics on my coffee table are the first time I’ve written lyrics about a specific person.”
At your shocked expression, he immediately starts flipping through the notebook. You notice that certain pages are marked with sticky tabs.
Yoongi settles on a page and clears his throat. “Hidden within the walls of our lecture hall, your laughter curls through the cracks like liquid fire. You light up my day amongst borrowed pencils and shared jokes. I knew that you were going to change my life,” he reads. He looks up at you. “The first day I met you, when I asked you to borrow a pencil.” You remember those lyrics. It was from a song he had written called ‘starlight’—the opening song on his first EP.
He flips through a few more pages. “I never learned about love, but I watch her believe in my dreams, take the same steps to join my team, and I feel like I could figure it out.” He looks at you. “When you agreed to help me with my Youtube channel.”
He continues through his notebooks of lyrics, of stories, of secrets. Every single lyric he reads to you connects back to some memory he holds of the two of you. All the memories together in college: from the panic attack he had in the bathroom of the first party the pair of you attended, to exploring the nearby cities via subway until early mornings, to corner ramen shops.
Soon enough, he moves on to the lyrics he had written during his first tour. The distance he felt, and how that related to the emotional distance he felt with you—that desire he constantly felt for more, and how the manager and artist relationship the pair of you had couldn’t hold a candle to the friendship you once held. The distance was never a physical challenge, and that was something you could never connect the dots on.
Every stone of his hidden affection is turned over, every lyric he has marked read over and explained with such a passion. It’s like he has waited years to finally have his turn, to finally speak the way he’s always wanted to—directly, with no tricks of music and whimsical arrangements to make you doubt everything he could say.
He had written whole songs about the fake dating experience, of how he wasn’t sure he could only pretend to love you when it was the only thing he ever knew how to do.
Finally, he flips to his most recent song. The very song that you had stumbled upon the other day in his apartment. “I want you more and more with each day, but I know I can’t have you, that I shouldn’t have you,” He reads. He looks up at you. “The barrier was the blanket of our fake relationship. You were never stopping me from doing anything, because you were the only thing I have ever wanted. So…” He gestures to all the notebooks that he has laid out across your kitchen counter. “Do you now see how many song lyrics are actually about you? All about you. Because you’re all I’ve always known.”
Your gaze carefully studies each notebook, layered over each other, overflowing with dedication and passion. The privacy of someone who has surprisingly spent his entire singing career sharing nothing but his darkest secrets. Your arms are overlapped with each other, tightening against your form. “I-I had no idea.”
Yoongi shakes his head, but when he looks at you, his eyes are soft. “I figured that.” He’s leaning across the counter to keep his gaze leveled with you, but he pushes himself even closer to tap a finger on the spot between your eyes. “I thought I made it so obvious. You were never listening.”
“I-I never thought to,” You admit softly. But Yoongi has a point. Ever since he started writing and sharing his original songs, he has done nothing but sing them to you in any and all forms. From the private sessions the pair of you shared in his college apartment, to the performances he would deliver on the street, in the recording booth at all hours of the day, to the tours and the audiences that sing those love declarations right back at you. For years, Yoongi has done nothing but give, and give, and give. And you had no idea.
Your breath hitches, and Yoongi rounds the counter and gathers your face in his hands. “Shh,” He coos softly. “It’s not your fault.”
You sniff. “It is my fault! I’m such a stupid bitch. And I treated you and Jieun like shit because I thought you were in love with her. I thought I was holding you back from being able to date who you really wanted to be with.”
Yoongi shrugs. “I mean, technically, you were.” At your look, he hastily goes to explain himself. “The person I really wanted to date was you. But since we were, uh, fake dating, that prevented me from being able to date you for real…”
You groan at his teasing grin. “You idiot, that was so bad.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Yoongi is still grinning though, tracing his thumb over your cheekbone. His eyes follow the movement, mentally outlining you into his mind. “I just wanted to see you smile.” His smile slips a little. “Since you had been ignoring me for so long.”
You pout. “I told you, I thought you were in love with Jieun. And honestly, that would make a lot of sense… she’s really pretty and talented and you guys could talk about music for hours, especially compared to me—!”
“Stop,” Yoongi cuts in, closing his eyes briefly. “I’m gonna stop you there before you say something I don’t like.” He angles his head to level his gaze with you. “Jieun is really cool, I’ll probably be the first one to admit that. But she’s not you. Hey, c’mon, look at me.” He forces you to look at him again. “You are also so, so pretty and smart and talented. You may not know a lot about music and songwriting, but you were always the one who pulled all-nighters with me to edit my videos, or learn music with me, or point out if something in my music didn’t sound right. Your passion to help is something I really love about you.”
You pursue your lips to hide your smile. “Love, huh?”
Yoongi doesn’t even hesitant. “Well, yeah, because I’m in love with you. I thought that was obvious.”
You exhale. “Yeah, well, it’s different hearing you say it outloud.”
Yoongi grins. “Well, hopefully you’ll get used to it. I have many years to make it up to you.” His smile dies down a little. “I’m sorry,” He finally settles with. “I should have been more straightforward and honest with you about my feelings. You must have been suffering for so long, having to keep it all in and everything.”
You shake your head. “I’m also sorry,” You whisper. “For jumping to conclusions so fast. And also not really listening to your lyrics. That was kind of stupid of me, considering I’m your manager and everything.”
Yoongi laughs. “It seems like you’re good now, seeing as you’ve just gotten an exclusive behind-the-scenes artist cut and commentary about his songs.” He pauses for a second. “So, I hope this means that you won’t quit being my manager. And that, maybe, we can promote our relationship from fake dates to real ones.”
You smile. “I’d like that.”
His smile turns softer. “And I was hoping that maybe I can kiss you again. For real, this time. No cameras, no Seokjin breathing down our necks.”
You giggle. “Just so you know, if the kiss at your album release party had been a real one and we were actually dating at the time, I probably would have wanted you to fuck me in the bathroom or something.”
Yoongi groans. “Don’t say that with that cute smile on your face. Makes me want to do things to you.”
“I don’t see you pulling away though.”
“Of course not.” Yoongi’s figure loams over you now, his lips brushing against yours. “I have three years to make up to you.”
With that, he kisses you, silencing whatever next words you were going to say. That is, if you even had any to begin with. Now that he’s kissing you, stealing the breath from your lungs, you’re not even too sure any thoughts have been floating around at all. Unlike the kiss at the album release party, which had been softer and dainty, held back to hide a secret, this kiss is rougher. Yoongi is already moving his lips against yours, already parting his lips to brush his tongue against your lower lips. His hands are already sliding across the counter, trying to cover you more and more.
His hand slips on the counter though, almost sending his sprawling on top of you. You catch him with your hand on his chest, as the sudden action makes both of you pull away from each other. The sight you both face is very much like the sight from the launch party: flushed cheeks and redden lips, a desire for more flickering behind eyes.
But this time, there is no expectation to carry on in a party like a long-term couple. That is what allows Yoongi to wrap his arms around you, pulling you to his chest this time. He kisses you again, slower, softer, but you deepen the kiss with the part of your own lips this time. There is an unspoken agreement between the two of you as he lifts you into his arms and blindly navigates through your apartment, into your bedroom, where you both fall atop the mattress.
“And just for the record,” You whisper, right when Yoongi pulls away to let both of you catch your breath. “I love you too.” You’ve already admitted your feelings earlier in the day, but it’s worth it to see Yoongi deliver that heart pounding gummy smile.
#btswritingcafe#ficswithluv#yoongi scenarios#yoongi scenario#yoongi fluff#yoongi x y/n#yoongi angst#yoongi x reader#bts scenarios#bts x reader#bts fluff#bts angst#bts imagines#traci writes
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
dream merch discord recap (june 12, 2021) - disclaimer: i may have missed some things or mistakenly heard other things, apologies in advanced for that!
he has not played the new minecraft update
dream “knows” the date george is coming to florida but he’s not saying it :p
dream doesn’t have anyone muted on twitter
dream guesses his favorite disney princess is belle
sapnap has seen dream’s feet before
he’s not actually connor’s dad in the dsmp lore
dreamnap do not have nicknames for each other D:
dream likes olives but especially black olives
his mother makes homemade pickles
he doesn’t have a phone case
he has dropped his phone from his ear onto concrete in the parking lot before and the screen didn’t crack
dream has six fingers /j
he pours cereal first not milk when making cereal
dream calls sapnap nick most of the time :D
what’s your dream car? “idk the one that gets me to point A to point B consistently”
he finally fixed his sleep schedule, woke up at 8 am today
mrbeast owes dream a tesla because he never sent dream the audio file
dream is a very analytical person - he thinks with numbers/data
creativity is one his strengths that he is the most proud of
3 to 4 years ago, dream used to say george looks like shawn mendes a lot, now he doesn’t resemble him as much
patches is currently sleeping <3
swimming is very relaxing to dream, he swam the other day!
many houses in florida have pools than other places, even the cheapest houses in orlando have pools
dream has merchendise defects (misprints on merch) + milestone merch and he wants to give them away to those who live in orlando (probably to anyone but the event will be held in orlando) though he doesn’t want it to be a covid super-spreader thing so once you pick up your item you gotta dip. just all an idea though
he has been donating them to charity too though :)
dream has likely read Heroes of Olympus before a long time ago
he says that he’ll do a give away of his childhood books with his signature on it
he was obsessed with the series (Percy Jackson)
he really liked the Alex Rider series
has all of Maximum Ride books, 39 clues books
has read the legend series, the twilight series, and the maze runner
has all/read of the harry potter books, divergent, eragon
he would read all the time, to the point he would read more than one book a day (a book worm he says)
dream had a goal to read 200 books in a year and he wind up reading about 150
he doesn’t want to call it a library but- growing up he had something like that that had 600 or 700 or more books in it (privileged he admits it)
he has not read a book since he started youtube (about 2 years)
dream has a folder called Book that has his own writing in it
word count: 76000 words for one of his stories
another one he wrote 5 chapters of
he sounds very excited/embarrassed talking about the stories he wrote he’s so endearing
the very first paragraph of one of his stories (he was young when he wrote this) “What exactly is darkness? is it the lack of light? is it a pit of nothingness? ... your mind is full of darkness...” then he couldn’t continue.
the story is about a kid who wakes up in a cell and has no idea where he is with other people who are in the same situation
dream has a world building document
he has a sequel to the first book he has ever written
he found a query letter that he wrote because he wanted to get his book published- he finds it very funny
he’s calling himself a nerd but idk it’s kind of endearing
“as you can tell i’ve always been incredibly cool and not a nerd at all! ever.”
he cringes at his own old videos
dream took a lot of inspiration from witches and wizards by james patterson for writing
the story is written in a way where the main character is actually writing the story so you’re getting input from the main character during it. there’s a lot of sarcasm in it and it’s making dream laugh
very first person narrator
he feels like it’d be very cool if he were to publish his works he wrote when he was 16 on amazon or something but he probably never would because he’d have to read through all of it and it’s just embarrassing for him
dream used to video call sapnap fairly frequently- even before youtube
he strictly remembers, a very long time (at least 7 to 9 years) ago he was at his old childhood house he video called sapnap. he was wearing a (technically) suit and he remembers specifically that he was giving sap a tour...
“snazzy in a suit”
he had no reason to put on the suit (wow time is a flat circle huh)
drista is pretty close to sapnap’s height, she’s like 5′7″ but sap is still taller than her
dream filmed the whole thing when he and sapnap met but... it’s... gone because when he was clipping that one clip for twitter... it edited the whole video
he’s sure when they meet up with george they will film that too :D
DREAM IS PRETTY SURE THAT HE AND GEORGE WILL MEET THIS YEAR-- HE SAYS A 95% CERTAINTITY the five percent is like either restrictions or visa issues
dream does not play any instruments but he had a guitar hanging on his wall when he was younger...
dream is convinced they’re the same height but also sapnap is probably taller??
they had george compare his height to a door frame and dreamnap were googling for any doorframes to find any possible chance that george is taller than 5′8″ ... nothing came up
there’s a chance they’re both lying about being 5′8″
sap and george will literally just show up in stilts to prove they’re taller than each other /j
dream without shoes is between 6′2″ and 6′3″ with shoes he’s 6′3.5″
dream is talking about awesamdude’s fake height arc again LOL
dreamnap are very private people so they don’t bother each other but george doesn’t care and would just barge into their rooms and start bothering them- they were all joking about that over a voice call
he will visit europe
he thinks that greece would be a cool place to visit because sapnap’s family is from there :) so it’ll be like a nice “treat” to go back with sap :D
dream isn’t entirely sure that the dream team meet up will happen this year but he’s working out the details because he wants to make sure it’s safe
he’s talking to youtube about his face reveal
it’s up to george if he wants to eat healthy when they finally move in
dream just has a lot of meat and vegetables in his house
spinach with chicken is good
not much fruit (only apples and tomatoes)
“DRISTA IS 5″ is trending on twitter LOL (her height got cut off)
dream doesn’t want people flying to different places because he doesn’t want to encourage travel so he wants to do all of the meet ups with a two day heads up at most
he thinks that it’s awesome that ranboo and tubbo are meeting soon !! :D
it’s very cool to dream to see how far everyone’s has come since the beginning of the dsmp. everyone has done so much
dream finalized his youtube plan a couple weeks before he uploaded his video and he was talking to drista about how he was gonna be a big youtuber in a parking lot :”)
she was the first person he really ever talked to about it
dream would love to teach george how to drive it’d be really funny :D (a very good video or a livestream idea)
dream knows how to ride a bike, he used to have to bike to school
he can’t explain dnf.gay he has no clue he is not responsible. sapnap was the one who found it LOL. he is adamantly exclaiming that it was not him
dream doesn’t worry about views/likes/dislikes a lot- mainly views but that’s for the new uploads
he hasn’t uploaded in like a month and a half (*cries*)
he wants to stream at some point but he doesn’t know when
he wants to play geoguessr but not now... he doesn’t want to alt stream rn- maybe tomorrow!
he is insisting that the splash text on his minecraft home screen is by callahan
he asked callahan to send him bunch of text files that are dream team related so that the splash can rotate through it but callahan thought it was funny (it is) to put only dreamnotfound <3 so it doesn’t ever change at all and dream doesn’t even know how to change and he has asked callahan to change it but he said no (even though dream pays him LMAO)
the video referenced in the padilla’s video is still in the works, it might be handed over to sapnap though !
he has no idea if he will be in MCC pride yet
padilla got dream’s input for the video, dream found him to be a very nice guy ! :) it’s the first interview that dream did that wasn’t by a person with a negative opinion of dream
dream felt relaxed doing the interview with padilla
?????? he’s blaming callahan for his “dnfisreal” nickname in bedwars
he’s blaming callahan for a lot of dnf-related stuff
callahan runs the dream fanart account thus the liking of dnf content
he’s so insistent that it was callahan
dream admits that he was lying about the twitter and other stuff but for sure callahan did code the splash text in LOL
dream liking that tweet “the chances of george doing a hot tub stream is the same of dnf dating” was “funny” he wasnt trying to do any commentary...
the inside joke of “oh it’s all just a joke to you” originates from george and sapnap actually always fighting (like them yelling and shouting at each other) and george said something really mean and sapnap was hurt then geroge said “it was just a joke” and sapnap replied with that line and ever since then it’s been a meme LOL
he says that everyone does the hand-on-the-passenger-seat-while-reversing thing
dream is offline raiding with his chat with 6k people
dream appreciates us and will talk to us soon!
#dreamwastaken#dreamblr#long post#really long post xd#summary#not really a summary... literally just everything he said#merch discord
302 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi!! Could you do "It was a hospital bed, and A slipped in carefully to lie beside B all night" for a Royai fic from that prompt list? Thank you!! ❤️❤️
hello anon!! thanks for the prompt aaaah I had a lot of fun toying with it in between work and the other shenanigans that have been cropping up this week <3 I hope you don't mind the somewhat unusual ending ahaha I dimly recall writing a few other fics indirectly responding to this prompt (here and here!) so I wanted to try something slightly different from my usual fare 👉🏻👈🏻 part of this was also originally from a two-shot I'm working on, tweaked to fit the prompt hehe. I hope you enjoy!!! 🥰
+++++
Riza can think of a million reasons why hospitals are awful.
First, the food. She’s not sure if it’s as nutritious as they make it out to be; there are times when she wonders if it’s even edible. She’s had worse, of course - hospital food isn’t as bad as ration bars - but she’s quickly getting tired of eating plain yoghurt and bland porridge every day, for every single meal.
Second, the stench. Riza hates that every inch of the place smells like a victim of obsessive cleanliness; she has to resist the urge to upchuck every time the door opens and the smell of chemicals and antiseptic filters in like an unwanted guest.
Third, the fact that she’s sharing a room with a man who, at this point, is behaving more like a cat on hot bricks than a disciplined soldier is quickly driving her insane. She’d readily agreed to be his caretaker, of course; Riza doubts there’s anyone else capable of dealing with his antics and ever-growing anxiety. But after hearing him sigh and toss and turn in his bed for the fifty-eighth time that night (she’d counted, because she was bored out of her wits, and there was nothing else she could do other than sleep or stare at the ceiling, per doctor’s orders), Riza decides she’s just about had enough.
She looks at him from her bed. He’s presently engaged with twiddling his thumbs, thinking out loud.
Riza sighs and rises from her bed quietly. She brings the IV stand along with her - an unnecessary inconvenience - and carefully slips into his bed once she’s made sure that the tubes and wires connected to them are tangle-free.
“I never pegged you as an opportunist, Lieutenant,” he murmurs, despite her best efforts to be discreet. “Sleeping with your commanding officer while he’s blind?”
“You could always court martial me later, sir,” Riza deadpans. “Now scoot over.”
Luckily, he obliges without much retort.
“Your wish is my command.”
Riza huffs. She adjusts the thin, scraggly piece of linen that the hospital justifies as a blanket - another downside of this shitty place - and makes sure he’s probably covered, warm.
“Three words,” she mutters.
“Eight letters?”
“Twelve, actually.”
Roy raises a brow. “What could it be?”
“Would you like to wager a guess, sir?”
“Not really.”
“You’re an idiot,” she says. Roy laughs, and it’s a tiny little sound that is so discordant with his current mood, but it’s at least genuine. “Now go to sleep.”
“Alright, alright.”
He stops fidgeting, for a while. Riza closes her eyes and attempts to fall asleep - and she actually does, for a while - at least until she hears the sheets rustling again, the movement and tension coming from beside her. She groans softly.
“You should sleep, sir.”
She feels him stiffen. Roy smiles sheepishly, looking right through her like she’s not there. It still unnerves her how this is probably going to be their new normal: him without his sight. Her as his eyes.
“Sorry.”
Riza frowns. An apology is not the answer she wants. What she wants is for him - or them both, actually - to sleep and rest and properly recuperate so that they can have a speedy recovery, so that they can get out of here as soon as possible.
“Bad dreams?” she asks, because it’s the exact same thing that’s been haunting her. (She’s lucky her throat makes it impossible for her to scream or kick up a fuss; she’d hate for Roy to stumble blindly through the room in what he probably thinks is an act of chivalry and/or heroism.)
He shrugs.
“Then and now,” he offers. His smile fades, and he lapses into an unexpected moment of vulnerability. “Hard to differentiate between day and night nowadays, too.”
And because Riza doesn’t know what to say, she simply brushes her knuckles against his.
Roy returns the gesture, drawing indiscernible patterns on the back of her hand with his bandaged one.
“Well, it’s almost midnight now, sir.”
He lets out a small laugh, but it’s painfully hollow.
Riza shifts slightly. It’s a bit of a tight squeeze - hospital beds are clearly not meant for two persons (or anything inappropriate) - but it doesn’t bother her all that much. She just wishes there’s more she can do, to comfort him. Make him feel a little less gloomy.
“It feels like I’ve been sleeping for years.”
“If it helps reduce the incidents of you falling asleep during office hours, then you should get more sleep now, while you can.”
Roy turns, like he’s searching for her, even though there’s not much closer she can be at this point. He exhales shakily. She feels his hand trembling against hers, and responds with a gentle caress. (She knows he’s still feeling guilty, probably berating himself internally about their predicament, about what transpired beforehand. And to be fair, there’s a part of her that’s still angry about all that's happened underground. They’ll probably have to talk about it, at some point, but probably not now — not when they’re both still drugged up and only half-lucid.)
“Humour me, Lieutenant.”
“What?”
“I can’t sleep,” he confesses. Dimly, Riza notes that his voice has taken on a somewhat petulant edge — like a child complaining about their bedtime, but she doesn’t comment on it. Being nearly bedridden for a week is enough to drive her nuts, too. “I’ve tried counting sheep and all that shit, and it’s just — it’s not working.”
Riza sighs. She’s tired, yes, but she’s also aware that she’s probably not going to get any sleep at this rate. She tries to think of ways to stave off his restlessness. Reading is one — she can probably bore him into sleep with a Xingese recitation (she’s gotten pretty good at that lately), but she’s technically not supposed to be talking much. Alcohol is another, but neither of them are supposed to be drinking (and besides, the only form of alcohol available in hospitals isn’t meant for human consumption). Maybe chess, then. She’s not particularly keen on playing a game of chess, now (because she just wants to sleep), but she thinks it’ll help exhaust some of his boundless energy.
“We could play a game of chess, if you want. Breda was kind enough to drop a vinyl board here in the afternoon.”
“I can’t see —“
“I’ll tell you where I move my pieces.”
He frowns, clearly not liking the idea. “You’re not supposed to be talking much, Lieutenant.”
“I’m fine,” she insists, turning to pour a cup of water for herself before continuing. “I won’t have to speak much — unless you’re being a nuisance or a cheat or a fraud.”
He laughs. “I’ll be none of those things, Lieutenant.”
“Good.”
She sets up the board on his bed and helps him sit up. Riza lets him play white.
“It’s your move, sir.”
“You’ve made yours?”
“No. You’re playing white.”
“Tough. It’ll be more embarrassing if I end up losing.”
Riza smiles. “Well, we don’t know that yet, sir.”
He opens with pawn to e4. She helps him move his pieces and parrots her movements back to him. Pawn to e4, too. Pawn to d4. Same here. A closed game, not quite like his usual aggressive style of playing.
Riza watches as he frowns with intensity. It’s probably more a test of memory than strategy for him at this point. She wonders if there’s a way he can adapt to chess, to the military’s utilitarian (and frankly unsympathetic) demands now that his sight’s impaired.
(Life is so unlike chess, Riza thinks, in spite of Roy’s silly metaphors that postulate otherwise. The rules are never fixed, and the universe is always rife with uncertainty. It’s not like chess, where you can predict your opponents’ moves if you get good enough. Neither of them had expected that he’d be here right now, losing sleep and contemplating life over a chessboard while blind.)
He clucks his tongue, reciting a series of movements from memory. The Blackmar-Diemer. Riza smiles indulgently.
Still as aggressive as ever, sir.
Of course.
The game quickly becomes a round of blitz, and though he manages to open his lines and mount a rather decent attack, it’s clear that he has trouble recalling after the eighteenth move. It's still an impressive feat, though. Better than the average layperson.
“Check,” Riza announces, conversationally. Technically, she’d had the advantage, both on the board (and in real life). It shouldn’t really count, and besides, checkmate isn’t her objective — it’s to get her commanding office to sleep.
“Well-played,” Roy hums. He’s strangely still in his bed as he closes his eyes, rubbing at his temples — presumably to ease off an oncoming migraine. It happens a lot, when he’s in deep thought, when he’s over thinking. Thinking too much for his own good. “I need to work on my recall, I think.”
“I think so too, sir.”
He laughs, but the sound is again empty, foreign. It is so at odds with his usual smirks and unbridled laughter (when he’s laughing at someone else, or a joke made at somebody’s expense), like there’s an ache beneath the surface that she cannot reach.
Roy turns slightly, bumping into his dethroned king as he adjusts himself on the bed.
She blames the sudden, uncharacteristic urge to cry on her drugged-up system.
(Riza doesn’t think she’ll ever get used to how uncommunicative his eyes are. He’s always regarded each and every one of his subordinates with respect and meaning and gratitude, but he’d simply looked over the unit as if taking inventory when they had come by earlier.
But she’ll make do, Riza thinks. She has to. She’s always known him in a way nobody else has, in a deeply intimate way, like a book she’s memorised by heart.)
They fall silent for a few minutes. His lips part a little - she knows he’s about to say something - but it snaps shut again, like he can’t bring himself to say the words.
Riza simply waits for him, like she always has; holding onto his held breath like it's the last thread of hope. She leans into his touch a little closer than necessary.
I’m right here, even if you can’t see me.
Roy smiles.
“I hope I won’t forget your face, Riza.”
#royai#royai fanfic#royai fic#sorry my lunch break is almost over so I gotta go back to work LOL but I will come back and edit this later AHAHAHAH#my new brand is 'excessive usage of chess metaphors' and man. it shows.......#lovely anon <3#have a great week anon!!! mwahmwahmwah!!!!!!#reblogs and comments are always appreciated :")
102 notes
·
View notes
Text
“Subordinate” (Levi x Reader)
**SPOILERS FOR SEASON 4 - DO NOT READ UNLESS YOU ARE ALL CAUGHT UP**
Soooo, this dirty little idea came to me courtesy of this official art. I have no excuse. I just like torturing Zeke. My buddies on our discord server encouraged me to go through with this, so I blame thank them for the existence of this fic. With that being said, I hope you enjoy this piece of absolute filth.
Fandom: Attack on Titan
Pairing: Levi x Reader
Words: 5.2k
Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW content, exhibitionism, oral sex (male and female receiving), dirty talk, power play, authority kink, pet names, hair-pulling, praise kink, vaginal sex, Levi being an absolute fucking tease and torturing Zeke just for the fun of it
You’re skeptical about the idea the moment you hear about it. Just the thought of Zeke Jaeger, the man responsible for wiping out ninety percent of the Scouts on the outskirts of Shiganshina, is enough to make your blood boil. Every night before you go to sleep, you think about how it would feel to slide a knife right across his throat. How it would feel to watch his fingers stretch out for nothing, to see the life drain from his eyes.
But instead of killing him, you’re tasked with protecting him. In the middle of the Titan Forest, with about thirty other soldiers with you. No doubt he’ll try to pull something and try to catch you off guard. After all, he’s a sly bastard. You don't trust him as far as you can throw him.
Luckily, you’re not alone in your suspicions; Captain Levi is just as pissed, perhaps even more than you are. It doesn’t help that you two are currently trapped in a carriage with Zeke, sitting directly across from the bastard. Levi shows his frustration through furrowed brows and a tight jawline. Every so often, his lip curls up into a sneer, and across the way, Zeke’s mouth inches up in a smirk.
“It’s a little intimidating,” the bearded man begins, “having you glare at me like that. Why don’t you try being a little nicer?”
Levi remains silent.
“...Come on, we can talk as adults, right?”
Again, no reaction whatsoever. You shift in your seat, tugging at the hem of your coat.
But then his dull blue eyes slide over to you, and your shoulders tense up instantly. You focus on the streets of Trost, ghosting a hand along the window’s curtain.
“A subordinate, Levi?” Zeke tries again. You swallow hard as he keeps his eyes on you. “What, you don’t think you can handle me all by yourself?”
“I’m more than capable of killing you on the spot,” Levi growls at once. “Don’t mind her. She’s just another soldier.”
Levi knows you’re a capable soldier in your own right, so you’re not mad at him when he says this. In fact, you’re a bit grateful. Anything to get Zeke’s eyes off of you.
But he’s a persistent man. And he refuses to lift his eyes from your form. “A subordinate, huh? And how long have you been with the captain?”
Your face burns. Levi snarls at him again.
“Long enough.”
“Let the lady answer.”
That makes your blood sing. Your fist clenches around the curtain as you turn to him, meeting his gaze with a cold glare that rivals even Levi’s.
“Long enough,” you reply, and out of the corner of your eye, you can see the faintest smirk on Levi’s face.
Zeke purses his lips and leans back in his seat. “Why are you both so antagonistic towards me?”
The reasons pour into your mind, one after another. The screams of the Scouts around you as boulders rained down on them. A mist of blood settling over the battlefield, painting your skin a dark red. The sight of Erwin’s bleeding stomach, his eyes drifting shut with each ragged breath. Levi's dull gray eyes, so full of sorrow, as he watched his best friend die right beside him.
There are a lot of reasons why you hate Zeke Jaeger, the man in control of the Beast Titan. But out of all of them, it’s the pain he’s caused Levi over the years that makes you absolutely loathe him.
You open your mouth to scream all of this at him, but one glance from Levi silences you. You snap your lips shut and stare ahead, still glaring at the bearded man.
“Oh?” His eyebrow quirks up at the motion. “You have her wrapped around her finger, do you, Levi? A faithful little soldier at your side, just like a loyal dog?”
You've heard much worse during your time as a soldier. But it’s the fact that it comes from Zeke that makes it hurt that much more.
“I don’t think you should be the one comparing others to animals,” you spit back at him, before Levi can stop you. “You’re quite the animal yourself, with that fucking Titan of yours.”
His eyes glimmer in amusement. “Is that so? Levi, I have to say, you haven’t trained her that well.”
The sound of your name cuts off any retort you could’ve prepared. Levi gives you a shake of his head—a warning to stay quiet. He can handle this. You just have to trust him.
“I’ve trained her just fine,” he replies, tightening his arms across his chest. “Now shut up. Your voice is getting on my nerves.”
There's a precious beat of silence, with only the wheels of the carriage filling the air. You tug the curtain back over the window, shrouding the carriage in darkness once more. Zeke's eyes flicker back and forth, from you to Levi, and then back to you.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how far does your loyalty for him go?”
This time, you wait for Levi to nod before you answer. “I do mind,” you reply with a glare. But you’re still proud of your loyalty to the captain. “I would do anything for him. I’d die for him.”
“Really?” For a moment, it looks like Zeke is actually stunned by your answer.
Is it really so hard for him to believe? That you’d put your life on the line for your captain? To follow him into battle, knowing full well that you might not return home?
Ugh, who are you kidding? Of course it is. You doubt the bastard’s ever had someone look up to him like that.
You would do anything for your captain. Anything.
“Anything?”
You pause. It's not Zeke who asks the question.
You glance over to Levi, who’s watching you carefully. His arms are still crossed over his chest, his overgrown bangs hanging over his eyes. Even in the low-lit carriage, his eyes are darker than usual.
What is he getting at? He already knows the answer. Too much as happened between you two for you to say anything different.
Nevertheless, you swallow hard and nod.
“Yes, sir.”
It's the sir that makes him snap. He leans back in his seat before turning back to Zeke.
“Then show him just how loyal you are, soldier.”
The tone of his voice sends a shiver down your spine. You've only ever heard that tone once—on the night before the raid on Liberio, when you didn’t know if you would make it back alive. Just like Shiganshina, you were sure this night would be your last in this world—the last one you would ever get to spend with Levi. So the two of you stole it for yourself, shrouded in shadows, enveloped in warm skin and burning kisses.
Why would he use that tone here of all places, right in front of Zeke? A dark thought bubbles up in the back of your mind, but it’s so outlandish and out of character for Levi that you disregard it at once. Surely he’s not going to do anything like that in front of him, right?
...Right?
“Are the doors locked?”
You know they are, but you check behind you anyway. “Y-yes, sir.”
Fuck, you didn’t mean to stutter!
But both men have caught onto it. Zeke arches an eyebrow, and Levi’s smirk only grows wider. A second later, he reaches out and crooks a finger in your direction.
“Come here.”
Your knees nearly knock together as you slide closer to him on the bench. But it only seems to fuel his ego, and once you do, he places a hand on your thigh. Zeke tilts his head at your sharp intake of breath.
What the hell is he doing?! Out of all your years of serving him, you’ve never known your captain to be so blatant with showing physical affection. It's always behind closed doors, where only you can see it. And even then, it’s the bare minimum. Forehead kisses, hand squeezes, and maybe a one-armed hug once in a while.
That's not to demean any sort of affection he shows you. With every little bit, you fall in love with him even more. You savor the warmth of his fingers on your arm, the soft touch of his lips on your skin.
But they’ve always been between you. So why is he allowing Zeke to see all of this?
The bearded man rolls his eyes at the sight before him. “I hate to break it to you, Levi, but you’ll have to do much more than that to prove her, undying loyalty.”
His fingers tighten around your thigh. “I plan to.”
Then he turns to you, and biting your lip, you meet his eyes. They have a certain shadow to them, dimming the faint blue edges around his pupils.
You recognize that look. It's the same one he gave you the night before Liberio—the one he gave you as he pressed you against the pillows of his bed, fingers curled around your wrists. The same one he gave you as he hooked his fingers around your pants and slid them down to your ankles. The same one he gave you as he kissed you and held you close, as you writhed in pleasure beneath his body.
But there’s something else in his gaze. Another look that you’re well accustomed to. The one that silently asks you if you’re okay with what he’s about to put you through.
Like hell you’re going to stop him now.
You give him the tiniest nod, and his eyes darken completely. The carriage jolts softly, and Zeke grunts at the impact.
“Come on,” he breathes your last name, burying his fingers in your hair. “Show him just how loyal you really are.”
You realize his plan at once. Of course, he intends to show you off and use you—directly in front of Zeke. To show that bastard just who you belong to. To rub it in his face and assert Levi’s claim over you. Of course, that’s where Levi is going with this.
“Yes, sir,” you reply, your voice much firmer than before. “What do you want me to do?”
The corner of his lips tugs up in a smirk.
“Get on your knees for me.”
You obey at once, sliding down and settling yourself in between his legs. You gaze up at him, mouth watering at the sight of his arms across his chest, his legs spread open in front of you. There's a soft groan behind you, but you don’t dare to look back in Zeke’s direction. Right now, all you’re focused on is Levi.
“Good girl.”
He reaches down to graze a hand over your cheek. Warmth pools in the space between your legs at his praise, and the fabric of your panties begins to dampen with slick. It's tempting to rub your thighs together, but you hold your place. You don’t want to move until he gives you the order to.
He cups your chin in his hand, pressing gently against your cheeks and opening your mouth. Your tongue lolls out slightly, and he groans deep in his chest at the sight. No doubt he’s thinking about having your mouth wrapped around him.
“You know what to do, soldier.” You nod eagerly, and his lips string up into a smirk. “Now get to work.”
As soon as his hand leaves your face, you turn your attention to the tent in his pants. He leans back and tilts his head up as you slide the belt through the buckle. A second later, as you’re working on the buttons of his pants, his voice fills the air.
“You’ve never had a soldier get on her knees for you, have you, fuzzball?” He digs his fingers into your hair as you slide the zipper down. “No, I bet none of them have sucked you off.”
Zeke clears his throat behind you, and while he does his best to hide it, his voice is strained and hoarse. “I never took you for the type to be popular with women.”
“I’m popular enough.”
You tug his pants down, freeing his half-hard cock. The tip is already flushed red, with a small bead of precum gathered around the head. At once, you wrap your hand around it and give it a few strokes. His hand tightens in your hair, and he hardens completely in your grasp.
“That’s it,” he groans, still keeping his eyes on Zeke. “You always know just what to do, princess.”
Heat flares in your chest at the nickname. He's never been one for pet names before, so why now? The most he’s ever called you is either brat or kid, or maybe on a good day sweetheart, when he’s feeling gentler than usual. But princess? It almost sounds too fancy for him.
Then again, you’re not about to complain. You can feel your arousal worsening by the second. And when you rub your thighs together, you realize your panties are practically soaked.
You stroke his cock again, swirling the precum along the tip. You lick your lips, eyes darting up to your captain’s face. His cheeks are already tinted with pink, and his eyes are as dark as you’ve ever seen them.
He tilts your chin up with his thumb. “Start sucking. Give him a good show.”
“Yes, captain.”
His title has always been his weakness. A soft moan fills the carriage as you take him into your mouth, wrapping your hand around the rest. You groan softly, and his nails dig into your scalp.
“Fuck—that’s it,” he whispers, “take it in. All of it.”
You obey and slide him further down your throat. This time, you hear Zeke clear his throat again.
You have to wonder, what does he think about all of this? Of Levi essentially using you for his own pleasure, asserting his dominance to the only other male in here. You should probably feel angry—after all, it seems like he’s demeaning you.
But you know Levi better than that. He respects you as a person. Besides, if you didn’t nod at him earlier, he wouldn’t have gone through with this.
He's showing Zeke just how far you’ll go for him. How you’ll obey his every command without a single complaint. How you won’t refuse him, no matter what he suggests you do. Your loyalty runs deep and true, and he wants to make it clear to Zeke. Hell, if he told you tomorrow to die for him, you’d put yourself in the line of fire in the blink of an eye.
But there’s another message, especially in the way he holds your head in place. And when you glance up at his face, his eyes are fixed into a glare at Zeke.
She's mine. Don't touch her.
“Jealous?” he growls out as he slips his cock further down your throat. You start to bob your head, earning a fierce groan from him. But he keeps his eyes on Zeke—especially when you start to pick up the pace. “Yeah, I bet you are. Fucking bastard. I bet none of your subordinates get on their knees for you like this, huh?”
Zeke remains silent, but you can hear him shift in his seat. Probably a futile attempt to hide his erection.
Levi seems to catch onto this. “What is it, fuzzball? Your dick hard already? Be patient. She just started.”
Your cheeks burn at the implication. How far does he want you to go with this torture? You're no strangers to edging each other, but you know how needy and vocal he can get when you drag it out for too long. Does he really want Zeke to see that side of him?
But you don’t have to wait long for an answer. He tugs on your hair and presses his hand against your forehead. At the cue, you pull your mouth off his cock, and he wipes a thin line of drool away with his thumb.
“Not yet, princess. Pace yourself.” Your eyebrow shoots up at his words. “I said give him a good show, right?”
He leans in close, lips brushing against your ear.
“Make him suffer.”
Oh.
Well, who are you to question your captain’s order?
When he leans back in his seat, you start stroking his cock again. He moans a bit louder this time—no doubt an attempt to rile Zeke up even more. As he slides his hand back into your hair, you lean forward and take just the tip of his cock in your mouth.
“Oh—fuck—just like that,” he hisses, tossing his head back slightly. “Just like that...”
You decide to take it a step further and cup your other hand around one of his balls. This gets him to moan out loud—completely unrestrained and needy. You're almost tempted to glance over your shoulder at Zeke, just to see how he’s taking all of this.
Almost.
“Princess,” Levi moans again, fisting your hair, “shit—fuck, I love your mouth so much—”
But then he tugs on your hair again, pulling you off of his cock altogether. He grits his teeth as you massage his balls, but he still keeps his voice firm when he speaks.
“I bet your pussy’s getting all wet, huh?”
His eyes flicker up to Zeke, to gauge his reaction. But he keeps your chin in his hand, thumb and forefinger pressed into your cheeks. A trickle of saliva slips out, but he catches it with his thumb without batting an eye.
“Ever get a girl this wet, fuzzball?” Without warning, he yanks your head to the side—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you squeak in shock. “Tch, look at that bastard. Can't even hide himself properly.”
You blink. Indeed, Zeke is shifting uncomfortably in his seat, trying desperately to hide the tent in his pants. No doubt, he’s turned on by this. You should be disgusted, but it only makes you all the more excited.
To think, the man you consider your worst enemy, watching you suck your captain off. The idea shouldn’t make you as wet as it does.
Levi's breath clouds over your ear. “Let me feel how wet you are, princess.”
The belt around your waist is pulled apart, and Levi’s fingers dip below the hem of your pants and into your panties. You gasp as his fingers brush over your folds, grazing over your clit gently. And when he pulls his hand away, the tips of his fingers are coated with slick.
“Fuck, you’re soaked.” Zeke groans as he dips his fingers into his mouth, tasting the slick and licking it up. “I’ll take care of you once we get there, alright?”
You almost smile at the proposition. Of course, he’s not going to fuck you outright here. Not where Zeke can see. No, instead he’s going to torture him just a little bit more, to make sure he doesn’t get the pleasure of seeing Levi destroy you. The sight of your naked body is something Levi wants to keep for himself, even for just a little bit longer.
“Think you can hold on until then, princess?”
It's the name that nearly makes you faint. “Yes, captain.”
“Good girl. Now start sucking again.”
You don’t hesitate to take him in all the way. Tears prick your eyes as the tip of his cock brushes the back of your throat. With each bob of your head brings a strangled moan from the captain’s lips. And it’s not long before he holds your head in place and starts to buck into your mouth.
A few moans of your own burst from your throat, and Levi hisses at the vibrations against his skin. He keeps his eyes forward, his teeth bared, as he stares Zeke in the face. Tears tumble down your cheeks as you glance up at him. Of course, he wants to make sure that bastard sees him when he comes.
“Such a tight little throat,” he growls, “and your pussy’s even tighter... Fuck, I can’t wait to feel it later—”
Zeke clears his throat for the thousandth time at that. But you only smile, the thought of Levi taking you over and over again tonight making you even wetter.
“Fuck—oh, shit—” He tugs on your hair, nearly ripping the strands from their roots. “Princess, I—”
He comes hard, without warning, as he bucks his hips one last time into your mouth. A hot, salty fluid bathes your tongue at once, and you groan at the bitter taste. But you swallow it all—every last drop. It's what your captain wants, after all.
When he’s finally done, his cock softens, and you pull away with a soft pop of your lips. You give the tip a soft kiss before tucking him back into his pants, and when you do, he grabs your upper arm and pulls you up onto the bench beside him.
It's satisfying, to see Zeke’s contorted face. His head is tilted, so you can’t read his eyes behind the tint of his glasses. But judging by the clenched fists on his thighs, as well as the straining tent against his pants, he’s not doing too well.
And when he does lift his head up to meet your gaze, you lift your thumb and wipe away a white drop at the corner of your lips, guiding it back to your mouth. He grimaces at the sight, and you only smile contently, as Levi smirks beside you.
Nighttime is no different. Thirty Scouts are stationed in the Titan Forest, under Hanji’s command, to aid both you and Levi in watching over Zeke. Of course, Levi has the final say in where Zeke is placed and what he does during the day.
And being the sly bastard he is, he stations him in the tent beside his own—where he’s intent on fucking you till dawn.
At first, you feel bad for the other Scouts at the camp. No one wants to hear you two going at it in the dead of night, especially when they have to watch over Zeke. But all of that is cast aside once Levi settles himself in between your thighs and sets to work.
You twist your fingers into his hair, moans spilling from your lips as he drags his tongue along your folds. You've been wet for hours, awkwardly shifting in your seat in the carriage, and later on your horse’s saddle. But Levi had promised to take care of you once the sun went down, and now, it’s clear he intends to make good on that promise.
“Such a good girl for me,” he whispers against your clit, “sucking me off like that—fuck, I didn’t know you could be so fucking filthy.”
Through your blurry eyes, you manage to smile at him. “O-only for you, captain.”
He growls in agreement and curls his arms around your thighs, tugging you even closer to his face. “You’re fucking right. And you’re mine.”
You want to agree, but your words come out as incoherent babbles as he begins sucking on your clit.
You twist and turn beneath him, throwing your head from side to side. Fingers rake through midnight tresses, and you tug his face even closer to your pussy. His tongue laps greedily at your skin, licking up every bit of your arousal. With every stroke of his tongue, you’re brought closer and closer to that beautiful edge of bliss.
“Levi,” you whine, “please... Please!”
He swirls his tongue around your clit and presses down hard. That's when you lose it, screaming out his name so loud you’re sure Zeke can hear you.
“Good fucking girl,” he whispers again, as he laps up your release. “Make him hear you. Make him jealous.”
You're curious to see how long he’ll drag this torture out for Zeke. No doubt he hates the man with every inch of his being, but how long does he plan to do this with you?
You're about to ask him about it, but he silences you with a kiss. Before you know it, your hips are lifted up, and he throws your legs over his shoulders. The tip of his cock presses against your entrance, and immediately, a bolt of arousal shoots straight to your core.
He slides into you with a groan, and you curl your fingers into the sheets of the sleeping bag. He gives you a moment to adjust to his size, matching his breaths with your own. No matter how many times you’ve done this, he always has to give you a minute to get used to him.
But you don’t really mind. It just gives you an excuse to hold him close.
He gazes down at you, his hair hanging in front of his eyes. “Ready?”
When you nod, he starts to move, and you squeeze your eyes shut in pleasure. His nails dig into your hips, hiking your legs further up his shoulders as he begins to thrust. You gasp when his cock brushes against that special spot inside you—and when he notices, he focuses on that particular spot, ramming into it as hard as he can.
“Levi,” you moan, tears pricking your eyes, “...Levi! I...I’m close!”
He smirks down at you, spreading your legs even wider. “Already? Princess, we just started.”
There it is again—that beautiful pet name that makes you see stars. You arch your back and scream his name, heart pounding with every thrust of his hips. He drops one of your legs and lifts the other, stretching you further and deepening his thrusts. The shift in angle nearly makes you lose it right then and there.
Your clit throbs violently, and you whine and buck your hips against him. He seems to catch on, and he drops his hand down to your clit and begins to circle it with his thumb. His name flies from your lips, no more than a whimper.
“Please!” Your eyes shoot open, and your hands grip the sleeping bag tightly. “Levi! Make me come—please!”
He responds by picking up the pace, in both his hips and your clit. The irregular slap of his hips against yours, combined with the rough pads of his fingers against your bare clit, is enough to push you over the edge. You cry out his name and throw your head back, pure bliss washing over you in warm waves.
But Levi doesn’t continue his movements. Instead, he pulls himself out, his cock still painfully hard. In the blink of an eye, he flips you over onto your knees, your palms pressing into the soft material of the sleeping bag. Your thighs tremble as you feel your juices trickle down your skin. Levi leans over, his chest pressing against your back, as he pushes his cock back into you, and a whine slips through your mouth as he fills you up again.
“Better prepare yourself, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, “because I'm not stopping anytime soon.”
And he doesn’t. For hours and hours, he has you coming on his cock, so much you start to lose count. Under him, on top of him, on your side in front of him—every position you can think of, he takes you in. Every scream and moan that leaves your lips, he makes sure it’s loud enough for Zeke to hear. And when he doesn’t think it’s loud enough, he smacks your ass hard. That gets you to scream louder next time.
Tears stream down your cheeks as you tear at the sleeping bag with your fists, arching your back and pushing your ass back into his hips. It's the third time he’s had you in this position, and you think you’re about to run out of strength. But before you can collapse onto your front, his arms slide underneath you and hold you up against his chest, all the while pounding into you.
“One more time,” he growls low in his throat. “Come for me one more time, princess. Let him hear you scream.”
So you do. You come hard around his cock, your juices dripping down your thighs and onto the sleeping bag. Levi groans against your neck as he continues to thrust into you, chasing after his own release.
“Levi, please...” Your words are slurred and your vision is blurry. And you bite back a scream when he dips his hand below your waist, rubbing furiously at your clit. “P-please, no more—”
“Take it,” he snarls, still snapping his hips into yours. “Take it all, princess.”
Your voice is hoarse as you come again, clenching around his cock violently. Luckily, that’s all he needs to reach his own peak, and groans your name as he spills his seed inside you.
It takes you both a minute to untangle yourselves from each other. You're both sweaty and exhausted, and in your case, covered with cum. Levi is the first to move, as he always is, and grabs the bucket of water and a cloth in the corner of the tent. He wipes you down first and wraps you up in a clean blanket before tending to his own needs. You watch him with lazy eyes, chest still heaving and arms still limp.
A few minutes later, you’re curled up in a fresh sleeping bag, still naked underneath the covers. Levi drapes his arm across your waist, and you lean your head on his chest, smiling at the thump of his heart beneath your ear. You can’t help but smile at this; whenever you’re in this position with him, you forget about the dangers of the world. Of the constant threat of the Titans, and of your enemies across the sea.
But then you open your eyes and prop your chin on his chest. “Levi, how long are you going to keep this up?”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Keep what up?”
You giggle. “Y’know, the whole ‘torturing Zeke’ thing. How long are we gonna keep doing that?”
He rolls his eyes before shifting himself in the bag, rolling the two of you over until he’s hovering above you, with his hands pressed into the pillow on either side of your head. You gaze up at him with large eyes, and he cups your cheek with his hand, rubbing his thumb over the soft skin of your face.
“Until it pleases me.”
You laugh again as he swoops down for another kiss, his hands already roaming your body. Immediately you feel him harden against your thigh, and your laugh only grows louder.
“Again? By the Walls, we just finished! And you just cleaned me up—”
“I can clean you up again,” he replies, pressing a kiss to your neck.
You roll your eyes. Looks like he’s already thought this through, huh?
So you give in, just like you always do. He settles himself over your body, sucking on your neck and leaving a trail of love bites in his wake.
But as you begin to move against each other, there’s a rustle in the next tent over—followed by an annoyed groan. You and Levi only look at each other and smirk, before he pulls you in for yet another kiss.
Who knew pissing off Zeke Jaeger could be so damn amusing?
#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#attack on titan#attack on titan x reader#levi ackerman#smut#levi x you#aot x you#levi ackerman smut#subordinate#sweets and treats#aot fics
151 notes
·
View notes
Text
The Way You Speak
Like many good things in life, a convo that sparked this idea happened on our beloved Hazelnoots Discord Server Of Love And Inspiration. This fic was then written over three months live directly on the server. Now it is finished and I can release it into the wilderness of the Internet!
So the roster says about Nado ‘Rival with Evgeni for most pick ups on the team’ My brain: They live together, right? So they hear each other have fun all the time. Coughthreesomescough. Tell me I'm wrong I challenge you.
Nuny own my whole heart. A slightly alternate universe, a slightly different getting together story.
Sweater Weather universe and the characters of Kuny and Nado and the��‘I love the way you speak’ line by the wonderful @lumosinlove
My eternal gratitude for grammar stuffs and beta belongs to @tetedump
cw: explicit smut with feelings, mentions of alcohol in the beginning, mentions of food towards the end
word count: 12,8k
Jackson was squinting into the light of the open fridge, pondering the snack choices, when the door of the apartment crashed open. "Kuns, that you?"
"Hello Nado! Have guest!"
Closing the fridge with a sigh, Jackson wandered to the hall to greet his friend, only to find him locking lips with a gorgeous brunette, pressing her against the door, oblivious to their surroundings.
"Uh, hi, um-- have fun? I'll... be in my room. Yeah. With headphones on," he stammered, backing up slowly.
The gorgeous brunette peeked around Kuny's shoulder at his words and extended her hand towards him, stopping his retreat. "Hello, gorgeous, and you are?"
Kuny noticed him too and broke into a huge smile immediately. "I introduce! This my best friend! Best man, best teammate! Jackson, meet Jackie."
Jackie looked him up and down slowly, her gaze rooting him to the spot. She narrowed her eyes and looked between Kuny and him a few times, then nodded to herself as if she had solved a riddle that they themselves were not even aware of. "Hi Jackson. Nice to meet you." A wink, an outstretched hand, and Jackson was nothing but polite when he stepped closer to shake her hand, instead of away, far far away.
He could smell the familiar scent of Kuny's cologne, and the sweet tang of sweat underneath, could almost taste it and something low in his belly twisted and pulled. He kept his eyes locked with Jackie, but all his focus was on Kuny, he could see him in his periphery, feel his gaze on the side of his face. It was hot in here, wasn't it? Maybe he should open the window for a bit, get some air in--
"Jackson, would you like to join us for a drink? I was promised the real Russian vodka, the hard stuff," Jackie smirked as she turned to Kuny and raised her eyebrows.
The answering smile spread slowly across Kuny's face and it was wicked. Oh god. Nado's mouth was dry all of a sudden, as he searched the face of his friend for clues as to what the next best move was.
Kuny cocked his head in his direction. "You want?" The question seemed to contain more than just an invitation for a drink and Nado found himself nodding even before he processed the sudden twist of events, at loss for words and starting to sweat when Jackie pulled on his hand that was still in hers from their introduction, Kuny taking his other hand and pulling him towards the kitchen. What the everloving fuck.
"You get glass, I get bottle." He was directed to the cupboard while Kuny opened the freezer and pulled out the bottle of vodka with a triumphant "Zdes!"
Gathering three shot glasses, Jackson headed to their living room and sat heavily on the couch, still not sure what the invitation meant. They weren't in the habit of introducing their one-night-stands to each other, more like boasting about them the day after and teasing each other about the overheard sounds, the badly hidden hickeys or the occasional forgotten piece of underwear. To say he was nervous was an understatement, but he was also curious. Curious to see where this led, if it was a grand prank or something else entirely.
A squeal and a bout of laughter from the kitchen tore him from his thoughts. A low murmur of conversation reached his ears and he strained to hear but couldn't understand much beyond the cadence of voices. Questions asked in a husky female voice, and the low purr of Kuny's bass answering them. Jackson could almost see his lips shape the vowels, his accent audible even if he couldn't recognize the words.
He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, digging his fingers into his thigh to try and ground himself momentarily. He didn't dare shape the thoughts in his mind around what he hoped would happen next. Better to err on the side of caution and spare himself the embarrassment of probably being wrong. But what if you're right, the voice in his mind whispered. The same voice that never hesitated to comment when his eyes lingered too long on his best friend, like what you see? He did, a lot. That was the whole problem, but what was he going to do about it? Close his eyes and drown it in vodka, seemed like.
Kuny had the ice-cold bottle of vodka already open, drops of condensation running down his forearm as he lifted it up, stopping right in front of Jackson and nodding at him "The good stuff, you know already. The hard stuff. From Russia." Turning to Jackie who was making herself comfortable on the couch, he addressed her almost conspiratory, "he knows good stuff."
"Oh yeah?" her laugh rang through the room as Kuny poured the clear liquid and distributed the shot glasses, sitting heavily on the other side of Jackson, their thighs pressing together.
"Na zdrowie."
Jackson replied in kind, the Russian phrase rolling off his tongue, one of the few he learned and could reproduce without butchering the language. Everything beyond three or four syllables was hopeless, but this one he could do, putting extra effort in rolling the *r* and waiting for the nod of approval from his best friend.
At the confused look on Jackie's face he explained, "It's like cheers, in Russian."
"Oh, I see. Well then, cheers, gentlemen!"
They clinked the glasses together, Kuny still fixing him with his gaze as they downed them at once. Jackie threw her head back and hissed at the burn as the liquor slid down her throat, but Jackson was still caught in Kuny's eyes, staring back as they both swallowed without a sound.
His eyes were pulled away only by Kuny's tongue darting out and licking a drop of the liquid that caught at the corner of his mouth, Jackson copying the action unconsciously and seeing Kuny's eyes flick down to his mouth. The hot twist low in his belly came back with more insistence and he half-heartedly blamed it on the alcohol, even though he knew the one shot couldn't have done it.
He almost forgot the other person in the room until she cleared her throat delicately and the both turned to her. She looked between them and then held out her glass. "Who's in for another?"
One shot turned into three and the tension in the air dissipated a little as they downed the liquor, cursing and laughing at the burn. The alcohol helped to shake off the apprehension and Jackson found himself relaxing minutely.
He still wasn't sure where the evening was headed, this was miles away from the usual situation he'd find himself in - at a club or a bar, one or both of them picking up a date to go home with that night, easy conversation carried by the beat of the music and flow of drinks, hazy on the details in the headache of the following morning.
This was home and there was a very gorgeous woman on their couch, currently resting her hand on his knee and asking him a question which he totally overheard because his also gorgeous roommate and best friend chose that moment to sling his arm across his shoulders and pull him into his side, jostling them all in the process. "Sorry, what?"
Jackson forced himself to focus on Jackie as she looked at them with an amused smile. He did not like that smile. She looked like she had a plan and when he looked back at Kuny he found that expression mirrored on his face.
Part of him, the reckless, unbound part that reveled in the thrill of pushing his limits and living life to the fullest, damn the consequences and damn what others would think, that part of him was sat on the edge of the seat just waiting for the situation to unfold and sweep him up into what might be an unprecedented adventure.
There was another part of him though, the rational, held-back, make sure you understand what's going on before you jump in part and he felt it pound behind his temples, insisting on making a polite but hasty retreat.
"I'll, uh, leave you two to your evening now. It was lovely to meet you, Jackie. Enjoy the good Russian stuff." He managed to smile and winked at her as he made to stand up, shrugging off Kuny's arm with the movement.
He didn't get far though, before Kuny caught his hand and pulled him back down. His eyes were dark and so, so earnest when he stared at Jackson and took a breath to say what had been unspoken in the room until that moment, his words clear and unmistakable: "Or-- you could stay. You want stay?"
Jackson's breath stuttered in his lungs, surprised at the question even as he was hoping for it, surprised all the same. Careful what you wish for. "Yeah, yes, I do want to stay." he breathed and turned his hand still in Kuny's grip, closing his fingers around his wrist in return.
The touch grounded him, the steady pulse under his fingertips reassuring. He looked at Jackie while still holding onto Kuny, his thumb drawing small circles around his wrist bone. "Are you okay with that? I-- We-- this isn't what normally happens and I don't want you to feel uncomfortable in any way so just say the word and I'll go..."
He trailed off as he watched her run her thumb across her lower lip slowly and then bite on it, smiling at him with all her teeth showing. She looked like a wild cat, all confident, contained power ready to pounce, and he liked it, liked the anticipation of her next move, especially with the grounding strength of the man behind him, now pressed along his arm and still holding his hand.
"I suggested it, actually. And Evgeni here was as concerned as you are, so let's talk about this before anything else happens. I understand you haven't done this before? A threesome?"
Jackson heard Kuny behind him whisper threesome to himself, trying to fold his accent around the new word and felt a rush of affection for the man and his determination to add to his English vocabulary in any situation.
"Uh, no, I mean yeah-- at least I haven't." It occurred to him that he assumed it was new for both of them, but he didn't know.
Kuny confirmed a beat later though, shaking his head. "Never have threesome, no. I imagine it many times, but never asked."
"You what?!" Jackson whipped his head around to see Kuny's face, his admission taking him by surprise. "You imagined it? With-- who? You never told me about that!"
Kuny looked down, shaking his head ruefully, a blush rising in his cheeks. He released Jackson's wrist and it left him feeling strangely bereft, wanting those hands back on him. Huh.
Kuny had that look he always got when he wanted to express something that was important to him, fighting the frustration of not having all the words to convey what he meant. Sometimes he'd enlist Sergei to help translate, but if that wasn't an option, he'd take him by the shoulders and look at him intently, face to face, eyes wide and earnest, saying you listen now, I speak. Not make fun. This is important you understand.
Jackson had laughed the first time that happened, but he had apologized a hundred times since, when a frustrated Kuny explained to him in broken English that he regarded him to be his best friend. That he had felt lonely and lost and misunderstood when he arrived in the States, with the language barrier and culture shock. That he had gotten used to feeling like he'd never truly belong. Until he came to Gryffindor and met him. They clicked instantly, and easy camaraderie that grew into a true friendship. Kuny had tears in his eyes when he finished, fingers digging into Jackson's shoulders where he was still holding onto him. You understand. I hate that don't have all words but it is important you understand. Not make fun.
Jackson remembers his heart pounding when he saw his friend so vulnerable, at loss for an answer, so he just went with the first thing that felt right. I love the way you speak. Kuny scoffed at it but couldn't fight the happy smile that took over his face, shoulders dropping in relief and their hug afterwards lasted forever and not long enough at the same time. So, Jackson knew that look and knew to listen now. This was important.
Kuny's arms lifted, but to Jackson's surprise, he didn't go for his shoulders. He took his hands instead, his grip sure. "You are my best friend. I don't want make mistake. But I imagine with you. I ask now."
They both swallowed hard, in sync like they were on the ice, and was it possible that they were in sync on this too? That he actually knew exactly how Kuny felt because it was echoed by his own apprehension and-- desire. Naming things gave them power and now that he named this feeling, even just in his thoughts, it crashed over him in a tidal wave, the same twist and pull low in his belly from before answering and spreading outwards in a rush of warmth all the way to his fingertips.
"Kuns, I-- I imagined it too. And I didn't want to endanger our friendship, too. But yes. I want to. Yeah." He bit his lip against the giddy smile that threatened to break free, not wanting to shatter the seriousness of the moment.
Kuny didn't have the same reservations though and erupted into a relieved laugh, pulling him into a hug, which resulted in him practically landing in the Russian's lap because he didn't do sideways hugs. Not real hug, he'd grumble and then rearrange the person to his liking and fucking envelop their whole body with his giant arms and they were the best hugs Jackson's ever had. He settled into this one happily, Kuny smiling and humming into his neck as one of his arms settled around his waist. Jackie was watching them with a smug smile of her own, waiting for them to part again before she spoke.
Kuny did not seem too keen on removing the arm from around Jackson's waist anytime soon, so he stayed seated where he was, determinedly not thinking about how close they were or the fact that he was only wearing sweatpants. Jackie's chin was resting on her hands, taking in their position and biting her lip.
"I'm loving this," she proclaimed and then clasped her hands together, sitting up straighter. "So glad you boys talked. Let's set some ground rules just so we are all on the same page, then?"
Both men nodded, their attention on her now. Her confidence was reassuring to Jackson, she apparently had some experience, definitely more than them.
"First of all, anyone can call a stop anytime, no matter what the reason. Any reason. Second of all, if we're doing this, no more vodka." She turned the shot glasses upside down one after the other as she said that, the residual liquor wet on her fingers.
Looking back at the two of them, she pushed her thumb into her mouth and sucked the wetness off slowly, a challenge in her eyes. Jackson heard Kuny's gasp followed by a low curse in Russian, but he couldn't look away as she went for her index finger next. Before her lips could connect, Kuny leaned across the couch, his arm around Jackson steadying him and his other reaching for Jackie, hand closing around her wrist and pulling her towards them.
She came willingly, walking on her knees till she was pressed along their sides. Kuny kept pulling on her wrist, raising her hand to his mouth, and Jackson was torn between watching his mouth close around her fingers and watching her face, eyes closing and lips parting on a moan at the sensation. This was actually happening.
He felt dizzy with want and a bit shaky with the newness of it all. A hand cradled his cheek and Jackie turned his face towards her, her other hand in the same place on Kuny's cheek. Her voice was breathy, but her eyes were intent and steady as she addressed them both. "Third of all, we talk. We check in with each other. Something you want to try? Talk. Something you don't want to do? Talk. Yes? I need you to say this one with me."
Kuny leaned into her hand as he answered "Da, yes, I talk. I say what I want."
Jackson was opening his mouth to answer in kind, wholly unprepared for what happened next as Kuny turned to him and bluntly stated: "Want kiss him."
He gaped at his friend, who was looking at him with a small smile and dark, dark eyes, pupils blown wide. And waiting, patiently, for him to say what he wanted. The problem was, Jackson couldn't find his voice at the moment and nothing would happen unless he did.
"Jackson?" Jackie's soft voice prompted him to suck in a breath and then the words were tumbling out.
"Yeah, yes, I want that too. I want to kiss you, too. I wa--mmpfh." Suddenly there were soft plush lips on his and a big, calloused hand replaced Jackie's softer one on his cheek. Kuny hummed into the close-mouthed kiss and the vibration tickled across his lips, making him gasp. Kuny's lips parted in sync with his and then there was a taste of vodka and something else, distinctly Evgeni. A tongue tracing along his, a pull on his lower lip, teeth nipping gently and making goosebumps erupt all across his skin... Jackson was lost in it, hands scrabbling for purchase on broad shoulders and his hips jerking forward, the arm around his back pulling him closer.
They parted on a gasp, both breathing hard, foreheads pressed together. "Harasho? Good?" Kuny was searching his face, and Jackson made himself find his voice yet again.
"Yes. Harasho." He nodded, stealing one more kiss because he could.
"I'm loving this," a whisper came from the side, where Jackie was sitting sideways, leaning on the backrest of the couch, chin in her hand and watching them, her eyes sparkling.
Kuny reached for her again, palm up and she slid her hand into his and sat up beside them, one of her legs hanging down the side of the couch alongside Kuny's, foot on the floor for balance.
"Now you kiss. I want watch." Kuny nodded to Jackson and he turned to face Jackie. She placed a hand on his cheek, the gesture familiar now.
"Can I?" It was easier with every time, giving voice to his want, saying yes to theirs.
"Yes."
His hand stroked up her thigh and rested on her hip as she tilted her head and pushed into his space and then they were kissing, soft and exploratory, different from Kuny but exciting in a different way. She yielded where Kuny pushed, moved with him where Kuny would hold still. Jackson was caught up in the feeling and the contrasts, the arousal bubbling up from his core in delightful shivers across his skin.
He was hyper aware of Kuny watching them and he realized that Jackie was into it, turning both their heads so he had a good view when she bit on his lower lip and pulled, drawing a groan from him and Kuny at the same time. Her tongue soothed over the bite right away and she pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth before she leaned her head on his shoulder, looking up at Kuny who was still watching them, mesmerized, his hands flexing unconsciously, one on Jackson's lower back and the other on Jackie's thigh.
Jackson loved to see him like that, finding it so much better than anything his imagination had managed to come up with. "Let's take this to the bedroom?" He spoke into Jackie's hair, his head turned to her but his eyes still fixated on Kuny who was slow to come out of his haze.
"Da. Bed.'' he rasped and shook his head, grinning to himself. He shifted in place, pressing their hips together with the movement and the arm still across Jackson's back and for a moment Jackson was afraid that he would try to carry him to the bedroom. Not that he couldn't lift him, he easily could and he had proven that often enough. But then all thoughts left him and pure sensation shot up his spine in a sudden flash because his best friend was hard. They both were.
He got so distracted by the frankly awesome making out that he forgot that part but now it was glaringly obvious and he was almost shocked by the immediacy of it, frozen in place and not daring to move.
His eyes found Kuny's on instinct and even though he didn't voice a question out loud, he got a slow nod in return, sure and steady. Kuny wasn't afraid of this or unsure about it, he wasn't pulling back, so Jackson decided he wouldn't be either. He wanted this. He asked for this. He wasn't backing out now. The only question that remained was, "which bedroom?"
The decision was made easily as Kuny stated, "my bed better for three," nodding to himself and squeezing Jackson around the waist one more time before he let go.
They untangled themselves, Jackie standing up first and holding out her hands to the two of them. "Detour through the kitchen? Water for everyone, not optional."
She pulled them across the living room, hands linked and let Jackson spin her around and press her against the kitchen counter to kiss her deeply while Kuny headed for the fridge. He could hear the fridge door opening and closing, footsteps coming closer and a water bottle cap hitting the counter, could hear Kuny drink in long swallows somewhere behind him, but it all faded into the background.
His senses were preoccupied by the woman in front of him, her lips parting for his tongue, her hands traveling down his chest and across his ribs to circle his waist and grab at his ass, pulling him into her-- until he felt the press of cool lips on the back of his neck, a hint of teeth pressing into the skin, another pair of hands, larger and stronger, settling on his hips from behind.
Jackson pressed back into the warm body behind him instinctively as Kuny kissed a winding path up his neck and exhaled right next to his ear with a low hum, the hot breath making him shiver with anticipation.
"This is not drink water," a low voice rumbled into his ear and Jackson chuckled at that, still dazed from the close proximity of two bodies, two gorgeous people vying for his attention.
"Not thirsty for water right now," Jackson countered and turned his head so their lips met. Kuny didn't miss a beat, licking into his mouth even as he was spinning him around and pressing his back into the counter, a repeat of what he did with Jackie just minutes before. Only that didn't seem to be enough for his friend, as he found himself hoisted up onto the counter, Kuny stepping in between his thighs and dragging his hands down his back to where Jackie's had been, grabbing his ass and squeezing.
The movement pushed their groins together and Jackson heard himself moan shamelessly, feeling his cock pulse and the answering hardness press against him when hooked his ankles behind Kuny's legs and pulled. His hands scrambled for the hem of his shirt and stilled when they found the warm skin underneath, both of them stunned at the ease with which they fit together.
They weren't kissing now, just panting against each other's mouth, overwhelmed by each new situation they found themselves in together, wanting to stay there and milk it till the last drop and at the same time eager to keep going, to see where the night would take them next. But now was this; his palms against Kuny's stomach, exploring and wandering upwards, feeling his chest expand with each breath.
"Can I?" he plucked at the shirt, Kuny raising his arms in answer. The shirt landed on the floor the next moment, forgotten, hands pressing over broad shoulders, feeling out the shapes of collarbones and the give of muscle under fingertips.
Jackson followed the path of his hands with his mouth, pressing open-mouthed kisses into the hollow of Kuny's throat, down his sternum and then across to land over his heart, feeling its strong beat against his lips when he lingered there for a long moment, writing the rhythm into his memory. Whether this was a one-time thing or a beginning of something new, he'd always know that heart, in sync with his own, beat for beat.
A large palm dragged up his torso slowly, pressed over his own heart and stayed there, careful and reverent; they didn't need words to understand each other in that moment. In sync like on the ice. Jackson felt the last nerves leave him then, carried away by the pulse of his own blood and the heat of arousal, feeling safe in the arms of his best friend.
After one last press of lips over his heart, he tilted his head up and was met with a scorching kiss that left him light-headed and gasping, clutching at Kuny's back, nails digging in, even as the Russian was pulling back.
"Kuns--"
"You drink now."
A water bottle was pressed into his hand, Kuny stepping back in between his thighs with a warm smile on his face, watching him as he gulped down half of the bottle in one go. He looked around, searching for Jackie and found her twirling her own bottle, her eyes trained on them and a smile playing on her lips.
"Let me guess. You're loving this."
She laughed at that, and then stepped closer, leaning her hip on the counter. "You're not wrong." Her look turned calculating and then she was lifting her own shirt and pulling it off in one swift motion, making a show of dropping it on the floor next to the one already there. "Also, you're overdressed."
Hooking her fingers in Kuny's belt loops, Jackie pulled him towards her and he resisted only for a moment to press a short kiss to Jackson's lips and grab his hand, pulling him after them towards his bedroom.
Jackson had been in there many times for many reasons but this was very different from banging on his friend's door in the morning to hurry up we'll be late for practice, I made coffee, or throwing balled-up socks and t-shirts at him from the doorway because these are not mine you giant, how did they end up in my laundry again? He knew the squeak the hinges made when the door opened all the way and the handle hit the wall where Kuny stuck a print-out of Snape's face so it would hit him in the nose every time that happened.
He could list from memory the few items that were always present on Kuny's desk, like one of the matryoshka dolls he brought for the whole team after he went home for the off-season, standing next to a small bowl that held the keys to his parents' house, for me it always remembers I can go home he explained one night when they both got drunk and grew bored playing videogames so they ended up laying on the floor of Kuny's bedroom just talking, or rather Kuny talking while Jackson went around his room picking up random objects and holding them up to get an explanation. There was a stack of books on the floor next to the bed, most of them in Russian and ‘The Hobbit’ being the only English book on top with a blurry polaroid photo of both of them at Sid's as a bookmark sticking out of it. Jackson's eyes skipped around the familiar room, finally landing on Kuny himself, finding him already looking back.
"Not fair, you still in shirt," he said as he stepped closer, plucking at Jackson's sleeve. Hands snaked around his waist as Jackie stepped up behind him and gathered the hem of the t-shirt in her hands.
"Yeah, alright, take it off," Jackson laughed as they undressed him and bracketed him between their bodies, skin on warm skin all around him.
For the next long while, Jackson's world became wandering hands and lips tracing contours of the three of them, finding ways to fit around each other and swaying together to the rhythm of their slowly building desire. It was an easy dance now that he allowed himself to want what he wanted; his best friend in all the ways they hadn't known each other yet and a beautiful stranger to lead them through the next step when they stumbled.
His hands landed on Kuny's waistband and stopped. Jackie pressed alongside him in the next moment, her warm hand between his shoulder blades, grounding and reassuring.
"Do you want to take them off, Jackson?"
He nodded, looking down where his fingers followed the v-lines of Kuny's abs, dipping below the waistband.
"Words,'' Jackie reminded him. He looked back up and was met with parted lips that he just had to kiss before he was able to form a question.
"Can I?"
"Da. Yes."
He drew his fingers along the waistband to the front, brushing the trail of hair leading down and feeling the muscles flex under his touch. Making quick work of the button and the zipper, he pushed the pants down and-- "No underwear, Kuns, really?"
The Russian just shrugged and stepped out of the pants, naked now but for the black socks patterned with stormtrooper helmets on them. "You have no underwear too," he nodded towards Jackson's crotch where his cock was very visibly tenting his sweatpants.
"I was at home! In my home clothes!" Jackson defended himself, spreading his arms and looking to Jackie for support. "Can you believe this?"
Jackie gave the naked man in the middle of the room a slow once-over, licking her lips as her eyes lingered on his crotch and then smirking back at Jackson. "I assumed, but I can believe it now. You really are a giant, aren't you?" she stated more than asked as she turned back to Kuny and then undid her own jeans, shimmying out of them and her underwear in one go. "Catch up, Jackson, you're the last one again," she teased while she faced him and languidly took off her bralette, handing it to him with a raised eyebrow. Then she was reaching for Kuny with purpose, one hand going to his hair and the other wrapping around his cock, pulling a groan out of him as she kissed him hungrily.
Her eyes closed and her whole body was leaning into Kuny, but his eyes were open and trained right at Jackson, the intense focus making him feel like he was the one being kissed instead. It made him want to be in her place, the surge of want so sudden and unexpected he took an involuntary step back, one hand reaching towards the desk to steady himself. The naked arousal in his best friend's eyes was unmistakably directed at him and his own answering desire still caught him by surprise when there was nothing needed to disguise it or explain it away. He could be in her place, easily.
Jackie was now kissing and biting at Kuny's neck and Jackson found himself hoping she wouldn't leave any marks, the thought spurring him into movement at last. If anyone got to leave a mark on the Russian, it was going to be him.
Pulled in by Kuny's intent gaze and the need to replace Jackie's lips with his own, he stalked towards the pair. He was ready to voice what he was thinking, to ask, to beg Kuny for the permission to mark him up. It was all he could think of, suddenly and unexpectedly, another surprising discovery about himself that felt right as soon as he admitted it to himself.
He tucked himself into Kuny's side, with Jackie still busy with his neck and just as he was opening his mouth to say the words, he saw her bite down on the tendon and then close her lips around it. The sound died in his throat, rapidly being replaced by embarrassment.
"Jacks--" a strangled gasp from Kuny made them both look up at him and Jackson was ridiculously grateful for the interruption when he glanced at Kuny's neck and didn't see any darkened skin.
"Yeah, babe?" Jackie replied without missing a beat, still draped along Kuny's side. Jackson realized that it must have been her nickname Kuny called out and it made the irony of their names being so similar even clearer. Did Kuny find it funny when he found out what her name was? Did she find it funny when they were introduced in their hallway? He'd have to ask them later. Right now there were more important things, like Kuny pulling him closer and talking fast in Russian to himself, his voice rumbling in his chest and then cutting off abruptly. Kuny cradling his cheek with one hand and pressing the pad of his thumb down on his lower lip. Kuny's frustrated huff and that look he always got when he was trying to translate something from Russian to English in his head and didn't have all the words. Jackson knew that look well, just like he knew many of his other looks and was currently learning a whole new category of them in this unprecedented situation.
"I don't know correct word." Ah, there it was. "For-- bruise? Like kiss but--" He looked imploringly at Jackson and then at Jackie. "Love bruise?"
"You mean a hickey? A mark? Do you want one?" Jackie was already moving back towards his neck and Jackson was frozen, still in Kuny's grip, helpless as he saw Kuny nod gratefully while mouthing the words to himself. Hickey. Mark. And then--
"Niet. Wait. Want mark from him." Kuny's dark eyes were back on him, the intent gaze softening with his voice as he spoke the next sentence that almost sent Jackson to his knees. "Only him. Please."
Jackson felt the words all the way to his bones and something in him purred contentedly at the implications even as he swayed in place. Only him. But also, "love bruise?" he couldn't help but quip back at Kuny. His wry smile made him smile too and his thumb that still rested on Jackson's lower lip pressed down against the new shape of joy.
His expression turned wistful then and Jackson was only marginally more prepared for the next thing that came out of his mouth, in a terrifyingly accurate aim straight for his heart despite Kuny's lack of words. "Love hurts, no?"
"I never want to hurt you." Jackson whispered, blindsided by the raw honesty and hurt in Kuny's voice, at loss for words because what do you say to that?
Kuny just shook his head. "I know you not hurt me. Not you. My home, Russia, this--" a quick kiss to reassure, a gentle squeeze of the hand now resting on the back of his neck, "--this is not safe. Not see. Not say. Can be dangerous. Can hurt."
Jackson just stepped fully into Kuny's space at that, tucking his face into his neck and wrapping his arms around him, pressing everything he was feeling into Kuny's body with his embrace, lips against his collarbone, trusting his body to convey what he meant better than words. We're safe here, he wanted to say and, I'll protect you, but he knew those were only partially true. I didn't know was in there too, or rather, didn't realize. I wish you'd told me tightly entwined with I wish I'd told you and all of those wrapped in I'm glad we're here now. I've got you.
Kuny let out a heavy sigh and melted into the embrace, resting his head on top of Jackson's and muttering Russian into his hair. They stood, naked and interlocked, in the middle of the bedroom, neither of them letting go. It was a dance of subtle steps; a deep breath in to feel his ribcage expand and the arms around him tighten in response, a weight shift and a little shuffle so their edges could fit themselves together even more seamlessly, the heartbeat against his breastbone answering the one he could feel with his lips pressed against the pulsepoint where he was tucked under Kuny's chin. In sync, like on the ice, but also so very much more.
The intimacy of the moment took Jackson's breath away, the pause they found themselves in taking nothing away from the course of the night. He still felt the arousal meandering through his body, but unhurried and languid, like a river that knew it would reach its destination eventually; there was no other outcome but to meet the tide of the ocean and be irrevocably changed by it. No need to rush when the anticipation was running deep and sweet through his veins.
Jackie was reclining on the bed, relaxed and still naked and apparently not bothered by their moments that kept happening, but Jackson still felt like he had to say something, that they kept her waiting. He was grateful for her uncanny ability to read them and her easy willingness to adapt to their changing tides but she was a guest and part of him was very aware of not being a good host right now. Yet again, she was way ahead of him when he reluctantly stirred and made to leave the embrace.
"No, no, stay. Take your time, you two. This feels important, give it the attention it deserves. I'm good here and the view is quite nice." She took a breath and they heard her hold it, the silence in the room absolute for a short while. Then with deliberate care, she continued. "I'm not expecting anything so if you'd like the evening to go any other direction than the apparent, just tell me, 'kay boys?"
He could hear the smile in her voice. Still tucked into Kuny's neck, he felt him nodding and the rumble of his voice under his cheek. "Spasibo, Jacks."
It was Kuny who detangled himself first after a long while, but instead of stepping away he pulled and pushed Jackson in the direction of the bed wordlessly and maneuvred them all under the covers with himself in the middle.
Jackson found himself wondering yet again at the way they just fit. Slotting together without thinking, legs tangling, hands finding places to rest and caress, they cocooned themselves in the hushed silence of the bedroom.
Jackson startled when another hand touched his, resting on Kuny's chest right above his heart, but then he met Jackie's eyes on the other side of the Russian. They exchanged a smile and then Jackie sent him a conspiratory wink, trailing her hand lightly down Kuny's chest and brushing across one nipple, drawing a soft gasp from him.
She continued her slow, barely there touches, raising goosebumps on Kuny's skin. Every now and then she chose a path that crossed Jackson's hand or arm still thrown across Kuny's chest, setting off sparks right under his skin and watching him carefully. He could read her silent invitation to join but he was caught up in watching Kuny's face, mesmerized by the myriad expressions the gentle touches brought forth. He'd never seen his best friend like this, never knew he'd be so open and trusting, so expressive in reaction to the slightest touch.
When he finally moved his hand, it was to mold his palm to the side of Kuny's neck, to cup his cheek and press his thumb against his full lower lip in a mirror to their earlier position. What he didn't expect was Kuny pulling it into his mouth and sucking. His eyes were open, boring into Jackson, dark and intent and pinning him in place.
A hint of teeth grazed the pad of his thumb and it was as if a switch flipped; the air heated up and Jackson became suddenly aware that they were naked in bed and he could touch, he could taste as much as he wanted to. And oh he wanted to. He pushed up onto one elbow, hovering above Kuny's face and then he was falling into a kiss, his tongue pushing into Kuny's mouth alongside his thumb. The sensation burned all the way down his spine in a rush that left his head spinning, the heat turning up. There were hands in his hair, on his back, nails gently scratching down his side, a palm kneading his ass and a hot breath in his ear, whispering encouragements. Jackson felt like he was on the edge of a volcano, the heat alive and reaching for him, all that was left to do was jump.
The final push came on the end of a groan as they came up for air, Kuny speaking it right into his mouth, the deep rasp he could feel like a caress against his lips: "More."
Jackson wanted more, oh he wanted everything, but for a start he wanted more of that delicious skin-on-skin contact that was already turning him liquid. He'd melt in Kuny's hands and flow between his fingers, into every crevice of his body if he could, just to get closer.
That's what made it past his lips, "closer" and "please--" among their gasps as he was pulling on Kuny's arm ineffectively, not quite knowing how to get him where he wanted him. "Kuns--''
The Russian pulled him in, wrapping him in his arms and then the world tilted for a second; the next thing he felt was the bed under his back and the grounding weight of a whole hockey player on top of him, as if he knew exactly where and how to anchor him. In sync, like on the ice. Jackson was stupidly grateful for it, unable to form sentences while he was wrapped up in need and want, layers of it, making it harder to breathe, let alone speak.
Kuny kissed him then, pressing him into the mattress and controlling the kiss, slow and sure, humming into it and making his lips buzz and stretch into a smile. Jackson lifted a hand to Kuny's cheek again and this time Kuny chased after his thumb and pulled it into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it while still holding his gaze, one eyebrow rising in silent question.
Jackson felt his cock pulse at the implication, hard and leaking, the molten lava now simmering low in his belly. He wasn't stupid, he understood, knew what his best friend was implying, but still he'd have to ask for it. Jackie said they had to talk.
Jackie. He knew what to say to her at least, felt her along his side, one leg thrown over his and the slow rolls of her hips against his thigh. Even though tearing his eyes away from Kuny took an effort, he turned his head slightly to catch her eyes, dark with hunger as she watched them. "Loving this?"
It startled a low laugh from her and she hid it in his shoulder. "You know it."
"I know what you'd love even more."
"Oh yeah? I hope it has to do with that mouth of his. Looks like he knows how to use it, and not only on your fingers."
Jackson's gaze was back on Kuny, who in the meantime abandoned his thumb and intertwined their fingers, kissing and sucking down his palm to the inside of his wrist. He pressed his lips to the pulsepoint there and then looked up at Jackson with a calculating look, giving him barely a second before he licked a wet stripe all the way to his fingertips and closed his mouth around three of his fingers, sucking enthusiastically.
"Oh fuck," both he and Jackie groaned at the sight, and then she continued, her voice husky, "fuck, if you don't ask him for it, I will."
At Jackie's words Kuny grinned at him, catching his fingers between his teeth to keep them in place and it shouldn't have been so hot for how ridiculous he looked, but Jackson felt the tug of arousal in his belly all the same.
He sucked in a breath, desperate to try and put into words what his body was straining for, but Kuny made speaking impossible when he closed his lips around his middle finger next and slid them all the way down to the last knuckle. "Mnngh" was all he managed under Kuny's knowing look.
"Oh you're wicked and I like it." Jackie's amused voice was right in his ear, the hot breath making his skin erupt in goosebumps. "Do you like it, Jackson?"
Once again she was guiding him along with ease and he nodded gratefully. Yes and no questions were easy enough to comprehend. "Do you want him to stop?"
"No" the almost-cry carried on a breath, no don't stop just please his lips were moving but out came only a wrecked moan as Kuny pressed his hips down in a grind, knowing exactly where Jackson wanted him next and making it exceptionally difficult to form coherent thoughts to get him there.
“What do you want him to do to you, Jackson?” Jackie purred in his ear while Kuny was taking him apart with his mouth still working at his fingers, the slow, filthy grind of his hips promising more. “Remember, use your words.”
A frustrated whine was all that Jackson was capable of, as wild with desire as he was, lost in the heat of Kuny’s body on top of him.
“Evgeni, babe, I know you’re enjoying this but you’ll have to slow down if we want to hear him.” Jackie soothed, running her hand through Kuny’s hair and tugging lightly.
Kuny followed her lead and halted, lowering his hand and pressing it into the mattress next to Jackson’s head, tangling their fingers together. Jackson squeezed his hand, holding on for dear life, grounding himself in the new sensation that immediately felt so right. A distant part of his brain wondered if Kuny would want to hold hands sometimes, after this, just for the comfort of it. He’d just have to ask, like for anything else he wanted. Like right now. He strained upwards and Kuny met him in a gentle kiss, a stark contrast to the lust boiling under his skin.
Nudging their noses together playfully, Kuny broke the kiss but stayed close. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered against Jackson’s lips. “I’ll do it. I want be good for you.”
Jackson squeezed his eyes at the wave of want that swept him up like a flood in reaction. “Kuns, god, you’re so good, your mouth--” he broke off with a groan, caught off-guard by Kuny’s thigh hitching higher between his legs, the muscle flexing against his crotch. The delicious pressure was almost unbearable and yet not enough. His eyes snapped open, almost going cross-eyes with Kuny still so close, but his look was determined now and he knew Kuny could read it in his face.
Jackson made sure to pronounce his next words clearly. “I want your mouth. On my cock. Now.”
He wished he could replay forever the way Kuny’s eyes widened and then went dark at the request, his breath punching out of him in a surprised gasp.
The surprise didn’t last long though, the wicked gleam in Kuny’s gaze was back in the next moment, eyebrows rising. “Now mean half-hour now? Or now now?” he asked even as he was pulling away and sitting back on his heels, straddling one of Jackson’s thighs.
“Oh my god, really?” Jackson threw a hand over his eyes in mock annoyance, fighting a laugh that was bubbling up in his chest. Of course Kuny wouldn’t just give up a chance to chirp him. It was a semi-regular scene between them, I want pizza now. I hungry now. So we go now, and Yes we’re going, let me just finish this round, I’m almost done. Other times it was We gotta leave now, Kuns, or we’ll be late and Da, da, I’m get dressed now, is not late. Inevitably one of them would end up standing in the other’s doorway, looking pointedly at the watch. Now means now, not in a half-hour. I’m going now, with or without you.
He felt Kuny shift and then his weight left him completely. He heard Jackie next to him hum approvingly, her hand stroking down his chest and settling on his hip. Then another hand, larger and warmer, wrapped around his knee and made a slow way up his thigh, pressing into the muscle and kneading appreciatively. Jackson was equally turned on and exasperated, his cock answering every squeeze and press of Kuny’s hand with a desperate twitch.
When Kuny finally made it to his other hip, his palm warm over his hipbone in a mirror to Jackie’s, Jackson was ready to beg, again. His hips tried to jerk up on instinct, earning warning squeezes from both of them and a disapproving tsk tsk from Jackie, who was now leaning on her elbow next to him, her chin in her hand, watching them attentively.
Kuny was focused on him completely, holding his gaze as he lowered his head so his lips were just above the head of his leaking cock. The smirk was back, half confidence, half disbelief and all desire, directed just at him. Jackson wanted to see it again, a hundred times more, a thousand. He suddenly found himself violently wishing please let this be a first, the thought stealing his breath.
Kuny was still hovering and his exhales felt almost like caresses on Jackson's oversensitive skin, barely there and yet driving him crazy. Then he spoke and his voice didn't carry even a hint of uncertainty as he licked his lips and stated, "I'm go now, with or without you.”
Jackson could have tried to gather his wits and answer him back, he had enough ammunition to win this, thank you, but Kuny was wrapping his lips around the head of Jackson's cock and suddenly nothing else mattered. The wet heat made him curl his toes and arch his back as a lightning of pleasure zinged up his spine and burst behind his eyelids.
Kuny was right where he had wanted him and it was at once too much and not enough. The hands on his hips tightened as his own grasped at the sheets and held on. He felt light-headed, all blood rushing to his core and every nerve alight. By the noises Kuny was making, he was enjoying himself, every content hum vibrating up his shaft and pulling an answering groan from his throat.
Jackson wanted to see, he wanted to touch, he wanted to fuck up into Kuny's mouth and have him take it. He wanted to taste himself on Kuny's tongue and he wanted to taste him in turn. A stray thought fluttered through his mind, we have time for all that. God, I hope we do.
Jackson grabbed for Kuny's hand that was still pressing down on his hip and tangled their fingers together. He wanted to push his fingers into Kuny's hair and feel him moving, wanted to direct him, push him down and hold him in place, but he didn't dare.
He squeezed his hand instead, once, twice, trying to anchor himself in the wave after wave of sensation that washed over him. Then Kuny was moving their hands, giving him exactly what he wished for, pulling off for a moment just to wink at him and say, "you can pull. I like it," as he placed Jackson's hand on top of his head, nuzzling into it a little.
A sharp breath punched out of Jackson as he pushed his hand into Kuny's hair and grabbed the strands lightly, then more firmly, testing. Kuny's eyes fluttered closed as he hummed approvingly, his other hand just stroking Jackson unhurriedly. Jackson could watch him forever. He also wanted his mouth back on his cock. He got better hold on his hair and when he pulled, Kuny followed willingly, licking his lips and widening his eyes in mock innocence before he dove in and licked a hot stripe up Jackson's cock, drawing a moan out of him.
"Kuns, Jesus--"
"Niet. No Jesus. Just me." Kuny seemed to consider something and then his face softened as he pressed a quick kiss on top of Jackson's thigh, speaking into his skin next. "Say Zhenya. I want you say my name."
Jackson felt his lips turn up into a smile, feeling just ridiculously fond of his best friend in that moment. He was feeling all lightheaded and floaty, except for the spots of heat where Kuny's hands were pressing into his skin, grounding him.
He kept the name close, holding it like a gift, a treasure found; and wasn't this all just that? An unexpected and precious thing he still didn't believe he could have even as he was literally cradling it in his palms. He took a breath and noticed with satisfaction the expectant look on Kuny's face. He was going to say it, oh yes, probably say it a lot, but not yet. "I'll trade you. My name for yours."
Kuny - Zhenya - narrowed his eyes at that, biting his lip in consideration while trying to keep his own smile from showing. "Nado. Now say my name."
"You know what I mean."
They stayed locked in the back-and-forth of teasing and bickering, neither of them ready to give in, so familiar Jackson wanted to wrap himself in it, wrap himself in Kuny. Zhenya. He wanted to say that name, wanted to whisper it against his skin, to beg it into the sheets and probably scream it towards the ceiling before the night was over, but-- he also wanted to hear his own name, to find out if hearing it fall from those lips gave him the same rush as his hand in Kuny's hair did, him following where Jackson directed, easy and eager. In sync, like on the ice.
He felt Kuny's resolve falter before he made any sound, knew he had won from the way Kuny leaned into his hand for a moment, lowering his chin and looking at him from beneath his lashes. "Jack-son" he said carefully, folding the syllables around his accent and the timbre of his voice washed over the last of Jackson's reserves and melted them into nothingness. Kuny could ask him anything in that voice and he'd give it without question. "Jackson.”
"Yeah?" it came out breathy and more unsteady than he'd want to admit, but Kuny didn't laugh at him, didn't tease him anymore.
"Say my name, Jackson. Please."
"I love how you talk," Jackson gasped out, trembling with how turned on he was. Then finally "Zhenya" and "touch me, please--"
Zhenya didn't hesitate, diving back in and taking him into his mouth, one hand wrapped around the base, making him arch his back and dig his heels into the mattress. His leg muscles flexed with the movement and drew twin moans from both Jackie and Zhenya, each of them practically straddling one of his legs.
Jackie was tucked all along his side and startled from her hushed stillness when she didn't want to interrupt the exchange, now pressing biting kisses into his shoulder and rolling her hips against him leisurely.
Zhenya with one knee tucked up between Jackson's legs, holding himself up, the other leg stretched out and probably hanging off the bed, the giant. Jackson was vaguely aware of all that, helpless to do anything but hold on as he was coaxed higher still by Zhenya's hands and tongue on him, hand still tangled in his hair. Now that he had said it, he couldn't seem to stop, "Zhenya" and "please" pouring from his lips with each gasping breath.
Time melted away as everything narrowed to the burning points of contact among the three of them; hands roaming Jackson's body, too many hands but it was too good, the overstimulation making him whine every time Zhenya tightened his hand on him, every roll of Jackie's hips against his thigh.
The litany of "Zhenya" and "please" falling from his lips was only interrupted by Zhenya making his way up his body again, kissing and biting and drawing more sounds and reactions from him. A gasp as he bit the inside of his thigh, soothing the mark with his tongue afterwards. A groan as he licked up the crease of his hip, one large hand still on him, slow and tight and bringing him closer and closer to the brink. Even a giggle as he kissed up the side of his ribcage and laughed at Jackson's squirming. "You know I'm ticklish, you asshole! Stop it!"
Zhenya stopped moving his hand at the exclamation but continued on his path, biting down on his shoulder playfully.
"No, don't stop that! You know what I meant!" Jackson was too turned on to summon the proper tone of voice and swatted at Zhenya in frustration, getting only an amused laugh in return.
"I'm know. It's funny."
"'S not funny! Just--" Jackson was half exasperated, half amused at his best friend's timing, because of course he'd tease him now that he was a literal mess in his hands, but he was also half out of his mind with arousal, casting for the right words to make him continue, just-- "Jackie!" he gasped out, she'd know what to do, she knew every time--
His next word turned into a groan as Zhenya's hand on him tightened right in that moment, but he was still not moving and it was maddening and hot and driving him crazy.
Jackson turned his head towards Jackie, their noses almost touching where she was draped half over him. His hand was on her thigh, grabbing for purchase although he didn't remember putting it there. She was straddling his thigh, grinding down in a steady rhythm and he hitched her leg higher up on instinct, drawing an approving moan from her. "Jackie, just, please-- tell him!"
She looked between the two of them, thinking and then nodding, one corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. She reached out her hand to trace it across his temple and down his cheek, then a featherlight touch across his lips that tickled and a boop on the nose that made him go cross-eyed. "Ah, sweetie, you tell him. You already know what to say. Just think." She kissed him on the nose and grinned, nodding towards Zhenya, who was watching him intently, looking very pleased with himself. And oh, yes, Jackson knew what to say, actually.
He desperately searched for the few Russian expressions he knew and hoped he didn't butcher the word he wanted to say. Zhenya loved it when Jackson spoke Russian, trying to imitate the sounds and finally getting it almost-right on the tenth try. He loved teaching him words for things, objects around the house, expressions and, of course, curse words, making him repeat the syllables that made no sense to Jackson's ears, but made Zhenya grin so big he'd repeat anything just to bring that smile out again.
He took a breath, hearing Zhenya's voice in his mind teaching him the word he wanted and then, looking him in the eyes and pronouncing carefully, he said it. "Please. Zhenya. Pozhalusta."
At Jackson's words, Zhenya went completely still, his eyes widening in surprise and then going even darker; Jackson felt his gaze like a physical thing, holding him in place and cradling him safely even as he was being taken apart.
Finally, slowly, Zhenya started moving his hand again and it felt like too much and not enough at the same time. Jackson's next moan was swallowed by a kiss, until he could only gasp "more" and "please" into Zhenya's mouth, Jackie's panting breaths speeding up along his own, both of them following Zhenya's rhythm.
Then Zhenya was nudging his cheek, turning his head towards Jackie, murmuring "Look her." She caught Jackson’s gaze and held it, eyes liquid and dark with pleasure, gorgeous and panting with how on edge she was.
"Someone kiss me, I'm so close," she demanded and Jackson felt Zhenya's mouth latch onto the tendon between his neck and shoulder at the same time as he dove for Jackie's lips. Her whole body was trembling, following the rolling movements of her hips against his thigh and taking what she needed to finally tip over the edge. Jackson felt her shudder as she rode the waves of her orgasm, clutching onto him and gasping into their kiss. He felt Zhenya tighten his hand and speed up his rhythm again, felt Zhenya's teeth and tongue working a mark into his neck. But it was when Zhenya lifted his head, admiring his work and then breathing "Jackson" right into his ear that got him to gasp out, "I'm gonna-- Zhenya, I'm--"
Zhenya nudged his cheek again, but now it was to claim his mouth for himself, murmuring Russian between sloppy kisses as he finally brought him over the edge. Jackson just gave himself over to the sensation, letting Zhenya kiss him through it, stealing his breath and his heart and somehow still making him feel all the more alive for it.
Jackson came back to himself, cradled from both sides by warm bodies and soft voices. Blinking against the dim light of the room, he made an inquiring sound and was answered by a chuckle from Jackie “You back with us?”
"I never left."
"Oh, you dozed off there for a moment." Jackie jostled him playfully and then got up, throwing them a look over her shoulder. "I'm grabbing the first shower. Don't forget to drink some water, boys!"
Jackson felt Zhenya on his other side smiling into his shoulder and he suddenly needed to see him, needed to kiss him again just to make sure it all happened and he wouldn't wake up alone in his bed with echoes of a dream slipping through his curtains with the morning light. But Zhenya was right there, solid and warm and smug.
"What are you grinning about?" Jackson teased him, feeling giddy on the feeling he didn't want to name yet, even as it filled his whole chest and made him reach for Zhenya's hand, tangling their fingers together. "Oh wait, Zhenya, did you--?"
The Russian just nodded, trying to go back to kissing, but Jackson stopped him with a finger on his lips, just watching his best friend for a moment, amazed and happy and "--are you blushing right now? Wow, this truly is a night of firsts."
Zhenya shot back something in Russian that Jackson was pretty sure meant a not-so polite-version of shut up with how often he'd hear him yell it at the tv, but now it felt like an endearment, with Zhenya unable to hold back a smile and getting shy all of a sudden, his eyes flicking between their entwined fingers and the mess they made between them, the purpling mark on Jackson's neck and the door that was left slightly ajar, letting in the sound of running shower.
"You owe me still-- love bruise? Kak skazatj--"
Of all the words, Jackson would not use 'soft' to describe Zhenya; but now, on this night of firsts he had no better word for the look that was now directed at him. He returned it without hesitation. He was here for it, for all of it. "A hickey. I do. Where do you want it, babe?"
Zhenya didn't answer immediately. Instead he reached out and traced the mark he left on Jackson's neck, as if he needed to reassure himself that it really happened, that there was proof that wouldn't be so easily washed away, impossible to ignore. Jackson could feel the lingering sting, the skin bruised and sensitive, making him shiver and want to find a mirror and see for himself. He could see the shadow of worry in Zhenya's eyes, that look of this is important, he could see him thinking and picking words, probably translating what he wanted to say. He caught Zhenya's hand in his own and pressed a kiss to his palm, then placing it over his heart, threading his fingers through Zhenya's, just holding on and letting him know without words that he was there. Not leaving. Not regretting anything. Not afraid.
"The shower is free, boys." Jackie's voice calling from the hall broke the silence and Jackson realized he couldn't hear the sound of water anymore. She came back into the room and dropped two water bottles on Jackson's chest. He'd deny the sound that came out of him at the unexpected cold shock against his naked skin, but it made Zhenya burst into a surprised laugh and bury his face into the pillows and it was so cute that it made the embarrassment worth it.
"Drink up boys." Jackie prompted, throwing them curious looks as she searched for her clothes around the room. They slowly disentangled themselves from the blankets and each other and emptied the bottles dutifully. Jackson took Zhenya's bottle from him and then took his hand, earning a surprised look. "Shower with me?" A relieved nod was his answer, Zhenya already pulling him to his feet and towards the bathroom. Jackson stopped them in the doorway, turning back to Jackie who was pulling on her clothes.
She was already looking at them with a knowing smile. "Go ahead. Take your time. I'll raid your kitchen in the meantime. Or order pizza. I'm starving."
"Sounds good. Thanks, Jackie."
He let Zhenya pull him the rest of the way to the bathroom, thinking he'd have to thank Jackie properly, profusely, and also ask her how she knew just what to say every time because it was bordering on scary.
But now there was another, more important talk, to be had. There was his best friend, turning on the shower, not meeting his eyes and fidgeting nervously. Zhenya never fidgeted. "Hey. Talk to me." Jackson ducked his head to catch Zhenya's eyes.
Instead, Zhenya avoided his gaze and he was being pulled into the shower under the spray of hot water, getting increasingly worried. Did Zhenya regret what they did? Was he gearing up for a let’s never talk about this again speech? Well, Jackson wouldn’t let him. He took a breath and opened his mouth, preparing to launch into a five-point argument about how this wasn't a mistake followed by an even longer list of reasons why they should definitely do it again, maybe just the two of them...
He didn't even get to start, interrupted by Zhenya's frustrated growl. "Ja nie znayu-- how say this right. So not make fun."
Jackson saw the serious expression on Zhenya's face, his this is important look. "Okay? I'll listen. But-- can I kiss you first? Just. I'm a bit worried now."
Jackson was still trying to catch Zhenya's eyes, standing close and blinking the water away, so he wasn't far for Zhenya to look up at him in surprise and then break out into a wide smile, pressing their lips together and saying "Da, da, vsegda, ty vsegda mozesh." breathless little giggles escaping him in between kisses. Jackson didn't understand the words, but he understood the tone of relief, felt it himself when he was once again in his best friend's arms, his world right again after being tilted dangerously off its axis for a moment. They were okay.
"What-- what were you saying?" Jackson asked, minutes later, eternity later, after they had caught their breath, actually showered and stole even more kisses inbetween handing each other shampoo bottles and later towels, still helpless against the gravity pulling them together. They still had to talk, but Jackson was now sure they were on the same page and for right now that was enough.
However, he was curious about one thing. "Zhenya, what did you say, before? In the shower. It was all Russian..."
"Oh-- I say you can kiss me always. Did I say in Russian?"
"Yeah, didn't you realize?"
"Niet. Only happy you want kiss me. Jackson--" Zhenya broke off, taking Jackson's hands in his and it would have been funny, the two of them just in towels, hair dripping, the mirror behind them misty from the condensation, showing only their silhouettes and the buy toothpaste that Jackson wrote on it with his finger that morning when he used the last of it, next to a word in Cyrillic that Zhenya wouldn't tell him the meaning of. Yet it felt like the most important moment, with how Zhenya's eyes bore into him, warm and earnest, and soft, there it was again, stealing Jackson's breath away.
"You are my best friend." Zhenya announced carefully, willing him to hear it. "I care-- you? I don't know how say..."
"I care about you." Jackson jumped in, helping Zhenya with the words, echoing the same back at him. "I care about you too, Zhenya. You're my best friend too."
"Da. Yes. But-- I like when we kiss. I like this." He squeezed Jackson's hands in his and pulled him closer, wrapping Jackson's arms around his waist and his own around Jackson's shoulders. Next words were spoken against his temple, hushed and treasured. "I want best friends and I want this. Ya khochu tebja. Can we-- have this? Do you--?"
Jackson was nodding before Zhenya finished his sentence, already reaching for him and pouring everything he felt into a kiss, every exhilarating and excited and scary feeling that was filling his chest, because he didn't have enough words for how much he wanted this, too. Then he heard Jackie's voice in his mind, use your words Jackson, say what you want and only good things had happened when he listened to Jackie... "Yes, we can. We can have this. Zhenya, I want you too. I want all of that-- wait, are we, like, dating now?"
Zhenya was smiling so hard his eyes were just slits, mirroring his own happy grin that wouldn't leave his face. He still managed to roll his eyes, of course. "Nado. We live together."
"I know, but do we-- go on dates, now? Like, what are the rules to this?"
"We are best friends who kiss. And make love. And-- cuddle?"
Jackson was more than a bit distracted by the lovely blush that rose in Zhenya's cheeks and the accompanying words but he managed to keep it together and reply because he could use a good cuddle just about now. He was getting a bit chilly with how long they were standing in the bathroom just in their towels and if it went his way, there would be no need for pyjamas tonight. He wanted to wrap himself up in Zhenya and stay there. He could, now.
"Yeah we can definitely cuddle. We can even sleep together!"
Zhenya's eyebrow rose at that and Jackson swatted at him, indignant. "I meant sleep sleep! In the same bed! On purpose! Not you falling asleep on me by accident when we watch Clone Wars after midnight."
"How you know it is accident?" Zhenya winked at him and then stole his towel and ran out of the door towards his room, leaving Jackson gaping and-- happy. He was happy. And-- falling in love with my best friend, he experimentally tried that thought on, just to see what would happen, how he would feel. Nothing broke, nothing shattered. The world kept on turning, the wisps of steam kept escaping into the hall, the light turned on in his room, beckoning him forward. The feeling settled more firmly in his chest, already filling the space behind his ribs, expanding with his lungs and cradling his heart, warm and soft and safe. They would figure it out together, like they did everything else so far. Playing together, communicating together, living together. Being together.
In sync, like on the ice.
- - -
Bonus:
Jackie followed her grumbling stomach and the trail of discarded clothing back to the kitchen. She always got hungry after sex and this was no exception, although everything else about this night was exceptional. She couldn't have foreseen the story that would unravel right before her eyes, between the two men that invited her into their apartment and their bed, only to find each other in the end. She wasn’t complaining, oh no, on the contrary, that was quite something and she won’t forget it, ever… but now, she needed food.
The fridge didn’t offer any satisfactory snack options so Jackie found herself sitting on the kitchen island, scrolling through the takeout app on her phone and ordering pizza instead. She saw the empty pizza boxes from Sid’s beside the trash can so she knew she couldn’t go wrong with that choice. Everyone loved Sid’s, of course they did too.
Everyone also loved the Lions. She was only now slowly connecting the dots. The framed jerseys in the hall. The hockey sticks in the corner of the living room, the pucks on the shelf. Evgeni saying teammate when he introduced Jackson. Both of them being built like Greek gods, strong and beautiful and fitting together like pieces of a puzzle. Gryffindor loved their Lions. Of course she knew of the team even if she didn’t follow the game - if you lived in Gryffindor, it had become impossible to not know about them after they brought home the cup.
However, she was glad that she didn’t know who exactly Evgeni was when they met at the bar, apart from a fun drinking partner, dorky dancer and very, very good kisser. They had locked eyes across the room, she bought him a drink, he got the burgers and fries, they talked for quite a long time even with him searching for words and having to resort to inventive descriptions with a side of charades to get his meaning across, they danced, they made out… He made her laugh and didn’t push for her number or her attention, he turned her on and he intrigued her, but at the end of the night, he was just a stranger to her.
A gentle, giant, hot stranger that took her home for what she expected to be a one night stand and turned into so much more; at least for the two men. She saw the looks, heard what had been said and felt the connection between them come to life in an entirely new way, witnessing a sacred first and even helping to guide them through it when they turned to her. She had threesomes before, but nothing like this. She already knew she would treasure the memory, feeling rather protective of it; of them.
Her phone buzzed, the arrival of the pizza delivery reminding her of her grumbling stomach again. She hopped down from her perch on the kitchen island, let the delivery person into the building and paid for the three pizzas, bringing them back to the kitchen. The boys would be hungry too, when they finally came out of the shower, but they were taking their time. She suspected they needed the privacy to make sense of what happened. She could give them that.
Grabbing a sharpie from her bag, she scrawled a note and her number on top of one of the pizza boxes that she left on the counter, only grabbing three slices out of it and stacking them like a delicious, greasy, pizza sandwich. With a last fond look around she headed for the door, her eyes lingering on the jerseys hanging in matching gold frames on the wall. Nadeau. Kuznetsov. She didn’t know the names or the jersey numbers, had only a vague idea about hockey, but she was rooting for them now - for Zhenya and Jackson - and going by what she’d seen tonight, she was pretty sure they would make it.
fin
#Nuny#lumosinlove#lumosinlove fanfic#sweater weather lumosinlove#inspired by sweater weather#Nado#Kuny#Jackie#inspired by lumosinlove
70 notes
·
View notes
Text
coa one year later & self-reflection
(*drags out a creaky metal chair and plops down on it heavily*)
Hi. It’s me, ya boi skinny--
Wait, wrong one. Do over.
Hi, it’s me, Kat, and I’m not dead. Clearly. Today being one year anniversary of COA has kinda put me in a reflective mood, so I guess I decided to sit down and just...talk about some things, thoughts and feelings I’ve been bottling inside for a hot sec. Especially given how radio silent I have gone on here and people deserve a bit of perspective.
And before anyone starts worrying, it’s all good, and I’m still around and currently in good health for the most part.
So, let’s take it back to the start. Regardless of how dramatic it may sound, we need to go back a year for that.
By technicality alone, COA actually turned one year old on October 12th. That’s when the first part was posted. However, the reason I’m treating today as the aforementioned birthday is simple: I had no intention of this story ever being more than a short two-parter. I told this to the discord gang already but COA was only going to have two parts. V was going to die in Tokyo and the rest of the story follows glimpses of John throughout the movies and it’s her ghost that haunts him. Skipping ahead, it was going to have a bittersweet ending of John eventually dying, having completed his task, only to be greeted by V, Daisy and Helen in the afterlife. A peace of sorts. Then, I realised that, well, no. I have more to say on this world and intrigue about this placeholder character V kept growing.
November 1st happened and I made a very last minute call to continue COA but with the added pressure of doing it during NaNoWriMo 2019. And boy did I. Most of the story was figured out during that very intense month. I posted Part 2 on this day a year ago because I was so eager to share it. Perhaps, in retrospect, a bit too eager.
For those of you who may not know this, I work as a writer full time for my actual every day job. I’m the main writer for an original webcomic called In the Bleak Midwinter on Webtoon.com and have been for almost two years now. Getting what is essentially your dream job is amazing. I’m very lucky on that front but it also taught me stark realities of having your job and only hobby overlap. It’s a dangerous creative mix. Especially because I was not used to being constraint in what I create or the feeling like I have to please anyone else. Writing as a job is a whole other avenue of creative exhaustion. I love my job a lot and am very, very lucky to have it but it doesn’t change the fact that those initial stages made me fall back on COA a lot for creative freedom that I craved so desperately. To an unhealthy degree looking back on it now.
But going back to November last year. NaNo time. I did it. Finished on the 24/25th I believe. A juicy final count of 52k+. All while maintaining a weekly update schedule for a fic that usually hit around 10k per update, if not more, even during those early days. Add writing an original story on top of that. Writing every day for hours on end (we are talking 10-12hr days) without any time for other hobbies or time for myself in general. I kept pushing and pushing and pushing. Losing weight and sleep in the process. I think the thing that convinced me that I should continue doing so is the fact that the outpour of support for COA ended up surpassing anything I ever expected or even dared to hope for. I’m not a huge numbers person but the outpour of love and just sheer investment in the story and characters blew me away. John Wick fandom is on the smaller side and has been going through downtime when I posted COA so my expectations were...well, small tbh. I like keeping expectations low to avoid any disappointments in general. But I’ve also always had an issue of being a massive 0 or 100 kind of person. If I love something, it consumes me. In this case, it brought me as much joy and freedom as much as it was steadily pushing me towards the ultimate crash.
That being said, I can’t thank you all enough for every comment, like, reblog and message and fanart. You’re the reason I got this far. With your support. It brightened some really dark days for me.
But.
To be frank, it’s never been about you guys. I never wrote or pushed because I felt like I had to appease anyone. That creative mindset is pure poison and I long since learned to let go of it. I kept pushing and kept working myself to the bone because I liked it. I liked how reading peoples’ responses made me feel. I liked the addictive nature of reading all the comments and theories after an update. I loved the idea of brightening peoples’ days and giving them something to cheer them up after what might have been a shitty day. Even if that was at expense of my own time/well being. But for a long time, it wasn’t. I love writing a lot but facts remain facts.
It was beyond unhealthy and burnout wasn’t a question of if but when and that when was approaching at neck-breaking speed.
So we come to the end of November. Part 4 has just come out. People were invested and I was invested alongside them. I was just finishing up Part 5 which (back then) was the biggest single chapter I’ve ever written and god I still recall my sheer dread because that was the beginning of Santino being established as a LI. Looking back on that now, it’s downright hilarious how worried I was about the reception of him and V together after John.
So honestly, I hit burnout at around Part 8. Because that’s the first time I recall struggling with writing a chapter. Part 8 came out on December 28th. I had a brief break for holidays. But my mistake was not taking longer back then. Because I continued writing with a barely healed burnout. Followed by almost a year of struggling and continuously creating through that state. It wasn’t like I eased off the pressure, either. Oh, no. The chapters grew in size, the world and the characters with it. AUs amassed quickly and while I adore every single one - again, I didn’t know how to pace myself well enough.
I’m spiteful though. The more the chapters struggled the more I pushed against the burnout. By the time Chicago arrived, however, I knew I was in trouble. I ended up writing 43k+ in a span of 2 months, I believe. And while to some it may not seem like a lot given the time frame, it’s a lot when you’re burnout to a crisp & writing an original story for work + deadlines. Which I was burned out and then some. Chicago was something I was looking forward to writing for months. I have built it up since Part 4. It was a long time coming. So while I’m still proud of it, I would be lying if I said that some scenes were not sacrificed for the sake of keeping to my invisible schedule that no one but me actually cared about. You guys have always been patient. I never felt pushed into anything. It’s always only ever been me doing the harm.
Chicago was the downwards spiral for me mentally. I felt like I was failing to live up to my own expectations. That people were drifting away from it. I was plagued by the thought that the story I poured so much into was falling apart and growing weaker. Which this has always been an issue with me: I am my own harshest critic. Always have been. In fact, I’m a downright mean little fucker when it comes to just tearing at myself. I know writing is for fun - and it is - but I still like the idea of being proud of my work which only made everything worse despite the love each update received.
This takes us to the beginning of June. Specifically, June the 2nd. Or, as I like to call it: Kat Makes Another Impulsive Decision but This One Actually Works Out For the Better. On this day, I created the COA Discord server. And damn, I’m not sure what exactly I was expecting when I did ngl. I did it for fun and as an escape more so than anything. But somehow it ended up being the best decision I made in a long while. I know some of you are reading this. So love you lots, dorks. It’s such a privilege to be able to call so many of you my friends even outside of COA now. That little community has given me some of the best memories from this year and helped me to crawl out of my own metaphorical pit I was stuck in. Mentally, I’m doing much better than I did beginning of this summer. Which could be summed up as a constant self-hatred cycle and a feeling of inadequacy.
That, however, does not mean my burnout magically disappeared. If anything Chapter 17 just put a nail in the coffin so to speak. 2020 has been a shitty year just across the board for obvious reasons I don’t need to go into here but that can only partially be attributed to my mental state. Chapter 17 was...exhaustive. To say the least. But I was determined to stick with my vision and not split it up. I was also starting to be a bit more forgiving towards myself in terms of how long I may take to write it thanks to guys on discord though the feeling of failure and worry never quite faded fully. I’m proud of Part 17. Truly. But that was also when I hit rock bottom creatively on COA. It drained me completely.
I tried writing Part 18 for weeks after, day in and day out, not getting past the first scene and hating every word I wrote. So I took a deep breath and stopped. Figured I let it marinate and wait instead of trying to piece one of the most crucial chapters in this story like some Frankenstein monster two sentences at the time.
So my solution was simple: give myself some distance from it and write other things. Get my spark back. Of course that’s always a good idea. Having multiple creative escapes is the best thing you can do for yourself creatively. There was just one tiny little problem.
I was still burned out. Still am. The problem went deeper than just being burned out over COA. I was burned out over writing itself.
Which is an issue for a person who only has writing as a creative outlet.
I don’t have any other way to express myself. So I was stuck in a runt, trying to write because it’s the only thing that makes me genuinely happy even when I really shouldn’t have. And let me tell you. It’s a shitty fucking feeling. My burnout worsened. I had a thousand ideas but every time I tried to get them down it felt forced, fragmented, and weak. Repetitive and dry. Now, this is also in part because English isn’t my native language, so my vocab is limited as a result, but I hit that sweet rock bottom in that regard, too.
So, I worked on V (but in her OC form Clara), Lucien and The Elites. All those characters have grown so much since you last read about them. I have multiple original projects planned down the line that will feature all of them existing in their own world, with their own stories and no longer constrained by JW canon.
Which, finally, takes us to the end of October and beginning of November 2020.
I was convinced that the best course of action was to do NaNo again but with an original story this time (involving V). Suffice to say, it took a grand total of maybe 5-6 days and hating every second of writing it while also feeling like this project I’m so passionate and excited to write (still am) is just...going down the toilet to be blunt, to realise I may have made the wrong call.
Still, the stubborn ass that I am, I pushed through. Convinced I can get into it if I just keep going. The realizations that I am sharing with you right now won’t have been possible if it hadn’t been for a rather curious turn of events about a week and a half ago.
I recently bought a gaming laptop, all in preparation for Cyberpunk 2077 dropping ofc. But, in the meantime, I kept recommending a game to a friend on the COA server. That game? Far Cry 5. (It’s a blast to play btw, just a side note.) And playing it brought back all the feelings of nostalgia from the days when I used to write for that fandom. So I revisited some old work. Checked the stuff I never published and that has been sitting ducks in my docs for months and hoo boy. Let me tell you it was a vibe check of the worst kind.
The stark difference in the prose and the ease with which it flowed was...startling. It made me remember why I love writing so much and how proud I used to be of what I wrote back in the day. Which is not to say I’m not proud now, but it was just such a sharp dip in quality it was impossible to ignore.
So I didn’t.
I paused NaNo, moving it to another month. I paused writing for everything but work, which with our season coming to an end I will also get a rest from soon, too. I kinda paused in general. For the first time in a while, I finally forced myself to switch off. Rest.
The reason why I haven’t been on here is simple: guilt and not having energy to be on here. I like making my blog a safe space for everyone. Similar to escape it has become for me. I couldn’t pretend I was fine when I wasn’t. I felt obliged to perform and being here became exhausting. I haven’t been checking my inbox. Haven’t done much of anything except occasionally dropping by and reblogging a random post so people know I’m alive.
And that’s that, folks. That’s where I am currently. Resting. Completely exhausted mentally but resting. Getting my energy back.
So where does that leave us, huh? If you read this far, dunno what to tell you. Thanks, I suppose. It’s still odd to think people actually care about my existence sometimes.
I know what you’re likely thinking, too. So does this mean COA is never gonna be finished? What is gonna happen to it? Are you abandoning it?
The answer: no. 17 out of 25 chapters and 250k+ in, I’m too far in not to give it a proper conclusion. Not because I owe it to anyone other than myself. I want this story to be a stepping stone for my future as a writer. I want to prove to myself that I can get this done and finish it. As of right now (as you can no doubt tell with how long it’s been since last update) it’s on a soft hiatus while I rest. This rest? Not sure how long it may last. Right now, my plan is till mid December at which point I will reevaluate. Ideally, I finish the year with an update. But my New Year’s resolution is to finish COA. That timeline has become a little more murky now but, again, ideally it’s within the first quarter of 2021. Will that happen? I don’t know. And I don’t want to make false promises, either.
All I’m saying is that it will be done. I’m just no longer sure how long, exactly, it may take me to reach that Epilogue. I don’t expect many people to stick around for however long it may take me, but if you do, thank you. Truly. I really and deeply mean that.
So what’s on the cards for this blog in the meantime? Well, CP77 is coming out in under a month (if it doesn’t get moved again lmao rip) and I expect that to be my soft return to posting my writing on here again. We will see where the muse takes me, if at all. Regardless though, I’m excited.
One doctorate thesis later, here we are at the end of this really long rambling session. I hope that this has given you some perspective on things going on behind the scenes. I spared you some of the gorier details but I think this post has been long overdue. I suppose I, myself, was just too unwilling to face these things despite knowing about them deep down for a while now. I’m too self-critical not to notice but acting on correcting this behavior has been a whole other matter clearly.
Thank you for reading this post, my writing in general, and supporting me. I’m not going anywhere. I’m still around. More is on the way in the future. I’ll be seeing you all real soon. And all my love to all of you.
Love,
- Kat.
125 notes
·
View notes
Text
To answer some Fanfic Questions...
So, this is my response to @broxklynn‘s post... I decided to make this its own post... So that It can be properly answered.
1. How and why did you start to write? Is there some kind of story behind it?
I started writing in general when I was in elementary school... Back when I just had a Platform 9 3/4 journal, not many friends, recess, and a desire to immerse myself in the world of Harry Potter. I enjoyed writing, and even joined the Writer’s Club in High School (but I eventually left to join Anime Club and Divergent Thinking Society). As for writing MCL fanfiction, I began writing Sam’s and Alana’s stories as early as when I first got into the fandom, back in 2013. Alana’s story started out as “A Fresh Start”, had a one shot called “When I Wake”, then turned into “Let The Dawn Be Broken”, and is now “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. The final product barely has any hints of the first 3... In fact, Sam’s story, “Fighting Darkness”, has been completely debunked due to what I’ve decided to canonize in “The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster”. Writing MCL fanfiction has been a major help in distracting me from the depression that was caused by family issues, severe abuse, Stockholm Syndrome, my mom’s disease and her death, as well as working at several shitty jobs. Writing has helped me escape reality and keep myself sane enough to not be a black hole of hate, anger, and sadness to my friends and boyfriend.
2. What do you struggle the most with your writing?
There are 2 major things I struggle with... 1 is Timing. I often set deadlines for myself that I never meet and it makes me so frustrated that I miss them... There are currently things in my drafts that were meant to be “Holiday Specials” for Valentine’s Day and Halloween 2020 that are still unfinished... It makes me feel like I’m letting my readers down, when its more of me letting myself down... The other thing is Inspiration. Because I hate my job, I often think about Alana’s story in an effort to not be completely consumed by the fact that I do hate my work... Due to that, I often come up with ideas for my story that I think are FANTASTIC for my story... But, by the time I get home, I’m either in too much pain or too tired to write, or I’ve forgotten the ideas...
3. What is your favorite genre to write?
I love writing Romance with a bit of Slice of Life and a hint of Action/Adventure...
4. Slowburn or “Flame”/PWP?
Slow burn any day.
5. How do you overcome writer’s block?
If I absolutely can’t write... I work on other stuff I need to do... Typically, something around the house, or something online I need to do... I also look for cool stuff to add to wish lists... I’ll occasionally play videogames or read comic books... In an effort to subvert writer’s block, I like having multiple chapters in my drafts at once. If I’m not in the mood to work on one chapter, I can work on a different one.
6. What kind of thing you dislike the most, when reading a fanfiction? (for example: particular plot, grammar mistakes)
One thing that makes me upset (and it makes me madder when I do this) is misspelling... Especially when it looks like its almost blatant... You have autocorrect, USE IT! Or when a fanfic is so awful, yet the author acts like their work is a gift from god... I don’t mind a “bad” fanfiction... Hell, the concept of “My Immortal” is so bad that its hilarious... But Fifty Shades did a lot of damage and E.L. James acts like she’s bigger than Jesus... Seriously, she wrote Twilight fanfiction, changed some minor details and names, people who have no knowledge of BDSM ate it up, and she acts like she’s a “Sex and Relationship Guru”...
7. What’s the biggest issue for you, when writing a Beemoov fanfiction?
The biggest issue for me is finding out when to allow for Beemoov’s writing and placement to take place in my story. I don’t like a lot of the events of UL and LL, so I’m often finding myself in a position where I have to watch video playthroughs and go “Okay, how can I omit this character, but keep this scene?”. I’ve had to do that A LOT with Alexy and Rosalaya.... Although, to a certain extent, I’ll often cut their scenes out altogether. I really hate what Beemoov did to them. They were great characters in HSL, but became utter shit in UL and stayed shit in LL. To make up for Beemoov’s writing style, I’ve created my own characters, added in old characters (like Kentin and Armin), added in bits from the manga (like Viktor, Severina and their fathers), and gone off on my own storyline. The Melancholy Of Melody Alana Roster is close to MCL at times, but often veers off onto its own road.
8. Have you ever created a character based on person in real life? (celebrity, someone that you know, etc)
YES!!! A LOT of characters in my story are based on real people! Alana’s step-father, Nate Films, is closely based on Nathan Fillion. A lot of her family members are based on members of my own family, just changed a bit to fit the story. Lynne Roster, Alana’s mom, is what I had always dreamed my own mom would be... Hell, Alana’s cat, Sylvester, is based on my own childhood cat, Luna.
9. How do you feel about your own characters? Do you think of them as your babies or have rather love-hate relationship with them? (And, do you have favorite one?)
I love most of my characters. I do hate 3 in particular... But, you’re supposed to hate, or at least not respect, them... That’s why I poured my hatred into them... Those 3 are Carol, Kai and Azrael. Carol has aspects of my abuser in her. You’ll see more of her when I finally post the HSL related chapters... And understand what I mean... Kai is based on one of my real life cousins that I’ve not been happy with for years (the one who my bf has deemed “the family failure”). You mainly see him in the Cousin Mels chapters, and in the Christmas Special... Azrael is the one who is seen the most in the UL chapters, and she is a main adversary for Alana. She is the one who broke her the most, the one who ended Alana’s relationship with Nathaniel, the one who truly traumatized her. As for ones I love... The one I love the most is Alana... I know, she’s a reflection of me, so that’s kind of vain... But, she’s a part of me. When I do finish her story and am at the point where I need to say “Goodbye”, it will hurt....
10. Enemies-to-lovers or friends/bestfriends-to lovers?
Definitely friends/best friends to lovers. I also like toying with what happens when best friends turn to lovers, but circumstance parts them and one moves on...
11. Is it easy for you to get inside your character’s head? Can you empathize with them? Is there’s some similarities between you and your main character?
It is VERY easy for me to get into Alana’s head... Like I said in #9, she is a reflection of me. She looks and acts like how I’d like to in a lot of situations... Her life is more interesting, traumatized, and more well off than mine... But, she is still me in major ways...
12. Who has been the biggest supporter of your writing?
Definitely my boyfriend. He doesn’t really understand the game itself... But, he likes how happy it makes me and he respects how much of my heart, soul, blood, sweat and tears that I’ve poured into writing my story. He loves listening to me read passages from it to him while I’m working. He gives me advice and his opinion is highly valued... My family knows I’m writing a large story, and have seen some of the images that I’ve gotten commissioned, but they don’t really know or care about the game. They do respect the fact that I am writing. They love the fact that I’m slightly following in my mom’s footsteps in that regard (she wrote 3 books and several poems). My online friends have been very supportive as well! I’m constantly updating them on what I’ve worked on each day in my Discord Server and the words of encouragement always help.
13. How do you handle criticism?
Not well. Due to the abuse and family issues mentioned in #1, for a good amount of my life, I’ve gotten nothing but harsh criticism... So, now that I’m away from all that, at 26 years old, I’m just now getting to a point where I’m starting to take it better... But, I’ve got a long way to go.
14. Do you like giving your characters trauma? Why/why not?
I hate sounding like a sadist... But, I’m going to anyway, so fuck it... Yes. I have done awful things to Alana over the years. In A Fresh Start, she got sexually assaulted and ostracized. In When I Wake, she gets into a car crash, put into a coma, and in her dream state murdered by Francis in front of Nathaniel. In Let The Dawn Be Broken, the plan was for her to end a war. In “The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster”, her childhood cat dies, her mom gets sick, she gets abused by Carol, her best friends get ripped away from her for a bit, she gets sent to a country halfway around the world alone, she gets assaulted and ultimately turned into a weapon of mass destruction.... I’ve even thought of killing her mom off at one point... But decided against it...
Now, granted, A Fresh Start and Let The Dawn Be Broken never saw completion, but happy endings were planned for them...
I do this, all while giving Alana happy endings in each story because “If Alana can go through utter hell and make it through, then so can I.”... I know, I’m “god” in that regard and I can control how Alana’s life is.... But, the fact that in my writing, she ends up standing tall, happy, with everything she wants, after everything she goes through does make me feel better....
15. Are you proud of yourself? When you look at first piece you wrote and compare it to the latest one?
Yes. If you look at A Fresh Start, you can tell it was written by someone fresh out of High School. There’s no real depth to it. Let The Dawn Be Broken isn’t much better... But, The Melancholy of Melody Alana Roster has become my magnum opus. It is the largest piece I have EVER written, and will probably remain the largest piece I write. I am very proud of what I have created... And when its last word is written, and I am ready to get it made for it’s place on my shelf, I will feel very bittersweet about it... That being said, my original plan for a sequel involving Nathaniel’s and Alana’s daughter, Aurora, has been discarded. I don’t believe Aurora could ever have as much of my heart that her parents do...
And there you have it! Some insight into my world, writing, and history!
#my candy love#my candy love fanfiction#mcl fanfic#mcl fanfiction#fanfic#mcl#mcl alana#mcl alana roster#alana roster#melody alana roster#melodyalanaroster#the melancholy of melody alana roster#mclhsl#mclul#mclll#amor doce#amour sucre#sweet amoris#Sweet kiss#sweet love#Sweet flirt#sweet crush#cdm#cdmu#Corazon de Melon#corazon de bombon#slodki flirt#dolce flirt#writing#fan fiction
7 notes
·
View notes
Photo
I recently commissioned @salesart to do a portrait of Solas (aka “Song”) and Lavellan (aka “Ink”) from my fic, In And Out Of Time Again. I’m so thrilled with how it came out, especially all the little details that reference their codenames. Thank you SO MUCH to Sales for all your work on this piece, and for asking me all the hard-hitting questions like “what’s their height difference.” I had so much fun collaborating with you!
The first chapter of In And Out of Time Again is below the cut, and you can read the completed work on AO3.
Song has had many names. The latest suits him no better nor worse than the others. If he has one complaint, it is that this name lacks specificity. Fen’Harel was a name that was a lie, and a lie that has long since become irrelevant, but he cannot argue that it painted a clear and awful portrait. His other name, the one that came both before and after, he is only too glad to be rid of. He rarely thinks of it now.
Song is in his element in Strands like these, when he can submit to the demands of his teeth and claws and blessedly forget the version of himself that is not like this. It is simple here in the verdant expanse of his home, his first love. When a mountain stands in his way he moves it with a thought. When a beating heart must be silenced, he rips into it and tastes warm blood on his tongue.
His assignment today is a wonderfully simple one: a death. The target is ancient and powerful, though only in comparison to the other things of its world. Beside an agent of Music, it is nothing. He longs for a crush of strength against his own and for the moment when uncertainty asks him whether he can snap his target’s neck before it breaks him in two. The answer, of course, is that he will hear the crack of bone and hold its dying form within his jaws too quickly to satisfy the hunger that burns within him.
Still, he will try to afford it a fair fight.
When he finds the edges of its lair, Song realizes something is wrong. Demons should swarm around him, challenging his right to intrude on their master’s territory even as he cuts them down. There should be whispers here, a choir of disembodied voices singing the Melody’s secrets for those who know how to listen. Yet all that greets him are emptiness and silence.
The raw Fade has begun to reclaim this place, the green waters of its currents rising up to erode the poisoned ground that has been here for three thousand years. Song wanders farther in, his paws sinking deep into the muck, until finally he finds the corpse.
The fear demon that claimed this part of the Fade is gone, reduced to a husk of tangled limbs and fangs that still drip with venom. Song has arrived too late. The death has already been administered, but this means that the timing is all wrong, and for Music, timing is everything.
Whatever killed the demon has done so before it had a chance to strike a bargain with a young mage girl in Kirkwall. Now she will not murder her family and dozens of others; she will not leave alive one angry, orphaned sister. Thanks to this single fault in the rhythm, the entire Strand is lost.
Song is so annoyed by all the absences that at first he does not notice the addition. It is so impossibly out of place that for a moment he simply stares at it. Stuck to the venom on the dead demon’s fangs is a piece of finely-made paper that smells of sugar and flowers, its perfume somehow drowning the stench of the rotting carcass. He reaches out for it with a hand and fingers; it is a thing too delicate to be held by claws. The venom stings but he pays it no mind, for he has seen the single line written on the page in a delicate script: Touch me with fire that I be cleansed.
It must be a trap. Not the venom, of course. Whoever left this certainly knows it will take much more than that to wound him. It would be best to leave the note here and let it rot along with the rest of this discordant Strand. But this is a challenge and an invitation - words that hint at more words.
Song ignites the paper between his fingers and it is as if he has turned the first page in a book. He reads, and when he is done he has become the wolf again, mouth twisted to a snarl. When he has committed the words to memory, he shreds what’s left of the sweet-smelling paper between his claws and grinds it into the mud.
When Song is gone, a shade steps into the pawprints he left and searches until it finds every piece of the burned, shredded, filthy paper.
--------
Tell me I have sung to Your approval.
I’ve always been fond of the Canticle of Transfigurations, or at least of the versions that I’ve penned. Hopefully you have more than a passing familiarity with it as well, or the cosmic cleverness of what I’ve just done will be totally wasted on you. (But I suspect your familiarity is more than passing. If you are who I think you are, you’ve probably written versions of it yourself. If so, how do you deal with the bit in 10:1 about the moth and the flame? I feel like I can never get it quite ominous enough, you know?)
I’ve barely just begun and already I’ve distracted myself with all the questions I wish to ask you. But that just speaks to my point (that I’m about to make).
Is there anything in this world more insidious than words? It took me eight of them to grab your attention. Honestly, I could have managed it in fewer if I didn’t want to make a dramatic entrance. But I did.
I’ve been curious about you for a while now. It’s not like there are many things left to be curious about when you have all of time to catch up on anything you might have missed, so I should thank you for that novelty. I think the first time I saw you was during that bad business in the Deep Roads in Strand 398. I was the hurlock, you were the Grey Warden recruit. Our eyes met as I bit into your commander’s neck and tore out his windpipe. (Sorry about the mess, by the way - I really enjoy getting into character.)
You were definitely meant to lose that fight. I know - I’ve gone back and checked a lot of other Strands and that recruit always dies, the darkspawn always swarm, and the Third Blight always begins. But then you single-handedly cut down the horde after everyone else in your party had died. (I know because I stuck around after you chopped off my head with that broadsword - I just had to see what would happen!) You killed enough of them to prevent the swarm, even though you died for it in the end. (And of course you died for it - you’re good but no one’s that good.)
My point is: do you remember how it felt when that shriek bit into your arm and the Blight burned into your veins? Do you remember the way it spiraled into you, burrowing in your lungs and your heart and your gut until it felt like your body had always been its home? (I’ve been Blighted a lot so I’ve got some pretty good descriptors for it.)
Anyway, let me spell it out in case my metaphors are getting too convoluted: In this letter, I’m the shriek and my words are the Blight. I’ve bitten you and poured my words into you. Your memory will pump them through your mind just as surely as your heart pumped the Blight to the tips of your fingers and toes. Want a cure? Too bad, there isn’t one.
I’m not only writing to gloat. I meant what I said above - I appreciate the novelty you’ve brought to the battlefield. Things are dreadfully dull most of the time. Mainly the Story sends me off to retcon the occasional plot holes your Music introduces to the narrative. There’s very little chance for improvisation, so I have to find amusement where I can.
And this has been very amusing.
Sincerely,
Ink
(Keep reading on AO3)
#Art of my fic!#salesart#in and out of time again#dragon age fanart#dragon age fanfic#solas x lavellan#solas#lavellan#solavellan#luzial writes
80 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
cyanideanimates
Cyanide and Insomnia - Animation Edition
amovocedojeitocertoblr-blog
Amo você do meu jeito certo!
madi-the-cat
MADI!!!
springfield-tirefire
CTRL+ALT NERD.OBSESSIVE
szczebiotka-nie-oczekuje
Szczebiotka